A breeze brushed past and the air itself felt dry and frigid. The scarce few leaves left on trees were still clinging on despite the fall season swooping in and tearing them away, bit by bit.

Cars passed by the sidewalk, briefly stopping at a traffic light before moving on. Most of the people around were dressed for a cold day today. Some wore thicker coats, others had scarves wrapped around them, and a few started to put gloves on to protect their hands from the chilly wind.

The smell of a McRonalds' fast-food store was nearby, and the waft of burgers and fries filled the air momentarily before being whisked away as a boy with indigo hair and purple eyes strode past it.

Hitoshi Shinso began rubbing his hands together, hoping to get a bit warmer and to find a train station to get himself back home. The coat his family had given him for his sixteenth birthday did wonders to protect his torso and body from the cold, but it didn't do so hot for his hands. This fall weather somehow found a way to get past his warm clothing. He shivered a bit when another breeze blew by.

It's been at least a month now at U.A. and he was starting to love it. Though, the only downer is that he didn't make the cut for either of the school's hero departments. He was instead delegated to class 1-C's General Department…

He wouldn't let that stop him. He just had to wait for the U.A. festival and find a way to get transferred over to the hero course.

And speaking of it, the U.A. high school was beautiful in every way. The pristine gates and shining buildings just emanated a sacred hall of heroic justice.

He stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the sign to switch and allow him to cross. He closed his eyes, dreaming of changing everyone's perspectives on his quirk. He would show all those nay-sayers that his quirk can be used for good. He promised to never use it to hurt someone or use it for nefarious purposes.

He quickened his pace and sought to take the quickest route to the train station in Musutafu to his home.

The smell of a flowery perfume invaded his nostrils, and he looked around to see if someone was nearby, but it was just him standing alone as he waited. Shinso decided to kill time by sitting down on a bench and looked at his phone, checking the news for what was going on recently.

An article about the increase of people killing themselves from a dangerous quirk came up and he couldn't help but want to throw his phone onto the tracks. It was linked to that control quirk user that's been lurking around and his classmates have been whispering that maybe he was the killer.

He hated how this killer was giving the quirks of people like him a bad reputation. The fear of all the students at U.A. increased tenfold when he remembered the fact that Musutafu's best detective came by to interview him a couple of times. They all started to believe he was the Control Killer and that he was probably a sadistic villain hiding among them. But he wasn't! He never called or told anyone to kill themselves.

It didn't help that Detective Tsukauchi's partner, the one with glasses, kept drilling him with questions non-stop in the private room that his principal offered them to use. Things like where he was at the time of those crimes, if he has been seeing anyone, namely a red-haired woman recently, or if he'd been searching up oddities like how to use a burner phone.

Once the interview was over, the school went into an uproar and started rumors. Their words of gossip involved him being investigated as the Control Killer and his abilities apparently matched this psycho.

Shinso's knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip on his backpack straps, thinking back on how even his neighbors were beginning to feel wary around him in his own neighborhood. Parents nearby would tell their children to avoid him, and people would lock their doors or refuse to talk to him nowadays.

The questioning from the police didn't stop either. That detective in glasses thought it was best to interview his family too; since then, things at home have been weird. His father often dozed off and spaced out whenever he asked him what that detective was interviewing him about.

His dad would brush it off and say he shouldn't worry about it. That by itself sounded off. He never left details out about things. He was, as Shinso put it, a real freak about not leaving out the tiniest detail in a conversation. In fact, his dad was a real social person who loved to talk about conversations that he had with people, so to see him do that was super odd.

The train slowly came to a stop, opening its doors and letting out its passengers. Shinso thought that he'd question his dad about what that detective asked him again when he got home. He stood up and boarded the train.

He noted that he was one of two other people in this train car. Most of its previous passengers had left it, leaving him alone with a single woman boarding it alongside him.

That smell of that perfume invaded his nostrils again and he couldn't help but take a few glances at the woman – bright blue denim jeans and a brown jacket to go along with it. What really got his attention was her hair. It was a light reddish hue and he remembered that the police and news were warning people that the murderer had that same color…

He laughed a little. There was no feasible way that she was the Control Killer.

