"What the hell happened to keep it low profile!?" Kowalczyk reprimanded over the codec. It was early in the morning now, with Snake and Nagant sitting inside their SUV. The police had swarmed into the building after the bombs detonated, but not before Snake found his "prize". It was a small victory, of course, Kowalczyk didn't see that.

"You didn't give us any intel on bombs," Snake retorted, "Hell you barely gave us anything to work with!"

"What I gave you was more than enough to accomplish the job, everything else is above your paygrade." Kowalczyk countered.

"If your government wants me to take this group down then I need more info to work with," Snake replied, turning over to look at Nagant. She had been quiet throughout the call, but her displeasure was clear on her face.

"Not happening. You already got everything you need, so do what we paid you for." Kowalczyk ordered, before abruptly hanging up. Snake simply sighed as he looked back out the SUV's window.

"Rat bastard," Nagant muttered, "Where the hell does he get off?"

"He's keeping something from us. Either that or he's incompetent." Snake commented, his hand now tapping on his "prize".

"I don't care which, I'm not working for someone like that again," Nagant replied, before leaning back into her chair.

"You won't. We'll do this damn operation ourselves if we have to." Snake told her, before bringing his "prize" into view. Nagant looked over at it curiously, while Snake inspected it carefully. It took some thorough digging, but he found it in the ashes. It was an old, charred jack in the box, with Russian words scratched on the exterior. When Snake translated it, he found it to be a long list of numbers. On the interior though the jack bore a few more clues. It wore a crisp white suit, with a pink undershirt and a yellow business tie. On its head was the same white top hat as the logo.

In the jack's hand was a small cane, with a pink diamond on the tip. The most important thing was the jack's head. His face was a pale white, with an unshaved face. Long black hair dangled off its head, and it felt greasy when Snake touched it. The jack was both cleanly dressed and poorly kept. Who the jack was depicting, Snake didn't know. But it gave them some semblance of a lower-ranking head, or maybe the leader himself. At the moment though, Nagant focused on the Russian numerals.

"Know what it is?" Nagant asked as Snake handed it to her.

"Coordinates, maybe a number we can contact. We'll try both just in case." Snake answered thinking over what else he had found in the building.

"The guards said they transported the prisoners out hours ago, right?" Nagant asked, looking over at Snake. He simply nodded, before reaching for his Idroid. Once in his hand, he pulled up the security footage from the building. It displayed the event in full. The trucks arrived, the guards loaded the prisoners and then drove off. However now, Nagant noticed something odd.

"The logos on the trucks are different," She noted aloud, switching her gaze from the jack in the box to the Idroid. Seeing what she meant, Snake thought back to what he found on the first floor. Searching through his pockets again he brought out the letter from the receptionist's desk. Sure enough, the logo on the letter matched with the one on the trucks. When he first found it, it seemed like a trap. But with how the operation ended Snake found its meaning change.

"So, a Russian railway company transported the prisoners out to Siberia." Snake muttered, "The letter must have been hinting at the general area, and the jack in the box is the exact location."

"Either that or whoever we're dealing with really wants you to call," Nagant commented, before handing the jack in the box back.

Finding the store the HPSC's mysterious rep went to didn't take long. It did, however, take a while to get there. The store was located on the other side of the country, which somewhat explained the car. However, it was also the size of a shopping mall. That made Ocelot pause for a moment, as both he and Hawks stared up at the large building.

"And I thought everything in Japan was small," Ocelot half muttered and half-joked.

"I expected to see something like this in the US," Hawks agreed, causing Ocelot to look over at him.

"You know what this is?" Ocelot asked, motioning at the store in front of them.

"Kinda. It's a new brand of hero megastores." Hawks explained, "Must have opened up here recently."

Ocelot had to agree, as he noticed a far-off grand opening banner resting in a dumpster. He also noticed all the customers leaving the store. All walked out with one thing and one thing only, hero merch. He didn't recognize all the heroes present, but there were some notable ones. All Might's merch was there, as well as Endeavor's, but there was also Present Mic's and surprisingly enough Nezu's. More importantly, though, were the jumbo Fatgum plushies.

