"Do you think Bakugo would be offended if I stole part of his costume?" Mina asked, out of the blue. Izuku paused, his pencil ceasing movement an inch away from his notepad.
"What?" he asked. Mina shrugged, waving her hands – Izuku eyed the droplets of acid that clung to her skin.
"See," she said, "Sure, I can create acid from all over. You've seen my boots, they're great. But if I want a lot of acid, I have to create a lot – and it's not like acid from places other than my arms and feet is going anywhere. But if I had something like Bakugo, with a storage tank, I could build up a reserve just in case."
Mina shook her hands, dispersing the weak acid onto the ground.
"Come to think of it, how does Bakugo's Quirk even work? It's his sweat, right? But he only ignites it on his hands?"
Mina glanced around, as though looking for someone, before continuing. Izuku raised an eyebrow.
"Just checking for Mineta," she muttered, "He's gotten better but I don't want him making innuendos. But Bakugo. I mean, his Quirk is a bit like mine, right, and I produce acid from all over my body."
There was an implication in the start of her sentence that Izuku didn't much like, he thought. Still he didn't interrupt, just nodded and answered her question.
"All his sweat is explosive, I think," he said, "But he can only set it off with his hands. I guess it's like a two-part Quirk or something?"
Mina shrugged.
"Weird, though."
Izuku matched her shrug, but didn't comment that all Quirks were weird. It was redundant.
"Although," Mina continued, "I had a thing. An idea for a new move, maybe, and I don't know if collection gear would mess with it?"
Izuku snapped his notepad shut and tucked it away, stretching his arms.
"A new move?"
Mina pursed her lips, her expression wrinkling as she thought.
"Mm…not gonna tell you."
"You're not going to tell me?"
Mina shook her head.
"Nah. Not until I've got it down and I can surprise everyone with it. Anyway! You done any work on supermoves, since you haven't got any at the moment?"
"Feel like this is a little unfair," Izuku griped, but he shoved himself to his feet anyway. It was almost time to leave, anyway: the Hero classes could stay a little longer than all the others, but Aizawa would be leaving soon and without his nominal supervision they weren't allowed to continue using the Training Grounds - the two of them might actually be the only two still left. Izuku wondered if Aizawa was still training Shinsou – well, maybe it wasn't a question of if he was, but rather a question of when and how. Maybe in the days when Aizawa wasn't supervising Class 1-A, Izuku thought. But Mina had asked him a question.
"Yeah, I was thinking," he said, "It's not as flashy, but I think I can probably combine a smoke bomb with the thermal sensors in my helmet: pop the bomb to hide my position and then shoot through the cloud. Not exactly complicated, but I can't really do anything fancy with my Quirk since, you know."
In theory Izuku could increase the effectiveness of the move by using some sort of holographic emitter, if he could get one, making it look like he'd moved out of the cloud. But really, his skillset didn't exactly lend itself to supermoves. Going 'Plus Ultra', as it were, wasn't much of an option. Well, unless he did something like add a Venom injector as he'd theorised and used the brief enhancement to deliver a flurry of blows, call it something like 'Venom Rush'. But he'd already been over the downsides of that, hadn't he?
"Yeah, I guess that doesn't help," Mina said, "It probably seems kinda dumb to just do what you normally do but add a name to it. Like Mineta and his Grape Shot."
Mina started walking towards the exit of the Training Ground, Izuku falling into step alongside her.
"Speaking of Mineta," he said, carefully, "Is he still…causing trouble? You were looking for him earlier. Aizawa didn't get through to him?"
Mina sniffed, her nose wrinkling.
"Eh. Aizawa got through to him, I guess…he's less creepy, since he doesn't make loud comments anymore. And I guess he doesn't leer as obviously. But when I'm in costume, when any of the girls are in costume, he's not very subtle about checking us out. And I've heard him say things, still, just a lot more quietly…Momo has it worst."
Mina exhaled, long and loud.
"I mean, I guess it's a lot better than it was. And it's getting a little better, I think he's getting towards being something like a decent person. But I still don't like to feel his eyes on my – on me every time I bend over."
Izuku scowled. Mina shrugged again.
"Costume designs don't help, I guess," she said, sounding a little tired, "Don't get me wrong, Midori, I like my costume, and I know that Momo designed hers herself. But look at Uraraka. Her costume is skintight, and the heels on her boots! She's not comfortable in it, I can tell. Maybe she's getting used to it, but she'd probably like something more like yours, properly armoured. But that's not the way Heroines get to dress, is it?"
Mina scowled.
"Now I'm all annoyed again," she grumbled, "And there's nothing I can do about it yet. Maybe we should drag Uraraka to speak to Hatsume, she'd probably like to redesign her costume."
Izuku watched silently as Mina took a breath, wiping the aggravation off her face. He had to admit, he'd thought several times that a lot of his class were under armoured, but this was a different perspective to see it from. Mina shook her head, as though shaking off the topic.
"Speaking of Hatsume," she said, "How's the grenade launcher going?"
"Oh boy," Izuku mumbled, and Mina brightened.
"That bad?" she asked. Izuku shook his head.
"Hatsume's great," he said, "But she does not understand the concept of feature creep. I'm pretty sure that the compact launcher and the helmet aiming attachment would have been finished in a day, but she just…gets too far into it."
"Do tell," Mina said, a smile curling her lips. Izuku couldn't help but smile in return.
"I don't think I can physically carry her final design," he said, "It's so heavy. It's got two barrels and both are fully automatic! I just need something light that I can use in a pinch. At least she can usually be talked down."
"Aww," Mina said, "I like Hatsume, you know? She's just so full of life."
Izuku sighed dramatically, cutting it off abruptly as he remembered a question he'd wanted to ask Mina.
"Going back to supermoves," he said. Mina tilted her head at him, waiting. Izuku waved a hand.
"You have that whole Acid Jet thing, where you spray acid. How much can you affect the acid you use?"
Mina waved a hand.
"Quite a lot," she said, "The strength, yeah, but also the viscosity. Why, what're you thinking?"
"Well, I've got my adhesive grenades. But I was thinking, could you do something similar? Change your acid to cling to someone and slow them down, even if you can't pin them in place?"
Mina frowned thoughtfully, chewing at her lip.
"I don't know, actually," she admitted, "I can change the viscosity, yeah, but glue's not really about being viscous. It's actually sticky. I'd have to experiment, I think. Maybe I can get something about right? I usually go the other way and make it thin so people slip. I guess it could maybe work…"
Mina shrugged again.
"I'll have to test it," she said, "Next time. I should probably talk to Hatsume, too. When are you gonna see her next?"
"Tomorrow," Izuku muttered, "I need a couple of days to recover each time. But yeah, you should talk to her. You might need to redesign your whole costume to get some kind of storage system working. She'll probably be happy to do it – and Power Loader, too. Pretty sure that Hatsume keeps going back to building a suit of power armour."
Mina snickered.
"She really likes power armour, huh? Why don't you get some? I saw a design in your notepad the other day, and she'd probably be happy to help."
Izuku tucked his hands into his pockets, mulling over his answer for a few steps.
"It's not that it wouldn't be useful, sometimes," he said, "Like the USJ. That was pretty bad, but a power armour suit would have helped there, I guess. But what I mostly do? Hatsume's power armour designs are all like Power Loaders. They're big, bulky, heavily plated. Her most recent one is a good eight feet tall, rocket boosters on the feet, gatling cannons built into each arm for foam or adhesive rounds, grenade launcher mounted on the shoulder. It's not a Heroics tool, it's a combat machine. It might suit someone, but I'm…I'm not a frontline combatant, really. I do stealth, recon, ambushing people in the dark. Her suit design…doesn't."
