After what felt like an eternity, classes finally started up again. In Uraraka's honest opinion, they couldn't have started soon enough. Sure, Uraraka liked the peace and quiet the break had brought, but it had begun to drag on somewhat. She was here to become a hero, not sit around lounging about. And with all the stuff going on in the world, Uraraka knew there was a lot of work she'd need to catch up on.
With all of 1A assembled in class, ready for the day, Uraraka's eyes couldn't help but wander. It had been a while since everyone was assembled in one place. And she meant everyone. After the attack, Todoroki's father had shipped him to a private hospital up North. And only now was the teen back on UA grounds. Bakugo was also back with the class, though with the added addition of some odd mechanical brace wrapped around his arm.
Occasionally Uraraka spotted Bakugo glare at the device, as if he hated the thing with every fiber of his being. Why, Uraraka didn't know. Last she heard Recovery Girl had given it to him and ordered him to wear it during lessons. But then again, the brace's design looked oddly familiar. It reminded her of the exoskeleton Akatani always wore, only without the legs, back, and left arm portions.
Regardless, it seemed to help Bakugo a bit, as the teen now managed to hold a pencil for the first time in weeks. Finally, though, there was… Mineta… Honestly, Uraraka didn't know what had happened to the perv. Last she saw him he was unconscious. After that… nothing. She hadn't seen him in the infirmary with Midoriya and Bakugo, or anywhere else on campus. He just showed back up at the dorms with Mr. Aizawa.
But of course, Uraraka didn't entirely care where Mineta had been. Quietly she glared at the midget, watching as Mineta just sat at his desk. Memories of the massacre ran through her mind, with one scene continually popping into her head. Yaoyorozu had to humiliate herself live on television just to survive. All because of Mineta's actions. Though Uraraka couldn't see it, she could tell some of her classmates were just as upset.
Yaoyorozu herself said nothing but continually avoided Mineta like the plague, and Jiro, like Uraraka, glared daggers at Mineta quietly while her ear jacks occasionally stabbed into her desk. Kaminari meanwhile, glanced between all parties confused, and a tad bit worried. Ashido stayed quiet, but it was clear she knew something was wrong, as did Kirishima. Ultimately no one said anything.
When Mr. Aizawa finally walked into the room, he bore the same usual tired expression he always had. Reaching his podium, the teacher glanced over the class quietly.
"Class," he quietly greeted, looking over everyone quietly, "Today is going to be somewhat different than normal."
Intentional or not, the announcement sent a quiet ripple through the class. Nervously Uraraka couldn't help but tap a finger on her desk. Memories of previous classes flashed through her mind, and she quietly dreaded what could be in store.
"By the Principal's request, we're going to be discussing the basics of costume design," Mr. Aizawa told them, and instantly all of Uraraka's dread disappeared. Somewhat surprised, she blinked a few times as the words registered. That… that wasn't as bad as she thought.
"Normally, UA would allow its students to design their costumes however they see fit and bring up critiques throughout the year," Mr. Aizawa began to explain, before turning toward the board behind him. With a piece of chalk, he quickly wrote on the board "Costumes 101", and underlined the words. It did leave Uraraka in thought for a moment.
She still remembered the day she sent in her costume's design. It felt like an eternity ago, but she could still remember it clearly. Sure, the costume was a tad bit snug, but it had everything she requested for it. But there, Uraraka lingered on one of Aizawa's words: critiques. UA had always intended to critique designs. Which… Uraraka probably should have expected. She was a first-year student, with barely any experience. Of course there would be flaws in her costume she hadn't noticed or considered before.
After all, All Might changed his costume a whole bunch of times. Countless other heroes did the same all the time.
"However, with the Massacre, and the… quantity of heroes killed in action due to costume choices, the Principal has decided to create a dedicated class," Mr. Aizawa continued, seemingly hesitant to bring up bad memories, "Both to demonstrate possible dangers you may encounter in the field and how your current attire will handle against them."