Shinso told himself that the chances of that were super low. Only an idiot would believe that the control user would come here and target him. He tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible just in case. He pulled out his phone and pretended to be busy with it.

She was quiet for the most part, but then he saw out of the corner of his eye that the woman was shuffling a little closer to his seat. He moved a bit farther in response. She did the same and got closer.

Okay, he was actually getting a tad bit nervous now… His heart was in his throat, and he was sweating. He pulled at his collar and switched to move over to another seat.

She did it again and this time to his seating area.

The only noise was the occasional bump that came from the tracks.

The woman got closer this time, close enough to rub shoulders with him, and he could swear that his heart was beating like a drum now. He wouldn't be surprised if this woman could hear it.

He hesitantly took another look. "Can…" Shinso swallowed, "Can I help you?"

The woman said nothing.

The train came to a halt at another station, and he never sat up so fast in his life and speed walked his way out of the train. He glanced back to see that same woman still sitting on that bench.

He'd just have to walk home.

He sighed heavily and began walking down the staircase, passing other strangers who went about their day. He looked at his watch and saw that it was five-thirty. That was weird. He didn't recall being out that late. Where had the time gone? He distinctly recalled boarding the train at three in the afternoon. Was he spacing out for a while?

A familiar silhouette stood at the top of the train station's staircase.

Not again! Shinso jogged instead and sped up his pace. He decided it was best to get the hell out of there. He didn't care if people gave him weird looks as he ran. For the first time in forever, he was terrified.

He wouldn't dare look back because he feared that he'd see that woman right behind him.

Grief.

It was something that every living human being had to deal with at one point in their lives. Some dealt with it as a family; others with friends; and a scarce few grieve alone.

And here she was alongside Detective Tsukauchi in a quiet conference room with a grieving elderly couple of the late Hinata Fujiwara. She sat right next to him as he offered the two warm mugs of coffee. The old woman took it gingerly while the elderly old man refused it and simmered angrily in silence.

"I really am sorry about your loss, Mrs., and Mr. Fujiwara." He took his hat off and placed it on the table, "We're doing everything we can." Tsukauchi said, "If it helps, we have—"

A wrinkled and callused hand slammed down onto the table, and Mr. Fujiwara roared and rushed to grab Tsukauchi's collar, pulling him close to his face.

"Haito!" Mrs. Fujiwara yelled, pulling on his shoulder, a pained grimace on her tear-stricken face.

The distraught old man wouldn't have it anymore. He ignored his wife and decided that Tsukauchi was the one who would bear his wrath.

"We've been waiting! Waiting for you to get justice for our little sweet pea! Our little girl… Gone!" A sob escaped the old man. "Just tell us how you're going to get this son of a bitch that did this or are you going to sit around on your ass and do nothing as you have been?!"

"We are doing all we can to find—"

Mr. Fujiwara jerked him around again, "Have you?! We've been to the interviews; we gave everything we had on what our daughter was doing; we even let you guys into our phones. What more do you guys need in order to catch this evil monster?!" His eyes had bags under them, and they were red and filled with tears. It was clear that he hadn't been getting any sort of sleep.

The only response was the silent ticking of a clock again in the conference room at the Musutafu Police Station. The old man's wife tugged on his shoulder, pleading with him to let go of Tsukauchi with tears in her eyes.

"I assure you that we are doing all we can to catch the murderer. You just have to be patient. Our very best are looking into call histories that your daughter has been making with an unknown individual in the Musutafu area." He slowly undid the grasp that Haito Fujiwara had on him. "We are taking this very seriously, Mr. Fujiwara. The only reason why we're being delayed is due to the fact that the killer is committing more murders with their quirk, and we are trying to pick up the pieces of evidence they're leaving behind. Again, the only reason why it's taking so long is that we're looking at every single crime scene that's been occurring these past few months."

"Haito, please let go of the man." Mrs. Fujiwara made to put her husband back onto the office chair. "I'm so sorry, Detective. We are just… we're so lost without our sweet pea. She was our world, and we took care of her so much. We…." She paused. "We always knew that her dream of coming to the city life was never good for her." She covered her face with her hands and sobbed into them. "We never should have let her come here."

