Scrubbing away the last table in his saloon, West couldn't help but smile. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he looked over the now clean space. Glass mugs soaked in a nearby cauldron, barstools sat polished on the floor, the tables glistened in lanterns' light, and the floor was clean enough to eat off of. It brought West pride to look over his hard work. Sure it might not have been monumental to anything in the real world. It wasn't some groundbreaking establishment.
But though it wasn't real, it mattered to West. This saloon was his, he'd built it all. From the kitchen to the bar, it was all built by him. Rifling through the gold nuggets in his pocket, West hummed to himself quietly. Today had been rather quiet, though the AI knew why. With almost every active duty AI working, the Realmers were left in a practically quiet world. That said, if he was right, then by the time the other AIs get back, there'd be a loud celebration.
So looking outside, up at the Oasis's night sky, West quietly kept preparing for his siblings' return.
"Now then, pool or cards?" West muttered to himself unsure. Though his saloon resembled most of its old-timey counterparts, it did have a few pool tables. It was odd though as all the tables' balls were cubes that somehow rolled across the table. And somehow fit in the pool triangle. He didn't linger on this thought though, instead determining which needed his focus more.
Before he could make a decision though, he spotted Victoria spawn in out of the corner of his eye.
"Huh, mission done already-" he began to ask, before hearing his sister collapse onto the wood floor. West turned toward her concerned, and she soon threw up on the floor. For just a second, West mentally sighed, seeing his once clean floor now ruined. But that thought was gone in an instant as he rushed down toward Victoria.
"Aw hell, you look sicker than ole' Betsy after she ate some soul sand," West commented, remembering the experience the cow had gone through.
"V-virus," Victoria managed to cough out before she gagged again. Whatever was left in her stomach was now covering the floor. The AI shook violently the entire time, likely from the shivers of a fever. Sure enough as West touched her shoulder, Victoria felt as if she was damn near on fire.
"Figured," West muttered, before cycling through his inventory. After a few seconds, he held out three different drinks. A bucket of milk, a bottle of water, and a potion of regeneration.
"Here, drink," West told her, holding them all out a bit closer. Weakly Victoria grabbed all three, the pixelated items resting in her palm gently. Slowly she drank all three, taking small sips from each periodically. Once they were finished, the AI managed to stand up somewhat. Though she wobbled on her feet and still looked like absolute crap. This town needs a damn doctor, West thought tiredly, a Realmer doctor.
"Thanks," Victoria tiredly told him, with West waving it off.
"Don't mention it. Now, let's get you home before you throw up again," West calmly stated, as Victoria slung her arm over his shoulder. Slowly the two walked out of the saloon, Victoria stumbling along the way. Through empty Victorian streets, they walked, passing by the vacant shops and houses under the night sky. Lit up nearby, was the town's protective wall. Gatling guns were mounted atop alongside large cannons, only visible because of the wall's lanterns.
Above it was the ever-present hum, of the Airship Diner flying above town. It was calming, if not for their current predicament. West considered calling out for help but decided against it. Better to let the other Realmers sleep he reasoned. Coming into sight of Victoria's cabin, West felt his sister go slack. She nearly fell to the ground again unconscious, and he had to hold her up carefully.
It was like dragging a sack of potatoes, but West kept forward. Pushing the door to her cabin open, West carefully stepped inside. With quiet care, he carried Victoria to her bedroom and softly placed her in bed. Then just as quietly, he slunk back downstairs and left. West walked back to his saloon, his mind solely focused on getting back to work. Some sleep will do her good, he reasoned.
She'd be up in the morning, and he'd be back with food. So long as she actually stayed in bed, West soon thought warily. Memories no older than a few hours came back to him. Victoria had dropped by the saloon for some words of encouragement from the other AIs. Marston and Texas had given there, as did Colt even though he was focused on R&D's role in the mission. Then everyone had left.
No loud somber fuss, this was just another mission. But of course, Victoria had been on a separate mission from the others. She was with Midoriya, doing hell knows what. West quietly worried about the teen, knowing he was likely on his lonesome now. Not much he could do about it, unfortunately, instead he kept walking. The gravel beneath his feet crunched with every step, his saloon now coming into view.