"Have you, like, told her that?" Mina asked. Izuku shrugged.
"Thought about it. But she's not just building it for me, you know? She wants to build it, so I don't mind helping. Besides, she could come up with other things while building it. She was talking about a sort of nerve connector that should allow the whole suit to connect to nerves like my prosthetic does – don't know if I want to test it but if it works out it could massively advance medical technology. It won't hurt to let her do what she wants."
Mina thought that over.
"Guess that's true," she admitted. They walked a short distance further on, a comfortable silence settling around them before Mina broke it again.
"So," she said, "You remember I was talking about Hagakure thinking that Ojiro could beat you in a fight?"
"You said without gear, right?" Izuku checked. Mina thumped him gently on the shoulder, her expression becoming scolding.
"Ah, c'mon Midori! We both know you could beat him unarmed!"
Izuku, as it happened, didn't know that. But it warmed something deep in his heart to know that Mina had so much faith in him. Mina continued, shaking her head.
"Buuut. There's other people too, right? I don't know if many of our class would want to try, but if we're setting up a tournament, and people from 1-B are confident that they can win…"
Mina trailed off, rubbing her hands together. A suspicion flickered in Izuku's mind.
"Mina," Izuku said, "Are you suggesting that we should rig a tournament?"
"I wasn't going to bet much," Mina said, apparently automatically, before blushing a beautiful pink-purple.
"Can we pretend I didn't say that?"
Izuku, gracious as he was, didn't comment. Instead he skipped over that section, moving to his actual chances to winning a tournament. He'd seen at least a few people, so he could make some educated guesses.
"Ojiro is good," he said musingly, "Very good. Mixing his tail into his strikes like he does is tough to keep track of and does a lot of damage. I think Kendo from 1-B might be slightly better in skill, though. And being able to change the size of her hands makes her dangerously unpredictable."
"And you?" Mina asked, her skin returning to the normal healthy pink. Izuku shrugged.
"Wouldn't know until I tried," he said, "Though I don't have their style, since they both specialise in karate. I'm more mixed."
Mina went quiet, chewing her lip thoughtfully.
"What if they're better?" she asked. Izuku heard the unsaid question – where does that leave you? Izuku shrugged again.
"Being the best isn't all there is," he said practically. Still, he wasn't quite being humble. Ojiro and Kendo certainly were good, no doubt about that, but Izuku thought that he was just a little better. Bruce and Jason had put a lot of effort into their mixed arts combat styles, after all. Besides, he had other options. Ojiro might be good, but Izuku doubted that he could match Izuku in the art of gunplay. That said, Izuku suspected that he was going to have to rely more heavily on his gunplay in the future. Yes, he was pretty decent in a melee, but Stain was close to his maximum. If he wanted to take on more dangerous villains, he'd have to work harder on his stealth and ambushing.
"I guess that's true," Mina said, shaking her head, "So. If I set up a martial arts tournament, you want in? I think I can probably get a couple of others from our class…Kiri, probably, and whoever else. We can talk to Mr Kan and get him to supervise."
"Not Mr Aizawa?" Izuku asked. Mina shrugged.
"Eh…I mean, he knows a lot, but he's just…he'd probably use it to make us do a bunch more training, you know? And that's not what I'm after."
Izuku somehow doubted that not being invited would stop Aizawa from turning up and menacing them, but it was always good to have hope. He did wonder who Mina was planning to invite, though. Well, there was a chance that she'd just hand out invitations and everyone in both classes would turn up, although if it was Quirkless only…that could be interesting. He voiced his thoughts and Mina pulled a face.
"If everyone turns up?" she asked, "That'll be so much organising…I guess it could be okay? It'd have to be Quirkless, though, otherwise it'd be a complete mess."
A sudden grin curled the edges of her mouth.
"Could be fun," she said, suddenly cheery, "All those guys who rely on their Quirks. I mean, does Monoma even know how to fight without? Does Bakugo?"
Izuku hummed thoughtfully.
"Bakugo does, kind of," he said. Mina spun around so that she was walking backwards in front of him, beckoning.
"Really? C'mon, Midori, you can't just leave me hanging after saying something that mysterious."
Izuku sighed and rolled his eyes, but he didn't put too much effort into it. Mina beckoned again, grinning.
"Bakugo," he said, "Idolises All Might. Plenty of people do. Back in the day, we – that doesn't matter. Anyway, lots of people look up to All Might, but most of them don't have a Quirk that lets them mimic All Might's fighting style, at least to an extent. Bakugo doesn't really have a set style, but most of his moves are bastardised boxing techniques using his Quirk. What this means is, well, even without his Quirk he's still got an actual fighting style. It's crude and it's ugly but he's strong and fast enough that it works. I don't think he's in the top quarter of the class without his Quirk – there Ojiro and I, obviously, but Koda and Shoji are big enough to compensate, you and Kiri are decent, Tsuyu is pretty good although she can't really turn her strength off, Iida has some training and so does Todoroki…I don't want to count Bakugo out, though."
"Uraraka has training, too," Mina added, although there was something in the way her eyes had narrowed on him that made Izuku feel a little uneasy. He tilted his head quizzically – a tic from wearing his helmet, he realised, and one he'd need to work on.
"She does?"
Mina nodded.
"Yeah, she showed it off the other day, when you were off talking to Hatsume. She went to Gunhead for her internship, and he's got him own martial arts style. It was a little bit like some stuff that you've shown us, actually."
"Really? That's interesting. Wonder if she could beat Bakugo without Quirks?"
Izuku smiled faintly at the thought. Was it petty that remembering Bakugo getting knocked out by Uraraka still brought him a measure of joy? Yes. Was he going to stop? Absolutely not. Mina was still walking backwards.
"Alright, that's Bakugo. What about Monoma?"
"Well, I haven't seen him fight, but he relies on other people's Quirks, right? I'm assuming that he's got some sort of secondary ability to understand the basics, but he needs to get hands on people for his Quirk to work. And what if he's up against someone with a non-combat Quirk? You'd think knowing how to fight would be a priority for him."
"I guess that'd make sense," Mina said, "Though in the Sports Festival he mostly used Quirks from his classmates I think. He stole Bakugo's, too. Used it pretty well."
Which could either be evidence of Monoma having some sort of mental aspect to his Quirk, or a result of Bakugo's Quirk being relatively straightforward, Izuku thought but didn't say. Mina continued.
"When you say non-combat Quirks, though, you mean Quirks like Recovery Girl? Or Quirks that're just, uh, bad?"
"Mostly the second," Izuku admitted, "For example…I had a classmate in my old school who could pop his eyeballs out of his head and then pop them back in, that was it. I think I've mentioned him before? Either way, that's not useful for basically anything. If that guy was a villain, I don't know, with a knife, and Monoma hadn't trained enough in hand to hand, he'd be in trouble."
Izuku considered.
"Not that I'd recommend fighting someone with a knife anyway," he muttered, "Hard to avoid getting cut up unless you're armoured. You said Uraraka had gotten training from Gunhead? I think I've seen a video of a Gunhead Martial Arts knife disarm before."
If he remembered correctly it had been something of a disarm into a takedown. Seemed effective, although Jason and therefore Izuku preferred to stay standing. Grappling was all well and good, but taking a fight to the ground to lock down one person left you painfully open to any of his friends – and in Gotham, they almost always had friends. The first time Jason had caught a boot to the side of the skull while grappling someone had definitely taught him a lesson. Ground grappling was good in a ring, but in a street fight you wanted to stay on your feet.
"Yeah, she showed it off to us," Mina said, "It was really cool! I think she's hiding some of it, too, 'cause she wants to take Bakugo by surprise the next time they end up fighting."
