SPA
The masseuse donned a full-body hazmat suit. Two attendants checked the seals. She strapped on a rubber apron, a face shield, and a thick pair of chemical-resistant gloves. In the decontamination room, nozzles sprayed neutralizing foam.
Fortified against all manners of chemical hazards, she entered a stone chamber. Noxious fumes hung like a pall over pitted stones and pools of frothing acid. Stepping carefully past sulfurous geysers, she approached the stone table, laid out like an altar amidst the barren cavern.
Mina laid atop the stone, face down, topless save for a thin wrapping to preserve her modesty. The masseuse grabbed a stone rod, worn smooth by countless hand and chemical hazards, and hefted it like a hammer.
She laid the stone across Mina's lower back and pushed it like a rolling pin. Mina arched her back. Acid squeezed out of every pore in her body, dripped down the stone, and spattered as it dripping into the pools.
After thoroughly wringing out every drop in Mina's body, the masseuse double-checked her gloves, then pressed on Mina's shoulders. She let out soft groans as the masseuse dug her thumbs into the stiffest muscles.
"Oh wow," Mina said dreamily. "They usually start screaming about their hands at this point."
Working from top to bottom, the masseuse tenderized every muscle in Mina's body until she felt like a new person. Task done, the masseuse went back to the decontamination chamber, got hosed down by an entire industrial lab worth of caustic agents and cleaning chemicals.
When she peeled back the wetsuit, only bones remained, scoured clean of flesh and blood.
"All done," the skeletal masseuse said. "Got any more biohazards for me?"
"Nope, that's it. Have a nice week Sharon."
In another room, a mechanic disassembled Iida's legs with a socket wrench, wiped off thickened globs of motor oil, and reattached them. Two doors down, a masseur clad in chain mail carefully attached power cables to Kaminari's shoulders before massaging his back. The lights pulsed erratically as Kaminari powered the entire spa resort. Tokoyami got his feathers preened with oiled gloves, Tsuyu got a full-body wax coating, and a masseur in a hard hat stood on a jackhammer as it rattled across Kirishima's back. Sero's elbows got lubed up with WD-40, and Ojiro had his tail chained and cuffed to a steel beam as the massage made his tail twitchy. Bakugo growled angrily into a muzzle as a masseur squeezed his palms, collecting the nitroglycerin in a bucket, while a nature documentary dubbed over with anti-robot propaganda played soothingly before his eyes.
The masseur flung the cloth off a sleek massage chair and said, "If you would take a seat, sir."
"I do not mind if I do."
Izuku ate the chair. Mechanical arms sprouted from his back and massaged his shoulders.
"These actuators provide a smooth and even amount of force. They are almost as efficient as my mother's."
The masseur bowed. "I am pleased to see you enjoying your massage."
499
Meanwhile, Mineta's getting whipped in the basement because he ogled the masseuse.