Yet as West neared the place, he slowly began to notice something. Next to the saloon, was an AI. The AI stood next to a horse hitched to a pole in front of the saloon. With the street lights providing some illumination, West could see the AI dressed in black. He had a long black jacket reaching down to his legs, with a red bandana around his face. Hidden in his jacket was the glint of two Smith and Wesson model 3 revolvers, both with an ivory grip.
What wasn't hidden though, was the Winchester 1873 rifle and Coach gun both slung over his shoulder. West was half expecting the AI to carry a dozen sticks of dynamite too, maybe a tomahawk as well. The biggest thing that stuck out was the large black cowboy hat on his head and his overall body structure. Said hat had a cow skull pinned onto the front, and his body was surprisingly blocky. Quietly West watched the AI but didn't say a word. For the life of him, West could not recognize him.
He had a hundred and forty-nine other siblings, all of them he knew. But this single AI… maybe he was new? Maybe he was completed early by R . But then… there was normally an announcement in the town's paper. There hadn't been one today. As of right now all the unknown AI did, was look at the saloon. Warily West slowly began drawing his Colt 1861 Navy revolver.
"You new here?" West called out cautiously, watching as the unknown AI slowly turned toward him. He drew no weapons, but West could see him tense up.
"You could say that," the AI replied, his voice raspy as if he'd never spoken before. The AI's coat flew open for a moment, unveiling a rose-red vest covered in a bandolier.
"Nice place you have here," the AI complimented, carefully motioned to the door, "You mind if I come in?"
Cautiously West took a step forward, his eyes firmly focused on the unknown AI. He took another, only he moved toward the saloon's door this time.
"Afraid not. Not really open right now," West replied, slowly getting closer to his door.
"Will only take a second. And I am willin' to pay," the AI reasoned before his arm went behind his back. Not being one for combat, West didn't have time to grab his gun when the AI moved. But to his surprise, the AI's hand held a few gold nuggets. Not many, just enough for a beer and a sandwich. Slowly West thought it over. Perhaps he was jumping the gun, he never was a good judge of character.
His hand left his revolver, and he clicked his tongue.
"...Alright," West eventually relented, pushing the door to his saloon open. Rather calmly the unknown AI walked forward, entering quietly. West kept his eye on him the entire time, before entering as well. The second he did, he remembered the vomit on the floor.
"Ah, right," he commented tiredly, seeing the other AI's disgust, "Someone had an incident in here a few minutes ago. I'll get that cleaned in a second."
Wordlessly the unknown AI stepped around the throw-up, before sitting down at the bar. Quietly he looked all over the room, examining it all carefully. It gave everything, the furniture, the lanterns, the paintings on the wall, everything a quick curious gaze. However, he also seemed to be… disgusted by everything. Rude, West mentally commented, before scrubbing up Victoria's leftovers.
Once it was done, he walked around the bar and washed his hands in a cauldron.
"So, what'll it be?" West asked, wiping his hands on a cloth. The other AI didn't say anything, instead looking up at the chalk menu above them. Like the rest of the room, he looked over everything quietly. Every so often he'd stop on an item and look confused.
"A beer and… a hot dog," he'd eventually replied, passing West two gold nuggets. West took both quietly and turned back toward his kitchen. It took little time to get everything. The beer was already made, just stored in a nearby chest. And the hot dog took only a second to make. With both done he passed them to the unknown AI, who looked over both carefully. With a wary gloved hand, the AI grabbed the beer and popped it open.
Slowly he raised it to his mouth and lifted his bandana slightly. Even with it out of the way, it was still difficult for West to see the AI's face. He chugged the beer down fast, before gently placing the bottle on the counter. Soon the AI's focus was on the hot dog, and again, the AI looked at it disgusted.
"Never had a dog before," the AI muttered, quickly becoming surprised as West spoke up.
"It's beef," West corrected, before quietly noting the other AI's surprise, "Like a cow."
"...It's called a hot dog though," the other AI pointed out, with West shrugging.
"I don't get the name either," West replied, watching as the AI carefully grabbed his food. He held it awkwardly in his hand as if he'd never held food before. Just like with his drink, he'd lifted up his bandana to eat. After a second he took his first bite and seemed to like it. It was then West snapped his fingers as he remembered something.
"Ah right, mustard? Ketchup?" West inquired, holding out a bottle of both condiments for the AI.
