Forty-eight hours came and went as the President resided in her bunker. All personnel had been preparing for the inevitable. Yet it didn't happen. It confused the President as she checked her watch. An hour would pass, then two, then three. After the fourth hour, they slowly made their way outside. No grand explosion had been reported, and no catastrophic devastation.
"What happened?" she asked, addressing the assembled HPSC personnel. No nukes had been launched, so what happened? Why were they still here? She turned to Techno as the man scoured the internet with only a thought. He accessed satellites to zoom in on the Tyrant's location, and a look of shock hit his face.
"The silos… have been destroyed!" he exclaimed in surprise, changing a nearby screen to display the footage. To the President's shock, he was right. The once proud fortress was all but shattered. Bits of broken concrete and ruined buildings littered the area. Corpses dotted the open fields with destroyed vehicles. It was all gone.
She didn't know if to cheer or be horrified. Someone had managed to stop this, something the HPSC couldn't. It wasn't good at all, but she couldn't help but be the slightest bit relieved.
"Cancel the evacuation efforts. I want every man available scouring that base," she ordered. The world had avoided disaster, with the public unaware. That was something she wanted to keep. It would take effort, but it would be possible.
"Oh, Madam President," she turned around, finding the smiling face of Night Owl standing behind her.
"I believe I have something you may want to see."
It felt like it had been weeks to Grizzly. Stuck lying behind whatever cover they could find as the enemy grew closer. This wasn't something he expected to face, which in all honesty, was alarming how many times he had to say this. Every new day brought some monumental horror he wasn't expecting, only to think that was the last one he would have to face.
And every new day proved him wrong. So he sat in his mud-filled trench, counting what bullets remained. They received word the Boss destroyed the silos a week ago. So it was one chess piece off the table, then it was revealed that Tyrant died. And now the enemy forces were beginning to crack.
The Intel teams got reports of infighting between enemy companies. They were still surrounded and shelled by the militants' D-30s. But it was progress, and with desperation at an all-time high, any progress was good enough. It's why Grizzly sighed as he finished counting his last round.
In total, he had three magazines left for his M4. Others had even less. Then there was the MRE issue. Food had been running scarce quickly, and the number of refugees behind them begging for food made the issue worse. There were two thousand five hundred MSF personnel at the beginning of the battle, with over ten thousand refugees following them.
As the days passed more people flocked to them for protection, exacerbating the number to forty thousand. They couldn't help them all, but turning them away wasn't an option. Especially with ten thousand of the Tyrant's finest surrounding them. The only thing keeping the MSF going was pure spite at the moment.
For some that was good enough, but they needed a miracle. A miracle Grizzly hoped Ape had, as the sergeant walked up to him.
"Sergeant." Grizzly greeted, putting away his last mag.
"Lieutenant now I'm afraid," Ape replied, taking a seat next to Grizzly, with Eagle coming to join them.
"Promotion?" Grizzly asked, with Ape shaking his head.
"Sadly no, the last one was killed, and I was next in line," Ape told him, as he pulled out a cloth to clean his weapon.
"We doing something big sir?" Grizzly asked him, as a shell exploded on the terrain behind him. Some M777s nearby responded with counterfire, but he wasn't sure if they hit them.
"We are." Ape replied, "There's an airport not far from here. Currently, it's in enemy hands, but Command wants to change that. Once it's secured we might have a chance to reconnect our supply lines."
"Sounds like a big task."
"It is. That airfield is the only shot we have left. Which means we need the runway intact. So artillery is a no-go. When we go in, we're going in alone. You complete stealth training?" Ape asked.
"I wasn't the best at it, but I finished," Grizzly replied. Of course, that was mainly due to his quirk. It better served an anti-tank role than it did in infiltration.
"Good enough," Ape told him, "Now two tank companies are launching a diversionary assault to the south of us. It'll hopefully force the enemy to reroute forces to the area while we infiltrate the airport."
"Makes sense. When do we leave?"
"Right now, rookie."
It was incredible what a few money transfers could accomplish, Night Owl thought, as the ex-vice president of the HPSC was dragged away into a dimly lit room. All it took was a few key transfers to make it all appear that the Vice President had been the saboteur. It became especially easy, once Night Owl decided to cover his tracks.
Would it be a stretch for the President to believe a random scientist who had no real experience in investigations? Absolutely. Were it not for more recent affairs. The Tyrant's actions put the entire organization into a state of panic. Now more than ever, they needed to find the saboteur before any more villains get their hands on WMDs. Which made it so easy to give them a scapegoat.
"I-I'm telling you! I'm innocent I swear!" the vice president yelled, as two agents continued to drag him away. All the while Night Owl watched with a smug grin, with the President walking over to him.
"You should have stuck to your research," she told him, calm malice lacing her words. She wanted to curse him out for straying from his work, but Night Owl knew she wouldn't do anything. He had after all given them their "saboteur".