The Massacre, Uraraka thought to herself. She didn't want to think about it, but Mr. Aizawa had brought up a good point. The idea of changing up her costume a little had been around ever since the Massacre. Mainly spurred on by the bloodshed, and ideas she and Akatani had come up with. It just… it all lingered in her mind. All the deaths that happened. She didn't want to join the dead, not any time soon.
Eventually, Uraraka spotted Yaoyorozu hesitantly raising her hand. Curiously Uraraka watched, waiting to see what would happen, as the recent memory of Mr. Aizawa ran through her head.
"Yaoyorozu," the teacher calmly called out, with the girl in question dropping her arm. Surprise covered Uraraka's face in seconds. Back at the dorms, she thought it was just a fluke. A one-time thing for Mr. Aizawa. But… he was answering their questions, scratch that, he was letting them ask questions. Why, Uraraka couldn't help but wonder.
"What… What specific dangers?" Yaoyorozu cautiously asked, with Mr. Aizawa hmming to himself.
"You'll see when you get outside," he told her, before going quiet. The teacher looked over the class, an unheard argument seeming to go on in his head. The strangeness of it all made Uraraka worried that Yaoyorozu had done something wrong, or that Mr. Aizawa was planning something. Eventually, he opened his mouth again, and muttered, "Mainly firearms."
Seeing an opportunity, Kirishima slowly began raising his hand.
"Kirishima," Mr. Aizawa called out, with Kirishima looking back surprised.
"...Costume changes are covered by the school… right?" Kirishima hesitantly asked, and Mr. Aizawa tiredly nodded.
"As per school guidelines, yes," Mr. Aizawa replied, with Uraraka mentally grumbling. She hadn't known that. None of the class did. School guidelines were covered during orientation on the first day of school. Something Mr. Aizwa had clearly forgotten about. Would have been helpful to know, she mentally remarked. Of course, Kirishima's question spawned a few more from the class, as Aoyoma quickly raised his hand high.
"Are costume changes required?" the French teen asked, a little worried he'd have to make drastic changes to his costume. Mr. Aizawa tiredly sighed in response before telling him "No, but I'd strongly encourage it."
"Will this course be graded?" Iida soon asked, with Mr. Aizawa shaking his head.
"No. None of what you see today will be for any kind of grade," Mr. Aizawa answered, as student after student began bringing up questions. It took a few minutes, but eventually, no one had anything left to ask. With a final glance over the class, Mr. Aizawa stifled a yawn and walked toward the door.
"Now, follow me," Mr. Aizawa tiredly ordered, and Uraraka quickly scrambled out of her seat. Walking forward she and her classmates followed him out the door. Quietly they all moved through UA's halls, soon exiting the building entirely. Now outside, Mr. Aizawa continued to lead them forward, until Uraraka began to spot an open field. To her surprise, two people stood in the middle of it surrounded by weapons.
And not just any weapons, no. There were machine guns, RPGs, sniper rifles, grenade launchers, autocannons, and a self-propelled howitzer. It left Uraraka somewhat shocked that the MSF had dedicated this much firepower to one class session. It confused her for a moment until she glanced at Akatani. The teen, for his part, looked oddly excited. In fact, he looked too excited. From there, it took mere seconds to realize just who the two people in the field were.
"[You sure this isn't a tad bit overkill?]" Commander Miller asked concerned, the blonde man glancing over at Snake, "[I mean… that's a twenty millimeter round! Not even our strongest body armor is surviving this thing.]"
"[Nezu said to display everything]" Snake replied, the mercenary taking a moment to light a cigar. Miller just looked at him dumbstruck, before he turned toward the SPG sitting near them.
"[...Is that why there's an M109 over there?]" Miller asked, with Snake quietly nodding. By then both men had noticed the class walking toward them. Coming to a stop, 1A looked around curiously, while Akatani and Aizawa stood next to Snake and Miller. After a few seconds, Mr. Aizawa cleared his throat and regained the class's attention.
"For today's lesson, Snake here has decided to donate some of the MSF's equipment temporarily," Mr. Aizawa explained, with Uraraka nodding slowly. The teacher glanced back at the mercenaries then, before his eyes fell on the SPG.
"...I think the howitzer was overkill," he muttered, with Miller nodding with him.