"...Sure," the AI cautiously replied, watching as West put both condiments on the hot dog. When he was done the AI took another bite, and his eyes widened in surprise. Before West knew it the AI had wolfed down the rest of his food.
"...That… was good," the AI hesitantly complimented, with West smiling widely.
"Glad it's to your liking," West replied, busily grabbing the plate and empty beer bottle. With them in hand, West looked over the AI curiously, while stepping back.
"You a new AI by the way?" West asked curiously, before tossing the plate and beer bottle into the cauldron. The other AI looked over him quietly, slowly standing up from his seat.
"Can't say I am," the AI replied, taking a moment to straighten his hat.
"Oh?" West inquired confused, "Don't remember meetin' you before."
"Likely forgot," the other AI reasoned, before turning and walking toward the door, "Thanks, for the meal."
As he walked he held up a hand, gesturing goodbye. The action emphasized just how blocky the AI looked, as West got a clearer look at his hands. The AI's fingers were like stubby bricks. Warily West followed the AI, but never left the saloon. Instead, he got to work discreetly scrubbing the windows. Quietly the other AI unhitched his horse and hopped on. There in a brief moment, a lantern lit up the AI's face. West still couldn't see much past the bandana, but the other AI was clearly pale.
Practically… gray, and with a big nose… Oh… oh yeah no that's a pillager. That was a talking pillager, now riding off into the distance. West couldn't help but look out the window wide-eyed, watching as the pillager left. How had it even gotten past the gate? How could it even speak!? They and all the other mobs in the world had been getting smarter, but they'd never shown true sentience before. This… West didn't know what to think of this.
"Come on people! Move it!" Aizawa heard a soldier call, while hundreds of others carried crates about. Looking over the warehouse around him, he could hardly believe how much work had been done. Entire shelves had been filled to the top with ordnance of all kinda. Now, it was all pretty much gone. Thousands, upon thousands of rounds had been carried into the sky never to be seen again.
But of course, even with all their work, they were cutting it close. The sun was nowhere near rising yet, but they'd all gotten word on the radio, that All Might had begun answering reporters' questions. At most, every team would have one more hour to get everything out. Once the hour was up, Aizawa didn't know what they'd do. So he instead focused on his work.
His capture scarf proved useful in dragging nearly a dozen boxes at the same time. When the crates got outside, he gave his scarf some slack and watched as the MSF personnel quickly fulton them. With that done he quickly went back inside to grab more. As this happened, he couldn't help but think. It was shocking the Night Owl got so much ordnance into the country.
Being VP, he'd likely have the influence to keep it all quiet… but the MSF's intel said he'd done this long before he became VP. Night Owl had been planning everything for a decade, including the Sports Festival. That kind of dedication worried Aizawa. Should the MSF fully cripple Night Owl today, would he just wait another decade? Or would he lash out at the world? Then again, the MSF said the mad scientist had always planned ahead. Who's to say he didn't have a backup plan? There was little he truly knew of the villain, so anything could be on the table.
Aizawa could only take a deep breath at the thought, before refocusing on the weapons left in the warehouse. All the armored vehicles had been extracted already, so the only things left were crates of guns, ammo, or explosives. Looking over one crate, Aizawa's eyes couldn't help but linger on it. To think… weapons like these had already killed thousands. To think his students could have died that day…
"One of them is dead," a dark thought pointed out, echoing through Aizawa's head. As if things weren't bad enough.
"Shut up," Aizawa mentally ordered, only for his mind to keep wandering.
"Because of us no less," the thought commented, before sadly muttering, "We should have done more. The one time you don't have to coddle a student, you do nothing,"
The thought lingered in his head for a moment, as Fudaki came back to his memory. The boy's actions had been red flags from the beginning. Signs he needed to be set straight. And Aizawa had ignored each and every one of them. All through the belief that his sink-or-swim lesson style would humble him. He was foolish to ever believe it would happen, the same with Bakugo, Todoroki, and who else knows over the years.
"He isn't…" he weakly tried to protest. He couldn't even deny the kid was dead anymore. Aizawa's brain just wouldn't allow it, not since the Festival.
"There is a method to my madness," Aizawa eventually argued. Were his thoughts conscious, they would have scoffed at him.