"Sounds like someone's got a grudge," Izuku muttered. Not that he had any room to speak, really, but that wasn't the point. Mina slowed slightly.
"So, yeah. Martial arts tournament, some time. Maybe after the Exams, when we've got time?"
Izuku sighed.
"I'd almost forgotten that they were coming up," he admitted. He hadn't forgotten entirely, of course, but there was a lot going on – keeping track of Stain's appearances just in case, although there hadn't been one since the Internship week, trying to work out what the hell the League of Villains was trying to do, staying abreast with the OMC. They were supposed to be meeting with a member of the Eight Precepts soon, probably in the next day or two, and something about the whole thing was pinging Izuku's paranoia. Especially Bennet: there was something about her, about the way she talked about Quirks and Quirklessness, that made something in his brain itch. The rest were fanatics, but Bennet was the one he couldn't get a read on despite being outwardly the least prejudiced.
"I wish I could forget," Mina groused, "I'm barely passing the written practices! Momo offered to do some tutoring for us who're down in the lowest quarter, but…I mean, she's patient but I need a translator sometimes."
Izuku swallowed a probably inappropriate laugh. Yeah, he could see that. Yaoyorozu was from a high-class family and essentially a genius. He could see how she might have trouble teaching something that came so naturally to her to someone else.
"I can help, if you like," he offered, "And Tsuyu too, probably."
He wasn't at the top of the class like Yaoyorozu, but he didn't think he was struggling either. He might be able to help. Besides, Mina was his friend. Mina punched the air, cheering.
"Yes! Perfect, you can tag along the next time we meet up and translate Momo for me!"
Izuku blinked. Well, that would probably work out? Mina's cheer cut off and he glanced at her to see that she was eyeing him, eyes narrow.
"So long as you're, you know, not busy."
"I'm pretty sure I'm free on weekdays," Izuku said, "Just weekends that are awkward."
Fortunately, the OMC recognised that there were school events to be attended – or at least, Izuku had managed to convince them that that was the case. Mina nodded, looking relieved.
"Okay, sweet. I'll talk to Momo and find out a time, then?" she asked, stopping walking. They'd reached the exit to the grounds, almost at the changing rooms again. Izuku nodded, ceasing walking himself.
"Sure, sure. I've got something to do this evening, so…text me?"
Mina smiled, holding out her clenched fist. Izuku fist-bumped her on instinct.
"Will do, Midori. Speak to you later?"
Izuku nodded, turning away as she vanished into the changing room.
"Yeah. Speak to you later, Mina."
The OMC seemed antsier than normal, Izuku noted from his position folded into an armchair. Bennet was pacing, Oyama was hunched over on a sofa with his fingers locked together between his knees and Usami was rummaging around in a safe, muttering to himself. They were buzzing with a nervous energy, and it put Izuku on guard. Usami exclaimed aloud and everyone jumped, Oyama half leaping from his seat with his hand thrusting out towards a glass of water, the liquid stirring. Izuku plastered a look of concern on his face, mimicking Oyama and Bennet.
When Usami spun around he stopped needing to fake the look of concern.
"There!" Usami announced, wild-eyed, clutching a handgun in his clenched fist. Izuku suppressed a physical twitch with a great deal of effort as Usami swung the weapon around, crossing the whole room. Basic gun safety? What was that? At least the safety was on, as far as Izuku could see, but his heartbeat sped up regardless.
"Put that thing down!" Oyama hissed, "You're gonna kill someone!"
Usami turned to him, a flash of fanaticism in his eyes – there it was again, Izuku thought, the zealot beneath the fatherly mien – and smiled.
"Don't worry," he said, although he did at least stop waving the gun around, "The safety's on."
"I don't care," Oyama snapped, "Why do you even have that in the first place?"
Usami frowned.
"Why do I have this?" he asked, his voice smoothening out. He held up the gun, turning it in the air, and Izuku calculated his chances of disarming him, just in case.
"I have this, because we believe in Quirks," Usami said. Oyama stared at him, shaking his head in bafflement, and Izuku frowned at the illogical statement. Usami smiled, gentle and paternal and it only made Izuku more concerned. Usami sighed.
"We believe in Quirks," he continued, his voice still deceptively gentle and calm, "And Overhaul knows it. He's an anti-Quirk, a dog who denies his heritage, a waste of human life – but he isn't stupid. He knows that we love Quirks as they deserve, as they should be loved, and if he intends to double-cross us then he will do so expecting us to fight back with Quirks."
A sly smile crossed Usami's face, realer than the kindly expressions he usually donned, and Izuku hid an instinctive shudder with practiced ease.
"So, I won't fight back with a Quirk," Usami said, "I'll fight back with this. And he'll learn the price of interfering with us!"
Very faintly, Izuku could hear muttering, Aizawa and Nighteye he thought – arguing over whether to pull him out of the situation, he thought. Nedzu, who was actually connected to him, didn't say anything.
"Do you think that he'll betray us?" Izuku asked instead, standing and pulling his expression into something frightened but determined, wide eyed and thin-lipped. Usami looked at him and his expression eased, the manic grin becoming an actual smile.
"No," he said, "No, Akatani. If I really thought that I wouldn't be taking you along. You're the future of our people, of our beliefs, you must be protected. But just in case, we'll be sure to keep you safe."
One thing to be said for Izuku's predisposition to tear up easily: it made it easy for his eyes to water dramatically on command. He blinked, tipping his head down and cuffing at his eyes as though embarrassed and Usami slid the gun into his pocket, clearly feeling that his point was made. Izuku hoped that the gun had been maintained properly, especially when sliding it into a jacket pocket like that. Shooting yourself in the groin was a nasty way to go. Oyama shook his head.
"If you're sure," he said, "But why're you getting ready now? We still don't know where we're meeting 'em, and the time's not for another two hours."
Usami shook his head.
"Got a message ten minutes ago," he said, "Location and a new time. Twenty minutes, so let's get going."
"Clever, that," Nedzu mused in Izuku's ear, "Changing the time and setting a location at the last minute. Not useful here, but it would help with a lot of sting operations."
Izuku didn't say anything as he followed Usami and Oyama out of the building, down towards Usami's car. They would be better off buying a new one, but Izuku could recognise that limited funds was a very real thing. Besides, it wasn't as though Usami's car was especially recognisable. They all piled in regardless, setting off, and they'd barely started the journey when Bennet chipped in.
"So, Usami," she said, "Do we know how this is going to happen? How this is going to work?"
Usami kept his eyes on the road, but answered calmly.
"We go to the location we were told. A member of the Eight Precepts will meet us there with the Trigger. We'll pay him, using the money Nash gave us, and then we'll be given the Trigger and leave. That's how it's supposed to happen."
Usami shifted.
"We'll see if that's how it does happen," he said ominously, taking his hand from the steering wheel just long enough to pat his pocket.
"The money is clean," Nedzu said in Izuku's ear, "Properly laundered. I'm trying to track it, but I haven't had much success just from the video from your spectacles. Unfortunate but that's how it is."
Izuku hadn't expected anything else. The MLA had been in hiding for years, they'd know how to stay undercover by now. Still, it was inconvenient – but this sort of thing tended to be inconvenient, didn't it? They were working against a whole conspiracy, Nedzu had indicated that he'd found at least two Hero Agencies that were entirely suborned by the MLA and there were undoubtedly more. This was very possibly a country-wide problem, and rushing it would hurt more than it helped. Still, Izuku couldn't help but be uncomfortable, especially with Usami waving around a gun while he was completely unarmed.
