Is anyone else still having trouble with FF emails? Mine seems to keep rejecting them even though I've done what it says to fix it. It's getting really annoying...

Anyway, welcome back to A Hero's Creed! Finally, it's time for the Pricetag Killer to show he's not a one-and-done Vigilante and to get some of 1-A's reactions to the news. Let's see what's in store, but first: Reviews!

Gamelover41592: Thank you.

JustAnOverseer (Guest): I'm so glad you enjoy what I've done blending these worlds together. I try to see it like the real world which has so many moving parts at any one time. Too bad Izuku doesn't see all the gears. Dangerous name, by the way. I don't want to put you in charge of a Vault.

LEGOBRICK13: The thing is, the Brotherhood didn't pair Izuku with Mirko. Izuku did that for the express reason of training his physicality; he didn't expect the mission or what would come from it. It wasn't like Mentor "ok'ed" the work-study; Mirko being a Master Assassin gives her the ability to clear her own missions without going to Mentor first.

Monkey D. Conan: Yes, I wonder... And as cool as puzzle rooms would be, I'm not good at coming up with such things. At least with this choice, I have plot ideas and character development that I can use it for.

Monster King: Here you go!

Pirohiko-Baltazar: Gentle doesn't really fit either the Assassins or the Templars... but he could be a useful pawn for either side. Also yeah, poor Sero. Without Mineta, he's the default punching bag.

Shadowwolf1997: Without Mineta, Sero's the unfortunate sacrifice. Also, the class was more interested in each other's work-studies over the news, but here's those reactions.

stevenpiskunov2: As cool as that would be, I can't think of any in-universe reason for them to sing that song. I won't sacrifice the narrative's seriousness for a shoutout.

Wizardwolf 1020: So, the Osaka Brotherhood would very much have sung his praises in the story by now when mentioning the past... if I had known how much he did. I didn't play Unity myself (don't have the system), so I didn't have any of that information until you mentioned that video, which I went and watched. Just you wait, the Osaka will have their day. I did say this is only the first of three books.

Zonzus: As much as I would like to just skip the Cultural Festival, I have plans for character development and information leak that need the backdrop. But, despite the glittery exterior, this story will continue to darken. You don't know the evil ideas I have for the near future.

Chapter 62:

The Second Tag

"Well, I admit I did not expect such a definitive answer so soon," Momo began, the young Templar standing before her classmates. Izuku stood slightly behind her, acting in his role as the class's Vice-Representative. "And we have no serious objections to putting together a 'carnival row'?"

"It's the best option, isn't it?" Sato shrugged. "It's broad enough that we can do several different things in a small area, so more of us get to do something we're interested in."

"Plus, we can sell tickets that are good at every booth," Ochako added. "That makes tallying the money easier but still gives people options."

"Those are valid points," Momo agreed, tapping a pencil against the paper on the podium before her. "The only issue I can think of currently is material cost and labor. Putting any standard booth together can be a hassle, but multiple? And then there is the added question of acquisition of an area large enough for everything we would want."

"But Prez," Kaminari spoke up. "Why do you think material is a problem? Can't you just make it for us with your Quirk?"

"Prizes, too," Hagakure added. "That would get around any resale laws."

"I…" Momo's cheeks colored, the heiress having never considered the possibility of producing the materials needed rather than purchasing them. To do so would not only be more efficient, but it would also increase the school's overhead and put more into the Hero Course's budget, even if it was just a drop compared to whatever insane funding the principal had his paws in. "Well, yes. We could do that."

"Oh, we could ask our work-study teachers for the rights to have figures of them as prizes!" Mina suggested. "We'd just have to make sure they don't copy any already on the market."

"That would take a significant amount of time and research," Momo said.

"Er… I could handle that," Izuku offered, turning eyes on him. He scratched his cheek with one hand, hiding the other hiding behind him as he nervously flicked his wrist. "I mean, I was a bit of a Hero nerd in middle school. I could make some figure designs that are unique enough to not cause problems."

"You can do that, Mido-Bro?" Kirishima asked. "Well, I guess that does line up with your notebooks."

