Bakugo opened the door and stepped inside the large conference room. As he expected, almost everyone was already present; the surviving members of 1A, Nezu with most of the U.A. staff, high-ranking members of the H.A., other high-profile heroes including Mirko (who had moved to Mufustafu), Hawks, and Best Jeanist to name the names he knew personally. Then there was the commander of the QSU Rikugun-Shōshō Genryusai, accompanied by his team of other highly ranked officers including Ahmya Baresi, Izuku's friend.
He briefly recalled running into her in the hospital as she was leaving after seeing Izuku, warning him that he was asleep and should come back tomorrow. He wasn't one to take the advice of others he didn't know very seriously, but he had been willing to listen to her, if only because of her close connection to Izuku.
It took him but a moment to register everyone present, and he walked over to where Kirishima and Mina were seated. He grabbed a seat and plopped himself down just as the rest of 1A noticed him. He'd never been part of a briefing of this scale before, but given the situation, he wasn't surprised. He could only imagine what kind of response the abduction of All Might might have generated. It probably would have been bigger, but Ochako's fame could not be underestimated.
"Hey man, how's it going?" Kirishima asked, trying his best to be upbeat, but not quite selling it.
"Fine, I just want this to get underway so we can get to work," Bakugo said.
"How was Izuku?" Tsu asked, coming up behind him.
"He's managing." He responded.
When Tsu just continued to stare at him expectantly, he sighed.
"He's angry, probably wants to be here, but isn't physically capable. Not that he would have been invited anyway. That being said, he recovers pretty fast so I imagine he'll be fit in several more days." He elaborated.
"Several days? He should be out for weeks!" Momo suddenly chimed in, looking shocked and worried. "He lost enough blood that it should have killed him. Transfusion or not, you can't just replace that much blood that fast."
Bakugo just shrugged, "He recovers from any injury pretty fast, not to mention he's durable as fuck. Don't forget all the fights he was a part of during the Zeus crises. If he can take hits from me and Zeus without issue, he can survive blood loss."
"Damn..." Kirishima said looking impressed.
"It does sound like he has a physical enhancement quirk," Shoto said.
"That's why it never occurred to anyone that Izuku and The Hunter were the same person. Despite being quirkless, he has exhibited feats that one would attribute to a quirk." Tokoyami said.
"That aside, do you think he might try and do something?" Tsu asked.
"He's angry and likely thinks that it's all his fault. I'd be surprised if he didn't try something." Bakugo said.
"Do you think someone needs to watch him? As capable as he is, his judgment will likely be seriously impaired by his closeness to Ochako." Momo asked.
Before Bakugo could respond, Mina spoke for the first time.
"What about us?" she asked quietly.
"We are trusted and trained to be able to act calmly and rationally, no matter the circumstances," Shoto said.
Bakugo wasn't sure all of them would be able to do that however, Kirishima and Mina both were extremely kind-hearted, and more emotional than either himself or Shoto. He trusted them implicitly of course, but he did have silent concerns in this case. Even if their emotions got the better of them though, Bakugo wouldn't be swayed so easily. He had always thought of himself as more pragmatic than most of his classmates.
Their conversation was cut short, however, when Rikugun-Shōshō Genryusai took to the podium at the front of the room and called for their attention. The room's low murmur of chatted ceased and everyone took their seats.
"I'm not one for pleasantries, and I imagine none of you will care if I skip to the heart of the matter. Ochako Uraraka, the sole surviving member of the Angels, national hero, and tied with Stars and Stripes for #1 in the hero rankings, was abducted three days ago in broad daylight." Rikugun-Shōshō Genryusai said gravely.
"At a time when we need all the heroes we can get, even more so one as accomplished and admired as Ochako Uraraka, her abduction is a direct blow to both the Hero Association and the Government. In this briefing, myself and Nezu will provide you all with as much information as we have, outline possible events occurring as a result of this, and brainstorm solutions to the rapidly developing crisis. We are going to be here for a while, so get yourselves comfortable. Food and drink will be provided as necessary." Rikugun-Shōshō Genryusai said.
Then the briefing began in earnest, and one of the longest feeling briefings in Bakugo's life began.
She awoke once more to agony, like every time before it. Every part of her exposed body pulsed with pain. She tried to recall what had recently happened but it was all a mass of blurry images and distorted noise. Only the brief bouts of torture and her captor's voice remained clear in her mind. His voice was especially clear, like a ray of sunlight piercing through black clouds. Every word he uttered seemed to sear itself into her mind.
