Bison took a quick breath to calm himself, as the Abrams drove forward. In just a few minutes his tank would be the first to reach the enemy lines. It always sucked being in the front. You were always the first to get shot at, and most likely the first to die. But someone had to do it. Around him was the rest of his company, with fourteen tanks in total. Farther away, near what would be the southwest, was the second company, bringing their strength to twenty-eight tanks.

Of course, it wasn't just tanks on the field. To support them, a further two infantry companies advanced with them. But that was it. The southern positions had only forty shells left, for the entire line. And with enemy AA shooting down what remained of their attack helicopters, it meant air support was nonexistent.

Yet this attack had to be done. Around him, the rest of the tank crew tried to steel their nerves. The driver, Lion, focused on the road to forget the fear. The loader, Rhino, did one last check on the ammo compartment, counting the last shells. The gunner, Zebra, prayed in Hebrew with his eyes closed, attempting to relax.

Bison held no such luxury, he was the commander of the tank, so he had to be on constant alert. Which is why his eyes watched over the drone controls in his hand. He flew it around the entire area, patrolling the very front of the company's advance. So far resistance seemed minimal, only small pockets of infantry were ahead. But this could change the moment the attack began.

They were almost there.

"Rhino?" Bison looked up from the controls, checking in with the men.

"Guns loaded sir," Rhino replied. Bison looked back down at the controller, watching the camera feed from the drone. Ahead was a small trench of dug-in infantry, all hunkered around a fifty-caliber machine gun. He couldn't find any anti-tank weapons, but they might be somewhere.

"Zebra, enemy infantry eight hundred meters," Bison told him.

"Yes sir," Zebra replied, the gunner moving quickly. He adjusted to gun over as Bison gave him the rest of the coordinates. Once the gun reached its target, Zebra looked back over to Bison.

"Ready when you are."

Bison gave him a quick nod, before grabbing his radio.

"This is Prospector 1-1, your target gentlemen."

"This is Prospector 1-2, we're targeting an enemy mortar."

"Is it to the left of you 1-2?"

"Affirmative."

"Understood, this is 1-3. Changing targets."

Slowly the company went through it, ensuring every tank wasn't aiming at the same thing. With a reluctant breath, Bison gave the order.

"Fire."

The infantry around the tanks, ducked out of the way, as the cannons fired. The loud boom was heard all across the front as the sounds of battle became ever-present. Bison looking back at the drone, found the MG nest destroyed in an instant, with its survivors scrambling for cover.

The radio crackled back to life as the other tanks called in. Some called in kills, and others called in the need to take a second shot. Quickly Bison found another target, a lone APC unloading soldiers.

"APC, seven hundred meters, due right at…" Bison ordered calmly, with Zebra making the adjustments as fast as possible. Just as he did so, Rhino called out to them.

"Guns loaded!"

"Ready to fire."

"Fire."

The second shell flew out at astonishing speed. Crashing into the APC it tore through what little armor it had, before exploding. The men inside were set ablaze or killed in the initial blast, while the ones who had made it outside remained low to the ground. With it destroyed Zebra switched to the coaxial machine gun and fired at the surviving infantry. Its rounds ripped the men apart, before one an explosion shook the side of their Abrams.

Reeling from the surprise, Bison looked back at the drone, bringing it over to the current position. With it still taking a minute to arrive he peeked through the optics showing him the outside.

"Shit, T-72 two o'clock, six hundred meters," he told Zebra, as Rhino loaded in another shell. The gun moved over as Lion started to change the tank's position. He did so in the nick of time, as a second shell narrowly missed them and collided with a tree. The drone finally arrived back then, giving Bison a look at the exterior of the tank. So far the damage had been minimal thanks to the reactive armor.

But a large scorch mark now covered part of the tank. Turning back, he heard Rhino call out again. With it, Zebra checked in and with Bison's order, they fired. The sabot shell launched out of the cannon as it raced toward the T-72. Like a rock hitting paper, the shell tore through the tank, before being ultimately lodged between the turret and the chassis.

It forced the T-72's turret up at an awkward angle, making the gun effectively inoperable. The enemy seemed to agree with this, as the T-72 began pulling back quickly before an infantryman with an anti-tank quirk destroyed it. Bison was completely sure what the quirk was, but several spikes seemed to be protruding from the tank's hull.