"Just let the damn nerd do it," Bakugo grunted, staring out the window. "His stupid collection could fill a fuckin' warehouse. Hero trivia is the only shit he's good at."

"How rude!" Iida yelled, his arm chopping the air as it always did. "You cannot be a Hero when you so casually disparage your classmates in such a manner!"

Bakugo just huffed, not responding. Frankly, Izuku considered that to be one of the nicest things the blond had said about him in years.

"Ahem," Momo coughed, snuffing out any argument before it could escalate. "The fact remains that 'carnival row' does not give a complete picture to what we wish to create, even if we have some idea of how it may fit together. I suggest we form groups of at least two, each centered around one of the attractions. This gives each of us at least half of the Cultural Festival to explore rather than having to work the entirety. We will also need to order any ingredients as edible food is beyond my Quirk's ability." She tapped her pencil again. "Please bring your ideas to me by the end of the day at the latest so I may fill out the appropriate paperwork with the school. If your idea is rejected for any reason, you may join one of the others."

The class broke into whispering, pairs and small groups forming instantly with ideas being voiced.

"You know we'll need to have a group, too," Izuku pointed out, Momo turning to him.

"Have you a suggestion?"

The verdet tilted his head, considering several ideas. "What about a target gallery?" he tried. "You know, like with the paper button guns? Either the more targets you hit in the time or the smaller target, the higher the shelf you pick a prize from? That sort of thing."

"An interesting idea," Momo nodded, not agreeing immediately. Due to her background, Izuku suspected she had not been to many carnivals given the threat her parents faced as high-level Templars.

"They're very popular," he pressed. "Especially among little kids and couples, depending on the prizes. I suspect Sato's going to make a katanuki stand since it involves cookies, and he might rope Shoto into helping with his fire. Ochako may take part in a sweets booth with mochi and the like, and I can see Tsu helping to set up a goldfish or super ball scooping tank. I'm not sure about Jiro or Kaminar—"

"That's perfect!" he heard Ashido yell. "We should totally put Bakugo in a dunking booth!"

"Like hell you will!" said blond shot back.

"Shut up…" Aizawa moaned, rolling over in his sleeping bag. Eri —or possibly Emi— must have been keeping him up at night. That or he had missions or Hero work Izuku was unaware of. "I'm trying to sleep."

"What's wrong, Bakugo?" Ashigo goaded, quieter. "Scared of a little water? What, you don't know how to swim?"

"I can swim just fine, Raccoon Eyes," the explosive boy growled.

"Maybe Katsuki is afraid his girlfriend will see," Pony suggested with a smirk.

"The Mouse and I aren't dating and I'm not afraid of shit."

"If we do a dunking booth," Izuku interrupted, "it would only be fair if everyone took a turn inside it. We'll also need someone managing the ticket booth at all times, too. The festival will last 12 hours, and that doesn't divide evenly with 20 of us, so some people will have to take double shifts."

"Bakugo won't take a double in the tank," Ashido stage-whispered. "He's chicken."

"Give me a fuckin' hour in the damn tank," the blond hissed. "I'm not scared of anything."

"We can work out schedules at a later date," Momo interrupted. "Homeroom will finish soon, so come find me during lunch or before you leave the school with your ideas and group numbers." She smiled. "Let's make this a festival to remember!"

Izuku sighed, the boy dressed in his Apprentice robes as he eyed a fancy apartment building across the street. The Kogane no Kōsō Biru —the Golden Highrise— was a small but popular chain of apartments catering to the needs of youth of generational wealth, a series of buildings across Japan for the near-adults who wanted to gain some experience away from their rich parents but didn't have the guts to attempt to "slum it up" in an actual apartment away from housekeeping and laundry services. From the search Izuku did into it, the company that ran the apartments looked the other way on a lot of stuff as long as it wasn't permanently-damaging to anyone involved —such as drink and minor drugs— but they weren't Templar in origin or funding outside maybe a few tenants.

This information flowed through Izuku's head, but it was not his focus. It was Wednesday night —possibly Thursday morning given the closeness of the midnight hour— and he knew he would be tired in school the next day. He had chosen now to enact his second murder as the Pricetag Killer because being in school the next day would serve to give him an alibi should he need it, however unlikely that may be. Given the frequency of the Kogane no Kōsō Biru's housekeeping, it would not be long before Okina Yashin's body would be found the next morning.

