he bow of the runabout carves through cool salt water at speeds narrowly surpassing the limit of suspicion, the waterline cascading over the hull as one of the six men aboard the vessel adjusts the large engine that drew in water from underneath then expels through a swivel nozzle in the stern. A familiar head fin meticulously stalks behind the boat unbeknownst to the crew, who kept their eyes on the port docked with sailboats and cabin cruisers jouncing in place while roped onto the dock by their cleats. Commotion amongst the men stirs as the boat slips between a dense opening between two larger boats; a smooth, cool-toned tail swiftly breaches the water without a sound before the figural shadow disappears deeper into the ocean. One of the other men purses his lips together and sounds a whistle, signaling the other thieves to emerge from hiding, from below deck to inside the cabins where victims remain restrained and injured.
"Thanks for the donations!" Snickers one of the members to an older couple tied back to back with a rope, their mouths muffled by secure cloth.
"See? Now, was that so hard?" Another man cackled towards an elderly man on a different boat who had an open wound on his forehead while struggling to stay conscious.
While a random few joined the six-man crew on the runabout, the rest were sneaking up and across the wooden dock where a van sat parked back against the edge of the parking lot, waiting for the acquired stolen goods. Unbeknownst to the criminals who were eagerly celebrating their accomplishment, a counter plan had been enacted before the boat had pulled into the marina.
Exhausted and weary, the victims of this targeted assault were no match for the men who overran their vessels with verbal demands and loaded weapons, using any means to keep them quiet and out of their way as they ransacked their quarters for valuable items and currencies. Any docked seafarer that dared stand their ground was met with potent reminders of their differences and reprimanded for their bravery, then left vulnerable in a state of confusion and dispirited. As the situation for the victims is enveloped in hopelessness, one by one, the floor beneath them begins to warp into a dimensional portal that lowers them inside using Earth's gravity and reappears in an undisclosed location with three Pro Heroes waiting beneath them for their arrival.
"It's alright, you're safe now." Thirteen reassures softly.
"T-Those men- they came at us from out of nowhere! W-We didn't stand a chance!" Cried the mariner with his palm cupped to his right cheek.
"Don't worry, they're not going to get away with this. We have other Pro Heroes already on the scene."
On an obscured rooftop contiguously overlooking the entire marina, Fatima sat properly on leveled concrete with a paper map spread neatly across the ledge, the boats' locations boldly labeled with a red, circular marker as she measured the distances between herself and the individual vessels with a ruler and her right index finger; she had previously asked if any of the elected Pro Heroes had a map of the targeted location, explaining that her quirk's accuracy is more precise with calculations rather than speculations. With her finger gliding carefully from one point to the other along the edge of the ruler, Fatima deduces the conversion of centimeters to representative fractions and then multiples the distance of the ruler by the denominator, giving her the proper measurements.
Inside the panel van, one of the members waits impatiently in the driver's seat, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, shuffling his feet on the floorboard, then jostling his keys in the ignition before adjusting his rear-view mirror.
"C'mon c'mon, what's taking them so long?" He mutters quietly to himself, reaching over towards the glove compartment. After tucking his fingers under the handle, he pulls his fingers back to open the hatch and lowers the door down in his hand, revealing Chelsea posing stylishly from the waist up with a smirk laid across her face.
Unable to speak, he gives her the right away, "You know, you should clean out your glove box. It's really cramped in there!"
"W-What the hell?!"
"Oh, right, you were probably looking for this," Chelsea added, holding out a pistol in her hand.
He snatches the loaded weapon from her hand, and as his hand wraps around the grip and his finger presses against the trigger, the gun falls apart into pieces.
"Huh?!"
Chelsea turns herself over to lay on her stomach, "Hey, can I try?!" She asked, collecting the parts into her possession, and with a sleight of hand, the gun became fully reassembled. Chelsea twirls the weapon around by the trigger guard with her index finger until the muzzle points in his direction, "Yikes, this is embarrassing."