The long droning monologue that seemed to bore into her brain always came after the torture. She'd lost track and indeed had trouble recalling just how he had tortured her at times. But the injuries lining her body, the blood that consistently oozed and dripped from her face and chest, and the way her skin had changed color from the sheer number of bruises were proof enough to her.
Then he talked. He'd talk about many things... from the mundane to the morally complex, to global politics. She'd never had someone unload their entire life story to her before, and though it galled her, there had been a few points she had agreed on with him.
More recently, however, she had grown aware of something else. Beyond the pain of the torture, her body felt... wrong like something was twisting inside her. She'd vomited several times, even when nothing was happening. She'd also taste iron in her mouth frequently and her body experienced waves of cramps. She was sick, or something like it. It could be the drugs though, she'd been gassed quite a bit and she thought it was probably the reason why she couldn't concentrate or remember anything. She could have even been dosed with other drugs, she couldn't remember much of anything. Of course, there was every possibility that the flesh covering her limbs had infected her somehow. There were too many variables and even as she tried to focus her thoughts, she felt them drift away.
Her head swam, the world blurred around her, and she lost herself once more.
The water splashed around his boot as he stepped into a small puddle. The rain and intensely thick cloud cover shrouded the city in a grey light. Thunder rolled overhead, and sheet lighting would on rare occasions arc across the sky. It was a miserable day, and it fit his mood just fine.
He tried for the first few days after getting his strength back, distracting himself. It didn't work, nothing could hold his attention long enough to matter. He had needed to move, needed to feel like he had some kind of agency in his life. He'd finally cracked a few hours ago. The gnawing void inside grew too much. He'd grabbed the old keys that he kept in his bedside drawer, and left the apartment.
The rain continued to pour down, but he finally, blessedly, arrived at his destination. The roof of the building blocked the rain and he took a moment to savor it. He shook the loose rain from his coat, hood, and boots, and started up the concrete stairs. Up and up the stairwell he went, until he got to the fifth floor. He started down the walkway, passing apartments until he stopped at an all too familiar one.
He stared at the door for a long time, now that he was here, he wasn't entirely sure if he could go through with it. He'd made a promise to Ochako, and loathe though he was to break his word, he wasn't sure he could take another night. His final barriers of resistance crumbled, and before he could second guess once more, unlocked the door and walked inside. He closed the door behind him and just stood on the threshold.
"I'm home..." he said into the silence and the darkness. His voice echoing slightly.
He stood there for a few minutes more, then sat down and removed his wet boots. then he stripped off his jacket hung it on a well peg and stepped onto the hardwood floor. As he took another step, deeper into the apartment he left obvious footsteps in the layer of dust that had accumulated since he was last here.
As he walked by the various furniture pieces, the photos, and other tokens of his past, he found to his surprise that thinking about it wasn't so painful. The gaping wound that had defined his life for so long, that had driven him down a dark path, wasn't so gaping anymore. He stopped in front of the door that led to his mother's bedroom. He wondered what she would think of him if she were still alive.
"Sad and disappointed. Especially given the reason why I've come back," he thought to himself.
He pushed himself past the door and to his old room. Thunder rolled overhead and lightning briefly lit the room. He walked over to his old desk and opened a drawer, revealing loose papers, all detailing notes about quirks and heroes. All rough stuff, idle thoughts and ideas, things that never made it into his more "official" notebooks on the subject. Resting atop all of that though, was a small key. He picked it up, closed the drawer, and turned towards his old closet.
He hesitated for a moment, only a moment though, then he unlocked the padlock and set it atop the desk. He opened the closet doors and on the right side, more cramped than it was last time, was his old QSU gear. A good chunk of that gear was gone though, used up during the Zeus crisis at one point or another.
On the left, however, was what he was here for.
An old katana, with black cracks running along it, a set of battered, black armor, a small Wakizashi resting next to the Katana, a bottle of black hair dye, and beside it a contact lens case. Then in a series of boxes, a multitude of small support devices, all neatly stacked and labeled.
He stared at it all for a few moments, then reached forward and grabbed the hair dye and contact lens case.
The door opened and squeaked on its hinges as it was pushed open. Low light spilled in for a moment before the room was plunged once more into pitch darkness. There was a brief moment of shuffling, the sound of something being fumbled with then the accursed spotlight turned on, blinding her once more and forcing her eyes to adjust.