He had contacted Master Usagiyama to meet him here, requiring her oversight for this mission —as he'd sworn to do— on the off-chance something went horribly wrong. He highly doubted that would be the case considering the painful lesson from the last mission, but he was still not authorized to act on his own in any capacity; Hero, Assassin, or otherwise.

"You're not paying attention, runt."

Izuku spun, his hidden blade shooting out on reflex toward the person standing behind him. Master Usagiyama barely reacted, her hand grabbing his wrist before his blade could get anywhere close to her neck. She raised an eyebrow, Izuku pulling his arm back.

"I was thinking about my infiltration route," he lied. "Plus, your stealth outranks my perception in every way, Master."

"Enough flattery will get you everywhere," the rabbit-woman grinned, settling by the roof's railing beside the Apprentice. "Well, what's your plan, runt?"

"There are cameras that watch every entrance for the building," the verdet began, pointing to several. Most were positioned on power poles whose wires ran to the high-end apartments. "That said, I don't plan to use any of those. My target Okina Yashin lives on the top floor in apartment 38. Rather than enter on the ground floor, I'll use the powerlines to get to the building beside it and jump the gap. From there, I will climb down and enter through the window. I'll kill Yashin, leave behind the price tag, and exit the same way. She shouldn't be found until morning."

"Will any of the cameras be a problem?"

"There is one that has a chance of seeing me." Izuku pointed to a camera mounted upon a power pole. "That one just barely sees Yashin's window and might see me enter that way. It wouldn't be powerful enough to identify me, but I figure it would be better to disable it before moving forward."

"And how do you intend to do that?"

"I'll pass it on my route and knock it loose enough for any investigation to initially suspect a bird flying into it. They don't seem able to move, so it won't be fixed until daylight, long after we're gone."

"Decent plan, runt," Master Usagiyama nodded. "Certainly better than your last one."

Izuku almost hid the flinch at the reminder but didn't respond to the taunt. That the Master Assassin was here to oversee his self-proclaimed mission at all was a gift horse he was going to accept, unnecessary verbal kicks and all.

"Well?" the Assassin prompted. "It's damn late and both you and I need sleep to operate tomorrow, so get going."

"Yes, Master." Izuku jumped over the edge of the roof, landing on the double powerline connecting it to the grid. He followed it toward the other side of the street, thankful that a society of superheroes had conditioned the populous to not look up at every motion, not that there were many people out near midnight in the middle of the week anyway.

As promised, he paused beside the one camera that might see him, the boy turning to kick it back the direction he had come from. Its hinge creaked as the impact bent the metal, now pointing the camera toward the street. Nodding to himself, Izuku turned back and continued his wire run to the building on the apartments' left, jumping the gap from there.

The top of the Kogane no Kōsō Biru was layered with gravel, the rock quietly crunching under Izuku's boots as he made his way toward the edge. He activated his Eagle Vision and focused, coming up clear of any real guards or threats. Nodding again, he readjusted his mask —the cracked one from his last mission— and a disposable face mask as an added precaution. After his being identified so easily last time, he didn't want to take any chances moving forward.

"Alright," Izuku muttered to himself, climbing over the ledge and lowering himself down. "Just a controlled fall from the roof. No big deal."

He let go, letting gravity pull him down even as his high-grip boots help bleed away some of the speed with friction. Though the fall wasn't that far all things considered, it still caused his heart to pound until he caught the windowsill with his right hand. His fingers strained, the Apprentice pulling himself over to grab on with his other hand before his fingers could slip. Unlike some adult members of the Brotherhood, Izuku could not hold that position indefinitely, the boy quickly checking to see if the window was unlocked. Surprisingly, it was, Izuku pushing said window open and pulling himself inside.

Okina Yashin's apartment was clean for the most part, Izuku's eyes picking out the crumpled aluminum cans scattered on the floor. The window put him out in the living room directly across from the door and with the kitchen to the right, a load-bearing wall between the two. The furniture wasn't expensive, but it was decently new, consisting of an L-couch, TV, ottoman, and a side table. He knew from the website that the apartments had three rooms, the bedroom and bathroom connected to a tiny hallway to the left of the door. Izuku lowered himself into the apartment, closing the window most of the way. He knelt, picking up one of the cans with a gloved hand.