"Please," The old woman begged Hayakawa while her husband seethed angrily in silence, "Just bring this monster to justice. That… is all we ask."

"We will. It will only take time. For the sake of your daughter, get some rest. Her death will not be vain, I assure you of that." He stood up and gestured for them to get up as well but before that he stopped and got right in front of them and ushered Hayakawa to do the same.

Her eyes were firmly locked on him getting on all fours and proceeding to prostrate before the elderly couple. Tsukauchi expectantly looked at Hayakawa and hoped she'd do the same. It was only natural to apologize profusely like this to the ones who failed to protect their daughter as members of Musutafu's Police Force.

"Hayakawa…" He said with a whisper. "Come on." He didn't get to see the look of confusion on his partner's face nor the apparent hesitation in her actions as she just stood there.

"Oh, dear, you don't have to do that for us." Mrs. Fujiwara waved her hands in a flurry, "It's okay. We don't need that."

"No, no. I insist. Right, Hayakawa?" he looked up from below the surprisingly comfortable texture of the conference carpet to see a face he didn't think possible on his partner.

A concealed look of abhorrence that only he saw.

Was she a germaphobe? Did she not like that kind of thing? Maybe it was stepping over the bounds for her or something. Either way, he knew that he made her angry. She put on a category 4 – secretly angry - smile on her face.

He quickly brought himself up and dusted off any dust he got on his knees or hands. "Do not worry, Mr. and Mrs. Fujiwara, we will bring justice for your daughter."

Tsukauchi opened the door and allowed Sansa to come to take the two out of the room and leave the two detectives alone.

It was unnervingly quiet.

"If you'll excuse me, I have to get to work on our case, Detective," Hayakawa said before briskly leaving the conference room. She left him all by himself in the conference room without a second for him to say anything.

A gorilla in a police outfit leaned onto the door frame, "Anything troubling, Tsukauchi?" He offered him a cup of coffee which he took.

"No, not at all. It's just that the Fujiwara couple came by for the third time this month." He sipped it and tasted that bitter yet invigorating brew on his tongue.

"I see that you didn't mind the old bugger grabbing onto you." The gorilla pointed at his scuffed shirt where Mr. Fujiwara had his hands. Tsukauchi nodded and tried to straighten the tie and the collar.

"I don't blame him for getting mad like that." He took a drink and paused for a bit. "The man lost his only child and he's going through the stages of grief. It's something we all go through, and we do what we can. We deny the fact that someone was lost; then we start getting angry at something or anyone; and then we start to bargain for it and plead for something to be done in exchange; soon it's onto being depressed and feeling down; and lastly, it's acceptance. It is that part which is the hardest and I hope we can ease that for them by catching this villainous demon."

"I hope so, too." Tsukauchi went back inside the room and sat down, gently placing his hat back onto his head. "I really hope so, Gori."

Hayakawa strolled back to her desk, waving to her peers as she did, offering them curt nods or smiles.

Her area and office desk were neatly organized into a stack of binders, notepads, and sticky notes.

She grabbed a pen and started jotting down information about the next potential lead from the notes Tsukauchi sent her via an email.

Tsukauchi… The pen in her hand snapped in half and she couldn't help but clench both her fists as quietly as possible.

That single moment where he was prostrating himself in front of her and that elderly couple was so nice to watch. It was like a glimpse into the weakness of the strong-willed detective and she enjoyed the sight. However, that was all ruined the moment he had that expectant look in his eye, asking her, of all people, to bow down in the lowliest form possible to Hinata's pitiful old parents.

The very thought of her doing that felt so repulsive. It almost made her want to just stomp on the detective's neck right there and then when he was on the floor.

But she couldn't. She couldn't afford to lose her composure; it wasn't in her nature to do that. Instead, Makima took a deep breath in and exhaled as long as possible.

She almost wanted to give him credit for making her mad. It's been a long time since someone genuinely made her dislike another living person so much that they were beginning to look more and more like a lowly little flea than a human. But this wasn't any regular little human. No, it was one with an irritatingly strong will and a tenacious attitude to go along with it.

