"I can't believe exams are here already," Mina said, clearly stressed, "It's so fast!"
Tsuyu patted Mina consolingly on the shoulder, raising an eyebrow at Izuku. Izuku offered her a helpless shrug in answer, from just out of Mina's sightline. He didn't think Mina would have done too badly, but the written portion of the final exams was not her forte. Still, extensive and careful practice had hopefully paid off – and there was still the physical portion of the exam. If Mina was right and it was robots again, she'd get the chance to bleed off most of her nervous energy. And if it wasn't robots then, well, Izuku had faith in her. Mina doubled over, taking a deep, deep breath before straightening up with a beaming smile back on her face.
"Alright!" she said, the change quick enough to almost give Izuku whiplash, "Final exams physical portion, let's do it!"
She pouted immediately afterwards as they piled onto the waiting bus.
"Snipe wouldn't let me have guns, though."
"Rude of him," Tsuyu said in the most deadpan voice Izuku had heard since the last time he'd spoken to Aizawa. Mina squinted at Tsuyu as though she wasn't sure if it was sarcasm or not before continuing.
"Yeah, he said that Midori had bribed him and also can reload one handed and I'd have to manage either one or the other before he signed off on me carrying a gun. Did you really bribe him, Midori?"
"It wasn't a bribe," Izuku instinctively protested, before thinking it over and frowning, "Okay, well maybe. But I didn't do it, Nedzu did."
"I think that makes it worse, actually," Kirishima said, "Makes it look like you've got dirt on the Principal, you know?"
Izuku, like the mature Hero-to-be he was, made a quiet, sad noise in response before hastily changing the subject back.
"So you can't do the one-handed reload yet, Mina?" he asked. Mina gave him an expression that he'd internally coined as 'the frowny face'.
"No," she said, "I can't. It's so hard to get it all to line up, especially because Snipe wants me to hit targets after it. Can you even do that?"
Izuku shrugged.
"With both hands," he said cheerfully, "It's a lot harder to do mid-somersault though."
"You're insufferable, Midori," Mina grumped, though she was smiling as she said it. Izuku leaned back and let the chatter of the rest of the class wash over him, fingers tapping ever so gently against the helmet in his lap as he thought. He knew that he shouldn't let himself be distracted from the upcoming exams, but he couldn't help it – much as the exams were important to his continuing school career, the OMC's actions against Overhaul could be important to his continuing existence and he knew which one mattered more to him.
The bus came to a halt and they all piled off, forming into a rough sort of line. Facing them, however, was a surprise – almost all of their teachers, Aizawa at the centre. Izuku squinted – Nedzu was there too, hiding in Aizawa's scarf.
He was starting to get a very bad feeling about this.
Aizawa, of course, was almost unreadable. Midnight had an excellent poker face, as did Cementoss. Ectoplasm, Snipe, Power Loader and Thirteen all wore masks. Nedzu always looked vaguely psychotic. Izuku kept looking along the line until he saw Present Mic, who was wearing a broad, sharp grin.
Yeah, a very bad feeling was about right. Izuku suspected that the Final Exam might not involve robots after all. And there Aizawa and Nedzu went, ruining the last fraction of his hopes and dreams.
"Should've been a vigilante," he whispered to himself. Vigilante plan twenty-seven point three, finally snap under the insanity that is UA and go on a murderous rampage. Flee to France. Start a new life in Paris.
"We'll have you form teams of two to fight one teacher!" Nedzu finished, beaming in that disconcerting way of his, and Mina made a sad noise beside him, her enthusiasm immediately deserting her. Izuku wrinkled his nose.
"So we're all gonna die, right? That's the vibe we're getting?"
"Yep," Mina agreed, "Definitely."
Izuku considered that for a couple of seconds and shrugged.
"Well, not like I was gonna live that long anyway."
He probably deserved the punch to the arm that Mina gave him, although it was admittedly fairly soft. Aizawa took over again, explaining that the teams were already picked in the sort of voice Izuku might have used to inform someone - someone he had a particularly nasty grudge against, probably - that their injuries were terminal. Well, at least he didn't have a crazed expression of unholy glee like almost all the others. Izuku squinted, looking harder at Aizawa and seeing the light in his eyes.
Nope. He pitied whoever went up against that maniac. So, all these options. Who would be the best for Izuku to face? Midnight, maybe, since his mask could filter out her gas – at least All Might wasn't here, Izuku got enough play by plays of Jason's second death in his nightmares and didn't want to personally experience taking on an unstoppable opponent. All Might didn't even have the courtesy to have a reasonably exploitable weakness.
"First," Aizawa said – and there was that expression of unholy glee, teeth bared and all, because apparently none of the teachers had ever heard of passing a psych test – "Midoriya and Yaoyorozu will be one team. And they'll be facing…me."
Well, shit. Izuku knew that he should have brought live bullets. Maybe Yaoyorozu could make him some? Still, it wasn't all that bad. He didn't have a Quirk to be erased, at least. Although, given that that would allow Aizawa to focus entirely on shutting down Yaoyorozu, that might not be a good thing: Izuku barely noticed the announcement that Bakugo and Todoroki would face All Might, although he definitely noticed All Might's flashy entrance. Hmm. Himself and Yaoyorozu against Aizawa, Todoroki and Bakugo against All Might, Mina and Kaminari against Nedzu – oh.
"Five minutes, before it starts," Aizawa said, "I suggest you use the time to strategize in your teams."
The teachers broke apart, stepping away, and Izuku shook his head, realising what they'd done.
"Ah, that's cruel," Izuku said softly. Mina, currently slumped in despair, prodded him with a desultory finger.
"What's cruel?" she asked forlornly. Izuku shook his head.
"The matches are set up to exploit our weaknesses. That's vicious of them. Todoroki and Bakugo like to attack directly: All Might is too powerful for that. Koda and Jirou rely on making sound, Present Mic drowns them out. Kirishima and Sato can't stay powered up for that long, Cementoss is incredibly good at maintaining a defence."
Mina and Kaminari weren't stupid, but they were insecure about their intelligence and so unlikely to even try to come up with extremely complicated plans on the spot: Nedzu excelled at complicated schemes, and was famous for his cleverness. That match up wasn't physical, it was mental: Izuku suspected that they'd both panic before the match even began.
"And what about you and Aizawa? His Quirk won't work on you." Mina said. Izuku shook his head, a wry smile twisting his features.
"They're playing to our weaknesses," he repeated more softly, folding his arms. It was obvious, once he thought about it.
"It's not about his Quirk. It's about him. I'm good at hand to hand- he's better. I'm quick at parkour- he's quicker. I can think fast- he thinks faster. I'm stealthy, he's stealthier. He's better than me in just about every way, and because I don't have a Quirk…he doesn't need to switch between two targets. Maybe the only match-up that would be worse would be All Might."
Mina wrinkled her nose at that – at least he'd distracted her from panicking about Nedzu.
"You think you could take on All Might, Midori?"
Izuku shrugged at her.
"I think it depends," he admitted. She tilted her head at him as Yaoyorozu and Kaminari appeared beside them, apparently hearing what they'd said. Yaoyorozu lifted a hand, speaking before Mina could.
"Depends on…?"
"If I can get my hands on enough C4 to level a city block, and if he stands still long enough for me to use it."
Everyone appeared to ignore that, as though he was joking. Izuku didn't comment on it, but he certainly hadn't been joking.
Well, no – fair was fair, he'd been joking a little. After all, he wasn't at all certain that enough C4 to level a city block would even scratch All Might.
"Lucky that you don't need to worry about that, then," Kaminari said, projecting a confidence that Izuku saw right through. Christ, Nedzu would take him apart. He could hardly offer much advice, though – Izuku himself had no idea how to counter whatever Nedzu would do. The Principal had too much time to stack the deck. Yaoyorozu shifted.
"Midoriya, perhaps we should plan to confront Mr Aizawa?" she said, "And let Ashido and Kaminari plan themselves?"
Izuku nodded.
"Yeah," he said quietly, "Of course. Just…Mina?"
She looked at him, her smile just a little manic.
"Got some advice for me, Midori?"