The meeting point was, of course, a warehouse. It wasn't at a dingy docks, though, so Izuku considered that to be a positive – then again, he didn't think the city even had a port. And the warehouse was well maintained, to boot. Maybe Overhaul and his gang actually used it for something? Izuku wasn't that familiar with the Yakuza, but the Mafia back in Gotham had liked to maintain legitimate businesses. Shipping companies were a classic for that, so maybe Overhaul was playing to type.
"Alright," Usami said as they got out, "I'll go first. Oyama, you stay on my left. Akatani, you stay behind me, and Bennet behind him. Keep your eyes open, because I don't trust these guys. They're Yakuza, but they've got no honour. That died when All Might broke them."
"Rather ironic," Nedzu mused, "To talk about honour and losing it in defeat. The MLA went into hiding a lot earlier than the Eight Precepts, after all."
The four of them took positions as Usami had ordered, walking into the warehouse. A little bit amateur, Izuku thought, not even hiding the car, but this was just a warehouse area. There shouldn't be anyone to see them who'd report them - very likely anyone around at the moment was on the Eight Precepts payroll. The warehouse door opened without a noise, lights flicking on as they entered. The lights were harsh and bright, stinging white light that cast harsh shadows beyond and a flicker of remembered knowledge had Izuku narrowing his eyes and whipping his gaze upwards, seeing a shadow darker than the rest shift. Human shaped, and there was a long-barrelled shape next to it, a rifle of some sort. A sniper, hidden in the roof. Well, that would fit with what Jason had seen in most exchanges like this, even the ones where it went off without a hitch – someone to make the handover, and someone else to play overwatch: Izuku narrowed his eyes, looking at whoever it was without moving his chin up, and rubbed briefly at his right eye, a signal to Nedzu. Usami was still walking forwards with unearned confidence when Izuku took his eyes off the man in the shadows and returned the majority of his attention to the ground.
"That's Chronostasis," Nighteye said, briefly taking over from Nedzu, "The silhouette is distinctive enough, even hidden. He's a marksman, as I told you, so be careful."
Izuku heard Aizawa growl something before it was cut out. A small part of him wondered what he was arguing about – he knew that Aizawa was careful with this sort of thing, but he didn't think that Aizawa would have wanted to get him out so quickly, and Nighteye had sounded unmoved. Maybe they were arguing about something else. Usami sucked in a quick breath, his hand twitching towards his pocket as a dark shape melted from the shadows in front of them. Izuku squinted at it, initially thinking his eyes must be playing tricks on him, but the image didn't change: it was like some kind of nightmare teddy-bear, roughly humanoid with stubby legs and strangely long arms, a plague doctor mask sewn into it. The mask was bone-white against the unremitting darkness of the torso and limbs and the overall effect was…unsettling.
Izuku wished that he was the one with the gun, instead of Usami. He'd feel a lot safer that way. If things went wrong, he'd at least have a chance of drawing fast enough to put a bullet into Chronostasis. Usami was more likely to get the weapon tangled in his pocket and shoot himself.
"The Oppressed Meta Command," said the teddy-thing. Mimic, Izuku presumed. Its – his voice was rough, louder than should have come from such a small thing. It made Oyama twitch, Izuku noticed, and Izuku wondered if the twitch was an indication of fear or of a suppressed instinct to attack. Either way, he held his position and Usami inclined his head.
"That's us," he said, "I take it that you are Mimic?"
Izuku's communicator buzzed against his skin, Nedzu speaking softly.
"That's Mimic," he said quietly, "Past records indicate that he favours the appearance before you. Good at hiding…a shame that he's likely to be on guard, putting a tracker on him would short-cut a lot of this. Although, it wouldn't help with the MLA itself…"
Nedzu trailed off. Izuku carefully didn't sigh, or swallow nervously, or twitch. Instead he focused on projecting the appearance he needed to: nervous but defiant, far enough behind the others that he looked protected without looking like he was hiding. He'd forgotten how exhausting this could be, he dryly thought.
"That's me," Mimic confirmed, "So you're the guys who want a whole pack of Trigger, huh?"
The plush thing twisted, giving the impression of looking them over without eyes.
"Yeah, can see why you'd need it," he added. Oyama bristled and Bennet made a soft grumbling noise behind Izuku but Usami didn't seem to react.
"Well, perhaps," Usami said. His voice was completely steady and Izuku wondered if it was the weight of the gun in his jacket that gave him courage, made him calm. And what if it did? It only made Izuku's job easier, in the end.
"Do you have it, then?" Usami added. Mimic shifted, a chuckle raking from his unseen throat before he nodded.
"The money?"
Usami made a faint noise of distaste but still dug into his pocket, dragging out a thick wad of cash. Mimic chuckled darkly.
"Cash? Quaint," he said, "Smarter than you look, though. Harder to trace. You don't mind me checking this over, do you?"
"Feel free," Usami said, somehow remaining approximately polite. They waited in tense silence as Mimic flipped through the money. He had experience – he didn't count aloud and he was quick.
"All there," he said, the wad disappearing into the darkness of his form before he took a step back and reached into the shadows. The case he pulled out was dark, faux leather rather than shining steel, but it had much the same presence as a glinting metal briefcase would have. Mimic snapped the clasps and handed it to Usami and Izuku craned his neck to look inside.
"Twenty doses, as agreed," Mimic informed them, "Don't take more than two a day if you want to stay healthy. Three a day if you want to stay alive. Each dose should last about ten minutes, so don't get too…heh…trigger happy."
Nobody laughed at the joke, but Mimic seemed to brush it off.
"Happy?" he asked, although there was a snap of impatience in his voice. Usami nodded slowly, closing the case.
"Yes. Assuming that the Trigger is as good as you say, how should we contact you to acquire more?"
Reading Mimic was hard, a result of his completely non-human body, but Izuku was pretty sure he saw him tense. Someone said something in Nedzu's office, the mumble carrying over the comms before Nedzu cut in to elaborate.
"According to his files, Mimic is aggressively loyal to Overhaul. Insinuating a poor product could provoke him," Nedzu told him, quick and crisp. Izuku tensed in preparation for a fight to break out. If it happened, he wasn't staying – best to make a break for the door. He had, in preparation, hidden several smoke pellets on his person. Break for the door, hope he was the least important target, use the pellets to escape. The air seemed to thicken in anticipation of violence and Izuku mentally cursed himself for not rushing through the installation of a grapple in his prosthetic, the extra mobility would have been invaluable. He'd been holding off, wanting to get it perfect first time, but maybe he should have compromised.
Mimic relaxed, as far as Izuku could tell, and Izuku's paranoia spiked even higher before the plush disguise spoke.
"Oh, it'll work," Mimic promised, a flicker of darkness in his tone, "Promise you that. No-one's ever complained, after all."
Mimic chuckled to himself, although it sounded more threatening than mirthful and Izuku felt the OMC members shift nervously around him. Mimic shook himself, continuing.
"I guess it's a valid concern," he said, "If you're happy with it and want more, use the normal phone number. We'll contact you with a place and time, just like this time. Oh, but…"
Mimic tilted the plague mask to peer up at Usami, the pleasant tone retreating from his voice.
"If you ever suggest that Overhaul would supply sub-par product again, I'll…well. It won't go well, alright?"
Usami didn't move – Izuku glanced at his head and extrapolated his eyeline, guessing that Usami was staring directly into the black, fathomless pits that were the eyeholes of the plague mask. The stare-off continued for what seemed like an eternity but must have been only seconds before Usami dropped his chin, breaking Mimic's gaze.
"Yes, of course," he said, "My apologies."
Mimic laughed, rough and grating.
"Sure. Now get going. Wouldn't want a Hero to find us here, or something."