"Exactly what I was thinking," Miller commented, while Snake simply rolled his eyes.
"No matter," Snake grumbled, before taking a step forward, "Now, today's lesson is rather simple."
With a brief puff from his cigar, Snake stepped toward a nearby table and hoisted up an odd gel-like torso. It was mostly clear, allowing Uraraka to spot what appeared to be organs inside of it. Along with small bits that seemed to represent bones, and a red liquid that was definitely supposed to be blood.
"This," Snake began, motioning toward the torso, "Is a ballistics test dummy. It is designed to represent the human body as closely as possible. This allows us to accurately record the effects of something like a bullet wound, without shooting an actual person."
Setting the dummy back down, Snake took another puff from his cigar. At the same time, Uraraka began looking over the field again. Slowly but surely, she spotted at least nineteen different test dummies placed nearby. What stuck out to her though, was the test dummy dressed in her hero costume. She could recognize the color scheme from a mile away… that may be a problem, Uraraka thought to herself.
The more she looked at the dummy, the more her costume seemed to stick out like a sore thumb. A murmur broke out between her classmates then, as some of her classmates began noticing the dummies as well.
"Those of you with keen eyesight may have spotted the dummies already assembled," Snake commented, the mercenary stepping to the side as the rest of the class began to spot them.
"Thanks to Principal Nezu, we've been gifted exact copies of all your hero costumes," Snake explained calmly, "And right now, we're going to display their current flaws."
Taking another puff from his cigar, Snake turned toward Akatani. With a smile, he motioned toward the nearby table.
"Mikumo," Snake ordered, a large smile crossing the teen's face. Rather giddy he rushed toward the table and grabbed an assault rifle. With delicate care, Akatani kept the rifle pointed toward the dummies, and checked over the weapon's chamber. Ensuring it was unloaded, the teen carefully held it out to let everyone see.
"Alright, this is an M4 carbine, chambered in five five six by forty-five millimeter," Akatani explained, his giddiness leaking into his words, "The five five six stands as one of the world's most common rifle cartridges, and has been in use since at least three hundred and twenty years."
Quickly the teen loaded a magazine into the rifle and began looking down range. With a nod Snake began doing the same as well, slowly searching for their first target. Of course, the merc paused for a second as he began counting up the dummies.
"Let's see… are we missing a costume?" Snake asked, with Uraraka becoming confused as well. Looking over the dummies, she still counted nineteen of them. Only with a second glance, she saw one of the dummies had nothing on. It didn't make sense for a second before it clicked for everyone.
"Oh wait no, I see it," Snake muttered, spotting the gloves and boots placed on the dummy's hands and feet. Though Uraraka didn't see it, she could hear Hagakure nervously chuckle. Slowly Snake seemed to shake his head in disapproval the longer he stared at the costume.
"Should I start with that one?" Akatani soon asked, with Snake bringing a hand to his brow.
"Sure, consider it a blank test," Snake told him, before snapping his finger. Wordlessly he pointed to the table, with Uraraka noticing a small box on the ground.
"Ear pro, now," Snake ordered calmly. The moment he said the word, Uraraka could have sworn a gust of wind rushed by her. Turning back she found Jiro with a set of large earmuffs already in hand. Quietly Uraraka grabbed her own pair and watched as Akatani got to work. Wordlessly the teen aimed his rifle at Hagakure's "costume" and fired. One single round shot forward, before colliding with the dummy. Seconds later a plume of dirt was kicked up in the air behind the dummy.
Wordlessly Snake brought up his Idroid and placed it on the nearby table. Its hologram lit up in seconds and displayed the same shot Akatani had just taken. Replaying the entire scene, Uraraka couldn't help but grimace. From this distance, it hadn't seemed that bad. But through the replay, she watched as the bullet tore through the dummy. The gel rippled from the force of the round and bulged when the bullet shot out the other end.
She didn't know if it was exactly what happened to a real person, but it looked painful enough. Eventually, Miller walked out and dragged the Hagakure dummy to the class. Placing it on the table, Uraraka watched as the fake blood dripped onto the grass. With the dummy on the table, Snake carefully drew a knife. With the blade he began poking and prodding at the dummy's wound, causing more blood to leak out.