"Bingo," Hawks commented, pointing at a small child. In the child's arms was one such plushie. It matched the toy they found at the scene to a tee. The two began walking up to the store, barely making it halfway before Hawks was swarmed by fans. Ocelot simply left him behind, continuing forward. Somehow the store looked even bigger on the inside, which was already saying something.

The first aisle he passed held a large section of produce, all marketed with a different hero. Now Ocelot was by no means poor, the HPSC and the MSF provided a decent paycheck, but even he knew that almost fifteen thousand yen for a pound of rice was ridiculously overpriced. He didn't even need to see the rest of the aisle to understand how expensive all of it was.

The second aisle was more of the same, except it was now canned products. These were also overpriced; however, the large brandings gave him some idea as to why. Especially as he stared down the container of All Might's All-American Ramen, and the dozen other copycat brands. He was about to enter the third aisle when he felt something light touch his shoulder.

"Took you long enough," Ocelot stated, watching as the red feather flew back over to Hawks.

"Well, when duty calls," Hawks replied, the two now walking over to a lone cashier. As Hawks was about to speak, Ocelot stopped him.

"I'd rather not get trapped in another hour-long autograph session," he explained, before having Hawks stand back slightly. With Hawks out of the way, Ocelot stepped forward.

"Excuse me, mam?" he began, the cashier turning over to look at him.

"Yes?" she asked, looking over Ocelot carefully.

"Could you call the manager out here for a moment?"

"Um, sure. Just one moment."

She turned away for a few moments before a well-dressed man shortly approached them. His hair was nicely kept, with slight stubble on his chin. His business suit was crisp with a Best Jeanist tie to finish it.

"Kaneko Haruto," the man greeted, "How can I help you?"

"You the manager?" Ocelot asked only for Kaneko to shake his head.

"I'm the owner, the manager is out for lunch at the moment," Kaneko explained before his eyes landed on Hawks. Yet he remained professional, keeping quiet as Ocelot began.

"There was a murder yesterday, and we're trying to find some leads." Ocelot explained, "We believe the victim was shopping here before their death, and we'd like your assistance in this investigation."

"Well, if it's any help we have security cameras watching the nearby parking lot," Kaneko replied. Wordlessly Ocelot motioned for the man to lead the way. He did so quickly, with the two reaching the security room fast.

"They're not the best cameras I'm afraid, but they should do the trick," Kaneko stated.

"They'll do fine," Ocelot told him. He got to work then, scouring through the day of the murder. He found nothing so far, it being hours of nothing changing. But Hawks soon pointed at the screen.

"Stop," Hawks stated, with Ocelot pausing the footage. Hawk's finger rested on a car in the parking lot. It was difficult to recognize without the burns, but it was the same car. And stepping out of it was their mystery rep.

"Recognize the rep?" Ocelot asked Hawks.

"Not a clue," Hawks replied thinking over who the man might be, "At least we got a face now."

Ocelot unpaused the footage then, fast-forwarding through a good three hours of the day. Eventually, someone else approached the rep's car, with Ocelot pausing the footage again. And as he examined the perpetrator, he knew the President wouldn't be happy about this. In a spandex-clad costume, the assassin laid down and placed a package underneath the car.

"Shit," Hawks muttered quietly, with Ocelot silently agreeing.

"Color scheme seems familiar," Ocelot commented as he looked over the hero's costume. It was reminiscent of a leopard, which became more present when he spotted the costume's hood. It was the head of a Sri Lankan leopard, positioned to look like the jaws encircled the head.

"Ghost Leopard," Hawks stated, "I've worked with him a couple of times."

"You know why he would do this?" Ocelot asked.

"Not a clue," Hawks replied.

"Well then, best we ask him," Ocelot told him, before walking out of the security room.

Grizzly could still see the shell. It was just sitting there, embedded into the ground. He could feel eternity tick away as he watched it. It didn't go off, but he couldn't be sure. It just sat there. Any second it could detonate, any second he would die. So why didn't it? It sat there mocking him. He could hear the shell taunting him. Coward. Worthless. Fraud. The words echoed around him, with the shell never ceasing its taunts.

Grizzly clawed at his uniform, desperate to breathe. But it didn't loosen. His uniform constricted around him choking him. All the while the shell kept mocking him. Coward Worthless. Fraud. He ripped the fabric of his uniform, tearing it away from his body. But another layer rested beneath it, tightening its grasp. He tore it away and then tore away the third layer he found.