There was something far too knowing in that statement, Izuku thought, and from the way Nedzu was mumbling in his ear he suspected the Principal found himself in agreement.
Nash seemed delighted, Izuku noted as he stayed wedged into his armchair. The suave, slick American was inspecting the product, a smile on his face. It was a cold smile, broad but somehow chilling, and Izuku was glad that he was as far away as he could be.
"Well, well, well," Nash said, "A whole twenty doses of Trigger, just as agreed. Mm…yeah, Chitose'll be real pleased with this. Looks decent quality, too. Not as good as the American stuff, but it's a lot easier to get ahold of, right? Bit tricky to smuggle it into the country, 'specially with Heroes like that bastard Selkie around."
"The smuggling routes are surprisingly free of MLA sympathisers, actually," Nedzu said into Izuku's ear, "I'm not sure why. Perhaps the thought of spending long days and weeks out at sea looking for smugglers just doesn't appeal to them? An interesting psychological question."
Usami cleared his throat, drawing Nash's attention onto him.
"So, what's next?" he asked, "What do you want us to do?"
Usami, Izuku thought, was desperate to be involved. He struck Izuku as a man who had been searching for a cause all his life, and wanted more than anything to be vindicated. Dangerous, if only because his desire might override his desire to live. Nash tilted his head and rocked a hand back and forth.
"Ah, well. That's a funny one."
Jason had heard that more than once. In fact, he'd said it…and usually to people who were about to die. Adrenaline lanced through Izuku and he looked for an escape route – throw one chair at the window, one at Nash. Dive through the window, hit the building opposite. Fire escape. Cling to the outside, drop and sprint as fast as he could. Izuku tensed, muscles coiling, and Nash chuckled.
"Thing is, even if this stuff is legit we can't exactly just build a factory of our own, right? We can synthesize some, Chitose says, but not much. So it seems to us like having a steady supply would be real useful, and you've already made connections."
Izuku didn't relax, but his heartbeat slowed a fraction. Just a poor choice of words, he distantly thought, unless it wasn't. Nash shrugged.
"Like I said, most of this'll go over to the science teams. Miss Chitose has some plans for it, but she'll be pleased as punch that this went off so well. We'll keep the cash comin', so long as you keep meeting and collecting more Trigger. That's for the moment, at least. Later…well, the Eight Precepts are criminals, ain't they? Don't suppose you can work with people like that for too long. But for the moment, we'll have to grin and bear it."
Nash reached into a pocket and pulled out another wad of cash, handing it to Usami.
"Some spending money, to cover the expenses," he said, "And here. Take a couple of the vials, too. Four, that's one each. Be careful with it, though, don't want to get caught. If you get picked up by some Heroes 'cause you've been dosing, well…"
Nash tilted his head down, surveying them all over his sunglasses.
"Well, don't. That's all I'm sayin'. Miss Chitose doesn't want any loose ends laying around, if you catch my drift."
Nedzu had said that several Hero Agencies were likely MLA sympathisers, if not active members. Izuku wondered how many police were, as well...and how many criminals ended up just disappearing. It had been easy, back in Gotham. Enough cash to the right cops and the arrest would be made without being entered into the system, and another person just vanished into the river. A shudder crawled up his spine as Nash made his goodbyes and left. Usami and Oyama stayed at the door, speaking quietly to one another, but Bennet made her way over to Izuku and slid into the chair opposite him, a vial in her hand.
"So this is Japanese Trigger," Bennet said, holding the vial close to her eyes and squinting at it, "Looks crappy. The American version is a brighter red."
She leaned back, sighing.
"You know there are some Quirkless who think they can get a Quirk from taking enough of his stuff? Take a high enough dose, frequently enough, and you'll stop being a freak of nature."
There was something in the way Bennet spoke, something very personal. Izuku wouldn't call himself the greatest at reading a person, but he liked to think he was decent at it, and this sounded to him like an old pain. A Quirkless friend, maybe, or even a sibling – someone close to Bennet had suffered, and she had reacted by looking down on them. Because it made it easier, didn't it? To think that they deserved it. To think that they were just weak. Izuku let a frown twist across his face, crushing the sick feeling of self-disgust down. He could mope later, but for now he needed to maintain his cover.
"They really think that? Haven't they realised that they're just less than we are?"
Don't be hostile enough to stand out. Just disdainful enough that you seem prejudiced. It was a narrow line to walk, and it always made him feel ill afterwards. But he needed to be careful, blend in.
And it was especially important right now, because Bennet was easily the most dangerous of the three main OMC members. Or at least, most dangerous to him. Oyama was a loudmouth, but he didn't know how to fight and his Quirk was unimpressive. Usami…Usami moved like he had some training or at least some experience – Izuku suspected the OMC wasn't Usami's first rodeo – but he also favoured one leg very slightly and, again, his Quirk wasn't that suited to a brawl. Bennet was pleasant, kind, and Izuku was pretty sure that in a fight she'd be capable of ripping his limbs off without too much effort. She rarely showed them too much, but her teeth were more like razor fangs and her musculature was definitely crocodilian. Still, none of them had shown any indication that they suspected him.
Idly, Izuku wondered if Usami was capable of levitating several knives at once. His Mom could do that, after all, but he thought that her Quirk was stronger than Usami. That would be an interesting fight, if he wasn't in costume. He'd have to focus on blocking with his prosthetic, he thought, and try to barrel through and inflict enough damage to take Usami out of the fight before he really got going. Bennet glanced at him, something glinting in her eyes and for a moment Izuku thought he'd made a terrible mistake.
"Yes," she said, her tone filled with something unreadable, "They really are. They're all dreamers and idiots, thinking they can be as good as us. But they never can be! They never will be."
Definitely something personal, there. Izuku would have to make sure to let Nedzu know, ask the Principal to do some more in-depth research before he risked putting his foot in his mouth.
"I knew a girl, once," Bennet said suddenly, "A Quirkless one. She was convinced that she could be a Hero, you know. Absolutely convinced, no matter what anyone else said."
There was a sadness in her tone, buried deep beneath the layers of disdain. Izuku kept his eyes on her, listening in silence. Bennet sighed.
"But everyone said that she was stupid, that she couldn't become a Hero without power. And she was powerless. She tried everything. Rumours of magic. Herbs, potions, whatever the hell she found on the Internet – it was pathetic. Just pathetic, she listened to everyone. Even people who knew better, who actually had Quirks, and told her that she was stupid and weak. And then she tried Trigger, in the end."
A sardonic smile contorted Bennet's scaled mouth. Izuku wondered if she had been the bully, or the bystander. Or the girl, maybe? Izuku didn't shake his head, but he all but dismissed that last one. Why would she be here, with a Quirk, if she'd been Quirkless? She was American, after all, and the only people who could give and take Quirks, as far as Izuku knew, were Japanese. Still possible, but unlikely.
"You know that Trigger doesn't affect Quirkless people at all?" Bennet asked. Izuku shook his head, staying wide eyed. Bennet nodded.
"Yeah. It's completely inert, you don't even get sick unless you take in a massive amount of it – and even then it's just nausea, vomiting, headaches for a few days. Nothing that girl did ever mattered, because she was powerless."
Bennet looked up and across, to the doorway where Usami and Oyama were talking quietly.
"People say that we're cruel, you know that? They say that we want to make Quirkless people second-class citizens, that we discriminate against them. They're wrong. We don't hate Quirkless people."
Izuku didn't say anything, listening instead. Bennet took no notice, continuing.