"Alright, if you look close, you can see the first round has punched down and managed to puncture the dummy's lungs," Snake pointed out, as the class huddled around the dummy, "It then kept going, and shot out the back."
There he turned the dummy around, and with his knife, pointed at the hole in the dummy's back. It was a rather clean shot. The bullet was mostly dead center but skewed off and hit the right lung.
"Were the round even a few inches closer to the left, it would have severed the spinal cord. Leaving the victim either paralyzed or dead," Snake soon explained, with Uraraka quickly noticing Hagakure go quiet. Of course, it somehow didn't stop there.
"Also centered near this area, are the heart and key arteries. Both if hit, would have resulted in death," Snake further explained, with Uraraka noticing Hagakure shrink back at every word. Pausing for a second, Snake then looked up toward the class.
"Who's costume is this?" he inquired, with Hagakure nervously raising her hand.
"...Mine," she hesitantly replied, with Snake staying quiet.
"...That answers a lot of questions," Snake muttered, before sheathing his knife, "But what we can see, is an all-around lack of protection."
Carefully Snake placed his cigar in his mouth to free up his other hand. Slowly he began grabbing the dummy's right leg.
"If anything, with this costume something like a bullet is the least of your worries," Snake added, while Miller helped lift the dummy, "Shrapnel from a grenade or a shell would tear you to shreds. If not them, then bits of rubble or debris out in a disaster area. And these boots, while a drastic improvement over everything else here, are not going to cut it."
That last part left Uraraka a little confused. She could understand practically every other flaw in Hagakure's costume but… the shoes? To Uraraka they seemed to be the only good quality. At the same time though, Akatani grabbed what looked like a piece of wood, with a nail stabbed through the center. Carefully the teen placed it next to Snake, the mercenary still holding the dummy's leg.
"To explain, this is a rusty nail, this is your boot," Snake stated, before slamming the dummy's foot forward. The nail punched straight through, puncturing the boot, the foot's bone, and popping out the other end. On second thought, those are some poor boots, Uraraka mentally commented. Practically everyone cringed at the sight, the mental image of their own foot taking the dummy's place.
"Now due to the quality of this footwear, you're out of action and risking tetanus," Snake told everyone, not really addressing a specific person, "If you want to keep yourself safe out there, then you're going to need the proper equipment."
Wordlessly Miller and Akatani began carrying the ballistics dummy back out to the field, while Snake walked back to the table. There he grabbed a boot from under the table.
"High heels, designer boots, sneakers, and frog-toed flippers are not going to cut it," Snake added, carrying the boot toward the rusty nail still near them, "What you need is a shoe with a thick sole."
As if to demonstrate, Snake again slammed the shoe onto the nail. Only this time, as he held it back up, there was no puncture. The nail had been bent somewhat, and there was a noticeable divet in the boot, but there was no puncture. Tossing the boot aside, Snake found Miller and Akatani now walking back. When they arrived, Akatani grabbed a new gun from the table, and Snake sighed.
"Which brings us to the rest of these costumes," Snake commented, with Uraraka turning toward the field. Without a word, Akatani opened fire. For an hour, Snake went over every one of 1A's costumes. And to Uraraka, the results hadn't been pretty. Aside from Hagakure's dummy, Yaoyorozu's, Ashido's, Asui's, Kirishima's, Kaminari's, Jiro's… ok basically everyone except Iida's, Bakugo's, and Aoyoama's had been torn to shreds.
And even then, Iida's armor had lasted only three shots from Akatani's M4, Bakugo's had lasted one, and Aoyama's lasted two. Over time Akatani had begun switching up weapons, going to higher calibers little by little. He went from 5.56 to 7.62, and the differences were immediately present to everyone. The entry and exit wounds were far larger on every dummy Akatani shot. From 7.62 they moved on to even higher calibers, reaching .50 BMG rounds.