For now, to take away some of her growing irritation, Makima, or rather Hayakawa, pulled up an email and went back to work.

Time had to be killed and the sun continued to shine its way through the curtains and windows of the station.

"Absolute control of the situation." That all-too-familiar venomous voice rewound itself and repeated, "Absolute control of the situation."

Giran continued to survey the recording that he had sent Kurogiri a while back. He replayed it on a silver laptop in his own apartment and watched the recording, which was recorded in high definition from a tiny camera concealed by a ceiling lamp. It showed Makima just waltzing into his bar and somehow managing to control every single man with a gun without even saying anything. She didn't need to look at them, say anything, or touch them to make them all fall under her control.

Just what was her ability and how could he counter it?

It went without saying that he was starting to get a little paranoid now because of this one woman. She wasn't normal by any means. Hell, he was playing a dangerous game by actively avoiding her for the past few weeks. He'd left her a few messages saying that he was going to be out of town for a while, but she insisted on meeting him in person before he left.

Like I'd do that after all the creepy and messed up shit you've been pulling behind my back.

Giran opened another tab of an article talking about the recent Control suicides happening around Musutafu. They were getting more rampant and random. Each one more gruesome than the last.

Not too long ago, someone had jumped onto the train tracks at Tatooin station and let themselves get hit by an oncoming train. Another that happened a little over a few days ago was a man who slit his own throat in the middle of a busy street.

She was obviously the one behind these and it didn't make sense to him. Why was this manipulative devil of a lady committing more murders so blatantly?

What she was doing was garnering the attention of both the Police Force and the Pro Heroes now. If Tsukauchi doesn't catch on, then people like All-Might and Endeavour will soon enough. If Pro Hero Agencies were going to get involved, then Makima may as well say sayonara to her career and life that he built for her.

Was her reckless plan to grow more of a bread trail for Detective Tsukauchi? A psychotic roundabout way to demolish him and the police force's image?

If that was the goal, it was working. The public was starting to clamor over why the Police Force was failing to keep the people safe from this serial killer.

Many would question how she was doing this and actively evading them at the same time. He could answer that with just one thing: hiding in plain sight. No one would dare think that Tsukauchi's gorgeous and super-likable partner was the one making people kill themselves.

It wasn't even just the public feeling the effects of the Control Murderer's presence. Makima's messed-up stunts were starting to be whispered and talked about in the underworld too.

A lot of criminals and villains were all in agreement that this was more than psychotic behavior. It was just downright evil to the core. There wasn't anything to be gained from mindless slaughter except fear and paranoia from absolutely everybody.

Of course, there were always going to be a few weirdos that popped up who felt touched by her actions; justifying the horrific suicides as righteous executions, or unbiased assassinations that targeted both the rich and poor. Some of them were hoping that the Control Murderer would target heroes as well. Something that Giran betted would happen very soon after Makima's upcoming big gig.

He'd need more energy and a shit ton of courage to muster up for the upcoming mental tribulation in a few days. And especially more so than ever for tonight.

The night that he and Makima will meet up at Kurogiri's bar and prep for their plan on the Unforeseen Simulation Joint.

Not only has it been ten months since their meeting to attack the USJ, but it has also been a while since he's been in touch with Makima. Though, that was more his fault because of his reluctance to meet her after her recent murders. He'd have to think of some really well-thought-out excuse to tell her for his absence.

But still, these recordings of his bring him no closer to the truth. All it did was give him more questions than answers. If he wanted to find out Makima's Achilles heel, he'd have to find it fast because the damn woman was getting too comfortable ordering him around. Sooner or later, she'd throw him under the bus to save her own ass. But the only thing that's changing is that it'll be him doing the throwing, not her.

Giran stretched and relaxed into his comfortable leather reclining chair. He lit a cigar and inhaled a bit more of that stress-relieving nicotine. He scratched his head and looked at a calendar with a cat hanging from a rope.

The message said, 'Hang in There!'

I need more than hanging in there, kitty. A lot more. Like a hotline to the nearest therapist and a parachute if I'm going to get through with seeing her.