"You know what's cruel? Taking someone who's Quirkless, who's powerless, and telling them that they can be as great as people with Quirks. Like taking someone who can't walk and telling them that if they just try, they can be a sprinter! It's a joke, but people are so afraid to tell the truth that they'd just crush us down! No. In our world, our utopia, the Quirkless wouldn't be oppressed. They'd just know their limits, and stop trying to break them. They're unhappy now, because they think they can achieve something greater than their genetics will ever allow. If they just accepted it…if they just understood, if they just let go of those poisonous dreams, they'd be happier. Wouldn't they?"
That was a ridiculous comparison to make, Izuku distantly thought – what made him different to someone with a weak Quirk? What made him weaker than Usami, or Oyama, or in so many roles and jobs what made him different to Bennet? But Bennet looked at Izuku like she was asking him to agree, asking him to validate her, and Izuku swallowed down the bile in his throat.
"I've heard some people say that all men are created equal," Izuku said, non-committal, "But I don't think it's true."
Bennet nodded, her smile returning as she clutched to the lifeline he'd thrown out, no matter how much he hated doing it.
"Yes," she breathed, "Exactly. It's not their fault, but they'll never be as powerful as people with strong Quirks. They just need to realise it."
They just need to realise it, Izuku thought. They just need to give up on their dreams, on their ambitions. They just need to accept that they'll always be inferior and they'd stop being so awkward. And didn't that just sum up the MLA? They didn't want to exterminate the Quirkless, of course not. They just wanted them out of sight and out of mind, quiet and obedient and never present. Hidden by his leg, Izuku clenched his fist as a wave of hot rage banished the hollow feeling of dread, fiery tendrils burning through the numb coolness in his chest. They wanted him to just disappear? Never. The MLA could have their perfect world when they pried this imperfect one from Izuku's cold, dead fingers.
That was a promise.
Interlude: All Might
Toshinori, being honest, had completely forgotten about the upcoming Final Exams. Oh, if someone were to ask he'd be almost obliged to tell them that of course he knew about them, but if it were one of his co-workers…he'd probably admit that it had slipped his mind. Luckily, Nedzu prepared for this sort of thing, probably aware that his teachers were also largely active Heroes and sometimes other things came up. Still, that didn't make it any less embarrassing to leave his classroom and come face to face with an impatiently waiting Aizawa.
"All Might," the man said, clearly unimpressed. Toshinori offered his own greeting and Aizawa sighed.
"Come on then," he muttered, "We're supposed to be meeting about the First Year final exams."
"Ah, to decide who will work with who?" Toshinori asked. He felt fairly safe in talking about it – all the students had gone home, after all. Aizawa grunted into his scarf, muffling a yawn.
"Yeah," he said, "Something like that."
At least Aizawa wasn't chiding him for forgetting, although in truth Aizawa probably had just as much going as Toshinori himself. Even from his fairly outside perspective Toshinori could tell that Aizawa was getting more and more heavily involved in the OMC-MLA-Eight Precepts investigation, as well as his own Hero work: it was one of the reasons that Toshinori was reluctant to read him in on All For One, no matter how useful Aizawa might prove in that arena. Nighteye was doing a fairly good job, even if he was still pushing Mirio as a successor. He was at least being more subtle about it than a few years ago, probably knowing that being too blatant would end in another screaming match and several years of frosty silence, but Toshinori wasn't that oblivious.
It wasn't that he didn't like Mirio. He did, truly he did: the kid was a powerhouse in his own right, with the heart of a true Hero. That couldn't be denied. And yes, he did see himself in the lad, especially when Mirio declared that he was Lemillion, the Hero who'd save a million people – Toshinori could very well understand how Nighteye would hear that and remember a young All Might – but there was just something…something that made him uneasy. Not Mirio, himself, but something seemed almost discordant when he thought of passing One For All to Mirio. As though the Quirk itself protested. And it wasn't just Mirio – every time he'd seriously considered a Successor the same unease had begun in his chest, squirming and writhing. And this was assuming Mirio would want another volatile Quirk – Midoriya, the only person so far who hadn't made One For All twist uncomfortably, hadn't wanted the Quirk at all. Ah, and that reminded him.
"How is Midoriya?" he asked, "I'm no psychologist but I can't imagine the anti-Quirkless sentiment he's been exposed to recently can be good for him."
Aizawa sighed – somehow Toshinori suspected that he'd only narrowly avoided being subjected to a 'No, you're no psychologist' – before speaking.
"He's fine, mostly. It's never going to be healthy, but Hound Dog said that he doesn't think Midoriya is being overly affected."
Aizawa's expression twisted irritably. Toshinori forbore to point out that maybe Midoriya should be taking sessions with Hound Dog, given that the man was a qualified counsellor, but Aizawa was notoriously difficult when it came to therapy. Discretion might be the better part of valour here.
"If I had another choice," Aizawa grumbled, before trailing off. Yes, Toshinori thought. If you had another choice. One could, if they were being particularly uncharitable, accuse him of thinking such when he offered Midoriya One For All. He wondered if the lad himself had thought it, although the thought sent a spike of guilt through him. He hadn't, truly he hadn't, but he could see how it would appear such. And that left him with a conundrum, when it came to passing on One For All. There was another possible candidate, in fact, someone without a Quirk who he knew he could trust and who One For All didn't react poorly to: Melissa Shield, daughter of his old friend David. Practically his niece, in fact, which made it all the more difficult. After all, how could he even begin to approach the question? He could hardly walk up to her and say 'Hello, Pseudo-Niece, I know you've long since given up on your Heroic ambitions but would you like this Quirk of mine?'. That would end in disaster. Maybe…maybe Midoriya would help him to talk to her, and meeting a Quirkless Hero would hopefully smooth things out. As for getting there…well, there was that I-Island thing in a month or so, wasn't there? He could probably wrangle an extra ticket and take Midoriya along, so long as the lad agreed.
He should probably make a call to Gran Torino, too, despite the instinctive terror that filled him at the thought. Sometimes he thought it was insane, that he was still afraid of Torino. The man had to be in his seventies by now, he was probably in danger of breaking his hip just jumping around. Still, conditioning was conditioning. The man had helped him become a great Hero. Toshinori just wished there hadn't been so much trauma involved.
"So," Aizawa said, interrupting Toshinori's train of thought, "I was going to leave this, but I've thought better. This meeting is very simple: we're organising the 1-A and 1-B kids into pairs for the Final Exams. They'll be different this year, but it's always the same theory: they have to work together against a weakness. We don't usually pair friends unless they both have some weakness that they need to work on. For instance…we wouldn't pair Asui and Midoriya, because they work well together and they cover several of each other's weaknesses. Bear that in mind."
Bear that in mind, huh? And using Midoriya was a fairly specific example. Toshinori wasn't the most eloquent or cunning of men, but he liked to think he had a decent read on people. Who would Midoriya have difficulties working with, he wondered. Who could Aizawa suggest, apart from the obvious? This might be interesting. Toshinori followed Aizawa the rest of the way and into the large room that Nedzu preferred for these sorts of meetings, letting his mind slowly turn over the problems he needed to deal with. They were the last ones in, though still several minutes early, and split apart to take seats: Toshinori preferred the middle of the table, where a seat waited between Power Loader and Recovery Girl, while Aizawa took an end seat next to Midnight. Nedzu clapped his paws together, teeth bared in a probably friendly manner.
"And all on time, excellent! I assume we all know what we're here for, yes?"
"Final Exams, sure. We're changing it up this year, right?" Snipe drawled. Nedzu nodded enthusiastically.
"Yes, entirely so. You raised a good point in our last meeting. For anyone who's forgotten…given the presence of the League of Villains and…well, several other organisations that are making moves in the shadows, the normal robot based examination might not be enough to prepare the students. Therefore, we ourselves will test them! We simply need to agree on the pairs."