Said rounds ended up punching holes through everything. Though Uraraka believed it a tad bit unnecessary. During the demonstration, Akatani had called the bullet an anti-everything round. So… she didn't believe the MSF had body armor strong enough to withstand it. If anything this was probably just Akatani having some fun. This couldn't have been more clear after he fired both an Anzio 20mm rifle and the M109 SPG. Needless to say, whatever dummies were left had been torn to shreds.
However, the M109 did allow them to witness some oddly gruesome shrapnel damage. With it all wrapped up Snake looked the class over quietly, with a long set of notes in his hands.
"Jiro and Kaminari, your costumes are plain civilian wear," Snake commented, with Uraraka noticing the two teens chuckle nervously, "A t-shirt and a leather jacket won't cut it in this line of work. I know heroics are all about style, so I won't recommend full-blown plate carriers, but at the very least wear a ballistic vest underneath and change your shoes. I'll say this again, sneakers are not going to cut it."
Style, Uraraka mentally muttered. Right now she could tell style was on no one's mind. Not after that display.
"Kirishima, your quirk may make your skin stronger than steel, but you won't always have time to react," Snake stated moving on to the red-haired teen, "It only takes a second for someone to kill you, or for even the smallest amount of rubble to hurt you."
Quietly Kirishima grimaced at the thought and slowly nodded in agreement. There Snake's glance shifted to Iida.
"Iida, while your costume has fared better, its armor is akin to hardened plastic," Snake pointed out, "I assume this is to keep everything light for your speed. In which case I'd suggest abandoning parts you don't need. It should save up weight for areas you desperately need to protect. You can live without an arm, you can't live with a piece of lead flying through your heart."
Quickly he ran through everyone else's costumes. Hagakure's and Yaoyorozu's had too little cloth for the weather and sheer protection in general. Uraraka's, Asui's, and Ashido's were skin tight with nothing of concrete use, along with Uraraka's high-heels needing to go. Shoji, Koda, Sero, Mineta, and Sato had a similar issue, all their costumes lacked any form of protection. Aoyoma's was more decorative and flashy, and the cape would get in the way far too easily.
Ojiro's karate gi, while more practical than everyone else's costumes, was still found lacking. Todoroki's… oh Todoroki's was one of the worst. Half his side was covered in ice which made movement difficult, while the other half was more akin to a white dress shirt and khaki pants. And then there was Bakugo's. Shockingly, Snake didn't have much to say about it. The boots had thick soles, along with knee guards, so his legs were overall safe.
Aside from the orange on Bakugo's costume, it was a dark mesh of blacks and greens. The biggest flaw ended up being the same flaw everyone else had, not enough protection. With that wrapped up, Snake took another puff from his still-lit cigar and turned toward the class.
"Any questions?" he asked calmly, his eye surveying everyone quietly. No one said a word yet, as the entire lesson seeped into their minds. Uraraka knew her costume would need changes, but where to start was the issue. Ideas she had with Akatani ran through her mind rapidly. However, most of these ideas relied on one small thing.
"...Would it be possible to… borrow… an exo? Or some kind of other equipment?" Uraraka asked, watching as Snake's eye fell on her. It had always been something she and Akatani discussed. The possibility of her getting, not even an exo, but just a basic grappling hook had been tempting. Of course, Uraraka could never bring herself to let Akatani give her one for free. It had cost the MSF money to make, so she didn't want them to just waste it on her.
Quietly Snake thought over her question while taking another puff on his cigar.
"It may be better to consult UA's support course…" Snake began, before slowly trailing off. His eye traced over the crowd, before stopping on Akatani. Who, as Uraraka expected, was busy nodding his head slowly with a smile on his face. It was unheard, but Uraraka could feel the conversation going on between the two. As Snake squinted his eye and Akatani smiled wider. With a quiet sigh, Snake then turned toward Miller. The commander brought a hand to his brow and just shrugged.
"...I'll see what I can do," Snake eventually told her, with Uraraka hearing a small "Yes" from Akatani. Snake's decision, though, opened the floodgates. As seconds later Kirishima stepped forward.
"If she's getting one, could I get one?" Kirishima asked, with Sero quickly voicing a similar sentiment.
"My quirk kinda makes designing a costume difficult, do you guys have anything that could help?" Hagakure asked at the same time, her invisible hand held up high. A few feet away Yaoyorozu nodded her head in agreement.