There was something else that Makima did that made him feel uneasy.

It was about Twice.

He was worried about letting her, a literal monster in human form, meet one of his closest allies. He didn't know how she found out about him or his quirk, but one of Makima's last texts to him, before he ghosted her ass, was about how she wanted to be introduced to the crazed man.

It made him feel uneasy. Not a lot of people knew about Jin, so how on earth did she? Did someone on the inside leak info on him? Or… is she…

He peeked out of the curtains of his windows, checking to see if there were any cars parked outside that he didn't recognize.

Nothing. Just an empty suburb with the occasional car passing by…

You really sowed a bad seed, Giran… He thought to himself. Shit. He eyed a super old contact's name on his laptop.

A treasonous and potentially life-threatening idea came to his mind. Something that only he could keep to himself until he was absolutely sure that he could trust someone with his plan.

For now, he'd just have to suck up and be the fearless info broker he always was in front of Makima and Kurogiri…

Makima slowly ascended the staircase leading up to the rooftop of her new apartment. It was a nice upgrade when compared to her tiny hotel room back near the coast. The sun was beginning to set, and she figured it'd be best to leave a bit early on from work for this meeting she was going to attend with Giran and Kurogiri.

The whole place was very urban and lined up neatly next to two other large stone complexes. The rent was fair and the landlady herself was blunt. She never minced her words and always said what was on her mind about Makima's appearance.

Stuff like how she should try a different hairstyle or visit a manicurist or pedicurist to put on some fancy acrylic or gel nails with fancy gems in them.

It was amusing and the rooms themselves were very spacious. She wasn't too far from a large public event and could see the bright lights and heroic floats from afar.

As soon as she got to the top, she snapped her fingers – the black dye in her hair dissipating and revealing her red hair to the only conscious witness on the rooftop with her.

"Welcome home, Miss Makima."

"Hello, Gyu." She said, taking off her trench coat and placing it on a cold bench next to a growing rooftop garden, "Did I get any voicemails or anything from those two yet?"

"Yes. Kurogiri said to meet him at a trusted site twenty miles west of here at a bar of his choosing. He says that the place will be secluded and that only you three will be there."

"Perfect. Could you wake my guest up from his nap?"

The stone golem nodded its head and motioned over to her left and hoisted up someone onto his shoulder, gently sitting him upright into a kneeling position.

"Good. Tune this to the live news broadcast channel for me. I need to grab the list." She handed him her phone, leaving Gyu and the guest alone while she prepared herself for something.

With what little free will he had left, Gyu tried to look at the features of the person she asked him to nab. It was an old man – no more than fifty-six years at least. He had a nice complexion and was only briefly marred by a snake tattoo on the left half of his upper brow.

He was dressed in a black and yellow suit with matching crocodile loafers.

Gyu's free will could no longer resist, and he casually turned Makima's black smartphone onto the news channel for his master.

Makima returned with a list, some white cloth, and a picture of a person. She had a beaming smile on her face the whole time. She came to the side of the man and started to tie the cloth around his eyes, covering them completely.

Her eyes slowly moved over to the little screen showing the Musutafu Local News channel on a public internet broadcast.

"Good evening, Musutafu. I'm Satsuki Yorozawa, reporting live from downtown's annual cultural festival. I mean, the decorations and floats this year are absolutely mind-boggling."

"Is the food good over there, yet?" A female news anchor asked, laughing along the way. "Because if there isn't any of that delicious curry being served there, I don't want it."

"Ha, I'm sure there won't be any left if I get to it, Yoshinora." Satsuki jokingly remarked. "And before we start, I want to let the public know that All-Might and Endeavour will be making an appearance here soon. I'll be right there trying to get an interview out of them. And be sure to bring a coat or two down here, it's starting to get a lot chillier with this fall weather!"

Makima tuned out the voices of the two talking about the mightiest heroes in Japan and instead focused her attention on her guest.

"Satsuki Yorozawa. Say that name."

"Satsuki Yorozawa." He said without hesitation.

Makima smiled and stood up, gesturing for Gyu to come closer. She motioned her head to have him read the paper; a phone number was on it.