"Strong One-Oh-One," the Apprentice read, looking over the can. "Nine percent alcohol. And she had six? I'm basically saving her from a hangover."

Setting the can back and shaking his head at his own morbid humor, Izuku padded his way toward the bedroom. The door was ajar, the young killer pushing it open slowly lest it squeak. Unlike the living room, which only had the crushed cans, Yashin's bedroom was a disaster. Clothes were pulled from their hangers and littered the room, the smells of old sweat and sex and both old and fresh alcohol permeating the carpet and sheets so pungently that it made the verdet's nose wrinkle. Yashin was draped atop her bed, dressed in only a sports bra and leggings. Her long, bleached-blonde hair was a mess of wavy curls falling to the side, but she was petite in all other senses of the word. Izuku refused to let his eyes linger on the woman he was going to kill, his gaze falling on the bedside table.

There was a face-down picture frame there, Izuku tiptoeing his way there to pick it up. Inside was what looked like a graduating class photo, but all the participants were dressed in the uniform of a business. The glass was shattered and a red X had been marked over one of the faces.

"You must have really hated Ms. Yua," Izuku whispered. He reached down, finding the longest piece of the picture frame's glass, a stretch with one corner from the top-center and another from the rectangle's bottom-right. Sure, he could use his hidden blade, but something felt more poetic about finding something connected to the victims in this act. A part of him wondered if he should be worried that he'd grown so used to killing that he now considered the nuances of serial killer optics, but at the same time the hidden blade had the chance of being tied back to the Brotherhood by Templars since it was so standard. Using something from the location —like the letter opener from Joshi's desk— carried less risk of connection. And the larger and more sensational these murders were, the more likely the others on the list were to turn themselves in before he'd have to come for them.

His mind set, the student carefully rolled Yashin onto her back. She was pretty, now that he got a full look at her face, but that didn't excuse her actions or the torment Okane Yua went through because of her. With Yashin in position, Izuku placed a photo of Yua —she wasn't missing long enough to have a poster, so he used a still frame from her news interview— with an attached price tag of 154,750,000. He placed the photo on her chest and lined the shard of glass over her heart. With a grunt, he pressed down, pinning the photo to her skin and puncturing the heart.

Yashin's baby-blue eyes snapped open, but there was nothing she could do. Izuku covered her mouth with his hand, his eyes locking onto hers.

"You could not accept Yua's talents and paid to have her removed. This is the recompence for your envy and spite. Reques—" He reconsidered. Yashin was no Templar, so he didn't need to treat her like one in her last moments. "Yukkuri yasunde kudasai, Okina Yashin."

Orange eyes, still shrouded in shock and confusion, lost their light and ceased to see. Izuku pulled back, leaving the photo and price tag pinned to the cooling corpse.

"I'm sorry for what you did," he told the body, closing her eyes. "I'm sorry for what I did. The rich and the poor are alike for death does not care. May your sins and crimes be forgiven with your life."

Not wanting to stay longer at the scene than necessary, Izuku quickly backtracked to the window where he opened it, climbed out, and pulled it shut again. He climbed, followed the wires, and came to a stop before Master Usagiyama.

"Okina Yashin is dead," he reported. "Thank you for facilitating my selfish request."

"At least you recognize it," she replied. "If nothing else, it's a good test of your skills. Now, let's drop our stuff and get to our beds. God knows I'm ready to hibernate."

"Yes, Master."

Izuku yawned, rubbing one of his eyes. It was Thursday's lunchtime, the student sitting at a table with Tsuyu, Shoto, Iida, Momo, Kyoka, Kaminari, Kirishima, Mina, Ochako, and Sero, most of the rest of 1-A at a separate table nearby. Bakugo was the sole exception; he had started sitting with 1-B. At first, it was to waylay Yui Kodai's silent demands, but now it was mostly to piss off Monoma, much to the amusement of Bakugo and a few of the 1-B students.