"Mine as well. My quirk tends to tear apart clothing when I create things. Does the MSF have anything that can circumvent this?" Yaoyorozu inquired while creating a nesting doll as a demonstration.
"Does it just have to be costumes? Or do you have support equipment we could get? Cause I know Akatani's real good with those grappling hooks," Kaminari pointed out, with Snake slowly stepping backward, now seeing his mistake.
Cài Mei absolutely loathed her job. Why you may ask? Simple, she was the Chairwoman of the Gù-Hǎo Democratic Party. The second most popular party in China. And right now, the elderly Chinese woman was busy trying to clean up the CCP's mess. See, all of China's current issues, were nothing new. Years before the age of quirks, the CCP had been falling into disrepair, suffering from the exact same issues they suffered from today.
Poor food quality, poor construction quality, poor workers' rights, poor civil rights, poor everything. It all bubbled under the surface for years. Up, until the dawn of quirks. With the global economy effectively shutting down, the country was plunged into complete economic ruin. The CCP instituted a brutal crackdown across the country, but in the end, it wasn't enough. In 2063 a rogue element in the PLA attempted to launch a coup.
It failed, but the perpetrators were never captured. Instead, they fled south and embroiled China in a civil war. It was forty years long, it was bloody, and overall it was complicated. And while the CCP had eventually won, it was by the sheer skin of its teeth. In the Treaty of Hanon, the CCP was forced to give out concessions on an unheard-of scale. They were forced to institute stricter regulations on companies, open up freer elections, decouple the media from their control, and allow the creation of new political parties free of the CCP's influence.
Which led to the creation of the GHDP. For a time, things began to improve after the war. The CCP inevitably fractured, dividing itself into a dozen different factions all vying for control. It was technically the country's largest party, and technically in control, but it didn't have nearly the influence it did before. With that fracturing CCP, the GHDP managed to push through anti-corruption measures and began cleaning the government out.
The Chinese Environmentalists Party meanwhile got better food and environmental regulations passed. Hell, the country grew closer to the US and began mending relations with Taiwan. For decades things had been improving. That was until General Secretary Qín took power in 2170. He was an ultimately unremarkable politician all things considered. However, that was all a ruse.
Through him, the CCP began to reunify. CCP-aligned media painted Qín as a charismatic and caring leader, fighting against a supposedly corrupt establishment. For years they construed the data surrounding public documents and officials, bending it every which way to fit Qín's narrative. Bot farms flooded Chinese websites with CCP talking points, covering nearly every corner of the internet. But the definitive action the CCP took was bringing heroes to China.
Being the first allowed the CCP to place its supporters in key roles in the new industry. And with the attention heroics had from the youth, it meant the CCP had gotten a stranglehold on the country's youth. So, for the first time in nearly fifty years, the CCP gained seats in the National People's Congress. Little by little they took back power. Little by little they undid all the work the GHDP had made and painted it like a good thing. Now, Cài sat in the Great Auditorium listening to her cohorts bicker with CCP stooges.
"The builders of the school were known GHDP donors! You blame us for the school's collapse, yet it had nothing to do with us!" one politician screeched with another scoffing.
"That's a bald-faced lie!" a GHDP representative yelled back, "The owners have been vocal CCP supporters for decades now! There are clips of them praising General Secretary Li since his inauguration!"
"Would you care to produce these videos? Because I'm more than willing to provide my own evidence to the contrary!" a CCP representative countered, all the while Cài began wishing the noise would end.
"Everyone, what has become crystal clear to me, is that current industry regulations are not enough! Were it not for the removal of the Safe and Effective Construction Bill's repeal, none of this would have ever happened!" a second GHDP representative would yell, only for a CCP rep to yell over him.
"That bill was an ineffective farce, made so the GHDP could grab power and swindle the Chinese people out of their liberties!" the CCP representative loudly argued, before someone began calling the room to order. To Cài, that's all these meetings ever tended to be. Endless bickering as the GHDP and its allied parties tried to hold the CCP back. As for everything already said, by the bickering representatives, it was all lies. The construction company did not donate to the GHDP, the company's owners did nothing but praise Li for years, and the SECB bill was not a move to grab power.
