Going as fast as he could while sneaking away from the sudden influx of flashing helicopters and flying heroes, as well as doing it just carefully enough not to aggravate Magne's pain was a lot more complex than Denji thought it would be.

He could just go as fast as he could and have her call him an asshole… but then she probably wouldn't let him try her fancy coffee machine.

"Man, sometimes it's hard being nice!"

"…"

Denji could feel Magne's stare burn through his metallic chin before a small raspy chuckle left her lips. Well, he didn't know what made her laugh but at least she wasn't the type to be a downer 'n all after a mission goes wrong!

Not that he didn't miss people like that.

After a few more minutes of silent parkour, Denji stood once again in front of the building where Shiggy and Kurogiri were. Holding Magne tightly in his right arm, he tore down the entrance to the archaic fire escape, something rare in modern Japanese buildings actually, and climbed the stairs.

Magne groaned and ached in his grip as he went up the bumpy escape, and only when he kicked down the taped-up window and walked into the temporary refuge for the league did her winces stop.

Denji blinked.

Shigaraki wasn't wearing his hand on his face. Kind of weird seeing the guy's face, it hadn't been that long since he first met the guy, but still.

"Shigaraki. I got Magne. Is 'Giri ready?"

Shigaraki took a few seconds to twitch at all before blinking, moving his head to a blurry and shadowy orb, which took a few seconds for Denji to realize was a sleeping Kurogiri, and muttered something with his cracked lips.

"...giri… Kurogiri. Get… get up." Shiggy said, before grunting and moving his arm a few inches closer as if he could get the man's attention that way, "Escape…"

A low groan shambled its way into Denji's ears are the mist that was previously concentrated into one singular point moved robotically up in a straight position with enough audible cracks resulting from the action to make anyone cringe. The dude was beat up.

"...My apologies, Tomura Shigaraki."

Kurogiri painfully expanded his cloud and enveloped the three other members, swallowing them whole.

…

The League of Villains had escaped.

Gran Torino woke up in an unfamiliar bed and chuckled after realizing the stark white room was filled with stale sterilized air of a hospital, and not whatever scent the afterlife held. And here he was about to cry tears for his prime height.

Alas, he was still kicking.

The old man vaguely realized there was an audible sigh of relief from his left, and he looked left.

"Ah. Toshinori. I didn't mean to worry you."

All Might couldn't help but chuckle, "That's about the only thing you do nowadays, it seems. Can't a student worry about their mentor?"

"Meh. I'll probably keep going 'til I croak."

"I know."

Gran Torino grunted.

"...How's the boy?"

"Izuku?"

If Torino wasn't hooked up to numerous very expensive and important-looking tubes right now, he would have smacked the skeletal hero in the head, "Who else? Have you gotten dementia before I have?"

Reflexively flinching, Yagi laughed awkwardly and pointed behind him to a bed divider. "I spoke to him a few hours ago, he got dragged into the hospital because of fears of permanent damage. The kid was lucky he didn't break any bones, he's more so tired from Recovery Girl than anything he did."

Gran Torino stayed silent and began to consciously hear the tuned-out slight snoring of the seaweed boy. Good.

"I'll give the boy a scolding for recklessness when he wakes up then. It's his first year at school, he shouldn't be throwing around attacks like that until he's ready. Tell me what I missed while I was taking my nap."

"Well, long story short, Chisaki had an unforeseen drug beyond even the likes of Trigger of those in the Americas, and his quirk mutated in an unforeseen way. From what's been told to me from first responders though, the League was likely responsible for the initial troubles faced by the hero force, Sir Nighteye's to be specific, with a few other backup smaller teams getting tangled up later. Everyone got separated and ended up in a free for all, which led to Chisaki rampaging through Hosu, where you engaged him."

Torino's gnarled hands curled up as he asked, "Did–"

"No, Izuku had been assisted by someone he thought was a vigilante, he didn't do it alone. But… we have suspicions that it was a league member that had helped him. We don't recognize the quirk that he reported, and the forensics team is still struggling to analyze the aftermath."

…What a shitshow.

"The two helped distract Chisaki before Endeavour arrived and managed to put a stop to him."

An eyebrow was raised. "You know you can just tell me if that upstart killed him right?"

A laugh that was quickly cut short by a wet cough replied to him, "Sorry, I'm still in my press conference mode, haha…. But, no. Chisaki isn't dead. Likely crippled and scarred for life, but not dead. Off to some research lab or to some prison to figure out what happened. If I was the one to take him down I'd probably know but…"

"You used up all your time."

The man had the gall to look sheepish and looked away, "I did… I can't just ignore problems when they're right in front of me."

"What a great idea," Gran Torino muttered, before sighing, "I assume that if they didn't tell you what's going to happen to him, Chisaki is likely going to be the next main government ethics violation?"

Yagi's tiredness showed itself in his eyes as he sighed and leaned back. "I'm not exactly in any position to argue with them. Something like this hasn't happened in a long time, usually, people of Chisaki's caliber once losing their mind tend to die swiftly rather than be captured safely."