"Yes well I've been quite bored recently, and I decided to look for something more challenging. You're welcome," he stated smugly.
"As much as I may disagree, you are to be commended for this achievement. I believe a promotion is in order." the President told him, "Effective immediately you are now the head researcher of all scientific projects."
"Truly, I must thank you for this, Madam President." He was satisfied, for now, that is. He couldn't care less about being the head of all the HPSC's research if at any moment the President could strike those projects down. No, he had a bigger goal in mind and was currently looking at a new position. A position whose last occupant was just dragged away to some black site.
"Medical supplies, check. Ammunition, check. Spare boots, check. MREs, check." Cannibal Mammoth mused aloud, going over the last-minute list of supplies. Everything needed to be available once ground forces secured the airport. So he and several others checked every crate in the other C-17s. They had tanks, fuel, extra clothes, concrete, more weapons, light recon vehicles, drones, and a hundred paratroopers ready to reinforce friendly lines.
There was also a new edition. It was just sent down from the R&D department as a prototype weapon. In total seven were being dropped in with paratroopers. Four were armed with M134 Miniguns, and three were armed with an anti-aircraft missile launcher. It still boggled the mind how these Walker Gears worked, but at the moment they were throwing everything into the field.
So, on Mammoth went, checking in on the supplies. Spare parts, radios, batteries, water, helmets, rebar, steel, M9 construction vehicles, AH-64 Apaches, and dozens of other smaller items, such as three different types of screws. Everything had to be meticulously checked over and for good reason. All it took was one mess-up in the supply, to get someone killed. It's why out of all the MSF's departments, it was Support that was the biggest.
"That's everything?" another soldier called out as he stood outside of the large aircraft. Mammoth looked around the plane for a moment, getting confirmation from everyone inside, before responding.
"Yep. Everything's good to go," he replied, all the soldiers now leaving the aircraft. And so, they finished with one plane, and moved on to the next, the dozens of C-17s being prepared for take-off, across the FOB's large airstrip.
Aizawa tried his best not to bang his head against the wall as class dragged on. You see what our good friend was having, was a caffeine withdrawal. As a certain loud blond had, and I quote, bastardized coffee so badly it was an affront to god. Needless to say, there wasn't any coffee left for him to use, so he had to stay awake with nothing but pure spite.
Especially when dealing with this class. He had already expelled half of them when the year started. The other half seemed to have potential, but in reality, were nothing but a bunch of kiss-asses, so they were also expelled. And of course, their replacements from Gen Ed would soon arrive. And then be expelled.
Now the replacements for the replacements had arrived, and the paperwork to expel them was looking tempting. However, he couldn't. Not yet at least. The sheer number of students he had expelled this year got the HPSC involved. While they had no true influence on UA, they could control licenses. So they threatened his career if he couldn't find at least one student with potential.
So add it all together and what do you get? A very tempting window. But he had to get on with business.
"It took you eight minutes to get quiet. You'll have to do better if you want to become a hero," he told them, eyeing them all annoyedly. Eight minutes was a bit gracious actually, as four students in the back continued to talk. Easiest expulsion he had ever given.
"Now, today we'll be running through a basic training exercise. Get your gear, and meet me outside. You have five minutes." Aizawa told them tiredly. A few students took his words seriously, quickly grabbing their hero costumes and rushing out. The rest, however, meandered about. More expulsions it would seem. Of course that made him slightly worried, he did need at least one good student after all.
Once they all filed out, he began making his way outside. There he stood, waiting. Five minutes passed and ten students arrived seconds after. Close enough, but that would have to change. Then three more arrived after two minutes. Then four after six minutes. Then the last three at ten minutes. None of them were impressing him so far.
And just as he was about to talk, a voice called out nearby by.
"So the hobo does work." Ocelot joked, his spurs clicking with every step. He walked over to the small group, with the students looking over at him curiously.
"Is that Snipe?"
"I've never seen him out of costume?"
"I'm pretty sure Snipe's Japanese."
"Ocelot," Aizawa tiredly greeted the HPSC rep. The cowboy was an enigma to Eraserhead. He was the only HPSC rep the rat actively liked. No one could tell why, or how the man even achieved such a thing, but it irked them all.
"We were about to start the exercise," Aizawa told him, annoyance clear in his voice.
"I know, thought I'd see it for myself," Ocelot replied, taking out one of his revolvers. With a precise motion, the cowboy began spinning it in his hand. After a few seconds, he tossed it up in the air and caught it with his other finger. Aizawa elected to ignore the cowboy then, turning back over to the class.
"Today we'll be going through a simulated hostage crisis. You'll be divided into teams of four, and sent in to diffuse the situation."
He watched as smiles appeared on their faces, all of them excited for some action. Yet Ocelot seemed, almost disappointed with Aizawa's response.