Izuku nodded.
"Listen. Nedzu plans everything, as much as he can. If you run, he'll chase you into a trap without blinking. If you can – go on the attack, after him. It might upset his plans."
At the very least, they'd go down fighting. Izuku couldn't offer much more than that. Mina nodded grimly, holding out a clenched fist: Izuku bumped his own fist against it before following Yaoyorozu away. She stopped a short distance away, still shifting uncomfortably, as though waiting for him to speak. She was nervous, he thought. And not without reason: they were two First Year Hero students, facing a man with probably a decade of experience. The teachers were wearing weights to slow them down but Izuku didn't make the mistake of thinking that would impair Aizawa too badly, and Yaoyorozu had been shaky since the Sports Festival.
And Aizawa had to know that. Had to have planned for it, in the knowledge that Izuku was unlikely to be able to take him down alone.
That being said, as a function of Izuku's…well, Izuku's paranoia, no need to beat around the bush, he had come up with some basic plans to deal with some of the top Heroes. Most of the top Heroes, if he was honest, because even if mind control wasn't as common here as in Jason's world it still existed and who knew what All For One could have come up with.
It had only been a brief mental exercise, Izuku hadn't created a dozen intricate, extremely complicated plans and then left them where someone could get at them regardless of how well they were protected – what the fuck, Bruce – but he had some ideas and done some basic calculations. Endeavour, for example. Endeavour almost certainly burned hot enough to melt lead, this was known. Given what he'd done to the Hosu Nomu he almost certainly burned hot enough to vaporise lead, which dealt nicely with the melting lead issue of being splashed with molten lead. One of Jason's Anti-Meta Big Game rounds, however? Izuku reckoned that would end up with Endeavour being half the man he was before. Hawks, similarly, added to the list because of his meteoric rise through the rankings. Hawks was fast enough that if he knew you were there hitting him would be ninety percent luck and ten percent skill. If he didn't know you were there? Well, his flight path tended to be relatively linear. And so on, and so on.
All that to say, Aizawa hadn't been exempt from Izuku's idle theory-crafting. Now it was time to put those theories to the test.
"I hope you have a plan," he said to Yaoyorozu, "Because this isn't the best match-up for us."
Yaoyorozu looked worried, biting her lip for a moment before she shook her head.
"Mr Aizawa will be able to keep my Quirk suppressed," she said, "Since he won't need to stop you from using a Quirk."
"And skill-wise, he's basically me but better," Izuku agreed, "But that means we'll have to be clever. We can both fight without our Quirks, that gives us a chance. We need to get his scarf away from him, somehow. That'll take away most of his mobility and combat ability."
Izuku chewed on his lip, thinking.
"He likes to ambush people," he said, "So we need some way to find him. Do you know how his Quirk feels? Can you tell when he's using it on you? Does it feel like anything, or…well, I can't really tell if he's using his Quirk against me."
Yaoyorozu frowned, closing her eyes in thought before she nodded, just a little hesitantly.
"I – yes, I think so. When he uses his Quirk it doesn't feel different, but I have another way."
She held out a hand and, before Izuku's eyes, her skin glittered before a small object just materialised out of her flesh, growing before his eyes. Well, not growing – it just seemed to slip into existence. Izuku, personally, found it oddly disconcerting, though he didn't say that. It was a small doll, a Russian nesting doll, Izuku couldn't remember the actual name of them.
"You can keep producing them?" he asked, seeing her intent. Yaoyorozu nodded, a smile curling just the corners of her mouth. She should be proud, Izuku thought, it was a good idea. If she kept making them, the moment they stopped they'd know Aizawa was close. And Aizawa would have to shut her down, because otherwise he'd be taking a risk that she was producing something that could be dangerous. Yaoyorozu tucked the doll into her wide belt, for the moment.
"Okay, good," Izuku said quietly, "Great. That'll help stop him from ambushing us. But if we want to beat him, we'll need to pin him down somehow."
A thought crossed his mind and he frowned.
"Assuming you want to beat him? We can try for the exit gate, if you want."
Izuku didn't really like the thought of running to the gate, simply because Aizawa could then chase them, pick them off. If they were going for the gate, it would be better for him to remain behind when they were pushed, try to keep Aizawa back. Or would it be better for him to run? If Yaoyorozu could play defensively, Izuku could move quickly. Not as quickly as the motor-scooter that Yaoyorozu had pulled out at least once before, though, which came back to trying to hold Aizawa off alone.
Yaoyorozu nodded when he relayed his thoughts to her, offering her own in turn.
"Yes," she said, "I don't think we should split apart. You're right that Mr Aizawa is too good at beating people alone. We should lure him in."
"If you want to lure him in, we're going to have to split up," Izuku said, "Although…I can probably hold him off long enough, if you need me to play bait. If I look as though I'm trying for the gate…"
"He might think we're both heading for the gate separately," Yaoyorozu added. Izuku nodded. He'd underestimated her – he couldn't say how long her confidence would hold up, but it seemed that she didn't need too much encouragement. So long as things went well, at least – if everything went to hell, he suspected, she might prove slightly less resilient. But that was what backup plans were for.
The two of them hustled onto a bus that would take them to their Training Ground – Izuku recognised the number.
"It's an urban Training Ground," he said, "I've been there before. That's clever."
"It might be a coincidence," Yaoyorozu said, but she didn't sound convinced. If it was a coincidence then it was a very convenient one, putting Aizawa into terrain that he excelled in. Nothing that could be done about it, though, so Izuku tried not to worry too much. Instead he reached into a pocket, producing one of the widgets he'd picked up recently: a tiny tracker.
"Here," he said, leaning over to Yaoyorozu, "It's a tracker. If we're splitting up, it'll help me to find you."
Yaoyorozu took it – she'd gone quiet as the exam loomed closer, so she said nothing – and pocketed it. Izuku set his helmet in his lap, idly drumming his fingers against it as he looked out the window at the passing emptiness of the Training Grounds. The tracker had been designed to link to his helmet, but it wasn't finished yet: when complete a brush of a hand across a touch-sensitive pad on his helmet would activate a holographic map inside his helmet, integrated with the eyepieces to give him a fully functional HUD. That was what Hatsume wanted to do, at least: for the moment he had a very simple grid system inside his left gauntlet, hidden and protected by a sliding plate. He didn't mind too much: he was a simple man at heart.
Yaoyorozu fiddled with something, clearing her throat to catch his attention: when he turned over she held up a small earpiece.
"Do you need one?" she asked, "Or can your helmet connect?"
Izuku tapped twice more on his helmet, taking the earpiece. It was suitable for connection to his helmet, and he set it up before handing it back and sliding his helmet on.
"Can you hear me?" he asked, sealing the helmet to contain his voice. Yaoyorozu nodded, slipping the earpiece in, and Izuku removed his helmet.
"Great," he said, offering a brief smile, "Guess we're all ready then."
The bus came to a halt and they exited, waiting at the entrance to the Training Ground, their exit just barely in view over the town thanks to the tall board above it. They must make quite the contrast, Izuku thought: he was fully armoured, every inch of skin covered: his torso, hands and forearms, feet and shins protected, as well as his knees and elbows, all of it covered by the deceptively tough jacket and, of course, his helmet. By comparison, Yaoyorozu might as well be wearing a swimsuit. Izuku didn't doubt that it was tougher than it looked, given that it was actually a Hero costume, but he much preferred his. Similarly, Izuku was equipped a lot more heavily. His two pistols rested comfortably on each hip, one loaded with foam rounds and the other with Neural Disruptors. At the small of his back a strip of concussive shuriken waited, an extra strip attached to the inside of each side of his jacket, each strip also containing two tiny adhesive trackers, and four bola at his belt rounded it all off. Yaoyorozu, again, was currently unequipped: the value, he supposed, of being able to create whatever you needed on the fly.
"Alright," Izuku said, "Once the buzzer goes I'll head out. If I'm lucky, I'll be able to catch Aizawa unawares and disable him. If not, I'll delay him and lead him back to you once you give the go-ahead."
Yaoyorozu nodded to him.