"I must say I'm impressed. You've held up well. Though, I will admit, my first attempt at this cracked in a few minutes. I was assuming that wasn't normal and was expecting you to be extremely tough to crack anyway. Still, the sooner you come round to my way of thinking, the sooner we can all leave here." said Demon Mask (as she had come to call him).
She just groaned, her eyes stung, and she had a migraine that made it feel like her head was being split open. Every inch of her exposed body hurt, her breathing hurt, and she had no energy in her body. She felt feverish, and while everything hurt, she also felt oddly light. Yet she just hung limp in her restraints but didn't sag much due to the strictness of her restraints.
Demon Mask just stared at her for a couple of minutes, looking her up and down. She could practically feel his gaze roam over her body, leering at her, lingering on the hideous scars covering the right side of her body. She shivered and felt sick.
"Perhaps breaking you physically, is not the answer. It's obvious you've endured extreme pain, perhaps this is nothing new. I need something more personal, something that cuts deeper..." He said, trailing off into a murmur.
His hand wandered to her, tracing the contours of the burn scarring, running from her shoulder to her hip. She recoiled from his touch, bile rising in her throat. Then his hand wandered up once more, up to her right breast, where there was just a mass of scar tissue where her nipple should have been. Then his hand dropped and he nodded his head several times. His mind briefly flashed to his latest trip to the store, where he had seen a kitchen torch.
"Yes... something that cuts deeper..." He murmured once again, and smiling beneath his mask, he turned and left the room. Turning the spotlight off as he went.
He took several steps forward until he was at the edge of the collapsed roof, giving him a long view of the area in front of him. He got down to his stomach and pulled out his monocular. Out here in the ruined sector, there were many ruined homes and businesses, but there were just as many that were open and occupied. The drifters, refugees, homeless, criminals, and a dozen other types of people called this place home. The first battle for Mufustafu had laid waste to a large portion of the city, and it would take years if not a decade or more before that changed.
In the distance, he could see the lights of a functional building, and he looked at it through his monocular. It appeared to be what was at one point a restaurant, though he knew it as the seediest bar in the entire ruined sector. A major hub for criminal activity in the area, drugs, weapons, and even people flowed in and out its doors. The only reason it hadn't been raided yet, was because criminal activity in the city proper was bad enough, and there weren't enough people to commit to a major operation. It was rumored that there were extensive tunnel systems underneath the building, where all the smuggling occurred. Yet another reason why it would take a large force to raid, they would have to lock down the tunnels before anyone or anything could escape.
This wasn't even considering the fact that the Triads were making major advances in the country, threatening local Yakuza organizations along the country's west coast. A gang war wasn't impossible in current times.
Izuku settled himself down to wait, and wait he did.
Two hours passed before he saw who he was hoping for. A short man, with spikey black hair, a leather jacket, cargo pants, and a tattoo just visible trailing from his neck to his left shoulder. He'd been staking out the place for a couple of days, but it had paid off. He stood, taking a few minutes to stretch, working the stiffness out of his limbs before leaping off the roof.
The man sat down at the table, the chair audibly groaning under the sudden impact. He checked the chair for a moment, then pulled his leather jacket off. Then he swung his feet up onto the corner of the table as he looked at the chess game underway.
"So who's winning?" He asked.
"Who do you think?" snapped one of the players, a tall man in casual attire, his jacket thrown over his chair, and his pistol visible in its chest holster.
"Gods, you're hopeless, why do you even bother? You know how good he is." He said with derision.
The taller man just growled and moved a piece forward.
His opponent, an oily-haired man smiled smugly, reached, and casually moved a piece of his own.
"Check," he said, with a yawn.
"Fuck you," said the taller man. Then he got up and went to the bar.
"He is hopeless at the game. You want to go a round Kazuo?" said the oily-haired man.
"Damn straight he is, and no, I'll pass," said Kazuo, lighting a cigarette.
There were a few minutes of silence while the oily-haired man cleaned up the board.
"So... the boss gave us a new job. Wants us to try and bag Eraser Head." He said casually, blowing out a puff of smoke.
"The fuck? Is he crazy?" Asked the oily-haired with a shocked look.
"Search me, but he must know something or he wouldn't bother," Kazuo said with a shrug.
"I suppose if he thinks it best..." said the oily-haired man.
"It's all for the greater good, he will be the one to usher in the new age after all," Kazuo said.