"Are you ok, Izuku?" Momo questioned, the verdet turning to her. "You were quiet this morning and are yawning now."

"I'm fine," the boy waved off. "I just didn't sleep very well last night. Mom bought some discounted ingredients at the market and I think they might have been just a little past their date."

"Yet you are here and managed to answer every question our teachers posed this morning," Iida said. "As expected of our class's Vice-Representative. Your dedication to your schooling honors our august institution."

"Yeah, thanks." Izuku yawned again, one of his hands shooting forward to smack Tsuyu's tongue where it was inching toward his pudding cup. The frog-girl pulled back, her eyes narrowing. "Not today, Tsu."

"Asui—" Shoto began.

"You can call me Tsu, ribbit."

"Er, Tsu," the dual-colored teen amended. "Why do you regularly attempt theft of Izuku's pudding?"

"Cause she likes~ him," Mina sang.

"Because it's fun," the verdette replied, ignoring their pink-skinned classmate. "It started off as a prank, but now it's sort of a game between us, ribbit."

"Hmm," Shoto hummed. He reached over, grabbing Kirishima's pudding cup from his tray.

"Wha— Hey!" the horned boy protested.

"You did not stop me. I believe this is the part where I say, 'too slow'."

"Yeah, well!" Kirishima reached over, snagging Shoto's in return. "How about that?"

Shoto blinked. "This is an acceptable outcome."

A short ring rung from Mina's pocket, the girl reaching for her phone instantly.

"Ashido!" Iida said. "School code mandates all phones should be silenced or turned off during school hours!"

"There's another one?" Izuku heard her mutter under her breath. He wasn't going to say anything —a combination of not being sure what she meant and not really wanting subject of his illicit activities discussed if that was it— but Kirishima was beside her, asking the question for the rest of the group.

"What is it, Mina?"

"There was another murder," the acid-user answered, tilting her phone toward her paramour. "This businesswoman was found dead, a photo with a price tag pinned to her body with the murder weapon."

"Is that in reference to the so-called Pricetag Killer?" Momo asked.

"Price tag?" Tsuyu echoed. "I don't get it, ribbit."

"You didn't see the big news the first time?" Mina blinked. "It was all over. This corrupt police chief's house was burned down, the body of a missing woman found outside with her own missing persons poster and a price tag pinned to the ground with the murder weapon used on the chief."

"Oh, I saw that story," Sero added. "Wasn't there a note, too? Something from the guy that did it?"

"A message, yeah," Kaminari agreed. "I don't remember what it said, though."

"To think someone would lose such faith in our legal—" Iida began.

"Found it!" Mina called, interrupting the legacy student. She turned her phone around to show everyone the message the Pricetag Killer had carved into the earth. "I failed to save you," she recited from her short-term memory. "May your family and students forgive me. I will not fail again."

"Then whoever the killer is warned that there would be more deaths," Kaminari commented, shivering. "How can people do such a thing?"

"I mean, that police chief wasn't a good guy," Kirishima muttered.

"Kirishima!" Iida chastised.

"He was in charge of the investigation into his own crime if I remember right," Sero added.

"Sero!"

"What do we know about the latest one?" Shoto asked.

"Todoroki! All of you! A woman just died!"

"And it's unfortunate," Momo agreed. "That does not mean we should not discuss it. It is necessary to understand wrongdoers' motives to fix the societal problems that cause them."

"The world can be a bleak place, ribbit," Tsuyu nodded. "Avoiding such topics doesn't change the facts."

"So?" Izuku prompted. He didn't want to talk about this topic, but not taking part in the conversation would be more suspicious, so he swallowed his nerves. On the other side of the table, Kyoka hid her widening eyes behind her bangs as she heard Izuku's heartrate spike. "What's the article say?"

"The woman's name was Okina Yashin," Mina began, scanning through the article. "The woman in the picture is Akane Yua, who was the woman interviewed after the Heartseed Slaughter… Yashin and Yua worked for the same company owned by Yashin's grandfather… They graduated from high school together… Yashin was killed with a shard of glass… A hiring class picture was found in the room with Yua crossed out, but they don't know whether Yashin or the killer did that… Yashin had been formally cleared by the police, but they are now going through her finance records in an attempt to confirm the price tag…"

"Why would they do that?" Kaminari asked. "Shouldn't they be more concerned about finding the killer?"