"Oh ho, it looks like I'm getting a call from my grandfather."

"Oooh? Do you mean your old man from Kyoto? I bet he'll be proud that his grandkid is live in front of a thousand people!" A crowd of people was behind, trying to get a moment of fame in with Satsuki and there was a chef with chopsticks trying to advertise some Takoyaki in front of the camera.

"The very same!" He pulled out a flip phone and made to answer.

As soon as he did, Makima closed her eyes and focused on the news anchor's name – searching through a myriad of other faces and souls in the grand abyss of nothing. It was like swimming through a murky pond with denim jeans and a cotton shirt on as she waded through them all – finding the correct connection between the scent of one's soul and their name.

She rarely used this power. The last time she used this, she did it on a grand number of people. But this time will be different. She was going to use a different trick – one that she's been doing since she got Tsukauchi to think that the killer was calling people through a phone.

Finding his glowing name and soul was a tedious yet simple task. It was like one of those matching card games where you had to find the right one in a certain select amount of time. The only thing that was different was matching a living soul to a word of power, a name to be precise, instead of a measly card.

Makima quickly grabbed Satsuki's life force with her palms and tied them together like twine. Once that was done with, she placed a hand onto it – grasping both the name and soul – binding them as one until she had a firm grasp on it with her power.

She opened her eyes to see him answering his phone on the broadcast.

What Gyu saw was devilish and it only solidified her as someone with a quirk that wasn't of this world…

Satsuki shook his flip phone and shrugged after hearing no response come from his grandpa.

"Everything all right there, Satsuki? Did your old man get shy?" Yoshinora asked from the News Station.

He was about to answer until something felt weird. Like something was off… A strange buzzing noise was creeping into his head, and he couldn't pinpoint it. That was soon accompanied by a fuzzy feeling all around his body and people began noticing that he was starting to lose his balance. They kept a grip on his shoulders so that he wouldn't fall over.

"I'm fine! Just a little bit under the weather it seems!"

"If you say so! Anyways, back onto the topic of heroes, I think I see—"

Something was bad. Something was wrong. It didn't feel right. He didn't feel right. He was breathing hard. Allergic reaction? Impossible. He wasn't allergic to anything but bee stings and there weren't any in sight!

Satsuki was breathing badly, and people were beginning to look at him funny.

The loud noises of drums, candy wrappers, and the many conversations of people around him were starting to hurt his head. All the bright lights above them were irritating his aching eyes. Even the smell of delicious food like curry, squid, and meat was nauseating.

Makima sat down with Gyu on some lawn chairs that he pulled out for the two and had him hold her phone so that she could watch the scene play out before her.

"Are you okay, Satsuki? You're looking a bit…" Yoshinora said with concern.

"Aargh!" The reporter was screaming at the top of his lungs and snatched that chef's chopsticks out of his hands and quickly shoved them into his eyes. People tried to stop him and get him to let go of his hands, but he pushed them away and drove the utensils deeper into his sockets by slamming his head against the chef's little Takoyaki stand until he fell onto the ground. The once lively and energetic reporter started twitching on the floor. Blood spurted from his face until he went deathly still.

"Oh my god!" Yoshinora screamed, "Satsuki!"

"Someone get an ambulance on the line! Hurry!"

The broadcast caught glimpses of people screaming and the sudden cut-off of the gruesome scene that happened in front of everyone. It ended abruptly with a message saying that they'll be right back after these commercials.

It's been a long time since she's felt power flowing through her veins like boiling water. She could feel the muscles in her arms and legs tending to themselves and strengthening with each literal second.

She could smell a lot better than ever before; her ears could catch even the faintest of sounds like a bat; and her sight doubled in clarity and sharpness as if she were an eagle.

All the while she could hear the distant screams and police sirens wailing from afar.

Makima was in an exceptional mood now. It was far better than her recent buzzkill at the station with Tsukauchi, but that didn't matter anymore. She was fine now. Way better than fine.

The fear of control occurring within Musutafu, especially now, was her reason for feeling so alive in such a short span of time. If she had any business dealing with an area riddled with Pro Heroes such as the Unforeseen Simulation Joint, then it was only natural to get prepared as much as possible.