Toshinori leaned back in his seat, making himself as comfortable as possible and letting go of his Hero form. They might be here for a while, he ruefully thought, so he might as well save some hero time. He didn't have much to add in, mostly, letting the more experienced teachers talk it out, but there was a pattern in the pairs emerging and he didn't like what he suspected. And then they reached the final four members of Class 1-A and all his suspicions were confirmed.
"Perhaps," Nedzu said, "Yaoyorozu and Todoroki against Aizawa. That leaves, finally, Midoriya and Bakugo against All Might."
Silence. Aizawa shifted slightly. Midnight chewed her lip, thoughtful, and Toshinori winced.
"I don't think that's a good idea, Principal," he admitted. Midoriya was skilled, yes, but…what exactly was he going to do against Toshinori? There was a gap in power that couldn't be bridged, as far as Toshinori could see. And Bakugo – well, maybe Toshinori could see the idea, in making Bakugo consider that there were some fights he couldn't win with an all-out frontal assault. But would the two of them work together?
"It's not ideal," Aizawa admitted, "I know it isn't. But we can all agree that Bakugo's weakest point, right now, is his inability to work with others. He's overbearing and dramatic, with pronounced lone wolf issues. Midoriya has shown similar tendencies, but he's at least likely to stand up to Bakugo, given that they know each other. Additionally, Midoriya has essentially no chance against All Might: Bakugo should recognise that and it should force him to find a different way."
Aizawa sounded unmoved, but Toshinori could see the faint frown wrinkling his brow. He really didn't like what he was saying, Toshinori realised. He tried to find words to speak, but Midnight beat him to it.
"Bakugo should recognise that? Think about what you're saying, Shota, you're basically betting Midoriya's results and wellbeing on Bakugo getting over himself."
"Besides," Snipe drawled, "If Bakugo cain't accept that he can't beat All Might, and won't listen to Midoriya, what then? You're putting Midoriya in a position where he's gotta abandon his colleague or fight a losin' battle. That ain't somethin' that you can just throw out there, pardner."
Aizawa grimaced.
"True," he muttered, "But I can't…Bakugo is just an awkward choice. The rest fit reasonably well, we're just left with those three."
Toshinori leaned forwards, clearing his throat.
"Why not swap Todoroki and Midoriya?" he suggested. Aizawa eyed him, narrow eyed, but Midnight clapped her hands together.
"That could work," she said, "Think about it, Shota."
Aizawa grimaced.
"Todoroki and Bakugo are probably even more volatile," he argued, "Neither of them is exactly a team player, although I'll admit that Todoroki is better at it. I suppose you have a point about Midoriya being ineffective against All Might, though. Besides, I'd hoped that working with Todoroki will help Yaoyorozu with her self-esteem issues. If she can get Todoroki to work with her – and I don't think he's opposed to it, he just doesn't take the initiative – then it'll buoy her confidence. And if not, we can intervene on that."
Midnight huffed out a breath, tinged with irritation.
"Regardless of Yaoyorozu's issues, if you're intent on testing Bakugou's ability to work with others, Midoriya is a bad choice. Bakugou's demonstrated a disdain for Midoriya that goes above and beyond the rest of his classmates, and it could have an effect. Besides, it's not as though Midoriya has ever demonstrated an inability to work with others. His lone wolf tendencies, as you're calling them, are because he's almost perfect for Underground work where he'll have to get used to operating without backup."
Midnight paused and leaned back, her expression unusually serious and her eyes fixed on Aizawa.
"Besides that, Midoriya and Bakugou are unlikely to ever work together without warning. Bakugou is flashy, direct, powerful, he's a front-line assault Hero. Midoriya's an Underground stealth and ambush specialist. Todoroki, on the other hand, matches Bakugou's niche almost perfectly. They're likely to have to work together at short notice and we need to know if their whole lone wolf thing is something they can get over or if we have to intervene. If neither of them is capable of backing down, then they both fail on their own merits, at least."
Aizawa pursed his lips, almost convinced, and Toshinori leaned forwards to add his own thoughts.
"Also," he said, "If you want to treat Miss Yaoyorozu with…tough love, to try to snap her out of her funk, Young Midoriya might be a better choice anyway. He's not as powerful as Todoroki, so she'll have to work with him, whereas Todoroki could potentially win the match alone. If it's sink or swim, Todoroki offers her…a lifeboat? Midoriya can't do that."
Aizawa stared at him.
"That metaphor is horrifically tortured," he said, "But yes. I see your point."
Aizawa heaved a sigh, slumping down in his seat.
"Alright. Yaoyorozu and Midoriya against me, Bakugo and Todoroki against All Might. Class 1-B?"
Class 1-B, to Toshinori's lack of surprise, went easily. The only particularly difficult member of 1-B was Monoma, and even his primary issue was his raging inferiority complex that only really expressed itself when dealing with 1-A. It was very focused, to be honest - Toshinori suspected that Hound Dog would have been writing an entire paper on the lad if it hadn't skated dangerously close to breaching his code of ethics. Toshinori leaned back as the meeting started to wind down, the serious talk giving way to something more like gossip, perking up slightly as Snipe leaned over to Power Loader.
"So," the cowboy drawled, "You'll be gettin' your kids to go through some exams as well. How's Hatsume doin'? She still workin' on gear for Midoriya?"
Power Loader made the exhausted, whining sort of noise that Toshinori had come to associate with Mei Hatsume before replying.
"Yeah, pretty much. They've got those snap-freeze bullets pretty much finished, but she's been working on other things. Wanted to ask you about some, actually."
"Oh?" Snipe said, "Fire away. Gotta admit, it's nice to have another gun hero around."
Power Loader rubbed at his forehead, clearly choosing not to address that.
"So, Midoriya came in with a couple of requests and some designs. Hatsume's used them, mostly, but she likes to experiment, so…you've seen his pistols, right?"
Snipe's face couldn't be seen under his mask, but Toshinori got the impression that the man was grinning anyway.
"Hoo-boy, yeah. Nice work. Little heavy for me, but I'm almost comin' around to the idea of usin' 'em as clubs too. Why, what's she puttin' together?"
Power Loader planted his forearms on the table, hands framing a space.
"The pistols, right. They're modular, so Hatsume's working on putting together a blueprint Midoriya drew up. It's a prototype, I know a prototype when I see one, but it's basically a framework that'll convert a pistol into a rifle. Is that even…possible?"
Snipe leaned back, arms crossing over his chest. One hand reached up to cradle the chin of his mask and he hummed thoughtfully.
"A rifle, huh? Well, I cain't say for certain, but it should work. Pistol cartridge's a little light for a full rifle, but maybe an SMG? Kid's been working on his sniper skills, though, so I'm guessing there's something else."
"She's got a design," Power Loader muttered, "Don't think that can be converted from a pistol, though."
Snipe shook his head.
"Doubt it. Mebbe be alright with the different rounds he uses, since they ain't exactly reliant on weight, but probably don't wanna try it. What else is she up to?"
Power Loader tilted his head down, resting it on the table.
"I – you know, I'd just managed to get her away from trying to build a miniaturised fusion reactor to put into a battlesuit. I'd just managed it! And Midoriya, like the pint-sized maniac he is, walks in and asks her to build him a grenade launcher! And Hatsume…Hatsume likes to start big and size down. So she's got a grenade launcher that nobody without a strength Quirk can fire, but she won't throw it away. So…"
"So she builds herself a mini-mecha," Snipe completed, definitely on the verge of laughter. Power Loader sobbed a little bit.