With his mouth agape, he'd been rendered speechless once more, stricken with fear at the mere sight of the loaded gun in her hand. He couldn't muster any words nor cry out for help in his frozen state and was subdued as quickly as she had appeared before him. From outside of the van, two of the several criminals from the docks had reached their destination and were conversing briefly before appropriately reacting to the subtle thumps coming from inside the chassis. One of the men cautiously pulls out the handles and opens the doors to find the driver of the van tied up in colorful silk scarves, struggling to break free.
"F-Fuyuhiko!" They both shouted, dropping their loot on the ground.
"-What are those two idiots screaming about?" Asked one of the men on the runabout.
"Who cares? They've both been getting on my nerves lately." Responded another, "So you really got our money back?"
He heaves the duffel bag up and forward, "Heh, you kidding? As soon as we turned our guns on 'em, those cowards didn't even bother putting up a fight, hahaha!"
Suddenly, there's a shout, "They're gone!" one of the thieves emerges from a vessel in a panic, "T-The boat's empty!"
"What do ya' mean 'the boats empty'?!"
"The old guy ain't anywhere. I checked all over!"
The disturbance causes the rest of the criminals to pause their route and turn their attention behind them, uncertain of their next course of action by the events currently unfolding. One of the men close to a supposedly occupied boat doubles back in his steps and peaks into the port side window of the cabin, unable to find anyone inside.
"H-Hey! This one wasn't empty before!"
"Shit! They're onto us, boss!"
"Then what're you standing there for?! Get us outta here!" A gruff voice commands from the driver's seat.
"Wait, what about the rest of us?!"
"Screw you! You guys are on your own!" He whips his head around to focus his attention on the man operating the engine, "Let's go already!"
"Don't tell me what to do!" The other man lashed out, tightly gripping onto the engine's throttle handle and pulling forward to start the powerhead, yet nothing occurred from this action. He attempted two more times using the same motions but the outcome remained the same.
"No way, not now!"
"What are you doing?! Get us out of here!"
"I can't! The engine won't start!"
Emerging triumphantly from the ocean waters Bassam makes his grand appearance, and in between his teeth were broken engine parts fracturing under the pressure of his jaw strength.
"Wink!" He chimes, blinking one of his nictitating membranes.
"Get'em!" One of the members yells, guns drawn and bullets fired into the water at Bassam, who evaded their line of fire swiftly and disappeared back into the depths.
"Dammit!"
"We gotta make a break for it!"
"And just who'do'ya' think you are?! You're not the boss!"
As the criminals argued amongst themselves, Asui leaps from under the dock and over the bow, delivering a flying, downward double-kick to the man holding the duffel bag, then launches her tongue towards the duffel bag, grapples the handle, and thrusts upwards above the boat to chain her attack. She hops from one body to another, forcing her weight with each propelling leap to disorient as many men as possible while they flail their weapons around in an attempt to injure her, but just as the situation favored the Pro Heroes,
"Ribbit!" Asui cries, now dangling steadily by her hair with the duffel bag slumped under her feet.
The boss, a robust, bluefin tuna merman, rises from the comfort of his seat and inserts himself into the fight, yanking up on Asui's hair as his massive fist gripped tighter around her locks, "So, this is who's been causing all the trouble for us, huh? Frog's Legs, and Ikizukuri!"
"Uh oh." Murmured Bassam, his head situated just above the water line.
"Ya' know, I was thinkin' you two would make a nice addition to my restaurant," as he made his declaration, his other hand reached for the yanagiba holstered to his thigh, then held the blade up to Asui's cheek, "but now, I think I'll have ya' both for myself."
What the criminals on the runabout hadn't noticed was that he'd previously tied his anchor rope to the engine shaft and lowered the anchor into the seabed, distributing the weight subtly using his own body to maneuver an undetectable plunge, then tied the middle of the rope into a standard trucker's hitch for an emergency quick release using his mouth and his one hand.
"يَخْتَنِق لِذَلِك!" He yells.
When Asui's life is suddenly threatened, Bassam hastily dives back into the water and threads his arm through the loop of the knot up to his shoulder, swimming at full speed in short bursts out into the ocean.
"Wha'ja say to me, you little- AHH!"
Bassam's combined weight and speed thrust the bow of the boat upwards at a thirty-degree angle, catapulting the criminals into the water, and Asui, now free from the criminal merman's grasp, hops to safety with her tongue rewrapped around the duffel bag handle.