"What method?" his thoughts inquired, "We both didn't want this job, but I had the decency of taking it seriously."
"How am I not taking it seriously? Everything I do is geared toward pushing the students to do their best," Aizawa protested, before remembering the mission at hand. Quietly he walked forward and grabbed another crate of guns.
"By doing nothing," his thoughts countered, "You don't encourage or push them to do anything. You make them do a task, tell them nothing about it, take a nap, and then berate them when they fail."
"You're just my own thoughts! You did the exact same thing!" Aizawa mentally yelled, carefully dropping the crate off.
"Nowadays I do!" his thoughts argued, earning a mental groan from Aizawa, "But don't you remember how we were before?"
The thought made Aizawa pause, his brain unintentionally digging up old memories. He wanted to argue that he was always this way, but his mind knew otherwise. Aizawa remembered the first class he ever taught. He'd shown up to class exhausted beyond belief, but still made an effort to go over every student's name and quirk. He'd illogically taken them to orientation and answered whatever question they had. Aizawa was still his tired grumpy self, but… he'd actually done crap before.
He'd held students back after class to talk with them. He'd given them all small pointers on what to improve. He'd booked tutoring hours for students who asked for them. He'd done so much more before. Yet Aizawa gritted his teeth quietly. All of that had been done, so they wouldn't end up like… Oboro…
"All we were doing, was coddling them," Aizawa argued back, "You know how it ended for that class."
He didn't want to think about it any longer, so before his thoughts could retort, Aizawa grabbed another crate and focused on his task. Carrying it outside, he set the crate down gently and stepped back. A group of soldiers then rushed over and fultoned it. To Aizawa's surprise though, that was the last crate in the building. He turned ready to find more, only to see the entire place was empty.
"We're done here people!" a soldier loudly ordered, "Fulton, all of you!"
One by one Aizawa spotted balloons lift into the air, soldiers attached to each one. Not wanting to be left behind, Aizawa quietly did the same to himself and lazily felt himself drift into the air.
Midoriya didn't know what to do. Staying hidden behind the building's ledge, he could feel himself panicking as more vehicles arrived below him. Hundreds of cultists filed out, though none made any notion of attacking. Instead, they moved quietly, trying to keep everything discreet. If Midoriya had to guess, they didn't want anyone learning of the compound.
Things go loud, and they lose their FOB in Tokyo. To Midoriya's surprise, he didn't want them to lose it either. If the police or the media suddenly had eyes on this place, then so did Night Owl and the HPSC. Now the world knows the MSF was conducting uncontracted black ops. With the public on their good side, that was not what they needed. Not to mention any valuable intel they could still find would be destroyed. Quietly Midoriya tried thinking up a plan of action.
Yet none came to him, at least none that he liked. With his Pitviper in hand, Midoriya had one idea. He'd run out, and create some noise. Gain the Ninth Circle's attention on him, and away from the compound. Should heroes come to intervene, the compound would be left alone. However, he would be leaving Eri alone. Cautiously Midoriya looked toward the small girl, who at this point stuck to the ground next to DD.
He just couldn't think of anything else. And… Snake should be here soon. She'd be safe, Midoriya reasoned, while taking a few deep breaths. If not, DD was a very capable dog.
"Eri," he quietly called out, seeing the girl turn toward him, "Stay here. It's going to get loud, so stay quiet, and cover your ears."
It took Eri a second to process everything, but she quickly complied.
"Ok," she replied, her hands now covering her ears. With that done, Midoriya took a deep breath. He holstered his Pitviper in favor of his M4 and slowly stood up. Silently he begged that his lessons from Nagant would be enough, before jumping off the ledge of the building. He didn't know if the sniper teams across the street had spotted him, so Midoriya moved fast and shot his grappling hook at a nearby building.
He couldn't dodge gunfire but could dodge the man aiming the gun. The grappling hook yanked him toward the wall like usual, at a worryingly fast speed. Nearing the wall Midoriya heard a bullet whizz by his previous position. Figures they have silencers, Midoriya thought annoyed. Before he could slam into the wall, Midoriya activated the exo's thruster pack. It lifted him enough to pass over the wall and roll onto the roof. Retracting the hook from the wall, Midoriya quickly kept running and jumped off the roof again.