"So she builds herself a mini-mecha," he confirmed, in a tone of absolute despair. Toshinori was tempted to stay and listen in further, it promised to be entertaining, but a quiet cough to his left drew his attention.
"Principal?" he asked, looking at Nedzu. Nedzu spread his paws.
"Might I borrow you for a moment, Yagi? There's a few things to discuss, and I think the meeting is all but over."
"Of course, Principal," Toshinori said, heaving himself to his feet and following Nedzu from the room with a few quick farewells. The Principal exited a door that Toshinori was convinced hadn't been present before, out through a short passage and into a corridor that Toshinori recognised. As they walked briskly towards the Principal's office Toshinori mentally called up his rudimentary map of the school and a bead of cold sweat rolled down his neck as he realised that the door really hadn't been present before, a hidden shortcut. How many of those did Nedzu have? The Principal chortled softly, as though hearing his thoughts, and Toshinori felt an instant of almost religious dread before he managed to push it aside. Fortunately he didn't have to deal with the Principal alone for long: when they walked into the Principal's office Sir Nighteye was waiting.
"Toshinori," Nighteye said, cool as ever. Toshinori smiled, warm and broad, because even if they still disagreed about One For All Nighteye had been his friend for so many years.
"Mirai," he replied, nodding. Nighteye leaned back in his seat, hands folded around his crossed knee, and waited until Principal Nedzu and Toshinori had taken their own seats.
"I presume," Nighteye said, "That this is about the OMC-Overhaul investigation? Although if that's the case, shouldn't Eraserhead be here?"
Nedzu folded his paws together, humming.
"Well, perhaps. But it isn't quite about the OMC, no."
There was something foreboding in the way Nedzu spoke, a weight of something that made Toshinori frown. The last OMC infiltration had gone well, he knew, Midoriya successfully blending in. They'd gotten eyes on two of the Eight Precepts, seen that Nash was almost certainly working as an intermediary between the OMC and Chitose, but what else could be the issue? Nighteye was frowning, himself, and Nedzu sighed.
"It's related, but not part of the investigation. Not yet," he said quietly, looking down at his paws as though uncertain of how to proceed. In the end he clicked a claw against the table before making a motion that Toshinori knew was meant to replicate a shrug.
"Mr Midoriya commented to me that, while the OMC are all quite anti-Quirkless, Miss Bennet seems to take it more personally. He suspected that she had known a Quirkless person in the past, perhaps a friend or even a family member, and was overcompensating. I don't think he's correct, but he makes a good point about her fanaticism."
Toshinori exchanged glances with Nighteye, neither of them quite understanding what Nedzu was saying but willing to wait.
"I looked into her past, as I have done all the other OMC members," Nedzu continued, "Even the ones who are barely part of the group. And Miss Bennet's past is, to put it simply, a fake."
Toshinori choked at the nonchalant statement and Mirai straightened, his brows dipping into a scowl.
"A fake?"
"Oh, yes," Nedzu agreed, "A well made one, but fake nevertheless. At a guess it was concocted perhaps eight years ago, which makes her…hmm…about seventeen when it was created. Accessing American Quirk records was something of a challenge, they're structured differently to ours, but it becomes quite clear. Mara Bennet does not exist."
"She doesn't exist?" Nighteye echoed, incredulous, and Nedzu spread his paws wide. There was the faintest glint at the ends and Toshinori wondered if the rumours of Nedzu possessing retractable claws were true.
"Not until eight years ago. I tracked her as best I could, and I did find something quite interesting."
Nedzu tapped a couple of buttons on his desk, the sound definitely sharper than normal, and a hologram sprang into sight. It was a teenager, with a distinctive reptile or crocodilian Quirk, but…
"That's not her," Toshinori said, confident in his ability to recognise people, "The shape of her face is wrong."
"But the Quirk is right," Mirai murmured, sending a sharp glance at Nedzu, "Plastic surgery?"
Nedzu smiled, but it seemed grimmer than normal.
"Unlikely. This is Beatrice Glade. She went missing around eight years ago."
A few more taps on the desk and a second picture flickered up, Toshinori catching his breath.
"At roughly the same time, this young girl also went missing: Angeline Barnet."
Angeline Barnet didn't look too much like Mara Bennet, not at first glance. But age her up, add the Crocodile Quirk…Toshinori felt his heart beat painfully. Nedzu paused for only a moment before speaking again.
"According to her records, Miss Barnet was Quirkless. Anti-Quirkless sentiment is not as strong in America as it can be here, a combination of the Quirkless population being larger and a lack of an MLA alternate, but there are Quirk supremacist groups. Miss Barnet was the subject of bullying, as far as I can tell, and Miss Glade was the primary antagonist. Given that they vanished together…"
"Was her family wealthy?" Toshinori croaked. Nedzu looked at him, dark eyes gleaming in the light, and dipped his head in a faint nod. Toshinori swallowed, hard, and sent a pleading glance at Mirai.
"Although we could never confirm it," Nighteye said, slow and soft, "We had some suspicions – and some evidence – that All For One was…I suppose the best way to put it was that he was for hire. Given enough incentive, we believed, he was willing to take and give Quirks. We could never prove it, but…"
"It would explain the surprising loyalty that many of his enforcers showed to him," Nedzu murmured. Toshinori swallowed again, closing his eyes and working through a silent breathing exercise, calming himself. Midoriya was safe, he reminded himself, and not in a room with someone who could be working with All For One. All For One had no reason to take interest in Midoriya, he told himself, though the truths brought him little relief.
"It may not be the case," Nedzu said, "It could simply be a coincidence. All For One, after all, is similar to Copy quirks such as the one Neito Monoma possesses, if far more powerful, and there are other Quirks with similar applications. In fact, I believe there was a Villain in Brazil with a Quirk that allowed them to physically merge with another person and take over their body, this could be the case. We should, however, proceed as though we expect Bennet to be loyal to All For One himself, rather than the OMC. Especially now that the Nomu has made it clear that he is likely to remain alive."
"Jesus fucking Christ," Toshinori whispered, the curse spilling from his lips without a thought, Mirai scowling more deeply than ever. Nedzu smiled, that predator's grin that showed all his teeth and didn't contain a hint of actual amusement.
"Yes," he said, "Mr Midoriya does seem to find some interesting things, doesn't he? But I'd be…hmm. I must wonder. Coils within coils, hmm? The plot is certainly seeming to thicken."
As always, I hope you enjoyed and reviews are appreciated - I'll put this at the top since I've a canon spoiler below. Either way, I'll see you in the next chapter - March, so long as the schedule holds.
I hate that my first instinct is to just ram plotlines together and hope they work. I'm terrible at writing politics or complex gambits, largely because I don't have the patience. Still, I'll do my best.
Legacy Power Loader says "What kind of idiot puts a fusion reactor in a backpack". Meanwhile over in Empress Ascendant Taylor is planning to put several in a backpack, although if I remember my A-Level Physics correctly a fusion reactor is more likely to just stop working when damaged than explode. That said I'm an Ecologist, not a nuclear physicist, so don't quote me on it.
Brief spoiler warning for anyone who's not up to date on the workings of One For All - I'm briefly going to talk about it in the paragraph below.
I'm not a huge fan of the whole 'One For All causes rapid aging in Quirked people' because it feels like an excuse to make Izuku the only option. If there were other Quirkless people seen? Maybe it'd feel less heavy-handed - although I do understand that canon storyline sort of prevents us from seeing many Quirkless people - but either way, I can live with it. One For All is basically sentient in some ways, so I've thrown in that to explain why All Might went five years of steady decline without finding a successor, although it's probably not needed. Still, I thought it could be interesting, though I've still not really decided where that's going. I guess we'll have to see?