"I'm sure they're trying," Ochako offered, "but I think this is about trying to confirm the killer's claim that Yashin paid the money. Presumably to Heartseed."

"Ok, but why?" Sero echoed. "Wouldn't that just give the Pricetag Killer legitimacy or whatever?"

"There is never legitimacy for murder!" Iida protested. Several students from other tables looked over at him, the Hero student muttering apologies to them in a loud whisper.

"It's not about that," Shoto denied. "It's about confirmation. Aunt Hitsuji taught me about it during my work-study with her. When a vigilante, especially a serial killer, gets away but has a clear pattern or motive, the police try to confirm or disprove whatever claims they have. This way, when they catch them, then they can use the vigilante's information if it's real. If they confirm this woman did pay to have another kidnapped to the amount, then they can conclude that the Pricetag killer's information is accurate."

"Then they could use it to arrest any others after catching him," Momo finished. "That makes sense."

"But why is the killer risking himself if he could just give the police the information he has, ribbit?" Tsuyu asked, tilting her head and poking her cheek with a finger. Izuku marveled at how well she played ignorant. Her tongue slithered out, dipping into the now-open pudding cup Izuku only just noticed was missing from his tray. He sighed.

"Well, the first target was a police chief," Mina said. "He was clearly a bad dude. Maybe the killer doesn't trust them because of that."

"With two murders, surely the Heroes will get involved soon," Ochako thought aloud.

"I don't think so," Izuku replied, turning eyes on him. "Mina, does the article call the Pricetag Killer a Villain at any point?"

"Yea…" she trailed off, scrolling. "Wait, no. It doesn't."

"Then the Heroes can't do anything. Legally, there is a distinction between a Villain and a criminal. It was on our midterm. Kirishima?"

"Uhh…" the now-horned student hummed. "A Villian… uses their Quirk?"

"That's it," Izuku nodded. "That's the difference. It's small, but it's an important detail."

"Until the Pricetag Killer either targets Heroes or leaves evidence of a Quirk, he's not legally a Villian," Iida realized. His head fell into his hands. "I should have realized. Heroes only have jurisdiction over Villains. The distinction goes back to the Fragility Laws of 2077 after several non-Quirked criminals were accidentally killed by Heroes using their own Quirks. So many criminals are Villains nowadays that the words have become synonymous in vernacular beyond news and legality, but the courts say different. Legally, Heroes and the HPSC can't do anything about this case."

"So, they're just gonna let more people die?" Kaminari questioned. "That's messed up."

"I think the phrase is 'frying bigger fish', ribbit," Tsuyu suggested. "Or something like that. It's American."

"What she means is the HPSC probably considers this a police investigation, so they can leave it to focus on Villain attacks instead," Izuku clarified. "It's like if there's a jewelry store robbery and a hostage situation happening at the same time, which do you focus on?"

"But there are lives at stake here," Iida argued.

"Villain attacks kill more people per capita," Izuku replied instantly. Kyoka stared at him from across the table. "This guy has a count of, what? Two? Three?"

"Two," Mina offered. "They aren't counting the woman in the first hit as his."

"The Toxic Chainsaw attack 12 years ago killed 58 in two days," the verdet finished. The table was quiet for a minute, everyone processing and digesting that information.

"Ribbit," Tsuyu croaked, breaking the silence. "Do you think the killer is being flashy to scare Heartseed's clients? Try to make them turn themselves in, ribbit?"

"He could be," Shoto replied. "It's morally questionable, but it could also be effective."

"And we don't know who could be next," Sero said. "The first guy was a corrupt police chief, then some young businesswoman. They weren't even in the same prefecture."

"They were both pretty wealthy, though," Ochako commented.

"I think we can assume there are two killers," Kyoka muttered, speaking up for the first time. She kept her eyes on Mina, the others assuming it was because she was the one with the story pulled up. "The Heartseed thing said there were two, and then we see two murders, one clearly connected and the other done by the same person or people."