By this point, the sniper team should have alerted the others of his presence. And sure enough, as he looked over his shoulder, the vehicles had stopped heading for the compound. Good, Midoriya thought, before ducking behind a low wall. There he took a deep breath to think. Now that their attention was on him, he needed to keep it. Thankfully he found his solution when he heard voices pipe up below him.
"You're sure he came this way?" a cultist asked from the ground, with Midoriya cautiously moving toward the roof's edge.
"That's what the snipers said," another cultist replied, as Midoriya looked down at them. Below a small group of six men busily searched an open alleyway, unaware of Midoriya's presence.
"We even know who's doing this?" the first cultist asked, with the second shaking his head.
"Nope," the second cultist replied, "Could be a vigilante for all we know."
Something like that, Midoriya mentally commented, holding his M4 ready. Carefully he unscrewed the silencer from his barrel and placed it in his bag. This needed to be loud. Quickly Midoriya jumped off the roof, now plunging to the ground. As he fell he activated his jump pack and pushed himself toward a building's wall. It notified the thugs below and got him close enough to wall run by.
"There!" was the only thing a cultist could say before Midoriya opened fire. Dozens of rounds flew towards the thugs, and none of them had time to duck for cover. Bullets tore them all apart, as Midoriya felt himself lose momentum on the wall. So before he completely fell he shot his grappling hook upwards. But instead of pulling himself up, he swung down the alleyway at blistering speed.
At the other end of the alleyway, two more cultists moved to block his path. It did little, as he swung by overhead, and dropped a grenade next to them. Both thugs yelled out in pain when the explosive went off, bits of shrapnel quickly tearing them to shreds. At the same time, Midoriya retracted his grappling hook back toward him and fell to the ground in a roll. Booking it across the street, he found more cultists begin to arrive.
By now they'd dropped the civilian clothes in favor of more heavy armaments. One such van rolled onto the street and unloaded eight cultists, all with Type-20 assault rifles. All of them moved to open fire, but Midoriya was just too fast. As bullets flew by, he constantly grappled across the street or used his jump pack to run along the walls. When that wasn't an option, he just ran. With his exo enhancing his speed, none of the cultists could keep their weapons trained on him long enough, before he'd pop up somewhere else.
Which proved to be their undoing, as Midoriya held down the trigger of his M4. Just like before dozens of rounds shot out, and tore into the cultists with ease. Those that survived quickly ducked into cover behind lone cars. This did little to help them, as Midoriya aimed his grapple at a vacant building. In seconds he was being dragged upwards, where he would retract his grappling hook, adjust his position with his jump pack, and shoot the grappling hook into another building.
And before the thugs had time to react, Midoriya was now behind them. There they turned, attempting to fight back, only to be gunned down in seconds. Midoriya was ashamed to admit it, but the entire thing felt exhilarating. The wind rushing through his hair, the adrenaline pumping through his veins, it all felt amazing. Constantly moving all over the place, and with such ease too!
He… he felt like he was in an action movie or he was a video game character. He felt like a pilot from Titanfall or Rico Rodriguez. It didn't matter who exactly but it just felt amazing. Constantly moving, never stopping. There definite improvements he could make though, as Midoriya skidded onto his knees after a bad landing. But he was doing well. Especially after he swiped a cultist's pistol, and decided to dual wield. It was impractical as hell, but he was beginning to see why Ocelot did it so often.
Landing back onto the ground Midoriya tossed out his two empty pistol mags and quickly reloaded both guns. Looking around the street, he could see he was a little too successful in his mission. Now every vehicle he spotted from the compound, was heading toward him. The sheer mass of oncoming lights made Midoriya believe it was daytime. Dozens of vehicles came to a stop, one being a technical with a ZPU-4 bolted on.
Moving quickly Midoriya grappled away, just as the AA-gun began firing. None of the rounds came close, as he darted through the air. Cultists surrounding the gun moved to try and stop him, but their shots were too late as well. Midoriya, spotting one cultist ready an RPG, quickly dropped back to the ground. Running and ducking, he shot out his grappling hook toward the cultist.
The hook dug into the RPG's body, and Midoriya yanked it out of the thug's hand. Catching the weapon, Midoriya had his jump pack launched into the air. Gaining some height, he aimed down at the truck below and aimed the RPG. Firing, Midoriya felt himself get launched backward slightly, as he fell back to the ground. At the same time the rocket dove downwards, and crashed into the truck.