"The hell with this!" Growls one of the several men still idle on the dock, "I'm not going to jail for these assholes!"
The foundation beneath the crew begins to shake as the structure suddenly starts to rise from the seabed and over the waterline. They panic and begin staggering across the dock, trying to get their balance, digging their heels into the crevice of the boards and falling onto their backs, sprinting forward, then landing face first into sodden wood and dropping to their hands and knees, driving their fingers and toes into any break that fit them.
Uraraka reveals her location by levitating above the marina, all while continuing the duration of her quirk, "That's the last thing I'd be worried about if I were you!" She jested, floating the backline with her fingertips spaced away from each other.
Also making her appearance on the scene, Nejire dives into position adjacent to Uraraka and centers herself midair with her arms outstretched in front of her, "Here we go!"
Her quirk begins to spiral from the palms of her hands, charging directly in a file formation to the floating dock that sweeps the men up from their frightened dispose and pushes them forward to the edge of the parking lot. Chelsea, who had repositioned herself to the roof of the panel van, was lying down on her stomach with her legs kicked up in the air and her head held up in her hand, whimsically bats the back of her hand in the air and opened the van doors. Inside the chassis, the driver and two witnesses had been quelled by Chelsea's deceit, and at the sight of the other criminals barreling inside, became hysteric as their bodies quickly packed the enclosed space. With another wave of her hand, she slams the doors shut, then sits upright while swinging her legs frontward; she tips her silk top hat forward and retrieves her wand from inside, then securely places her hat back on her head.
"And now, the moment you've all been waiting for!" She announces, masterfully twirling her costume prop between her fingers.
Chelsea holds her wand vertically and twirls the plastic tip in small, whimsical circles above her shoulder, then drops her hand down at her side and adjusts the degree of her wand to an obtuse angle. She taps the tip against the van using a common beat, and once she has finished her theatrical gesture, she drops the wand down into her sleeve cuff, vanishing the prop from existence, and levitates onto her feet. As the panel doors reopen, Chelsea bends at the waist for a bow as she impressively displays that the apprehended criminals no longer occupy the chassis. Uraraka and Nejire were awed by the spectacle they had just witnessed, exhilarated by the notion that everything had been going according to plan.
Moments before the grand reveal, in an alleyway adjoined from the rescue zone, Edgeshot knelt on the bottom of a borrowed trunk that hung upside down by silk webbing, his hand cradled onto the stem that connected the box to the web weaved above him. He listened for the rapping coming from inside the trunk, the very same he was instructed to remember, and once the signal was given, the plan moved accordingly.
"Thantophobia, are you ready?" Edgeshot calls out from above.
Omar had been securing the threads of his structure to support the incoming weight, strengthening the foundation at ground level as a preventative measure for unknown quirk usage or driven circumvention. The entire infrastructure was created using the space between the two buildings, and the construction of multiple, horizontal radicals had been weaved in an orb web formation used for capturing prey with artificial slacks intentionally produced for swiftly reenforcing culprits. Once he's satisfied with his snare, his fingers remain far apart with his palms flat out at both sides then sits and waits in the obscurity of the shadows.
"Deliver them." He responds firmly.
Kamihara straightens his legs to stand upright, narrowly touching the web and holding up himself and the trunk. From within his hero costume, he draws out a shuriken between his index and middle finger, and with a flick of his wrist, the blade flies across the open space, strikes against the brick wall, and slices the threads used to hold the trunk shut. The men captured at the marina began pouring into the alleyway, bouncing on webs and slipping between radicals, their limbs becoming entangled, and their stolen possessions confiscated by the unyielding labyrinth. They struggled against the tension of the threads, many of whom had no strength left to spare, yet despite their best efforts, Omar's quirk had far more resilience than they faired.
"Dammit," one of the men groans, "doesn't anyone have a quirk to get us out of this?"
They were prepared for this, any utterance of quirk use, and without hesitation, Omar initiated their counterdefense. He draws his hand up towards his face and lifts his eyepatch with his fingers while sinking his teeth into his thumb to break the skin, his blood then soaking into the threads to begin the coalescing process; with each movement of his arm and hand, the silk fibers tightened, slicing into the intertwined body parts of the criminals and drawing out their blood.