"Tank destroyed sir," Zebra called out, leading to Bison searching for their next target. That was until the radio came to life.

"This is Prospector 1-2, we've run out of fuel and have been forced to abandon our tank, over."

"This is Prospector 1-8, same with us. Currently on foot and regrouping with Platoon Delta."

One by one tanks would call in, whether it be a lack of ammo, fuel, or a destroyed tank. Half of Bison's company was left, and this battle had only just begun.

Eagle removed his knife from the militant's throat as the rest of the platoon made their way to the airfield. It was a rather small place, then again it was out in the middle of nowhere. This was no exaggeration, the nearest city was a good few miles away. But that was the point, the airfield was built by the militants as a FOB. It had a dirt airfield, some simple concrete structures for a hangar, barracks, and flight tower, and a long winding chainlink fence.

It had posed as a minimal obstacle though, as a soldier who could turn his hands into wire cutters clipped through it. Seriously though, quirks made no sense to Eagle. But they were through the first fence, where Eagle had snuck up to a soldier, and stabbed him in the throat. With the militant now dead, he dragged the body away before hiding it in a large bush. Once done he went back over to the group where he found Ape.

"Any idea how many of them there are?" he asked, before pulling out his pair of binoculars.

"None, could be a platoon, maybe a staffel," Ape replied, as he watched a small patrol walk around the airfield.

"Are staffels still a thing?" Eagle asked him, as he subconsciously counted fifteen guards by the hangars.

"Who knows," Ape replied, the lieutenant finding another fifteen by the barracks.

"It's a weird word though, staffel." Eagle mused as he put away his binoculars.

"The other word for it is echelon surprisingly," Ape told him, as he put away his own.

"Huh, the more you know. So, what's the plan?" Eagle asked.

"Well, I was going to have you lead a squad to take control of the air traffic control tower," Ape answered.

"Sure, should be a piece of cake," Eagle replied, as he unholstered his desert eagle. Was it overkill, heavy, and cheesy as fuck. Yes, but that was exactly why Eagle bought it. Not to mention he found Ape's annoyance funny when he spotted the suppressor on it.

"Just make sure you don't damage any of the equipment, we need it intact remember."

"Don't worry, I've got this." Eagle told him, before turning over to the rest of the platoon, "Grizzly, Kangaroo, Gator, you three are with me."

He turned back over to the field then, before crawling out. The other soldiers followed behind him, all the while they remained alert. Eagle couldn't see it behind him, but the rest of the platoon soon broke out into squads of their own, before heading off to different parts of the airfield. It was a risky mission, with this many people involved the chances of being spotted were high.

So they stuck to their training, as Eagle's squad approached the vacant tower. Two militants stood guard by the front door and hadn't noticed them yet. Moving carefully Eagle turned over to Grizzly, before pulling out his gun.

"Rookie, you shoot left, I'll shoot right." he quietly ordered the private answering with a silent nod. The two then aimed their shots, the two guards unaware. With one trigger pull the first guard was shot, leaving the second momentarily stunned, before he too was shot. Wasting no time the squad moved over to the door, and hid the bodies in a nearby dumpster. With Eagle in the lead, they entered the tower.

Inside was a long spiraling staircase, heading up to the main control room. One by one they slowly went up, their rifles trained on the area around them. Eventually Grizzly heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Quietly he gave a hand signal to Eagle, with the others looking up the stairs.

"Why are we even here, this entire battle is pointless." one militant stated, the two guards walking down the stairs.

"We're here because of the Tyrant's orders." the second replied.

"I don't know if you remember, but the Tyrant is dead!" the first one retorted, a sound of malice clear in his voice. They both stopped at that moment though, blocking the rest of the way up.

"And? This was his final order, to crush the MSF." the second guard reminded the first, attempting to make it seem like a valid point.

"So fucking what, last I heard the MSF was tending the wounded from the radiation zone. You know, the area where my FUCKING HOME WAS NUKED!" the first one shouted back angrily, causing Eagle to pause for a moment.