Screams rang out as the ZPU-4's ammo was cooked off in the blast, killing the cultists around the vehicle. Still falling, Midoriya shot out his grappling hook and again swung across the street.
If there was one thing All Might couldn't stand during interviews, it was the… creative questions reporters would have. Sure, he'd never had a problem talking about his likes and interests with the public. But they tended to get rather… weird the longer interviews went on. Such as one interviewer began questioning his underwear preferences, his dental habits, and whether he believed the moon, not the earth he made an oddly special effort to clarify, that the moon was flat.
"I'm not answering that, I brush twice and floss every day, and no, it isn't flat," All Might calmly told the reporter, this interview already grating his mind. He'd had long interviews before, but this was dragging on for a while. The reporters had him for a final hour, and they were damn sure trying to use every second of it. Quietly All Might looked at the crowd and spotted a hundred different people, all with questions ready.
He kept his smile wide and present but mentally sighed as he chose someone to speak.
"Uh… yes you," All Might stated, the reporter soon standing up.
"What's the progress on the new All Might Freedom Flavored ice cream?" the reporter calmly asked, with All Might quietly thinking it over. That… was actually a good question. His agency had commissioned its own ice cream company weeks ago, and the announcement had garnered millions of people asking for ice cream samples. The very first flavor had been taste-tested by All Might, and he honestly thought it was delicious. But then they'd hit delays with the Festival attack… hmm…
"As it stands, the ice cream will reach store shelves. We've hit some delays due to the Musutafu Massacre, but they are being dealt with quickly," All Might calmly explained, "Now then, next question-"
As he spoke an explosion rang out in the distance. It wasn't overly loud or large, but almost everyone heard it. All Might begged for it to have been fireworks, but then he heard more gunshots filter in from the distance. It sent a loud murmur to the crowd before people slowly started to panic. Heroes scrambled around All Might in an attempt to keep people calm. The entire time All Might looked on confused.
Quickly he ran off the stage toward Miller. Reaching backstage he looked around quietly before spotting the commander sitting next to Star and Stripe of all people.
"There's gunfire out here," All Might quickly stated, while rushing toward Miller. Miller simply looked back at him confused, but quickly leapt to his feet. The commander looked over his Idroid but didn't seem to find anything.
"Not us," Miller relayed worried, "The perimeter here is still secure."
"It could be another attack," Star seemed to reason, with All Might in quiet agreement. Now of all times.
"This is the cult's doing, it has to be," All Might muttered, before tearing off his tie. In a few short seconds, he felt One for All come back to him. His muscle form came to fruition in its usual puff of smoke, and All Might quickly began walking away.
"The interview is done. I'm going out there," All Might calmly stated, giving Miller a brief glance. The commander just nodded, before Star and Stripe moved to follow him.
"Oughta be fun," she commented dryly before All Might leaped into the air.
As Midoriya swung through the air again, feeling rounds whizz by him, he could tell this might have been a mistake. Overhead a helicopter moved to try and intercept him. Mounted onto it were two Type-62 machine guns, both manned by door gunners. The moment both door gunners saw him, they opened up. Hundreds of rounds flew his way, as cultists below him fired as well. Midoriya constantly grappled in the air, his exo's jump pack moving him through the air.
He was unable to rest even for a second. Eventually, rounds managed to strike him. One 7.62 round dug into his chest, not penetrating his sneaking suit. But Midoriya could feel the impact break some ribs. Now breathing became worryingly difficult. Another round grazed his arm and cracked part of his exo. Not wanting to deal with the helicopter anymore, Midoriya shot his grappling hook toward the vehicle.
In seconds the hook stabbed into the helicopter's belly, and Midoriya pulled himself up. Hanging upside down the helicopter, Midoriya wasted no time, slapping C4 bricks he'd stolen onto the aircraft. Once they were in place he dropped off the helicopter and detonated the explosives. The aircraft was quickly engulfed in flames, its frame now falling out of the sky. After a moment it crashed into the street, crushing a few more cultists on the ground.