The shell still rested there in front of him. Still taunting him. Still mocking him. Still just sitting there. It did not move, it did not detonate, it did nothing but mock. He tore away the fourth and fifth layers of his uniform. But it only got tighter. He couldn't breathe. He clawed desperately for any sense of relief. And then he woke up.

He jolted up in his quarters, looking around as he remembered where he was. His breathing calmed, as Grizzly realized he had hyperventilated.

"Damn it," was all he could mutter, as his hand traced over his forehead. He sat there for a moment, pondering over the silence. He didn't want to think of what had happened, so he looked around his room. It was sparsely decorated, what with him being deployed for the majority of the time. But it was something to keep his mind at bay. Across the FOB and Mother Base, the majority of the MSF's quarters were separated into small three-room blocks.

There was a small bathroom, bedroom, and common area. It was cramped somewhat, but no one needed the excess space when alone. His sidearm rested on a small nightstand built into the wall, with a lamp sitting next to it. On the other side of the room was a dresser, with a small mirror on top. And aside from the lone window next to his bed, that was it. Eventually, Grizzly got up and went through his dresser.

At that moment, he heard someone knock on his door.

"Yo, Rookie you up?" Eagle asked, waiting for Grizzly to respond. Quickly getting dressed, Grizzly walked over and opened the door. He was about to say hi when Eagle stopped him.

"Whoa, have you been sleeping, okay?" Eagle asked examining him thoroughly. It left Grizzly puzzled for a moment before he walked back inside his quarters and to his mirror.

"Not really," he replied. He didn't think it had been that bad though. It was the occasional nightmare, but nothing more. His face said otherwise. Heavy bags rested under his eyes, and only now did he see the mess his hair was in.

"You seriously have to talk to someone about this," Eagle told him as he walked in. He leaned on one of the walls as Grizzly looked back over at him.

"That's why you here?" Grizzly asked to which Eagle nodded.

"Ape gave his orders for a reason," Eagle answered, "this was one of them."

Grizzly thought it over for a moment, before trying to fix his messy hair. He shuddered a little when he found a small piece of mud he had missed. At this point going bald seemed to be the easiest way to clean his head. He was presentable though, managing to comb his hair down.

"What now?" he asked, turning over to the Staff Sergeant.

"Who knows," Eagle replied before stepping out of Grizzly's quarters.

"Walk with me," he told him. Grizzly quickly did so, walking in step next to Eagle. The two remained in silence for a moment, before reaching the outside. The warm sun felt nice upon Grizzly's skin, as he looked out over the base.

"You have any hobbies?" Eagle asked. Grizzly thought over it for a moment before coming to an answer.

"Not really," he replied.

"Then it's time to get one," Eagle told him, the two continuing to walk forward. They reached one of the tram systems on the FOB and found it bustling with people. Getting on, Grizzly was still unsure as to where they were going.

"Alright, what are you good at? What do you like?" Eagle asked, feeling the tram start to move.

"I had a bit of a green thumb back home. Why?" Grizzly asked in turn.

"Heh, well believe it or not Rookie but a hobby helps," Eagle replied, leaving Grizzly even more confused.

"Everyone has their way of coping with the horrors of war. Some guys paint, others read." Eagle explained before they both felt the tram come to a stop. They soon got off, with Grizzly now seeing they were on one of the residential platforms. This one in particular was dedicated to a mass of stores. They were mostly small shops selling luxury goods, nothing overly important.

"What about you?" Grizzly asked, with Eagle giving him a brief chuckle.

"Call it counterproductive, but I collect guns." Eagle answered, "Whatever I find on the battlefield that isn't a trap, I take with me."

"I'm pretty sure I would have noticed if you were doing that," Grizzly commented.

"Would you? I may be quirkless Rookie, but that doesn't mean I don't have a few tricks." Eagle replied.

"What about Ape?"

"Surprisingly enough he's a Warhammer fanatic." Eagle told him, before quietly muttering "And a fucking heretic". The two kept walking before Eagle came to an abrupt stop. They had entered the structure on the platform, what could best be described as a mall. Looking around Grizzly still wasn't sure why they had stopped here specifically.