"Still, orders are orders." the second replied, unfazed by the first guard's outburst.

"I'm not following the orders of a dead man." the first muttered, as the second started walking back down.

"It's your head on the chopping block if you do-!" Grizzly leaped up and grabbed the second guard then, as Eagle aimed his pistol at the first. Surprised the first guard slowly held his hands up, not making any sudden movements. Eagle walked up to him then, eyeing him up carefully.

"Anyone else up there?" he asked, not letting the man leave his sight.

"No, there on lunch break." the guard replied, still holding his hands up. The man tried to appear as if he wasn't afraid, but Eagle could still see it.

"Grizzly, Gator, zip tie them and gag that one." he ordered before addressing the guard, "I expect you to stay quiet."

The guard simply nodded, while the other one was struggling against Grizzly. It didn't last long as Grizzly choked the man out quietly. Looking back up, Eagle continued forward with Kangaroo following behind him. At the top, they found it empty, just as the guard described. After a brief search of the room, Eagle turned on his radio.

"Eagle here, the tower is secure."

"Hornet here, barracks is secure."

"Koala here, hangar is secure."

The others soon chimed in, the now successful stealth op over.

Mammoth sat in his chair anxiously as he continuously checked the clock. The C-17s were all ready to go but just sat waiting on the airstrip. He feared his comrades had failed, that the mission was a failure. He hoped he was wrong but as the hours ticked by he couldn't help but feel it was the case. And just as he was about to crack, the word came in over the radio.

"The airfield has been secured. All craft prepare for takeoff."

Nagant sighed in relief as Lieutenant Ape checked in. For all the skills hero work had given her, managing a war was not one of them. The moment Snake sent her to Nigeria was the exact moment the highest-ranking official was killed in an artillery bombardment. That made her the highest-ranking member on the field. And boy, was she out of her league. The junior officers had helped a lot, but she couldn't help but feel responsible for every death.

Even the deaths she could have done nothing about, hurt. So, when word that the operation had been successful reached her, it was music to her ears. Nagant wasted no time as she pulled up the maps on the table, just as the junior officers assembled with her.

"With the airport secured our logistics issues should be alleviated, but what about the enemy's air defense?" Nagant asked, turning over to one officer.

"Latest reports suggest that several S-300s were positioned along the high ground near the coastline. Specifically, here…"

The officer would point out several key areas on the map, areas that Nagant did not like. For while heroics didn't give her a sense of military knowledge, it did give her common sense. And common sense told her that these areas were bad news.

"Here, here, and here. There were also reports of enemy armor being spotted in the area, along with minefields surrounding the flanks."

Nagant pondered this for a moment, as she looked over to other reports. The C-17s should be arriving in three hours at the most. They very well could get shot down before they made it to the airfield, but desperation held them by the throat. Artillery couldn't do anything, as most of the guns were running low on shells or missiles. Not to mention the distractionary offensive while being a success in its original goal, had stalled as half of the two tank companies ran out of fuel.

"How far is it?" she asked the officer, looking up from the map.

"Roughly thirty miles mam." the officer replied, as Nagant stood up. She ran the calculations in her head and found it to be roughly an hour away.

"You're in charge while I'm gone," she told the officer, a look of confusion falling upon his face. Of course, his confusion disappeared as he thought about it for a second.

"Understood mam."

In the end, Aizawa found at least one kid that had potential. However, that was after Ocelot traumatized the remaining students. It wasn't even a fair fight. Out of every team that went forward, none had managed to win. It made him all the more curious about the HPSC rep. He seemed to possess very dangerous skills, but then again all HPSC personnel did to some degree. Whether it be espionage, torture, or just being a damn good liar.

But Ocelot was something else. That became especially apparent as the last exercise ended, and all the students learned of their expulsion.

"Everyone except Nakamura is effectively expelled."

"What!?"

"You can't be serious!"

"Do you know who my father is!"

"I… I guess it was for the best."

As they all yelled or begged, Aizawa simply looked over at Ocelot as the man spun his revolvers.

"Bit harsh," Ocelot stated, flipping both guns into the air.

"You don't agree?" Aizawa asked.

"Oh no I do," he caught both guns, before holstering them both, "just expected a little more kindness from a teacher."