"And what an age it will be," said the oily-haired man.
Just then the taller man returned, a large glass of beer in hand, and a sour look on his face.
As he went to take his seat, however, the power suddenly went out. Angry shouts went up around the room, with equally many questions.
"Goddammit!" Said the taller man in the dark accompanied by the sound of his drink spilling.
"Fucking power lines... as much as I like this place, the fact there is no city maintenance sucks." groused the oily-haired man in the dark.
"Just give it a second, it'll probably come back on an-" Kazuo's words were cut off however when shouts and screams came from the outside of the building.
The room went silent as gunfire came from the closed doors, the shouts and screams only increasing as the gunfire dwindled. Then the doors burst open and someone rushed in. They couldn't see him save for his rough silhouette.
"The-!" He started to say before something slammed into the back of his head and he lurched forward and slammed into the floor, unmoving.
Everyone drew their weapons, but no one moved toward the door, as if some unseen force was holding them at bay.
Then a figure slowly filled the entryway and several gasps came from around the room. In the doorway, stood a man, a katana visible in one hand and two glowing red eyes shining in the darkness.
People had started to think that he had left the city, others that he had died in the attack from Zeus, while newcomers thought he never existed, but there could be no doubt now.
The Hunter was back.
"Is it starting to make sense now?" he asked.
"Yeeshhh..." she said, slowly, slurring the word.
She had been like this for a while now, ever since he'd succeded in breaking down her mind more thoroughly.
"I'm glad to see you starting to see the light, before long, this will all be in the past and you will thank me for showing you the light." He said, patting her shoulder consolingly.
"In the pash..." she slurred out, eyes unfocused and staring ahead through the black eye that had formed.
"Yes, in the past. Now, try to get some rest." He said, standing up and leaving the room.
He walked down the empty hallway until he ran into the scarlet-haired woman, Aria. She was hunched over, hair hanging low in silky strands, the dim light of the corridor shining off of it. As she got closer he saw that she was shaking slightly, panting, and muttering under her breath constantly.
He sighed, it was about that time again. As he drew level with her, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
"You're hungry aren't you?" he asked.
She looked at him, with those dull dead eyes, the eyes he had created when he'd shattered her mind like glass.
She nodded dumbly.
"Then go and feed off of the hero, she's in sufficient shape at this point. Just be sure to go slow and take only what you need." He said slowly and clearly. He didn't want her doing something lethal by accident.
She nodded again and then turned around and started down the way he had come.
He shook his head, she was a difficult one. Her constant need for blood was problematic, worse yet, he had discovered that animal blood didn't solve the problem, only postponed it. So he'd been forced to buy a couple of people off the black market for no other purpose than to be blood bags for her. Unfortunately, they were all too drained at the moment to survive, so the hero it would have to be.
As he thought about that, he realized he'd need to look into finding someone who could do a thorough examination of the woman. He needed to pinpoint her problem eventually, or else she might jeopardize plans.
With another shake of his head, he left the hallway and entered into a large room beyond it.
She opened the door, dim light flooding the room. The smell that hit her, caused her to lose all strength in her legs and collapse. It was the greatest thing she had ever smelled, nothing could compare. Her mouth watered, her hair stood on end, her pupils dilated, and she started panting.
She crawled forward to where the brown-haired woman lay unmoving, save for her occasional breath. She came up to the woman and bent low over her, just taking in the smell of her blood. Her long tongue snaked out and licked some of the blood on her body, and her world exploded.
Lights and sounds exploded in her mind, energy shot through her body like lightning and she groaned. She wasn't even aware her body had morphed, a dozen different mutations bursting forth in a spray of blood. Her teeth also morphed, becoming extremely short but razor-thin not unlike the needles that mosquitos used, albeit much larger.
Then she lunged forward, clamping down on the woman's shoulder. Her teeth pierced the skin easily and blood started to ooze up from the injuries. She drank slowly but steadily, only a few drops at a time. Yet those few drops caused a euphoric explosion in her body, it drowned everything else around her, and even lost feeling in most of her body.
She felt a pressure building in her mind, something pressing against her mind like a huge wall. It tried to hold back the rising tide of power that the blood gave her, but it was no use. The wall was ripped apart by the tide of power, like a sheet of paper fed into a wood chipper.
The sudden onrush of power and energy proved too much, however, and in a sight-blinding explosion in her mind, she passed out.