"Do you have any of those…foam grenades?" she asked. Wordlessly Izuku unslung the four he was carrying, handing them over – they'd probably be better off with whatever trap she was planning than with him, running away from Aizawa. She took them in both hands, nodding again.
"Good luck," she said. Izuku settled his helmet into place, the reassuring click and hiss of it settling his nerves almost immediately.
"You too, Yaoyorozu," he said, just moments before the buzzer sounded. They entered the Training Ground and Izuku set off immediately: he didn't go for the roofs of the buildings that filled the area yet, sticking to the ground in an attempt to remain hidden, pulling the brown cover up to hide his bright helmet. If he was to guess, then Aizawa had probably found himself the highest point he could, with the best sightlines, and was waiting for them to make a break for the exit. Izuku didn't intend to get caught like that, although if he had the chance he'd take a shot at Aizawa. Sure, luring him into a trap would be great, but eliminating him with a few quick gunshots would make things much, much easier.
"Yaoyorozu," he said, "Can you hear me?"
"I hear you, Midoriya."
"Alright, good. I'm moving towards the exit – I think Mr Aizawa will be waiting to ambush us there. Where are you?"
"In a house, near to the entrance," Yaoyorozu said, keeping her voice soft. Izuku, moments after saying that, found himself hoping that Aizawa didn't have access to their communications. He shouldn't have, but it was still a risk.
"Alright," he said, "I'll let you know when I find Aizawa."
Izuku stopped moving in an alleyway, eyes narrowing. There were several buildings, slightly taller than the rest: there was always a risk that Aizawa might be waiting inside one of the buildings rather than in the open, but Izuku didn't think so. He tapped his foot in thought before deciding that it was time to get off the street: he'd take the greater manoeuvrability offered by the rooftops over the slight increase in stealth on ground level.
"I forgot to ask, Yaoyorozu," he said as he pulled himself over the lip of a building, slithering onto a rooftop in an attempt to stay at least a little hidden, "Do you know how to shoot a gun? Just in case."
"Yes," she said slowly, "I can. I would prefer not to, though."
An odd hang-up to have when she happily fired cannons, but Izuku wasn't really in a position to criticise people for their neuroses. At least Yaoyorozu wasn't likely to shoot herself if he had to give her a gun.
"Alright," he said, stilling an instant after, "I see Aizawa."
Aizawa was perched on the roof of a taller building like some great brooding bird of prey, his hair flowing dramatically behind him. Izuku reached down, left hand curling around the butt of his pistol as he rose from nearly prone to a hunkered crouch, eyes narrowing.
"I have a sight," he said softly, "I'm taking the shot."
He drew the gun, achingly slowly, barely breathing – foam rounds in this one. Perfect. He raised his arm, propping his left hand with his right, and Aizawa looked at him.
"Shit," Izuku hissed, "He's seen me!"
"The trap isn't ready yet," Yaoyorozu replied, her voice rising. Aizawa leapt from the roof as Izuku took a shot anyway, his scarf reaching out to snag a balcony. Izuku shot again and again, three more rounds missing before Aizawa dipped behind a building opposite Izuku. Izuku hissed through his teeth and rose to his full height, slipping the gun away and stalking over to stand opposite the point he predicted Aizawa would land, checking the buildings behind him. They would do, he thought, as Aizawa landed.
"Red Hood," Aizawa said, voice as rough as slate crunching underfoot, "Here alone?"
Izuku shrugged.
"I move faster alone, Eraserhead," he replied, letting his right arm hand loose. The limb dangled limply, almost as though it was broken, leaving it perfectly positioned for the quickest possible draw. Aizawa grinned, teeth glinting over his scarf, his eyes flicking to Izuku's gun hand. Exactly as Izuku wanted.
"Let me guess," Aizawa said, "You're distracting me while Creati runs for the exit? Or is she laying a trap for you to lure me into? You're confident in yourself, aren't you?"
Playing the villain, Izuku thought with amusement, though speaking so much didn't really suit Aizawa. He widened his stance just a fraction.
"If you think you can stop me," he said, "Then try."
Aizawa shrugged, one hand reaching up to his scarf.
"Thought you'd never ask."
Aizawa darted forwards and Izuku made his first play.
He didn't draw his gun. Aizawa would expect it and he was close enough that Izuku would only have time for a couple of shots. Instead he went for his second option: his shuriken.
His right hand reached back, gripped, flung out a bola at Aizawa. Aizawa leapt to his left, avoiding the attack and Izuku flung the shuriken in his left, directly into the path he'd predicted Aizawa would take. They whirled in the air, snapping open moments after leaving his hand and Izuku was moving before they struck Aizawa's raised arms and detonated.
He didn't make the mistake of thinking they'd cause enough damage for him to beat Aizawa in close combat, dropping a smoke bomb and flinging himself off the roof.
"Made contact," he said to Yaoyorozu, grappling just right to swing himself through a window of the opposite building and hitting the ground running, "How much longer do you need?"
"A few minutes, at least. Five. Ten, if you can possibly…"
"Ten minutes is a little too long," Izuku admitted as Aizawa hit the ground behind him with a rustle of cloth and the smell of the concussive shuriken sharp around him, "But five, I can do."
Another window, leaping and grappling, pulling himself up. The scarf, the tiniest glance backwards showing him it latching onto a building and Izuku landed in a room and made a snap decision. Running alone wouldn't work: he needed to fight if he was going to successfully stall his teacher. Aizawa wasn't as strong as Stain, but he still had Izuku outclassed. Which meant that it would have to be fast. Fast and brutal.
That was fine.
Izuku kicked off from the ground as Aizawa came through the window, the mans scarf tied up by his movement, and planted an elbow in the centre of his solar plexus.
Aizawa's breath rushed out of him in a wheezing gasp but his reactions were flawless: one hand curled around Izuku's forearm, the other tugging his scarf down in a swirling mess and Izuku twisted around and struck again, two stiff fingers hitting Aizawa in the upper arm. Not quite dead on the pressure point but close enough, Aizawa's arm spasming and releasing Izuku and Izuku launched himself backwards out of the window, twisting in mid-air. Draw the grapple, fire, swing onto the street and land already running because Aizawa was after him.
"If you can get Mr Aizawa's goggles away from him, I would appreciate it," Yaoyorozu said. Easier said than done Izuku thought, drawing his gun and twisting around to fire a couple of shots as Aizawa descended again, the use of his scarf as an anchor giving him enough control that he was hard to hit in mid-air. Izuku was getting flashbacks to trying to shoot down Bruce during Jasons initial return as the Red Hood.
Izuku jumped through a glassless window into a house, dropping another smoke bomb behind him and taking the stairway to the second floor three steps at a time. The windows up here, for some reason, had glass in – or at least some sort of material – and Izuku made use of that, flinging a shuriken that shattered the material. It broke like real glass, shattering pleasingly, but Izuku didn't go through it, instead swerving to the side and ducking into a room. It was even decorated, a small bed and a flimsy desk in the room and Izuku wondered if it was really necessary. Perhaps to add verisimilitude to any exercises carried out in this Training Ground he thought, pressing himself against the wall and drawing his gun. Now. The best result would be Aizawa going through the window in pursuit, opening his back up for Izuku to shoot at. The worst result would be Aizawa taking a different path and tracking down Yaoyorozu instead, but Izuku doubted he'd risk that: Izuku was too close to the exit gate. As though to validate his thoughts, Aizawa came dashing up the stairs but didn't take a leap out of the window. Izuku bit his lip, expression twisting in a grimace. Too clever by half, this man.
The floor creaked under a tread – Izuku silently thanked whoever had built this building and made it hard to creep around – as Aizawa moved. Izuku flattened himself against the wall, forcing his breathing to stay steady. If he could get a good shot, he thought. If he could put a foam round onto Aizawa's leg it would immobilise him. A shot to the arm would limit his combat abilities. A shot to the scarf, if he could manage it, would deal a devastating blow to Aizawa's movement and combat. But it all depended on if. If, if, if.
If Izuku lived by ifs, he'd never get anything done.