Landing hard on the ground, Midoriya heard the crack of bone. He cringed in pain, feeling his right leg yell at him. Forcing himself up, Midoriya looked around the street. This couldn't go on forever, Midoriya thought to himself. What was he even thinking!? A garbage truck rammed through the burning helicopter, and Midoriya jumped out of the vehicle's way. Quickly Midoriya ran, grabbing a lone Nissan LAM off the ground. Before any cultists could disembark he fired the rocket.
Soon the garbage truck was no more, and Midoriya gasped for air. His right leg yelled at him in pain again, and Midoriya could feel his lungs struggling. Silently he pleaded that was the last of them, even as impossible as it was. His pleading was answered seconds later, by a faint clink of metal. Instantly Midoriya's eyes widened, and he grappled away. In seconds a GAU-19 began firing, thousands of .50 BMG rounds now tearing apart the street Midoriya just stood on.
It didn't end as the stream of bullets followed Midoriya as he went. There was no time to rest as he ducked behind cars, grappled and swung across rooftops, and narrowly boosted his way out of death. Looking around Midoriya quickly spotted the source of the gunfire. Walking toward the middle of the street, was a massive cultist, practically nine feet tall. He was covered head to toe in ballistic plates, all painted to look like bones.
With two hands he guided the GAU-19 toward Midoriya, never being fast enough to get on target, but always being far too close for Midoriya's liking. Eventually, the gunfire came to a stop, the giant thug letting his weapon cool. With this brief moment, Midoriya looked for some spot to hide and spotted an AC unit on a nearby roof. Before the thug could see him Midoriya grappled up and slid behind it.
"Fun's over brat!" the cultist eventually shouted, seemingly ready to start firing again. The large man looked around him carefully, and Midoriya stayed as still as possible. If he could just get a moment to breathe-
"Hiding… I can play this game too kid!" the thug loudly taunted, "You're not hiding from me!"
Midoriya wanted to doubt that thought. But then he'd heard a hauntingly familiar whirring noise. Looking up, Midoriya barely noticed the loitering munitions flying above him. He had little time before the first drone slammed into the roof next to him. Bits of shrapnel tore past him, digging into his arms and legs. More of his exo broke, its outer protective layer splintering and bending. Not waiting for the second drone Midoriya ran and grappled away from the rooftop.
"Got you now!" he heard the large thug exclaim. With nothing but a glance, he spotted the man looking over a large tablet. Carefully the thug had the drones follow him through the air. When he became bored, he hoisted his GAU back up and fired at Midoriya again. Now Midoriya dropped to the ground, running past vacant cars for cover. Drones slammed into the pavement behind him, while the large thug kept firing.
Coming to an open space, Midoriya grappled back into the air, while aiming his M4 at the large thug. Flying by he held down the trigger, uncaring for accuracy. The large thug didn't bother moving as bullets struck him. Midoriya's magazine clicked empty, and he mentally swore before reloading. All the while his limbs yelled in agony. He ran off nothing but adrenaline and spite at this point.
More rounds slammed into the area around him, and Midoriya soon returned fire again. Again he held down the trigger, watching as bullets struck the large thug. In cases like this, accuracy didn't matter. He couldn't miss the massive target in front of him. But with all the body armor he wore, it'd be impossible to actually harm him easily. So Midoriya did the one thing he could, attempt to wear the thug down.
There was no such thing as bulletproof in this world. Shoot anything enough times, and it will break. It was with this logic Midoriya emptied a third magazine from his rifle. It was faint, but he could see some of the plates beginning to crack.
"Come on! This is pointless!" the thug shouted, holding down the trigger on his GAU all the while. More bullets flew by, and Midoriya slid behind yet another car. This time he dropped low to the ground. The thug not noticing, fired above Midoriya, assuming he was still running. With that brief moment, Midoriya reloaded his M4 again and jumped to his feet. Running in the other direction he began searching for anything useful.
His eyes soon found an M82 resting on a rooftop. The remnant of a sniper team that had attempted to ambush him. With his target found Midoriya grappled toward it, with the thug now spotting him. He grumbled loudly and brought his weapon to bear on Midoriya again.
"Just stay still already!" the thug ordered angrily, while Midoriya soared up to the roof again. Landing hard, he ignored the searing pain and booked it across the roof. Sliding for a second he scooped up the M82 and jumped off the roof. In the air, his boost pack twisted him around. Aiming the M82, Midoriya took a struggling breath and pulled the trigger. The recoil pushed him pack in the air, and only his jump pack kept him from tumbling out of control.