"Kindness is a luxury many can ill afford. It's not logical to coddle them with anything but the truth." Aizawa replied.

"Heh, seems we agree."

Aizawa looked back over to the now Gen Ed students. None got quiet, even after he activated his quirk, so he simply sighed and turned back to Ocelot. Better to let them exhaust themselves.

"Anyways, how did you do that shot with the revolvers?" he asked.

"Which one?" Ocelot asked.

"When you shot both guns, and the bullets perfectly ricocheted off the wall," Aizawa answered.

"Same way I did all the others, quick calculations," Ocelot replied.

"So that wasn't your quirk."

"It was not."

"So it's an intelligence quirk then." Aizawa surmised, starting to turn away.

"Nope," Ocelot replied, causing Aizawa to pause for a moment.

"Some sort of accuracy quirk?"

"Wrong again," Ocelot answered, before pulling out one of his revolvers. This was becoming more confusing as he kept asking.

"Mental quirk?"

"Nada."

It stumped him. And it stumped the students as they slowly calmed down and watched the interaction.

"Alright, I'll bite. What's your quirk?" Aizawa asked.

"Don't have one," Ocelot replied, still focused on spinning his revolver. And Aizawa thought the brats couldn't get any louder.

"Your quirkless!"

"H-how!?"

"I lost to someone who doesn't even have a quirk!"

"Ha! You did," Ocelot stated as he looked over the students, "You want to know what makes it better? Were this a real event, and not an exercise, all of you would be dead."

And the students instantly shut up as the ramifications hit them. The originally prideful ones quickly turned pale. He could have killed them, and they would have been helpless.

"M-maybe uh, heroics isn't for me."

"Y-yeah."

"I still could have kicked his ass."

As the students began seeing the logic behind Ocelot's words, an idea soon came to Aizawa. The HPSC rep spent a lot of time at the school, most of it with the principal. But maybe he could convince him to accompany him on some other exercises. If only to keep the students quiet.

"DAD!" Midoriya yelled as he rammed into the wounded Snake leaving the helicopter. It had taken both of them a while to get used to it. For Snake it was being considered a father, something he never actually expected. For Midoriya, it was more who he would be addressing as Dad. Since to him, Snake had almost always been Snake, but now he was something else.

"Ow," Snake muttered with a slight chuckle, returning the hug Midoriya had given him, "Easy on the ribs there kid."

"Sorry, but I was excited to see you!" Midoriya replied, backing up from the still-wounded Snake. His fight with the Tyrant had been a bit more brutal than he expected. Several of his ribs were fractured, or in some cases broken. There was also a broken arm, a concussion, sprained ankle, and several fractures across his fingers.

"So, how have you been holding up?" Snake asked him, as he hobbled along with a crutch.

"Good. Oh! I beat the training exercise!" Midoriya answered excitedly, as DD followed the both of them.

"Really?"

"Yeah! I made it all the way without anyone seeing me!"

"Heh, well good for you! Not bad for your…?"

"... Twentieth try," Midoriya answered, a slight look of embarrassment appearing on his face.

"Not bad. Seems I'll have to up the difficulty then." Snake told him, the pair continuing forward. Of course, Midoriya had something else to ask him as they walked.

"So… the MSF's made a deal with the Principal of UA right?"

"Right," Snake replied, looking down at him.

"So… do you think I could go see UA?" Midoriya asked, confusing Snake for a minute.

"I thought you were done with the pro-hero dream?" Snake asked curiously, as the two of them stopped. It was true though, Midoriya's dream of being a pro-hero had been abandoned years ago. The MSF continually received volunteers from all over the world. Lots of them were ex-villains, heroes, or civilians.

It became surreal as villains told him stories of why they turned to crime. Some did it out of desperation, not having enough money to live life. Others had quirks that made them dangerous without certain items to assist them. And a lot of them were forced into it. The majority of the last category came from Venezuela or different parts of Africa. It was sad for him as he learned of this.

Then there were the ex-heroes. The ones who abandoned their capes and took up rifles. They told him they weren't satisfied with heroics, that they could have been doing more. That the never-ending life of selfies and autographs made them feel worthless. They were supposed to save people, and while thousands were dying, they could only stand by and give away merchandising deals. It felt disheartening for them.