"I would heavily advise against that." He speaks considerately as his right eye floods into a deep red hue, "Your lives are not worth sacrificing for the sake of an employer, much less a crime you were manipulated into committing."
"Excellent work," affirms Edgeshot, "I expected no less from a hero such as yourself."
"Thank you, Edgeshot; your sentiments are very much appreciated; however, I am simply doing what I came here to do."
At the marina, the cacophony of an ocean fouled by frustrated men continues to stir, berating each other between smothering waves as they struggle to swim to shore.
One of the men rises to the surface, spitting out bitter salt water before clearing his throat, "Ugh," he glares upwards to see Uraraka and Nejire floating above him, oblivious to his presence, "Damn heroes, it's all their fault-"
As he reaches for the gun holstered in his pocket, a sudden blow to his torso causes a phrenospasm, the temporary paralysis of the diaphragm, leaving him unable to recuperate as another body abruptly slams into him from behind. Without a moment of hesitancy, more bodies began knocking together into a bundle from every angle until every human was accounted for; then, from beneath the wading waters, Bassam aimed his net gun attachment in their direction. A single shot was all that was needed to ensnare the criminals, the weighted ends of the net launching above the waterline and twisting together before dropping back into the ocean as the knitted mesh pulled them back under. Bassam grabs onto the ends of the net and drags the men back to the surface, tossing the weights up and around one of the dock posts.
"Special delivery!" He laughs, pushing his feet against the post as leverage to hoist the net up, "Wild, sustainable, freshly-caught seafood- that's the al-Qahtani guarantee!"
"Yay!" Cheered Uraraka.
"Oh, why thank you!" Giggled Nejire, floating closer to the dock.
Bassam leaps from the post and cascades backward out into the sea, placing one hand behind his head as he floats along the waterline, "Wallah, things got dicey there for a second, but we totally nailed it!"
Amid their playful banter, Bassam is swiftly yanked underwater with little to no reaction time.
"Shark Bait!" Uraraka gasped, unable to reach him at the time of his capture.
Asui dives into the water from the edge of the nearest boat without hesitation, immediately spotting Bassam being held by his prosthetic attachment in the knife-wielding crime boss's massive fist.
Bassam dodges each swipe of his knife, then grabs onto his wrist, squeezing tightly as they both struggle to gain the upper hand. Asui darts forward and pushes against the boss's side using her shoulder, unable to relinquish his grip on him; however, their changed position allows Bassam to pull his arm back and strike his head against the anthropomorphic bluefin tuna's jaw. The blow to his face leaves him momentarily stunned. Bassam pushes him away with his foot and then swims deeper down while Asui attempts to untie the anchor rope from the runabout.
He regains minor alertness with a groan, clutching onto his nose as blood seeps into the water; the criminal merman curses something under his breath and then spots Asui with her back facing him.
Now reaffixed on revenge, he sets himself up as the victim of his ignorance.
Within the oceanic seabed, the bastardized creature lurks in shrouds of invertebrates and vegetation, imbued by looming dusk. He haunts beneath his prey's feet in wide circles, keeping him within his perimeter as the boss conservatively pursues a seemingly unsuspecting Asui. The eerie visage of the merman hero stalks his formidable foe within distance, the scent of his rich blood wafting through the water, teasing him to act recklessly, yet despite his insatiable hunger, he persists accordingly. When the opportunity is presented intrinsically, Bassam launches himself upwards at full speed and chomps onto the base of the bluefin tuna's thick tail, his anguished yell bellowing out into the sea. The criminal merman struggles to unlock his jaw from his tail as he thrashes around, wailing in pain and frustration, but he remains clamped on with his endeavors.
With each flick of his tail more thermoregulated blood pours into his mouth and down his throat, a decadent flavor that thoroughly coats his tastebuds. The lean meat surrounding the tailbone clinches around his sharp, serrated teeth and shreds through the fatty tissue with ease, instinctually eager to further clench his jaw and shake his head laterally until a morsel rips from the tail. He knows that he shouldn't. This merman, albeit a criminal, was no more human than he was, despite their positions on the biological food chain, yet he remained overwhelmed by the temptation of this highly sought-after fish.