All Might was in a position to win the vote for Prime Minister through write-ins alone just last election, so he was most definitely in a position to argue with them, Torino wanted to retort, but instead, he just relaxed his eyes and gave it some thought.

"I'll at least get a censored report from the association then?"

"Yeah. My contacts will get you full documentation of everything once the dust settles. I am so sorry for not being there."

"Hm," Torino relaxed his tensed torso on the soft pillow. He didn't want to think further about this already headache inducing scenario while drugged up in a hospital gown.

"..."

"Fetch me a snack from a nearby vending machine, would you Yagi? I can't stand eating hospital mush."

Yagi Toshinori cradled his head in his hands and laughed.

Hiroki Seno had been forced back into the hospital after leaving a long nine-hour shift. Apparently, the hero association hadn't bothered to tell local hospitals that there may be a villain gang war instigated by a strike team or something along those lines. Which was fine, he didn't mind working until midnight as an assistant nurse. It was just more experience added to his resume! It was fine.

He sighed.

You'd think someone with a flashy quirk like shadow tools would get somewhere more in life than just making scalpels for doctors. Well, he'll take helping bandage All Might's supposed former teacher as a reward for all of these extra hours tonight.

"Sir, I've restocked the gauze and cleaned up on the operation tables."

"..."

Mm… That's not good! His senior was always punctual, it was pretty weird for him to not show up.

The supply room's door wasn't locked, he could just go inside and yell–

Hiroki stopped. There was supposed to be a security guard outside the breakroom. Being a public hospital unfortunately meant a lot of quirk damage and desperate people, and that meant guards everywhere.

"Sir, you can't just shoo away security g–"

Hiroki paused his walk in and blinked as something cold and angular touched his Adam's apple.

Shlink.

The door closed behind him.

"I–"

A ragged voice from a corner of blood interrupted him, "Don't… I won't kill you if you answer my question."

Hiroki steadied his heartbeat.

"What's your job?"

"I… Nurse assistant."

A beat of silence, then a response, "Okay."

A steel hard elbow slammed into Hiroki's nose without warning, shattering it with a meaty crunch as his head slammed into the door behind him. Damnit.

Chizome didn't mean to do it that loudly. No matter, busy or not still meant they were going to find out about that dead guard and bleeding out doctor sooner or later.

He winced as rolled over some heavy chairs and shelves to block the door. There wasn't a single doubt in his mind that he hadn't torn a muscle and fractured some bones, but he couldn't afford further treatment in Hosu considering everything. He was sure the psychological toll that weighed on him after his slashed nose would come in time for his right arm, but he could make peace with it later.

He popped a couple more medical kits and painkillers into his bags and lifted the very convenient window in the supply closet, crawling out like a spider.

"..."

Hosu was still burning with the flames of the greatest faker of them all, Endeavor. The bastard didn't even bother to extinguish them after his supposed fight with that Yakuza. It may have been a good thing after all to be injured so extensively, he probably would have lost it if he had seen the man in person.

"Hmmm…" Chizome prodded his still bleeding nub, the uneven serration of his arm ending just after his elbow still was a surprise every time he registered it in his head.

If he couldn't kill some random gangster brat with chainsaw arms, there wasn't any hope for a future of his ideals. Once his arm is found, everything he built up could be erased away in an instant. He would be hunted down far more ferociously in the past now that they knew him to be crippled.

Stain can't let that happen.

Putting away his dagger he had been absentmindedly flipping around in his left hand, Chizome took out a cracked, outdated, and almost cartoonishly bulky phone. He found the device in one of his pockets a few hours after escaping the failed induction to the league with him being equal parts surprised and impressed at the fact it had snuck in. Of course, that didn't stop him from going to no less than five different black market tech specialists to check the thing.

Hopefully, Shigaraki is still alive, he had seen the corpses of his Nomus at the original spot of the battle. It would be a shame for a boy with that potential to die so early into his evolution, even if his end desire was quite literally antithetical to his own.

…Typing with one hand was much harder than he thought.

…

User6102XXX (23:47): If you're still alive, I'd be willing to renegotiate with your leader.

User102085 (4:52): there's a hospital we can meet you at.

User102085 (4:53): I'll give you the time soon, I just need to arrange things.

User6102XXX is typing…

…

Denji was having the most serene rest of his life, having dropped Magne on the couch before falling unconscious on his luxurious bed in the temporary rooms underneath the bar room that Kurogiri mentioned before passing out.

Nothing could ruin it.

Knock knock!

Denji cracked his glazed over eyes open as he heard a perfectly even knock at his door.

Knock knock!

He contemplated answering the door with as much rationality as one should give, which was absolutely none according to the teen, thusly he closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. It's been a long day!

Knock knock!

He slowly moved his blanket over his head.

Knock knock!

"Go away. I'm sleeping."

Knock knock!

Denji robotically stood up and nearly ripped the steel door off of its hinges and wanted to murder whoever was at the door until he did a double take.

"Oh. You're a Momo–nah, a Nomu right?"

Magne told him about 'em before the whole mission, complaining that they were creepy and stuff. He didn't expect it to be creepy anyway, they all just reminded him of Beam.