And finally, came the civilians. They were refugees who had everything taken from them, and the only people who came to help were the MSF. They were at the bottom of society, fending for themselves as they felt they had no purpose. They were searching for anything to give them stability, a reason to exist, to live. And all these groups found it. Villains found a second chance, heroes found a chance to do real good, refugees found an opportunity to regain what they lost, and civilians found a purpose all could strive for regardless of quirk.

They had found it in the MSF. A home for many and accepting of many. This is what heroism was supposed to be to Midoriya. Helping those beyond just punching a villain. That is why the question confused Snake. Yet Midoriya had his reasons.

"I am, but I still want to see it. It's all I could think of as a little kid. Well that and the MSF." Midoriya replied, before crouching down to pet DD, the dog thoroughly pleased with the attention he was receiving.

"I don't want to attend it, not anymore. But it would still be nice to visit it."

"Hmm, I don't know kid. I don't want to risk it with the HPSC looking for you." Snake answered.

"We could dye my hair," Midoriya countered, looking back up to Snake, "Give me a fake name, maybe some makeup to hide some of my distinct features."

"I'll think about it, but for right now no."

"I must agree," a voice piped up, causing Snake's eye to widen in surprise, "As much as I would love to have you attend my school, I believe you would have a much better time here."

Snake and Midoriya looked around confused, before a bark from DD dragged their attention downward. There Nezu sat offering a bone to DD. A bone the dog graciously accepted.

"When did you get here?" Snake asked him before another voice cut in.

"Same time I got here," Ocelot replied, as the clicking of his spurs got closer. He held a briefcase in one hand, with the other spinning a revolver.

"A pleasure to finally meet you," Nezu began, holding out his paw, to which Snake shook carefully, "I hear the nukes were disposed of?"

"They were, and I hope they were the only ones." Snake stated as he pulled out a cigar. The doctor said it wasn't good for him, especially with his broken ribs affecting his lungs. But if he was going to die, then he was dying by his rules.

"I would hope so too. I'd rather not deal with a nuke-filled Africa." Nezu agreed, the chimera mentally shuddering at the thought.

"So, I hope this isn't just a friendly visit," Snake replied, his cigar now lit.

"Don't worry, I come bringing gifts, and worrying news," Nezu told him, as Ocelot passed over the briefcase.

"Do tell,"

"For one," Nezu began bringing out a document before handing it to Snake, "I give you the Sig Spear or the XM7. Chambered in 6.8mm, it was going to replace the US's M4. However, not enough were made before the rise of quirks."

"Not bad. Might send this down to R&D," Snake mused, before taking a quick puff from his cigar. Seeing Midoriya also wanted to see it, he held it out for him.

"There's more, I also brought along the designs for the XM250 LMG, M338 MMG, and the XM157 optic."

Snake let out a low whistle as the newer documents were handed to him. It was strange for him to think about. Nine years ago the MSF was an outdated army made up of seventies equipment. Now they were pushing cutting edge.

"Anything else?" Snake asked, already intrigued, while Midoriya went ham examining the new firearms designs.

"Only the worrying news I'm afraid," Nezu began, "I received word from my sources that a large contingent of heroes is on its way to Nigeria."

That made Snake pause for a moment, as the ramifications settled in.

"How many?"

"At least sixty thousand."

The number made Snake choke on his cigar in surprise.

"S-sixty thousand?"

"That was of the lower estimate. The majority of them are US heroes, sprinkled in with Japanese, British, French, German, Italian, Canadian, and others."

"Damn it, we've got over two thousand men down there stuck in combat," Snake muttered, as he brought his hand to his forehead.

"Would they happen to be the armed force protecting forty thousand refugees?" Nezu asked, "Because then I know what the HPSC's after."

Snake dropped his hand before clenching it into a fist. So the HPSC wanted a war? He turned on his codec as he hastily called Miller. He was going to do either one of two things. Get his men out of there or reinforce them with enough damn ordinance to send the HPSC packing.

"Kaz, I want a naval landing on the Nigerian coastline."

"I'll get it done Boss."