And the only way to get prepped was to rely on her own strength and agility against those who could resist her control. She had no doubt in her mind that it'll take a lot more than a little beatdown to get someone to submit to her in that school, especially a Pro Hero.

She hasn't gone against one yet, so this will most likely be her introduction to the true heroic strength of the people in this world. If they're anything like the hybrid devils back home, then she had to have more tricks up her sleeve.

Makima was banking on getting All-Might herself while he was weakened by this supposed mystery weapon that the League had. Once he was at his weakest, she would swoop in and take him somewhere private. She just needed an outlet for some vermin or insects to come along with her so she could teleport away with the mighty hero in tow…

In just one more day, she'd have a Golden Retriever, one way or another.

And now she had to get ready to meet an avoiding little Giran and a well-dressed man covered in purple mist at a bar of their choosing.

Police sirens and countless broadcasts about how to keep oneself safe from the Control Killer were all over the news, newspapers, and social media.

Kurogiri was fixing up a Tom Collins with Empress Gin for Giran at a bar lounge. They were the only two there tonight, and they figured that they should meet a few hours earlier in advance.

Kurogiri knew there were going to be problems with this new addition to their plans. If it wasn't for her blatant murdering spree like the one she just did on live television half an hour ago, then it was her audacity to be stepping over their only reputable info broker's toes. He respected Giran greatly, and from what he was told, Makima was starting to get more ambitious.

Far too ambitious, he'd say. The stories of her somehow meeting with the rest of Giran's contacts without the info broker's say-so was alarming. And her quirk has shown itself to be a long-distance type.

The info-broker nervously peeked out of the blinds of Kurogiri's bar for the umpteenth time, "I'm asking you to help me because it appears as though I've sown a bad seed without realizing it. Look, once this USJ biz is over with, I think you guys should," He did a thumb across the neck gesture, "You know… Off the broad while you still can."

Kurogiri sighed, "I'm afraid we can't do that just yet. My investor, I should say, is really fascinated with Makima's progress despite how… uncouth and monstrous it is. She's stirred up the hornet's nest with these suicides and it's causing a chain reaction. A reaction that my investor really desires in this society. A reaction that even young Tomura desires." Kurogiri cleaned a table spill from Giran with a moist rag.

"So… are you asking me to deal with her even longer? C'mon, Kurogiri."

Kurogiri grabbed his Tom Collins and refilled it for the third time, "I apologize. But you must bear with it until then."

"Fuck…" The info broker was massaging his temples, "Can you at least compensate me for anything she asks for? I feel like I'm running out of incentives to keep myself in her good graces."

"Of course, I will wire you more funds once our task to defeat All-Might is done with."

A doorbell rang open, and the one person Giran wished he'd never met entered the bar. A fake smile on her face the entire time and he bet his sweet dead ass that there was a glare hidden underneath her mask of deception.

Speak of the devil and she arises… Time to face the music, I suppose. Giran took a big gulp and prepped himself.

Kurogiri knew that there was something different about the way Makima was presenting herself when she sat down next to a half-drunk Giran. Her hair was obviously a red color now, much different than that all too familiar Hayakawa black he's seen before.

Her posture and stance were far too confident and carefree than usual.

Yes, he knew. He knew that this one was plotting things too. His master had taken a great interest in her ever since he showed that old scientist the footage of her quirk. They were demanding he and Shigaraki capture her with the Nomu's help after the ordeal with the doppelganger was over with at U.A. High. It was obvious that her power was capable of great things. Things that only his master and Shigaraki could properly wield once they had a hold of her.

And yet, the mist-man couldn't help but feel uneasy around this one. She was more cunning and deadly than she lets on. If she was able to not get detected by even the greatest Detective that Musutafu has to offer, then it only makes sense to stay extra wary.

And with the current events happening like her recent murder today, it only escalated how dangerous she was as a wild card. His master didn't like those kinds of people. They only sowed chaos in a world that needs order under his rightful rule.

Even the air itself felt heavy with her presence. It was almost choking in a way.