"Do you think it has something to do with the Hero Killer?" Kirishima wondered. "Maybe he's one of them. Vigilantism, while rare, isn't uncommon, but most of them take care not to kill. At least, not in the open. Killing someone has a harsher punishment than just getting caught."

"It's not the Hero Killer." The table at large turned to see Bakugo standing over them, a tray of too much trash for a single person in his hand.

"What makes you say that?" Mina asked.

"Because he nearly put a fuckin' hole in my head that same night." Bakugo waited for the obligatory yelled queries to subside before gesturing over his shoulder with a thumb. "North Squad Go had taken Mouse and me to this fancy-ass casino her uncle runs to check out these rumors about it being yakuza or some stupid shit. While we were there, the Hand Bitch from the USJ attacked. Mouse and I put him on his back only for the Hero Killer and some other bitch to kill him and the Purple Cloud bastard then and there. That asshole's crossbow bolt passed right between our heads."

"The Hero Killer has a partner now?" Ochako blinked. Beside her, Iida's eyes widened as he seemingly slid mental puzzle pieces together.

"Maybe it's a group," the legacy student muttered, not wanting to reveal everything he knew. Not in such a public setting at least. He knew it was a group, but this was his chance to warn others. Even then, Airjet's warning echoed in his head. 'This war could be far bigger than you think. It's possible you already know people on both sides.' "Maybe the Hero Killer has trained others for his own purposes."

"Then wouldn't they be going after Heroes, too?" Sero wondered.

"Thinking about it here isn't going to do shit," Bakugo grunted. "You wanna do something? Get stronger." He turned, walking away.

"Well, if the Hero Killer is connected, then there are at least three," Momo commented, a hand on her chin as she thought.

"No, these are separate things," Izuku denied. "Didn't Yua's interview say a woman was in charge of the Heartseed Slaughter?"

"Maybe the Hero Killer has a lover," Kaminari shrugged only for Kyoka to jab him in the side with her elbow. The bell for the end of lunch rang above them, prompting several of the 1-A students around the table to start shoveling their unfinished food into their mouths.

"Either way, it shouldn't affect us," Sero said through a mouthful of food. "Long as none of us dealt with Heartseed or caught the attention of the Hero Killer."

Izuku breathed a silent sigh of relief until his eyes met Kyoka's. His heart thundered as he understood their situation with a single glance.

Somehow, someway, she knew.

"So this is the secret government safehouse you mentioned?" Gentle Criminal said at a whisper as Compress had suggested they do, the man studying the plain brick and sparce decoration. It was a limited area about the size of a small apartment with sparce furnishing including a single-size mattress, a sink, and a bathroom in the corner blocked off by a curtain. Under them was the manhole cover the trio of he, Mr. Compress, and La Brava had used to enter the cut-off area from the sewers. By the door to the bathroom was a rung ladder leading to a second, smaller room above. "It is… underwhelming."

"The place wasn't made to be comfy," the masked man replied in equally hushed tone. "It was made for government-supported Villains to bunker down while non-affiliated Heroes looked for them. Though we haven't heard of any attacks recently, it's still best we take precaution if it is in use, unlikely as that is. On the bright side, its small area should make our search easy. Please, check every nook and cranny here, I shall investigate the second floor."

"You did say you didn't want to be on camera, so I suppose it is best we split up so we can get some footage," Gentle agreed. He nodded to Compress, missing the way La Brava studied the area with a pinched expression. She balled her hands, holding them up and pressing them against her chest in an attempt to get them to stop shaking.

"Happy hunting." Compress headed to the ladder, taking its rungs two at a time. La Brava watched him go, scowling.

"Come now, my dear," Gentle said, kneeling before the redhead. "I know you aren't his biggest fan, but there's no need to mare your pretty face with such a sour expression."

"I-I-I know, b-but…" La Brava stuttered. "I-I just feel l-like there's a lot h-he's not telling us."

"Whatever it may be, I know we will pull through," the man promised. "All for the goal of carving our names into the annals of history, making ourself immortal to the minds of men." He smiled. "Come, La Brava. Let us start recording."

"O-Of course, Gentle."