"So this hostage situation, who's exactly playing the villain?" Ocelot asked him, all the while he pulled out his second revolver and began juggling the guns.
"The villains are several robots designed by the support course. They are programmed to act like normal villains," Aizawa replied, just as Ocelot holstered his weapons.
"However…" he mused quietly. He wanted to root out those with no potential, and to him, this exercise seemed far too easy. The robots had been programmed to act like villains, but they were more of the mustache-twirling variety. Aizawa looked back over to Ocelot for the moment, and an idea slowly formed.
"Would you mind assisting me?" Aizawa asked him, with Ocelot raising his brow.
"Well, what did you have in mind?"
"I'm adding a small change," Aizawa began, quickly activating his quirk as the students started complaining about the last-minute change.
"If it's possible, I want you to pose as the villain."
Ocelot thought it over for a moment, before agreeing.
"Sure, why not," Ocelot replied, a small grin plastering his face. The students didn't know what to make of this. Some were excited to be doing something. Others were a bit more bloodthirsty, hoping for a decent fight. The rest were simply bored out of their minds. So with the situation set, they made their way over to Ground Beta. Once there Aizawa gave Ocelot a ten-minute head start to set up.
He first started by barricading the doors and windows. Then he moved the "hostages" to the most secluded part of the building. Finally, he did the most important thing. Sneakily, he went up to the roof of the building and watched the students from above. As he did so the other students began to talk about their mysterious opponent.
"I'm telling you! His quirk has to do with those revolvers!" one exclaimed, his quirk flaring around him. From what Ocelot could tell, it had something to do with smoke. Possibly something that could obstruct his visuals.
"Maybe, he could also just like the cowboy aesthetic." another countered, their quirk much more present. Their entire body covered in plastic. Ocelot wasn't entirely sure what it did, but it had to be good.
"I don't care what aesthetic he likes, he's going down!" a rather tall student proclaimed. He was at least ten feet tall and built like a house. He had a full chimney and everything for his costume. Ocelot presumed it to be a strength quirk.
"Well with an attitude like yours, I predict we have a seventy-five percent chance of winning. You keep it in check, and it goes up to eighty-eight percent." a student with a large forehead told them.
"Oh really wise guy? Then tell me, what's our opponent doing right now?" House retorted.
"The most probable answer is that he is moving the hostages out of reach…"
Hmm, so the kid knew what he was planning then, Ocelot thought might need to change things up.
"...so that he can better fight us one on one."
…Maybe not.
"Makes sense. Villain fights do always happen in the open. So you think he's going to face us in the main room?"
"Most likely, yes."
Sure he was, Ocelot thought sarcastically, as he began heading back downstairs. Then it started, and the students rushed into the main lobby ready for a fight. Only to find an empty lobby. Confused, Brain began going over his calculations.
"I thought you'd said he be here?" House stated, looking back over to Brain.
"He should be. Maybe he's hiding," Brain replied.
"Typical villain, too cowardly to fight fair," House muttered.
"I wouldn't call it cowardly," Ocelot called out, his voice echoing around the room, "more practical."
"Oh yeah! And why's that!?" House yelled angrily.
"Because the hostages are already dead." Ocelot replied, "Killed them the minute you stormed into the building. Real smart idea letting me know you're here."
That caused the students to pause for a moment, as they took in the words he'd said. It was true though. As Aizawa watched through the building's cameras he found the "hostages" dead. No more than a pile of scrap. The only thing keeping him from ending the exercise was Ocelot.
"You do have nonlethal weapons, right?" Aizawa asked him, as the cowboy checked over his revolvers.
"I do," Ocelot replied, loading the last tranq round into his revolver. Truly a marvel of technology. For the round wasn't exactly a bullet. More something reminiscent of a paintball, coated in a powerful knockout drug, that transfers through the skin. It would hurt the students, but they'd live.
The students simply stood out in the open, unsure of what to do. Even better, they weren't paying attention to their surroundings. So Ocelot started making his way over to them. Halfway there, he decided to have a little fun. He stopped for a moment and listened to the students at the other end.
"He has to be bluffing. The exercise would have ended if he did." Smokey concluded, looking at the others for support.
"True, the hostages may be dead, but there's still a villain to stop." Brain agreed. Finding the target he was looking for, Ocelot aimed his revolvers at a wall. He adjusted his angle slightly as the students kept talking, before pulling the trigger. The rounds ricocheted off the wall, before making contact with Smokey and Brain's heads.
Two unconscious students were down and the other two started to panic. Of course, their commotion only sealed their downfall, as Ocelot cycled the next rounds. He adjusted his aim a second time, as footsteps were heard rapidly approaching him. Then with a quick trigger pull, two more bodies fell to the ground.
And Aizawa sighed as the test ended, looking over the group that had just gone. No potential.