He swung around, gun coming up and out as he moved through the doorway, already firing. Aizawa was moving as he came through the door, two of the foam rounds missing Aizawa by inches before the third clipped his shoulder. Aizawa had been close to the door, too close, and Izuku switched into close combat without breaking stride.
A left jab, directly at the face, Aizawa tilting his head to the side just enough to slip it. A knee to the stomach, this one landing, the pistol in his right hand coming around to pistol-whip Aizawa and a hand closed around his wrist before a palm strike slammed into the front of his helmet. Izuku grunted involuntarily as his head jerked back, Aizawa shoving him hard against the wall and performing a short spin and kick. The impact on his torso drove the breath from his lungs but his armour prevented it from doing too much damage and Izuku looped his left arm under the leg, stepped so his left foot was hooked behind Aizawa's supporting leg and fell back, taking them both to the ground.
They broke apart, rolling aside, Izuku taking two more shots before Aizawa kicked at his wrist and the gun went sliding away. A knee came within an inch of hitting him in the helmet as Aizawa closed in, Izuku twisting his head away and slashed a short punch into Aizawa's side, using the moment when Aizawa staggered to push to his feet and gain distance. The scarf unspooled around Aizawa, moving like no fabric should be able to, and Izuku twisted his wrists, the blades on his gauntlets snapping out as he settled into a defensive stance, arms raised like a boxer.
"I'm close to being finished," Yaoyorozu said, "How are you progressing?"
"Could be better," Izuku muttered, eyes locked on Aizawa. At least he'd stalled for just about long enough: time to get his gun and get moving, although that was easier said than done – his gun had ended up behind his teacher. Aizawa's eyes were barely visible behind his goggles but he was still using his Quirk, the crimson glow bloodily malevolent – Izuku wondered if it was just habit, or if it was being done for intimidation. Either way, it wasn't going to make a difference.
Aizawa moved, darting across the open space in a flash with his scarf trailing behind him, his fist reaching out, Izuku parrying with his hand and counterattacking, right fist flicking out so that the scarf wrapped around his elbow, just above the blades.
Good enough.
Izuku abandoned his attack, pulling sharply back to catch the scarf in the blades on his gauntlet, fibres slicing under the narrow blades, they'd dull quickly but it was good enough but the motion left his torso exposed, trusting to his armour. Aizawa grabbed Izuku by the wrist again – learning from Stain, Izuku thought in an instant of dismay – and wrenched his left arm out of the way, enough that Izuku couldn't block the elbow strike that impacted on the centre of his chest even if he instinctively raised his leg to block the kick at his shin that followed. Dragging in a gulp of air he countered, clawed hand lashing out at Aizawa's eyes, Aizawa leaning back and Izuku followed the motion, turning to swing his elbow at Aizawa's jaw. A block with the arm, the thumb of his caught left hand jamming hard into Aizawa's wrist to force the teacher to release him and Izuku followed it up, left hand snaking out in an attempted kidney punch that forced Aizawa to hop back.
He wasn't fighting his hardest, Izuku recognised, but he was still winning. Not an impossible fight, but far too close for Izuku's liking.
Another scatter of shuriken, Izuku rushing at Aizawa only to drop at the last moment, sliding past. He hit the wall a little harder than he would have liked but he was almost right on top of his gun and he snatched it up, kicking off the wall and to his feet and levelled the gun at an empty hallway.
"Shit," Izuku said, barely louder than a whisper and completely muffled by the sealing of his helmet. He shifted to stand fully, back to the window that he was fairly certain Aizawa hadn't gone out of – on second thought, he stepped away from the opening. Just in case.
"Given up, Eraserhead?" he called, playing a part as well as he could. The answer came from the room he'd been hiding in earlier, but there was no movement in there – Aizawa throwing his voice, maybe.
"I thought it would be fair to let you have your shot, Hood."
"Just one?" Izuku asked, "But I brought all these bullets."
Given the chill that went up his spine at the rusty, grating chuckle that bounced around the room at that, Izuku almost wished he'd kept his mouth shut. And he'd thought Shigaraki and Stain had been creepy.
"Being on the receiving end of this is very unpleasant," he whispered to himself. The shadows cast through the building by the lights in the Training Ground were surprisingly dark, but he'd had some experience with this sort of thing, at least. He knew better than to give chase.
"Well," Izuku said aloud, "I guess you're expecting me to follow you and find you?"
No reply. Izuku kept his gun in front of him, shifting slightly to cover the whole hallway, head moving as well. He guessed that Aizawa was maybe waiting for him to give chase, to search the house. Izuku had absolutely no intention of doing that. Walking into ambushes was just so last year and so Izuku backed towards the window, reassured that Aizawa wasn't lurking on the wall outside.
The moment he turned, the scarf came boiling out of the shadows with Aizawa dead behind. Izuku didn't hesitate, flinging himself out of the window while firing only slightly wildly behind him. He slammed into the wall of the building opposite, shoving his gun back into its holster and slowing his fall just enough by digging his arm-blades into the brick, the quickly blunting edges keeping him in place just long enough to kick off the wall back to the house he'd just left, kicking off that wall to bounce to the ground. Aizawa came through the window and Izuku flung his last handful of shuriken at him before bolting.
"On my way, Creati," he panted, "Aizawa in pursuit."
He sprinted through an alleyway, jumping from dumpster to balcony to window ledge and grappling back onto a roof, sliding the locator on his gauntlet open as he tucked the grapple away. He left it open, not sure enough that he could memorise Yaoyorozu's location without it.
"I'm in a three-storey house," Yaoyorozu dictated, "Enter through the top window on the east side and immediately cut to your right, into the room there. I've set up a decoy at the bottom of the stairs in front of the window."
It really was like being back in Gotham, what with everyone around him coming up with increasingly complex plans all over the place while Izuku just tried to shoot people. It would be comfortingly nostalgic if it didn't cause him so much anxiety.
"Got it," he panted. To his left Aizawa was running along some power lines, arms out behind him like some sort of cosplayer and Izuku squashed his bafflement long enough to draw his gun and take a couple of shots.
"Get down from there!" he snapped, Aizawa obligingly vaulting out of sight to avoid the shots, and Izuku reached the edge of his roof and flung himself off in a soaring leap, reloading mid-air. Not a single handed reload though – Mina would be disappointed in him. There was an absolutely colossal explosion somewhere off to his right – probably Bakugo, if he had his guess right – but he landed on the roof without stumbling. A single glance in the direction of it revealed an obscenely huge chunk of ice stretching into the sky, so definitely Bakugo. Izuku hoped Todoroki was having fun.
He altered his path slightly to swing towards the east as Yaoyorozu had directed – Aizawa was just behind him, moving just as fast across the rooftops but giving Izuku just a little breathing room, probably because a close chase brought with it the threat of being shot. Izuku reloaded his other gun in between leaping or grappling between buildings, sliding it back into the holster. He was only a couple of buildings away, taking a slightly slower path to get higher and Aizawa closed in, the scarf almost snagging Izuku's heels as Izuku went from rooftop to balcony to rooftop, leaping onto a streetlight and from there, without pausing, onto another roof. His heart hammered in his chest, his breath came in harsh pants and he was having the time of his life.
"Creati, incoming," he snapped, dropping a smoke bomb behind him and diving for the window. He landed in a roll, the impact still rattling his teeth and he dropped a second smoke bomb and flung himself to the right, into a small room. Just ahead of him he could see Yaoyorozu's decoy: a copy of his helmet, positioned to look as though he'd jumped down the stairs and hidden himself behind a small wall separating two rooms in the lower floor.
Izuku grinned.
Aizawa came through the window, through the smoke, his scarf whipping around him like the snakes of Medusa as he leaped down the stairs. One hand reached behind him, scattering a spray of items that clanked as they hit the wooden steps – caltrops, to cut off any retreat up the stairs. Clever. Aizawa vaulted the small wall – Izuku saw the way he cut off his leap, his scarf whipping backwards as he realised it was a trap – and Yaoyorozu's trap was sprung. Something triggered it, maybe Yaoyorozu herself, and the whole room was filled with those nesting dolls, launched from hidden catapults. Izuku drew his foam round filled gun, striding to the stairs – he'd have to make this count. Aizawa, in a display of considerable athleticism, performed a one-handed handstand on the dividing wall, reversing his momentum and flipping back and the flashbangs hidden in the dolls went off.