But though it was the truth, it didn't fully matter. All over social media the CCP's bots and CCP media spread the same lies. Needless to say, the session came to a close, with nothing having been accomplished. Walking out of the Great Auditorium, Cài couldn't help but tiredly rub her brow with a wrinkled hand. All she wanted to do right now was drink some tea and take a well-deserved nap.
Unfortunately, the world seemed to have other plans.
"Chairwoman!" a male voice called out. With a tired glance, Cài looked over her shoulder and spotted her assistant Cháng rushing toward her. Being a rather short woman, Cài had to look up at her assistant, whose young face was now hidden behind a stack of papers and tablets.
"Cháng," she quietly greeted, her old voice rasping each word, "Changes to the schedule again?"
"No Ma'am," Cháng replied, the man struggling to balance everything he carried, "However, I thought you should see this."
Ever so carefully he pulled a tablet off the top of the stack and passed it to Cài. Turning it on, the chairwoman found a news report already loaded up. Yesterday's protests were brutally put down, against the entirety of the GHDP's wishes. Twenty had been killed, while another sixty were arrested for "disturbing the peace". Of course, the CCP didn't want to admit to its supporters they'd attacked civilians.
So instead, they went with tactic two.
"Of course he blames Japan," Cài muttered, annoyed, reading the report's outlandish title. "Ninth Circle Found In China: Cult Attempts Coup." Cài didn't believe it for a second. Because an hour ago the title had been "CIA Sponsored Terrorists StormZhongnanhai!". Two hours before that it was "Indian Radicals Launch Assault on Zhongnanhai!" It was idiotic toCài. But before anyone could even call the CCP on its bullshit, their media pundits would switch to the next story, their bots would flood the media, and any traces of their previous lies would be hidden by a storm of new ones.
In this case, it wasn't hard to see why Li blamed Japan. For the common man, it was normal political positioning. Blame someone else to cover their own faults. But Cài knew better. For years, Li and his predecessors had gone on about the failures and shame the old CCP members had acquired. Through failures to surpass the US, failures to secure Taiwan, failures to secure the Indian border territories, and failures to win the civil war, they created a single political goal. That they would achieve what their ancestors could not reinstate the CCP's dominion over the country, and bring China to a new golden age.
Nothing but nonsense authoritarian rhetoric. But it was that rhetoric, that was screwing over what ties the GHDP had built around the world. It was that rhetoric that the CCP was using to drag China back to Russia. Chairwoman Cài would have none of it, while Cháng slowly held out a piece of paper.
"That isn't all," Cháng told her tiredly, struggling to keep himself upright, "There are talks amongst some CCP representatives. They're hoping to put forth a military spending bill."
Quietly Cài grabbed the paper and looked it over quietly. Her eyes slowly widened the moment they saw the bill. Seventy-two billion yuan would be diverted from several GHDP public services, toward the purchase of military hardware. Likely to match the rest of the world's actions. Which Cài doubtlessly believed would be Li's excuse.
"I assume there's a catch," Cài muttered, not noticing Cháng's careful nod.
"I haven't gotten all the details, but along with seventy-two billion yuan, they want to start vetting the military for… dissidents," Cháng explained, with Cài groaning annoyed. This should have been expected eventually. At least a third of the PLA were GHDP supporters. It was because of them the GHDP hadn't been rounded up and purged years ago, lest the CCP find itself at arms again.
"Anyone specifically?" Cài asked, a few key generals coming to her mind. She'd have to make a lot of calls after this.
"Can't say," Cháng replied quickly, "They've worded it so vaguely anyone can fall into their definition."
Cài simply grumbled in response. General Secretary Li was clearly up to something. She'd have been a fool not to have noticed it. The problem was, what would his next move be?
Huddled around the dimly lit conference room, Re-Destro couldn't help but look around grimly. The past few weeks had been… rough, to say the least. With the Musutafu Massacre, several of their MLA-aligned heroes had been killed in action. As well as a hundred of their lower-ranking members. But of course, that wasn't all.