Bassam was more than his quirk, however, more than an apex predator acting solely on carnivorous meditations or evolutionary inclinations. He is the youngest child of Yasir and Najla al-Qahtani, an employee at 'Azraq Jidda, a student at U.A. Middle East,and more significantly, a Pro Hero.
He lifts his legs and interlocks his own with the boss's, then grabs onto the wrist closest to him, yanking him down in the same manner he had done to him previously as Asui dives in with the anchor rope. With only one hand available, he attempted to grab onto her using labored swipes, failing to catch her with each pass of the braided cord, and after a few feet of rope remained, she handed the rest off to Bassam. He pries his mouth from his tail and releases his wrist as he grabs onto the end of the rope, slipping his legs out from underneath him, then slams his foot into his back, pulling his arm back with full force to tighten the coil.
"Wanna learn how to tie a double overhand stopper knot, Froppy?!" Bassam beamed.
"S-Sure!" Asui chirped.
"Here, you can help me! First, you form a loop in the rope like this, then you pass the end through it twice- onnnne, twoooo, and now that that's done, all we have to do is tighten the knot, and we're done!"
"That was easy. Are you sure it's going to hold him?"
"Haha, trust me, this guy isn't going anywhere!"
In the parking lot of the marina, Chelsea is sitting on the chassis of the panel van with her legs over the passenger side and her arms out behind her, shifting some of her weight as she leans back. In the air adjacent to her position, the sky distorts into a small, continuous spiral as Fatima drops down from the center and plops in the seat next to her confidant.
"Fatima!" Exclaimed Chelsea, pouncing on top of her.
"Eep!" Squealed Fatima, giggling with her back to the roof.
Chelsea threw her arms over Fatima's shoulders and pulled her up into a hug, "Did we do it? Did the plan work?!"
Swinging in from above, Omar relinquished his silk threads from his fingertips and dropped down onto his feet, "It would seem that is the case."
"Omar!" They both cheered.
"Hey, there you guys are!" Nejire chimed in, aerial transporting the net of captured criminals with Uraraka holding up the back, "We got the last of them right here!"
"Sorry about not sending them over with the others." Uraraka wearily grinned, "Bassam did a good job catching them for us, though!"
"-And you wouldn't believe the fight this guy put up!" Exulted Bassam, the captured, anthropomorphic bluefin tuna slung over his shoulders with his anchor idly swaying by the rope in his hand, "He was a lot tougher than he looked!"
"We also got the money!" Bubbled Asui, presenting the duffel bag with both hands.
"Man, you guys are so awesome!" Bassam continues, but as he's doing so, Selkie emerges from the marina and looms over him from behind, "I don't think anyone even broke a sweat!" Selkie removes the boss from his shoulders, oblivious to the weight lifted from his body, while Asui tries to grab his attention with no avail, "Things like this almost never go this easy where I'm from. Wallah, just before I came here, I-"
Selkie hoisted Bassam up by his underarms and hurled him into the ocean, "Quit yapping and go clean up the mess you made!"
Bassam perched his head on top of the waterline and squirted water out between his teeth before responding, "وَقِح!"
"I don't want to hear it!" Selkie argued, "I don't know how they do things in Saudi Arabia, but here in Japan, we clean up after ourselves!"
He knew this was a fight he couldn't win. How could he? He wasn't wrong, and after accepting his defeat, Bassam sunk back into the water. With his hands firmly on his hips, Selkie's nostrils flared as he exhaled loudly through his nose.
"O-Oh, of course, you kids did an excellent job!" He nervously assured, turning his attention over to the group, "See what you can accomplish through hard work and proper communication? Yes, fine teamwork like that shows everyone the kind of Pro Heroes you're becoming!"
In a final attempt to win them over, he brings his hands up to his face and rests his chin on top of his knuckles, raises one leg, and smiles widely, using his whole face in an attempt to appear cute and wholesome. He fails and is received with awkward silence, pity chuckles, and adverted glances.
Selkie turns his back towards them, "D-Dammit!" He quietly sniveled, burying his face into his hands, "Why can't I reach these kids?!"