They'd been dialled down, quite a lot – Izuku's helmet lenses automatically darkened to shut out the light – but they were still enough that Aizawa's flip faltered halfway through. He still made it, landing on his feet and whipping his scarf around him with one hand while the other went to his eyes. Izuku let out a slow breath and took his shot.
It was perfect, if he did say so himself. Three foam rounds whipped through the air, Aizawa somehow realising they were there and dodging, but Izuku hadn't been aiming for him. With three heavy splats the foam rounds struck exactly where Izuku had aimed them, gluing Aizawa's scarf to the wall.
Two more shots, one of them hitting Aizawa in the shoulder and preventing most of the motion of his left arm as he twisted out of his scarf, one bloodshot eye glaring up at Izuku, and the second part of Yaoyorozu's trap activated: clinking softly, three Foam Grenades landed around Aizawa.
Aizawa moved like lightning, not holding back anymore: he kicked one directly at Izuku and went back over the wall, abandoning his scarf entirely. Izuku shot the grenade out of the air, preventing it from hitting him but almost blocking the stairs, and watched as Yaoyorozu enacted the final part of her trap: attacking Aizawa himself now that he was inhibited, shield and baton in hand. She was good, he thought, using her paired weapons skilfully: he wouldn't have put her up against Dick and expected her to win, but she wasn't at all bad. But Aizawa, still, was better.
Yaoyorozu's first attack was more like a fencer than a baton brawler, a quick step forwards and a lunge that Aizawa leaned away from, a twist of her wrist turning the stab into a chopping motion that forced Aizawa to block with his free arm, leaving him open to a shield bash, Yaoyorozu putting her shoulder into it. Aizawa stumbled a step back from the impact and Izuku raked his eyes over the stairway, measuring the gap. Shooting from up here would be dangerous, possibly it would clip Yaoyorozu: better to get onto the ground floor and join the fight. He just needed to make it past the caltrops and solidified foam barrier.
Aizawa jumped back, away from a sweep of Yaoyorozu's baton aimed at his knees, and kicked off the wall. His foot impacted hard with Yaoyorozu's shield and she staggered as he spun, driving home another kick before grabbing the rim of the shield and jerking it sharply to the side. Her answering baton strike was quick and precise, hitting his left shoulder hard, but the arm was already out of commission and she'd left herself open without her shield, a knee snapping towards her stomach. She abandoned the shield and threw herself back and Izuku gritted his teeth, eyeballing the gap between the foam and the ceiling.
He could make it.
Aizawa threw the shield at Yaoyorozu like a frisbee, forcing her to smack it aside with her baton, and he must have had his Quirk active because she didn't produce anything else. Aizawa was advancing as Izuku holstered his gun, took two steps back and ran forwards. He planted both hands on the top of the stairway bannisters, kicked off with his feet and the same time as he pushed with his hands and hoped, flying through the air. He made it through the gap between foam and plastered ceiling with inches to spare, pulling his grappling hook and using it to redirect his movement, pulling sharply on the hook to switch his leap to a diving kick. Aizawa saw it coming at the last moment, falling back before Izuku landed with an impact that jolted all the way up his legs, but he was on the ground and Yaoyorozu joined him an instant later, a shield forming in her off-hand again. Aizawa raked dark eyes over them, nodding.
"Alright," he said, "Not bad. Now you just have to finish it."
Izuku grinned, hidden by his helmet, and began moving to his right. Yaoyorozu matched Izuku's movement to the left, in what Izuku suspected was an instinctive motion. Pack hunting, forcing Aizawa to defend both sides at once. A kinder man might have simply surrendered, considered himself outmatched. Aizawa, suited to his reputation, held out his functioning hand and beckoned to them.
Yaoyorozu made the first attack, leading with her shield and striking with her baton in short, disciplined blows as Izuku closed in from the other side. Aizawa defended himself admirably, dodging Yaoyorozu and twisting awkwardly to block the quick punches that Izuku added in, hampered by Izuku being on his bad side and the damage Yaoyorozu would do on a block. He twisted, stepped back, found himself backed up to a wall.
Was Aizawa good enough to exploit the fact that they hadn't worked together before? Well, maybe. Not with one arm though. Izuku slid his hands down to his guns, dipping his chin, all three of them waiting for a move to be made.
Yaoyorozu moved first, the same opening as earlier, a quick, hard lunge with her baton. Aizawa twisted away and batted at her hand, knocking the baton off-line but his rising knee was blocked by her shield and Izuku took his chance, jumping and kicking off the low dividing wall. He used the momentum to bring his right gun down hard, the guns held to pistol-whip with the taser butts. Aizawa twisted the opposite way to his earlier turn, avoiding the downstroke and the quick backhand that Izuku used to push him back but Izuku's other gun caught Aizawa in the thigh and he grunted in pain, staggering as Izuku took the opening and struck again, hard to the back of the shoulder. Not a crippling blow, given that Aizawa's left arm was already useless, but weakening and Yaoyorozu was springing forwards with her baton descending and Izuku hopped back and spun his left gun in his hand, levelling it.
Aizawa dropped his foot down, flipping Yaoyorozu's earlier shield into the air and snatching it up, using it to block Yaoyorozu and shield bash her back before spinning and swinging it into the path of Izuku's bullets, blocking three before he flung it, forcing Izuku to duck. Aizawa stepped back, uncertain on his weak leg and kicked at Yaoyorozu, a snapping kick at her shin to keep her back followed by a spinning kick, the same leg sweeping out – he must not trust it to hold his weight. Izuku ran forwards and jumped again, flipping over Aizawa as he reset his stance, landing and firing at the same time. Aizawa shifted to the side, trying to make Izuku hit Yaoyorozu as she rushed from Aizawa's front, but Jason had seen that trick before. Two shots to the side, safely aimed to make Aizawa dodge before Izuku levelled his second gun and shot Aizawa in the knee. He went down with a gasp, the Neural Shock rounds knocking his leg out even better than the tasers would, and Yaoyorozu bashed him off his feet with her shield and a war-cry that even Izuku found intimidating. Aizawa landed in a heap and Izuku shot again, hitting him in the hand with a foam grenade before Yaoyorozu reached into her belt and dropped the last Foam Grenade on the teacher's chest, holding up a detonator where he could see.
"Do you give up?" she asked through pants. Aizawa stared up at her, expressionless, before shaking his head and smiling.
"That wasn't too bad," he admitted, "I guess the two of you pass."
He looked at Izuku.
"I hope this stuff doesn't stain, Midoriya."
Wordlessly Izuku patted through his pockets until he located a small spray bottle of the foam reducer, applying it to Aizawa. It only took a couple of minutes before the foam had melted away and Aizawa could stand with a sigh, shaking his head. For a moment Izuku thought Aizawa would run through an entire criticism of their choices, but he just waited to retrieve his scarf before they made their way through the exit and back to the bus, returning to their starting location.
"Hey, Yaoyorozu," Izuku said, drawing her attention a short way into the bus journey, "Nice work with the trap. I think it would have caught anyone."
Aizawa, slightly ahead of them, didn't comment but Yaoyorozu beamed before she reined it in, her expression becoming more controlled. Definitely some sort of etiquette training, Izuku thought.
"You think so? I hoped that Mr Aizawa would be chasing you so closely that he wouldn't notice the decoy, and it worked perfectly! Your Foam Grenades worked extremely well, additionally. You must be very pleased with them, Midoriya."
Izuku shrugged, smiling slightly behind his helmet.
"Hatsume did good work on them," he said, "She took the idea and really made them work."
Yaoyorozu leaned forwards in her seat, towards him.
"I did wonder," she said, "If I should perhaps talk to a Support student. Creating my weapons is good, but perhaps I could have something permanent? It would need to be light…do you think Hatsume could help me with that?"
Izuku imagined Hatsume questioning Yaoyorozu and inwardly winced for her. Still, it was a good question.
"Actually," he said, "I talked with Hatsume a while ago about getting some sort of batons, extendable. She had plans for making them electrified, like my guns, seemed disappointed when I just wanted normal batons."