She asked for a draft beer, and he made to go grab that for her, leaving her to talk with Giran alone. Poor soul. He pitied the man. He carefully eavesdropped on their conversation and made sure to take note of Giran's face like he told him to. If it at all turned blank, then the info broker was potentially compromised.

"So… Saw your handiwork earlier. Pretty messy, I gotta say."

Makima ignored him. it was something that she always did with him alone.

This silent treatment he always gets from Makima… It was like a tiny power play between him and her. It was cute for the first few times, but now it was starting to get on his nerves. But he had to hold his tongue. For the sake of this gig and because he knew that she was gonna ask him for something again.

"Here's your beer." Kurogiri slid it over to her and she took it with one hand and took a large sip with a happy smirk. "Now that you're here, I can go over the plan with you."

"Where's the little brat?" Giran asked, "Ain't he one of your decision-makers?"

"Unfortunately, young Tomura won't be joining us for this, so I'll be the one to meet with you both."

Makima held a hand up, "Before you begin, I must ask for one more favor from Giran." She turned to her right to face the info-broker. "Can you lend me one of your amazing friends to me? I need him to—"

"No," Giran said without thinking. Even his own eyes widened at the fact that his mouth let that out. He was half-expecting to see his own arm choke his ass or make him shoot himself in the mouth with his concealed pistol.

He saw Makima just stare at him with a smug look on her face like she knew something he didn't. "Very well. I won't push further. Please, continue, Kurogiri."

Giran didn't like how quickly she took his response. That was not good. Makima never took that word for an answer. He firmly believed that 'no' wasn't in her vocabulary when she was speaking to someone. So, why was she letting it slide now of all times? He wanted to apologize, but he knew it'd be awkward to pull it up now.

"Makima, I'm having you over here." Kurogiri pulled out a blueprint of the USJ and pointed at the center of the USJ's plaza where a water fountain was. "You'll be right behind me and young Tomura. We'll need you to cover our flanks on the sides and rear with the other men we have if any of U.A.'s faculty or their students try to attack us while we deal with All-Might. "

She hummed at each detail Kurogiri pointed out on the map. The area was a full-on simulator for any kind of disaster. It was a marvel of technical engineering. There were spots where he was going to drop off the students to weed out the problem children from the Pros if they tried to escape.

"If possible, you could use your quirk on one of the students and make them hostages for us. It'll only make the job for those Pro Heroes and All-Might much harder. Can you do that?"

"Yes. But it'll take time for me to get back to you with a hostage in tow. Could I get some extra assistance to help me pack them around?"

"Granted. Giran here could select a couple for you. He was the one who recruited some of the more competent members."

"Hmm. Okay."

The plan itself wasn't very solid, but Makima didn't tell these two that. By the looks of it, if there were any prodigies in this USJ attack, then the number of cannon fodder will soon dissipate to nothing. Someone had to have at least swiped an informational sheet that had the children's quirks accounted for as well.

When she asked Kurogiri, he told her that they had no time to get that. The schedule of when All-Might teaches this course was the only priority.

Makima didn't approve. They had to be ready for everything. They should never underestimate a troublesome teen with superpowers. The last time she did that, she paid the price with her defeat and life.

I won't make that mistake again.

"So, are you fully prepared to go through with this? We start at 12'o clock sharp."

"Yes. I'll be on standby."

They looked to Giran, "Yep. I'll get the guys ready and have them all meet you at the warehouse. Don't sweat it. I'll get those idiots to go fight alongside y'all if your brat doesn't manage to bring more manpower."

Kurogiri nodded his head. "Good. Tomorrow we shall finally get rid of All-Might."

AN: Those citizens of Musutafu are probably all seeing their therapists more times than ever. Might even become a booming business now with all the mental trauma Makima's been inflicting on the public with these randomized suicides. And with everyone getting more paranoid and scared, it's only natural that our loveable manipulative woman grows in power.

Speaking of power, I always wondered how she went about doing her long-distance orbital-crushing ability. Does she require the names of people because words are essentially powerful in the world of Devils?

I enjoy sharing this twisted woman's adventure with my fellow Makima connoisseurs and enthusiasts, and I hope that you all have a nice day. :)