"Alright, anything of interest?" Eagle asked him, to which Grizzly more thoroughly examined the area. There was a large variety of stores, most catering to either the civilians or the MSF. The first store he found was covered in foliage, making him somewhat tempted to check it out. But something else soon caught his eye. It was a small store selling kitchen supplies. Now his quarters already had the basics, a couple of bowls, some forks, a microwave oven, and a minifridge.

But nothing overly complex. Something about it lured him in.

Rody had no idea what was going on. Next to him, Midoriya was talking to a couple of soldiers. It was a rather interesting conversation, that had entranced both parties involved. However, Rody didn't understand a word.

"[So, I'm hiding behind cover, waiting for the enemy to stick their head out when a grenade landed right next to me,]" the soldier said in Spanish, with Midoriya shocked.

"[What did you do!?]" Midoriya asked in turn, leaving Rody all the more confused.

"[Ha! Nothing! The imbécil left the pin in. So, I picked it up, took out the pin, and tossed it back over.]" the soldier replied, having a chuckle as he did so. As he did so Rody only looked on lost. He tapped Midoriya's shoulder then, hoping to get his friend's attention.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"Oh, Bat was talking about his time in Venezuela," Midoriya replied, leaving Rody still dumbstruck. This was visible on Pina as well, as the bird sat in Rody's hair.

"You speak Spanish?"

"Somewhat. I picked up a little over the years."

"Huh, didn't know you were bilingual," Rody commented, with Pina nodding in agreement. To which Midoriya sheepishly chuckled.

"Well, uh… about that," Midoriya began, leaving Rody puzzled for a second. Realization quickly struck then as he snapped his fingers.

"Oh, that's right! You speak Japanese too, right?" Rody inquired as Midoriya nodded his head, "Guess you're multilingual actually."

He didn't notice Midoriya's sheepish look as he continued.

"I don't think I could learn three languages," Rody admitted, rubbing the back of his head. Only now did he notice Midoriya.

"It's nine actually," Midoriya quietly muttered, as he watched Rody's eyes widen, and Pina fall out of his hair in shock.

"Five!?" Rody exclaimed, "You can speak five languages!?"

"Yeah," Midoriya replied, somewhat embarrassed now.

"What else can you speak?" Rody asked, the shock of the moment wearing off. The soldiers with them simply looked on amused, not wanting to disturb the scene.

"[They do know we're still here, right?]"

"[Shut the fuck up this is hilarious.]"

Midoriya held out his hand then, counting off what languages he could remember.

"Well, I'm fluent in Spanish, Japanese, English, Vietnamese, and bits of French." Midoriya began, "and I started learning Igbo, Yoruba, Arabic, and Hausa."

"So, you're learning how to speak nine languages," Rody surmised, the surprise still there in his voice. It also had Midoriya realize exactly how big of a feat that was.

"Huh, I guess I am," he replied.

Miller tiredly rubbed his brow as he read over the latest reports. Mgbaba was effectively a ghost town. Not a single resident had been found alive so far, and that became clearer the further they went.

"The gas cloud has dispersed at the moment, so entering the city should be relatively safe," an officer explained, "However we're unsure if the enemy has more chemical weapons."

"And once we occupy the city, the enemy would try to gas us out." Miller surmised. He picked up the documents in front of him carefully. This entire event was a double-edged sword, except one side was significantly sharper than the other. The only good news is the lack of an enemy presence in the city. All the MSF had to do, was walk in.

"Do we have the whereabouts of the enemy's current frontline?" Miller asked as he looked back at the officer.

"Negative sir, it seems they've pulled back for the moment. Most likely to avoid the possibility of the gas hitting them as well." the officer replied. Miller grumbled to himself as he looked over the map of the area. If the enemy used artillery for the gas, then they could have a max range of fifteen miles at worst. If it was by MLRS or an infiltration mission, then the MSF had bigger problems.

"I want intel scouring over the surrounding fifteen miles. The moment they hear anything about chemical weapons I want a location and jets scrambled," he ordered before a new thought struck him.

"On second thought, I want the cruiser assigned to that task. Have its crew ready to strike if needed. And once our men enter the city, I want it locked down."

"Yes sir."