"Do you even know how to use batons, Midoriya?" Aizawa asked, his voice even more tired than usual. Izuku shrugged.
"I learn quickly, sir," he said, seeing Yaoyorozu perk up from the corner of her eye.
"I can help you with them," she said, "If you can provide me with an introduction to Hatsume or a suitable Support Student. I know that I could speak with them on my own, but it seems sensible to speak to someone who works with Support a lot."
Izuku leaned back, nodding.
"Maybe not Hatsume," he allowed, "She's…enthusiastic. Dangerously enthusiastic. But there are plenty of others and she might know someone."
Yaoyorozu nodded, bowing her head.
"I'd appreciate an introduction," she told him earnestly and Izuku nodded.
"When I go see her next, I'll take you along," he promised, just as the bus ground to a halt. They both exited, just in time to see another bus halt and Todoroki climb off. Todoroki looked…awful. Yaoyorozu immediately hurried over to him, Izuku following at a more sedate pace. Todoroki was covered in dust, plaster and dust, and he had a remarkable black eye covering a large section of his face. He was also holding his arm gingerly – Izuku, from inherited experience, recognised it as the aftermath of a dislocated shoulder. He should probably be heading to the nurse's office, he thought.
"It wasn't much of a fight," Todoroki said as Izuku wandered up, "Bakugo insisted that he could defeat All Might alone. He was mistaken."
"Sure looks that way," Izuku said, looking Todoroki up and down. Add some bruised ribs and maybe a strained ankle to the injuries, he thought: just over Todoroki's shoulder he could see a medical bot approaching.
"That's a hell of a shiner you've got, Todoroki. What happened to Bakugo?"
Todoroki sighed in a put-upon way that reminded Izuku of nothing more than Aizawa – it might be the most emotion he'd ever seen out of his classmate.
"He wouldn't go down," Todoroki reported, "Until he did. I think he might have had a concussion. And I don't think either of us passed the test."
Bakugo didn't pass? He was concussed? It was a real petty thing to do, but Izuku found a delighted smile creeping onto his face.
"Wow," he said, successfully projecting sympathy, "That really sucks, Todoroki. I'm sorry to hear that."
And if he then had to walk away and mute his voice modulator to hide his laughter, well, Jason had been a petty, petty bastard sometimes. Izuku wasn't above a little schadenfreude, especially when it came to Bakugo.
The OMC were in quite the rush today, Izuku thought as he glanced out the window at the newest car to arrive. According to Usami it was because they had set up a meeting with Overhaul and they wanted the rest of the OMC, people Izuku had only briefly met, to cycle through the main cell to make sure that they could all be warned that something was about to go down, as it were. Izuku didn't doubt that was a part of it, but he personally suspected it was mostly a combination of mistrust and concern about the morale of the OMC: Usami wanted to see them in person, to make sure that they were all committed to the cause. Either way five people had arrived so far and Izuku was making sure to stay out of the way, comfortably ensconced on the upper floor.
"You okay up here, kid?" Oyama asked from behind him. Izuku turned away from the window, getting a good look at the man: for all that he'd been the most gung-ho of their members previously, Oyama now looked stressed. As well he might, Izuku thought, although he didn't say it. There was a grimness to the set of the man's mouth where there had once been anticipation of violence, his eyes were darkly shadowed from lack of sleep.
"Oh," he said, "Yes, thank you. I just wanted some time alone, to think. It's all coming so quickly, you know?"
Oyama sighed, nodding.
"Yeah, I know," he said, "Feels weird, to be getting into action at last. But Overhaul – that sick bastard deserves it. He deserves it. You know the plan?"
Izuku nodded.
"Tomorrow," he said, "You and Usami will go to meet him, and Seabreeze will attack the meeting. You'll be heroes."
And it was grinding Nedzu's gears something awful, that his plans had been ruined by pure chance, but that wasn't anything Izuku could do anything with. Plans had to change sometimes, it was the nature of the beast. Oyama nodded, slowly.
"Yeah," he agreed quietly, "We'll be heroes. Maybe. Or maybe they'll decide that they don't want any loose ends."
Izuku plastered a look of concern over his face, looking up at Oyama as the man moved past him, staring out the window himself.
"I know that Usami trusts them," he said, "But I don't know if I do. It'd be so much easier to have us die and just call us criminals who were meeting with Overhaul and got killed in the crossfire, rather than have to explain anything."
"Losing his nerve," Nighteye said in Izuku's ear, having mostly taken over from Nedzu as the Principal continued to plot a probably horrific vengeance against the OMC and Seabreeze personally, "Not that I'm surprised. The OMC have been recruited because they feel that their Quirks are underappreciated, that they're stronger than society thinks and they can prove it. Against Overhaul, whose Quirk truly is formidable, their inadequacies are being thrown into stark relief."
A bit wordy, Izuku thought, but essentially the truth. Oyama wasn't really a bad man, he'd just – to use a cliché – fallen in with the wrong crowd, as had most of the OMC. In Gotham he'd have joined as a low-level henchman, caught a beating and maybe some light maiming from one of the Bats – depending on how irritable Jason was feeling and how intransigent Oyama was – and then gone home, rethought his life and probably joined one of the WayneTech Employment Schemes. Whether he'd have made it to a respectable job and gotten out of the henchman business, less certain, but he'd probably have had a chance. Ironically things here were perhaps less forgiving than Gotham, the social stigma of being a Villain a lot harder to shift.
"I guess what I'm saying, kid," Oyama continued, "Is that you've been good. But it might be time to call it a day, you know? The rest of us, we're all adults. We know the risks and we're ready to die, if it comes to it. But you've got your whole life ahead of you. Might be time to start looking at it."
Izuku hadn't expected that, if he was completely honest. It was just out of character for Oyama – and yet, maybe not. Oyama had been the most outraged to hear of the child Overhaul was holding captive, after all.
"I…" Izuku started, marshalling his thoughts before nodding to Oyama and smiling faintly, "Thank you. But I think it's a little bit too late to leave now, right?"
Oyama sniffed, shrugging.
"Well, maybe," he said, "But if it goes wrong when we try to take out Overhaul? Don't give your life up for us, kid. It won't help anything."
Whatever Izuku could have answered would have to wait – Usami called from below them and they both descended to the ground floor to see what he had to say. There were five other members of the OMC in the front room, scattered around and all standing, with Usami near the kitchen. Bennet wasn't present and Izuku wasn't sure where she was, but Usami and Oyama hadn't seemed concerned about it. Usami straightened as they reached the ground floor, nodding.
"Alright then," he said, "We're all here because-"
He was rudely interrupted by a knock on the door, a heavy, booming thing that rang through the whole building and drowned his voice. Everyone looked at the door, the closest OMC member giving a questioning look to Usami who just shrugged.
"Open it, I suppose?" he said, although Izuku saw him reach a hand out and a small syringe float into his palm. Trigger, Izuku recognised, and the knot of apprehension in his stomach unfolded into a bloom of anticipation. The OMC member, a slender woman with the compound eyes and antenna of a butterfly, walked to the door and pulled it open.
"Hello?" she asked, just a second before flinching hard back, her hand leaving the door a second before the boom of a pistol echoed around the room and her head snapped hard back, a cloud of sparkling scales quickly lost in the bright rooster-tail of blood thrown from her skull.
An instant, frozen horror and shock and fear before everyone moved at once.
"We're being attacked!" Izuku yelled, flinging himself away from the wall on pure instinct, old habits kicking in. He hit an armchair hard, flipping it over and flattening himself on the ground behind it before the wall burst apart. He heard it, rather than saw it, the cracking of brick and wood and plaster followed by the grotesque noises of flesh being punctured by something far harder and then the screams. The screams – Izuku cut them out and rolled to his feet, looking for an exit as their attackers entered through the gaping hole in the wall: Overhaul had converted it into spikes, filling the room with a wall of death.