Above them, Compress came to the narrow opening that was the only path into the upper room. His information was accurate, the man carefully poking his head into the room beyond.

There was a man laying on the bed, his back to the opening. From what Compress could tell, he was an older gentleman with hair so grey it must have been its natural color in a small ponytail. He was lean and shirtless, exposing the rippling muscle along his back as well as the numerous scars from what appeared to be old puncture wounds. The man grunted, rolling onto his back to show that his elbow split, giving him two forearms and two hands on each arm for a total of four. There was a chest sitting at the foot of the bed, but Compress was more concerned with the pair of knives sitting on the table nearby.

Quietly as he could, he army-crawled into the room, the muffled sounds of Gentle's webshow intro drifting from the lower floor. The man in the bed grunted at the noise, starting to wake.

Compress cursed silently, rolling forward as the four-handed man began to open his eyes. He reached for the knives instantly, but Compress was already there, brushing them away with his cane while his free hand shot for the neck. He flowed forward with the momentum, shoving the shirtless man's back into the wall, fingers around his throat. His eyes were a tan-yellow, almost like sand.

"Greetings and salutations, Tsunote," Compress said, squeezing the man's neck as his cane pounded into his sternum, disrupting his movements. The man's arms still tried to rise. "I wouldn't recommend that," Compress warned, using his cane to slide his sleeve up, revealing the bracer hidden beneath. Tsunote froze.

"Who even—?"

"You may call me Mr. Compress. I know it's terribly rude to wake you in your safehouse, but you have an appointment with a certain man who has a lot of questions for you. Mainly, where are the funds you rerouted?"

"You… I'll never—!" he gasped before Compress tightened the chokehold.

"Yes, I didn't think so. Very well." A blue glow surrounded Tsunote, the man shrinking until he was contained in a blue marble in Mr. Compress' hand. He rolled it, flipping it into the air before catching it on the return and stashing it in his coat. The man apprehended, Compress moved to the table, finding a mostly-finished report clearly written in code with no cypher key. He sighed. "Why must they make everything difficult? Oh well."

He stashed the report in his coat as well before making the bed, giving the room the appearance that no one had been there at all. Finally, he grabbed the knives and tossed them into the chest with the folded outfit there, Compressing the trunk as well. Nodding to himself, Compress returned to the ladder.

"Well, my dear viewers, it seems this location is a bust, but this trip was no waste. The fact that this place exists at all lends credibility to the veracity of my source. Though no tea has spilled today, I believe it is safe to say we've seen some overflow. Soon, we shall be ready to tip the cup over. Until then, this has been Gentle Criminal! Tata!"

Compress made his way down the ladder as the pair ended their video, the taller man now holding a steaming teacup in one hand and a kettle in the other. Both looked his way as his foot landed on the floor, one with tilted brow and the other narrowed eyes.

"I am afraid to say we found no documents of larger conspiracy," Gentle reported, passing his cup off to La Brava —who took it and rotated it to drink from the same spot Gentle had— before pouring a second cup to offer to Compress. "Still, we cannot say such was unexpected. Had you better luck?"

"No, the upper room was empty," Compress lied. "Perhaps it would be better to wait until there is a crime reported in an area with a safehouse before we try again? Catching a government criminal in their flight would be better footage, no?"

"I abhor violence but I fear you may be right," Gentle agreed, stroking his moustache. "Very well. Let us wait to see what the future holds. Though I would like to verify the other safehouses' existences."

"But Gentle—" La Brava tried.

"Worry not, my dear La Brava," the man waved off. "I'm certain those trips will be just as uneventful as this one was. Until then, why don't we visit that marvelous tea shop in Mutsutafu? Just the two of us?"

"A wonderful idea," Compress put in. "I have a few personal matters to attend to the next few days. I shall contact you when my own contacts reach me."

"Our plan is laid then. Come, let us be off." Gentle turned with a dramatic flare of his cape, even if it was only Compress and La Brava there to see it.

La Brava swallowed a nervous mutter, casting one finally glance around the area as her beloved jumped down into the sewers once more. She needed to stop this before Gentle got caught up in something he couldn't bounce back from…

End of Chapter 62

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-SwordOfTheGods