The specific one he was looking at right now was nearly skeletal thin, with a television screen melded onto the front of its skull and under its exposed brain.

"..."

Denji was already sick of this guy.

Just as the boy was going to slam the (now broken) door on the patchwork monster's face, the screen flickered, and a voice he hadn't heard before started speaking.

"If this is working correctly, this message should be given to you, Denji. I'm the league's doctor if you would, I'm even the creator of this fine Nomu you see right now."

Neat.

"Hah, anyways, the reason I am unable to greet you in person is part due to my frailty, the perks of being an old man!"

Denji unconsciously began to drool as his mind drifted back to sleep while standing.

"I understand your possible annoyance at this interruption of your sleep, but this message should have been delivered after eight hours! Hopefully, you don't have the bad habit of breaking things that anger you like Shigaraki… heh. But, this message could not be delivered via your secure phone and neither by any of your peers."

Aah… how Denji missed the feelings of a soft and cool pillow under a warm blanket. Mmm…

"My master, All for One, wants to have a one on one conversation with you later this day. It would be wise to accept."

Denji blinked away some grogginess and tilted his head in confusion. That's all? This couldn't have waited– …well it had been eight hours.

"Yeah. Whatever. I wanna sleep more. Tell the boss I'll go as long as he gets me some fancy steak or something."

The stitched together corpses of numerous unwilling victims stared into Denji blankly, as much as a faceless person could stare anyway, and the TV screen blinked out a silent textual message on its screen.

Response relayed.

Denji slammed the broken door in front of the Nomu, spending a few seconds stabilizing it as it wobbled, then did a 180° turn and fell asleep on his nice, comfy bed.

The puppet stood in front of Denji's door for a scant few seconds, before lumbering off toward his creator.

…

Garaki sighed as he watched the screen.

The elderly scientist leaned his head back as the screen immediately shut off from the remote Nomu, "Was all this subterfuge necessary? I rather enjoyed testing the remote control Nomu, but it frankly feels unnecessary."

The scarred tissue on his face hid all signs any normal individual would have, except of course for his trademark smile. "Why, I think it was. The boy would have been thinking of some bad memories when he saw you, no offense of course."

The doctor's face piqued in interest, "Oh? I thought you said you would use quirks more sparingly now that you have decided Shigaraki to be your definitive successor."

The formerly strongest man alive breathed tiredly through his respirator, and replied slowly, "I don't need to rely on quirks for people like him. Being long lived does wonders in figuring out what makes people tick."

Shouto Aizawa sat quietly on the plastic folding chair barely bigger than those his students get. Such a small thing one would think would be commonplace in a meeting full of the local "underground" heroes.

It wasn't.

A grating voice just a few seats over proved his point as he whined, "Why did you call us here? It's fucking eight am in the morning."

With credit given, Naomasa Tsukauchi had more patience than Aizawa did, and he was a teacher.

"Need I remind you that I had originally called you all to arrive at six-thirty, sharp? I've been waiting far longer than you have, Skitter."

There was no point in calling them by their hero names here, every single person in this room barring a few new recruits (likely past vigilantes, Aizawa noted) had worked with each other. Underground heroes tend to surprisingly have a closer community than more public heroes. Comes with the lack of sponsors and fans.

…Even he was getting bored if he was musing on useless things like this again.

His half open eyes scanned the room and it seemed everyone was willing to just stay silent.

Aizawa cleared his throat and stared at the detective, "If I may, I believe the disaster in Hosu is likely what's keeping some of our late members from arriving. Tsukauchi, why did you bring us all here?"

He stared at Aizawa and muttered something before gesturing over to a guard. A single briefcase was dropped on the table with a dramatic thud.

"Some rescue heroes found the hero killer's cut off arm in Hosu last night. We've tracked down his civilian identity and general appearance now. The police department has elected that this is an opportunity to finally stamp out Stain before his ideals get too out of hand. We want you all to at the very least share information and coordinate to find him," Tsukauchi reluctantly said, "The information the police department has on him is in this case."

A voice artificially aged by years of alcohol broke the silence first, "What about the perpetrator who cut off his arm?"

"You are free to find that out, but we just can chalk it up to villain in-fighting."

Bullshit. They either know more than they let on or know so little they're embarrassed by it. Not pursuing a man who managed to cripple a villain that has killed nearly a dozen heroes is bound to be a terrible mistake, Aizawa thought.

The alcoholic hero who asked the initial question grumbled but kept silent.

Tsukauchi slid his eyes across every hero in the room and nodded, "If that's all, you can all take copies of our current information on Stain. If you find anything, report it immediately. We will reconvene in a week. Dismissed."

Aizawa got up and walked away from the table. Aizawa slipped away from some of his faster peers as they quickly left the station, taking the time to walk slowly toward his quarters at U.A. Honestly, like he had the time for all of this when half of his class were delinquents. Half of his time was spent trying to get them from killing themselves or each other, and the other half was sleeping.

"...Now I have to find out which one of them was the informant for Stain," he sighed.