The .50 BMG round soared through the air effortlessly and crashed into the thug's GAU-19. It tore through the gun's barrels, disabling it permanently. In response, the thug tossed it aside and brought back his tablet. There Midoriya saw more drones fly into his air space, and quickly rush toward him. Mentally panicking Midoriya shot his grappling hook toward the ground and pulled himself downward.
He could feel his knees buckle and his unbroken leg shatter once he hit the ground. Now not even adrenaline was enough to keep him going. He limped away from the oncoming swarm, shooting down what few he could. Silently Midoriya wished Victoria was still here. He wished Snake was here. He wished anyone was here. Instead, he felt himself get knocked off his feet as another drone exploded behind him.
What was left of his exo was torn apart now. Only the thing's wires kept it all together. Painful, Midoriya tore it off piece by piece. Turning around he spotted the thug still holding the tablet closely. With one last idea, Midoriya cut off the limbs of his exo. With only the thing's spine, he chucked it toward the thug. The cultist, effortlessly caught it, barely glancing at Midoriya.
"Pitiful," he muttered, looking over the exo carefully. Just what Midoriya wanted, with his Pitviper drawn, he aimed at the exo's battery. Pulling the trigger, he watched the bullet punch straight into its target. It took a second after it made contact, but the battery exploded seconds later. Flaming battery acid engulfed the thug for a second, and the man yelled in pain. Watching the sight, Midoriya slowly felt the last of his adrenaline wear off. His body collapsed to the floor.
Every one of Midoriya's limbs yelled at him in pain. He could barely feel his legs, and only one of his arms willed itself to move. Desperately he rolled over and tried to crawl into a nearby alley for cover. Instead, he felt a large hand grab him by the neck.
"You little shit," the large thug muttered, as Midoriya looked over him. Most of his ballistic plates had been cracked. His right arm held Midoriya in the air effortlessly. Yet the limb had been burnt to a crisp, going down to exposed muscle and tendons. The rest of the man was in a similar fashion, covered in burns and broken body armor. But overall, it didn't bother him. His hand wrapped around Midoriya's neck tightly. Adding onto his broken limbs, Midoriya found himself gasping for air desperately.
His vision grew blurry, and he tried clawing at the man's hand. But only Midoriya's left arm obeyed the call.
"You are not worthy of Reaper's mercy," the thug grumbled angrily, though his strangling told Midoriya otherwise. Around him more cultists began arriving, seeing the fight was now over. Hundreds surrounded him and the large thug. All looked at him with disdain and hatred. Midoriya didn't care less, instead scratching the thug's exposed muscle. In a flash, he drew and stabbed his knife into the man's wrist.
Still, it did nothing. His lungs begged for air and got none. Midoriya's vision slowly began to fade. The world around him grew darker, and his last limb went slack. Everything seemed to go in slow motion then, as Midoriya thought over everything. He felt the wind rushing by his face, giving him a small breeze. Yet just as Midoriya began to black out, he saw someone's fist slam into the thug's face.
Midoriya blinked… or… had he fully blacked out? Midoriya didn't fully know. What he did know, was that the massive cultist was now fifty feet away from him, his head buried into the pavement. He also felt someone holding him, as Midoriya struggled to regain lost breath. Looking around, he could see the cultists quickly stepping back, while dozens of others opened fire. To Midoriya's confusion though, not a single round seemed to hit him. Instead, a bright blue glass-like bubble popped up in front of him.
Slowly Midoriya turned to look upwards and spotted All Might's wide grin looking back at him.
"All… Might…" Midoriya couldn't help but mutter, with All Might giving his usual boisterous laugh in response.
"Worry not, Young Akatani!" All Might loudly proclaimed, "We can take it from here."
Midoriya didn't know who we was until he turned slightly and spotted Star and Stripe standing next to All Might. The woman took a second to crack her knuckles before she took a deep breath. At the same time, All Might carefully placed Midoriya on a nearby bench, and passed him his 9mm Pitviper and what looked to be a pipebomb. Then in a flash, both heroes disappeared.
It was only for a minute though, as that was all they needed. By the time Midoriya's codec began to ring, All Might was back. And the cult was running.