He recognised them in an instant. At the head was Overhaul, the Eight Precepts boss – incongruously, Izuku's first thought was that his puffy jacket and three-quarters pants clashed horribly with the plague doctor mask that covered his face – flanked by an enormous hulk of a man, Bane, arms probably thicker than Izuku's thighs and a thickly muscled torso covered only by a vest. To Overhaul's other side was a much slighter, shorter figure, clad in a hooded coat that reached past his knees, a revolver still clasped in his right hand.
Not Bane, Izuku told himself, blinking hard to reset his vision. Bane was dead. And even if he hadn't been, he couldn't have been here.
He wished for his guns, nonetheless.
"Midoriya get out of there," Nighteye snapped, "That's Chronostasis and a member of the Eight Bullets, get out of there now!"
Easier said than done Izuku wildly thought. Five OMC, Izuku, Oyama, Usami against Overhaul, his lieutenant and an Eight Bullet. His eyes flicked over the room, cataloguing with frozen intensity: two of the OMC dead. Of the rest one was missing an arm from Overhaul's attack, one impaled through the abdomen and dying horribly with his shrill, gulping cries filling the air like the song of the damned, chilling the blood. The massive man to Overhaul's right leaned down and clamped an armoured hand around the injured man's head: the man went stiff and the Bullet's vast form seemed to swell even further before he closed his fingers with awful finality, the sick crunch making even Izuku slightly nauseous.
"You bastards," Oyama said behind him, very soft before his voice rose in fury, "You bastards! DIE!"
He was brave, Izuku would give him that. He charged with a berserker scream, hands coming up and surrounded by a wavering veil of water that shifted and spun, forming clawed gauntlets as he flung himself into the fray. It was a mad thing, a charge right for Overhaul. A last, heroic stand against an overwhelming foe, giving his life to avenge his brothers and sisters. It was magnificent. It was glorious. It was utterly, totally doomed.
Oyama lunged, screaming hoarsely, and a gargantuan hand caught his wrist, arresting his charge and Oyama only had a second to look around before a fist the size of a wrecking ball smashed into his jaw. Somehow his head remained intact under the titanic blow but his head snapped around, twisted in a manner that no human neck should twist and the Eight Bullet dropped Oyama's corpse with a faint grunt of disappointment.
"Hmm," Overhaul said, glancing down at the body, "Unfortunate. Still. Chronostasis, Rikiya – you know what to do."
With a gleeful bellow the juggernaught charged forwards, the last member of the OMC – a man with the very limited ability to control dead wood – slammed his hand on a table and covered himself with a rudimentary suit of armour, going to meet him with desperate courage. Chronostasis lifted his revolver, stance as easy as if he was firing at a shooting range, and Izuku moved. He burst to his right, sprinting across the room – the key to dodging bullets was to be unpredictable – drop at the moment his instincts screamed at him, a bullet flying overhead and Izuku snagged a plate from the ground and whipped it through the air, his aim flawless. The ceramic smashed into Chronostasis' gun, knocking it from his hand and Izuku heard a shout from behind him.
"Akatani, RUN!" Usami bellowed, followed by a hail of knives from the kitchen. Overhaul slammed a hand into the ground and the floor reared up to block them. Izuku shot a glance over his shoulder just in time to see the syringe of Trigger fall to the ground, Usami stepping forwards with a grimace on his face and a blur of cutlery surrounding him. Escape routes – the window. Izuku planted his hands, he'd have to be quick.
"You think you can just come here and kill us?" Usami demanded, advancing under the cover of a hail of shrapnel, bombarding Overhaul's defence, "You think you can just wipe us out? You, a man afraid of his own Quirk – a man not worthy – you think you're better than us? You think you're stronger than us? You think you mean anything?"
The faintest gap opened in the shield as Izuku ran for the nearest window, glancing over his shoulder, and Usami staggered, his whirling storm failing as a dart hit him in the chest. The barrier separated and Overhaul stepped through, one hand reaching out and clamping onto Usami's shoulder.
"Yes," the leader of the Eight Precepts said, "I do."
And then, as though Usami's body simply forget everything it ever knew about staying in one piece, the man simply dissolved into a slurry of gore. Izuku didn't stumble, didn't stop even as a fleck of blood from the man slapped at his face: he ran for the window with the speed of someone who knew it might be his only chance. He heard a noise of disgust a second before he leaped, crossing his arms in front of him.
A second before he broke through the glass, already bracing himself for the pain, the window was swallowed up by the wall and he rebounded with a cry. He staggered, the wind knocked out of him and half turned from the impact. The dart hitting his chest was like the bite of a fly in comparison, tiny but sharp and the massive man was coming at him, a punch thrown with blurring speed. Izuku twisted desperately, trying to get his body out of the way. He almost succeeded.
All of his air was torn from him as the fist clipped his ribcage, bones creaking under the impact as it spun him the rest of the way around, the force of his spin hard enough that his spectacles flew off and shattered on the wall. Izuku collapsed to the ground, the pain blazing through him and stealing him breath, leaving him flat on the ground as the man raised his fist again.
"Wait," Overhaul commanded, cold and sharp, and the fist paused, "I might have use for him. This is the one who feels no pain – or at least he did, before the dart. Rikiya. Be so good as to test that. See if you can make him scream."
Izuku looked up as the boot descended, pressing hard against his ribs: before he blacked out from the agony surging from his ribcage, he obliged Overhaul's wish.
Izuku awoke to pain and cold, scrabbling against the floor with his prosthetic and flesh hand alike. The scrape of metal on concrete, the copper tang in his mouth, the rush of raw, animal panic – what hurts more, forehand or backhand – and he catapulted to his feet with a hoarse yell, immediately falling to his knees as pain surged through his torso. Once he'd mastered the pain – once he'd shut out the agony – he remained kneeling, doubled over, wracked by shame. He'd failed – not only had he not escaped, he'd been captured. He'd forced the rest of his team into a rescue operation with barely any preparation, any time. He'd ruined everything. He'd gotten caught.
Well then, that small part of him that was ever defiant said, we'll just need to get ourselves out.
Izuku remained hunched, kneeling, but the coldness of shame started to fade, banished by the anger. No, he thought, not anger: fury. Raw, murderous intent. Somewhat whimsically, Izuku liked to imagine it was boiling up from the very darkest depths of his heart, where Overhaul's name was inscribed on his soul: a life unworthy. A life to be taken. But not unless he could get himself out, and so Izuku hauled himself to his feet and took stock of his situation. A cell, lit by a single fluorescent light, hastily prepared given that there was nothing other than a mattress and a bucket present. No windows, an inside room. A single door with a tiny window, barred and glassless. Barred, Izuku thought. So crude.
So that was his cell. What about him? His spectacles were gone. His phone was gone as well, obviously, and his wallet. But his prosthetic was still in place, an oversight Overhaul might come to regret. Physical condition otherwise? Well, it had been better.
His side felt like one enormous bruise, flaring with a sharper pain in the middle as he moved, putting pressure on his ribs, but it wasn't too bad. Izuku gritted his teeth, shutting out the pain as he pressed gingerly at his side. It hurt, it hurt like a motherfucker, but the bone didn't move, he couldn't feel any breaks – he'd live. It wouldn't be pleasant, but he'd live and he seemed otherwise uninjured. He held back a soft chuckle – Overhaul was probably counting of the loss of his Quirk to keep him down. A pity, that. He stretched carefully, inching over to the door and peering through the barred window – bars, for Christ's sake. Medieval. He flattened himself against the cold metal and listened, listening for breathing and peering through the window as best he could.
Two guards, neither of them looking like much. Two wasn't so bad. Jason had dealt with worse odds, while being more badly injured.
Izuku stoically ignored the little voice in his head, the one reminding him that Jason had died twice. This definitely wasn't the time the be worrying: this was the time to be making an escape. Alright. Time for an old classic and he had to disguise a laugh as a cough: not long ago he'd thought that Bruce would have broken in and have to fight his way out, and now here he was. Like father, like son.
Izuku coughed dramatically, groaning and bending over, watching the barred doorway from the corner of his eye.
"It's bleeding," he said, pitching his voice high and panicky, thready with pain, just loud enough that it would reach outside while seeming as though he was talking to himself, "Oh god. Oh god there's so much blood."