With that Miller returned to the reports he was given. Recruitment numbers had surged again, with the force in Africa reaching seven thousand five hundred active members. In total, it brought the MSF to twenty-five thousand personnel. It brought a small smile to Miller's face as he reflected on how far they had come. That was quickly dashed when he read the next report.

"General Osprey needs how many M1150s?" Miller muttered aloud, worried by the number in front of him.

"His request was for fifty," an officer explained, "the minefields on the south of Mgbaba were larger than expected."

"Have the support department reroute some equipment. If it's not possible, then get R&D to modify some extra Abrams we have lying around." Miller ordered tiredly. Managing the MSF had seemed so easy in the past, but now he could barely get a break. But he kept on, finding the one document that had piqued his interest. The request for construction equipment to be sent down. It had Miller look back on the MSF's previous goals, a nation of soldiers. Snake had never fully decided on a name for their hypothetical nation, but one did come up again and again.

It wasn't their goal now of course, but in an ironic twist, it seemed to be happening anyway. With a quick flick of his wrist, the authorization for the request was signed, and with it the beginning of Outer Heaven.

"Sho, I'm telling you it wasn't me!" Present Mic yelled, cowering from the angry form of Aizawa. Midnight could only look on amused as the forever tired hero glared at his friend. Now why was this happening you ask? Well, it was the early morning over at UA, with the majority of the staff preparing for the day. Vlad King, Ectoplasm, and Snipe were busy preparing their lesson plans, Cementoss, and Power Loader were doing some last-minute grading.

At this point Aizawa had arrived and went to start a fresh pot of coffee. However, his specific blend was gone. And Mic had the unfortunate timing to be the last one to use the coffee machine. Which is why he now hiding behind a table as a shield.

"Somehow I find that hard to believe," Aizawa replied, activating his quirk at that moment.

"As funny as this is," Midnight began, "It really wasn't him."

Aizawa's hair dropped as he looked over at his other friend curiously.

"Care to explain?" he asked.

"I saw Nezu grab a box of your coffee." Midnight replied. And in an instance, all of Aizawa's anger was gone. Instead replaced with confusion, abject horror, and annoyance.

"See! I told you it wasn't me!" Mic exclaimed loudly, before he himself paused over what had just been said.

"Nezu… took some of my coffee?" Aizawa inquired. The words didn't sound believable. The rat's thing had been tea. Never once had he ever drunk a cup of coffee to any of their knowledge. But Midnight simply nodded.

"He walked in, grabbed as many boxes as he could and walked out." Midnight replied, leaving Aizawa and Mic baffled at the statement.

"Thats not worrying in the slightest," Mic remarked sarcastically. He froze somewhat when he noticed Aizawa moving to the door.

"Uh… Sho?"

"I'm either getting my coffee, or I'm getting fired. I don't care which." was Aizawa's only reply as he stepped outside. The others soon followed, both in the hopes of convincing their friend to stop or to see the fallout. When they arrived at Nezu's office, Aizawa almost immediately barged in. But when he tried to open the door, it wouldn't budge. He tried again but to no avail. He paused for a moment confused, before he realized what was happening.

"He's locked down his office." Aizawa muttered, to the displeasure and joy of his colleagues.

"And for good reason to," a new voice added, with the teachers' eyes widening. They looked down to find Nezu standing next to them, sipping away at a pot of coffee. And I mean a pot of coffee, as Aizawa debated whether to glare or remain neutral.

"May I ask why?" Aizawa inquired.

"Certainly, but don't expect an answer." Nezu replied calmly, before taking another sip from the coffee pot.

"But if you really must know, UA's international status has just recently been revoked."

That statement left them all shocked for a moment, but it didn't become present on Aizawa's face.

"I apologize for not informing you all sooner, but I didn't have a lot of time to find a solution. Although I fear this one may be as equally as temporary." Nezu explained, before walking over to his office's door.

"I'll tell you about the rest in our next staff meeting. Now, I'm still quite busy so I won't be available for a while."

And with a quick goodbye Nezu stepped into his office, with the doors quickly closing behind him. It left the three teachers somewhat dumbfounded at the information they had just been given. They would have lingered on it longer, if Aizawa didn't remember something.

"Damn it, still didn't get my coffee."