Izuku put a sob into his voice, folding onto his knees and curling onto himself.
"Mama," he moaned, voicing catching artistically, "I don't want to die here. There's so much blood, please…"
He trailed off with a soft groan, hitching with tears, a cough gargling in his throat in an imitation of someone with a punctured lung. He heard the guards muttering to each other – the words "Ordered him kept alive" came through and Izuku buried triumph as a key scraped in the door, curling even further into himself. He lay as though dead as the door opened, remaining curled over as the guards approached. A slitted eye glanced through the gap in his arms, head pressed to the ground. One guard was behind him, fingering a baton nervously, while the other leaned down, a hand reaching for his shoulder. Izuku drew a deep breath through his nose and moved.
He surged up in a snapping motion, right elbow coming back and out to impact with the groin of the man behind him. A meaty thud, a breath far too shrill and quiet to be a scream and Izuku pushed up, left hand darting out to land a lightning quick jab at the second's nose. The second reeled back, the first collapsing to his knees and Izuku turned on his heel, kicking out and catching the first man across the temple. He went down, stunned, and Izuku turned back as the second guard recovered from his shock.
"You little bastard!" he snarled, lunging forwards, his right hand lancing out in a jab that would have flattened Izuku had it hit. Izuku slipped it, much faster than the large man, his left hand pulling back and swinging in a sharp, hard hook to the skull. The man stumbled as metal met flesh and Izuku followed it up, his right thudding against the stomach before latching onto the wrist, holding the man close long enough for a vicious short uppercut to the chin, still safely flanking the man. A kick to the knee, the guard bending forwards and Izuku grabbed the back to his head and smashed his forehead into the cell wall, sending the man to his knees. A knee to the temple and the man was down.
"Amateur hour," Izuku muttered, turning to the second guard as he tried to rise. Two quick strides and Izuku was behind him, wrapping an arm around his throat and bracing it with the other, legs locking the arms up and Izuku pulled him over, maintaining the choke until the man stopped struggling. Izuku shoved the guard off him and lay there for a few seconds, breathing deeply to suppress the pain burning in his side. He gritted his teeth against it, stubbornly ignoring the warm wetness of blood spreading across his side. A slow blink, a flash of memory – back to his apartment, the cigarettes and the quarter bottle of bourbon he'd stolen from Bruce and Izuku pinched his wrist, snapping himself out of the inherited memory. Long time since he'd had one of those, he thought darkly as he flipped the guards onto their fronts. They had a knife apiece and the second had the baton and Izuku almost, almost cut their throats before he controlled himself. He gagged and tied them up instead: bootlaces for their hands and feet and socks stuffed in the mouths to keep them quiet. It wasn't as permanent as killing them, but it wasn't as though killing them would prevent the alarm from being raised if they were found. Lucky that there weren't any cameras in the room.
"Alright Izuku," he murmured to himself, "We've done shit like this before. Just need to do it again."
Izuku took a moment to stand still, breathing carefully. In through his mouth, out through his nose. In through his mouth, out through his nose. Count to five, open his eyes and creep to the door, shuffling around it until he could peek along the corridor. No cameras, although Izuku had the sense that the cells were improvised so that maybe was surprising. Good, that was good. He sneaked into the corridor, footsteps as light as he could make them. He kept the gun in one hand and a knife in the other, the second knife tucked into a pocket: no sense in wasting time drawing the weapons if he was surprised. The base was quiet, much quieter than he'd expected, but then again the Eight Precepts were a small organisation, at heart.
"Would be useful to still have my glasses," he muttered, "Being able to get help would be useful right now."
But he didn't have them, so he'd have to make do. He crept through the corridors, looking for anything – even a window would do, he had the grapple in his prosthetic and could make an escpae that way. He'd gotten several corridors in before he heard voices from ahead and buried himself in a shadowed corner, holding his breath and forcing his emotions deep inside as two men walked past, from a corridor behind him.
"Why keep the boy? He won't be any use as a hostage," Chronostasis said. Overhaul hummed.
"No," he agreed, "But he has other uses. We know that the anti-Quirk bullets aren't permanent, yet, but we don't know how long they ask. The child will be useful as a test, as his Quirk is hard for him to disguise – assuming he has any reason to disguise it. And I have another use for him."
"Another use?" Chronostasis asked. Overhaul didn't answer immediately, but Izuku imagined him nodding, that stupid bird mask wobbling with the motion. For an instant he imagined breaking the fucking beak with the butt of his gun, beating Overhaul into the ground and stamping on his head until the only reason the masking wobbled was the final spasms of the broken neck supporting it – but it wasn't the time. If he had a gun, maybe, but not with a knife and baton.
"Yes. The eventual plan is what it is, but before then – we will need money, and friends. We supply the bullets that temporarily take away Quirks: if we also supply the remedy, we will cement our place among the underworld. But Eri's Quirk is unstable, difficult for her to control. A living human test subject will give her motivation."
"Motivation," Chronostasis mused, "That's one way to put it, boss. If we're supplying both sides, though, we'll be irreplaceable in a way that we aren't if we're only providing the anti-Quirk bullets. It'll settle us nicely, very nicely…and it'll be lucrative."
"I don't do this for money," Overhaul said, quiet and sombre in a way that belied the youth that Izuku knew he had, "But to bring the Shie Hassikai back to a position of prominence."
The two Eight Precept members continued to walk and Izuku chewed over his options. He could go another way, try to find his way out, probably the more sensible choice. Or he could keep following the two of them and collect more information. Riskier, but the reward…the reward was worthwhile, Izuku decided, padding after them and sticking to the shadows. He'd learned something already, at least, the name of Overhaul's child captive. That was worth something.
"I know," Chronostasis said, his voice low and hard with passion, loyalty like a fire in his tone, "But it will be dangerous. If anyone learns of the plan…"
"They will not."
"Even if they don't," Chronostasis continued after the slightest hesitation, as though he wanted to disagree but held back at the end, "We have made the first move. We have all but declared war on the OMC and their backers."
Overhaul's face was hidden and his back was to Izuku anyway, but Izuku could imagine the thin smile on his face just from his tone.
"Their backers? I think we can speak freely: the Meta Liberation Front still lives. We have made an enemy of them, but we always would have. They would not understand the necessity of our plan, the righteousness of our cause. They would always need to be destroyed. At least this way we have the initiative."
"But they have the numbers," Chronostasis said, "We'll need something powerful to turn the tides. Even the bullets…"
"Yes, I am aware. Fortunate, then, that we are not without allies. And the MLA are not all so committed to their cause. Show them an iron fist, and many will quail."
Chronostasis looked around him, glancing from left to right – Izuku shrank back, but the man didn't spot him and continued speaking.
"Working with the League of Villains could be making a deal with the devil. Their backer…"
"Their backer is the strongest power in Japan," Overhaul said coldly, "The MLA have demonstrated their enmity towards us. We need support, and better the League die than we do."
"But the price…" the second man said and Overhaul hissed through his teeth.
"The price, we will see."
The League of Villains, likely led by All For One. All For One was seriously injured by All Might. Eri could rewind time. Eri struggled to control her Quirk, but All For One had centuries of experience and the ability to take Quirks for himself.
Five years ago All For One had been almost uncontested in strength, only All Might able to stop him. But that had been an All Might far stronger than he was now and the blood ran cold in Izuku's veins, the air he breathed in clogging in his throat. If Overhaul was entertaining an offer from All For One, then…then he needed to find Eri and he needed to get them both away from the Eight Precepts.
And he needed to do it now.
'I need to make plans just in case someone gets mind-controlled', Izuku says, fully aware that his plans mostly consist of 'How can I best shoot this person in the head' and are constructed as a 'smash glass in case of evil Heroes' situation. I'm going to blame it on this being Injustice Jason.
Otherwise, I don't think there's much to say. Next update is planned for July the...9th, I think? Possibly earlier depending on how things go - this chapter was delayed by my keyboard finally giving up the ghost, with several keys that I use quite a lot dying, but we'll have to see how that goes. Other than that, just the usual: I hope you enjoyed, reviews are appreciated and, as ever, I'll see you all in the next chapter.