"Hmm, stock prices seem to be stabilizing again," Skeptic muttered anxiously, while hunched over a small laptop. The man had spent the last three days straight going over the market, trying to ensure everything went smoothly. Originally Detnerat had a stock price of around a thousand dollars a stock. After the massacre, they dropped to six hundred dollars. In the span of a few weeks, their stock price had dropped by four hundred dollars.
It wasn't just Detnerat that had suffered either. No, the entire global economy had been hit by the massacre. Both Shoowaysha Publishing and Feel Good Inc.'s stock prices dropped as well. The entire MLA had lost millions in just a few weeks.
"What kind of a mess have we found ourselves in," Trumpet muttered tiredly, the politician slumped into his office chair. Tiredly Trumpet looked toward Re-Destro, visible bags hanging under his eyes. Like Skeptic, he too had been busy, only for an entirely different reason. Being the head of the Hearts and Minds party, Trumpet had been busy trying to rally support in the aftermath of the massacre.
Which… Well, herding cats would have been easier. Weeks had been spent going through meeting, after meeting, after meeting, with nothing truly getting done.
"This is unfortunate, yes, however, I'm confident we will recover in time," Re-Destro commented, with Trumpet slowly sitting back up in his seat. At the same time the Grand Commander turned toward Skeptic, the man still hunched over his computer.
"I trust you've found something on this… cult?" Re-Destro inquired, with Skeptic chuckling to himself.
"As if it was ever a challenge," Skeptic replied arrogantly, while tapping something onto his keyboard, "Through a mixture of government and underground sources, I've discovered a mountain of information."
Flipping his computer around, he gave Re-Destro a clear look at a small file he'd assembled. Of course, it was small by Skeptic's standards. In reality the file had over a thousand pages of information. The table of contents alone was forty pages.
"This cult has existed for a decade or two and was thought dead by the HPSC," Skeptic explained calmly, scrolling through parts of the file, "However, over the past few years they found an unnamed backer. One who's been building their organization back up."
Slowly Re-Destro began to nod, watching as the computer continued to scroll. It showed prominent cultists the authorities had killed or captured, a list of vehicles they'd used during the massacre, a list of their ongoing or previous attacks, and even a list of known meta-abilities their cultists had used. However, for once Re-Destro had found a problem with Skeptic's work.
"That's well and good, but I need something more concrete," Re-Destro told him. All this information and there wasn't a single figure on current numbers. There were no current cult leaders, just captured or killed ones. With an annoyed glance, that Skeptic quickly hid once he remembered it was the Grand Commander he was addressing, he scrolled to the bottom of the file.
"...So far estimates suggest the cult has numbers rivaling ours," Skeptic hesitantly began, "With how willing they are to throw away men, I dare say they could even outnumber us."
Aside from that small tidbit, there was nothing else. It was somewhat disappointing, both to Re-Destro and Skeptic. For the Grand Commander, he couldn't make good decisions without all the data. And for Skeptic, he didn't like the lack of information. In the great cat-and-mouse game of cyber security, he'd only ever lost once. There was no system he couldn't hack, and no security he couldn't improve. But here, his hacking was doing nothing. He was missing pieces to an utterly ludicrous puzzle. And he didn't know what possibility was worse. That the data just wasn't there and he was searching for something that didn't exist, or that someone was outfoxing him.
It instantly reminded him of that damn cat meme, and he shut the memory out of his head. With a sigh, Re-Destro sat back in his seat.
"Then it seems for now, we must focus on consolidating our resources," Re-Destro decided, "Let the cult bleed itself dry while we hide away."
The last thing the MLA needed was to get entrenched in a conflict. While confident that they would come out victorious in the end, Re-Destro knew the MLA would suffer losses they couldn't afford. That would delay the liberation, and if it got bad enough, could possibly end the movement altogether. To him, that was unacceptable.
"I want everyone to be called back to Deika City," Re-Destro reluctantly ordered, with both Skeptic and Trumpet looking at him shocked, "We don't need any more unnecessary losses, so no one leaves until this cult has been dealt with."
The conference room went quiet for a second, with only the sound of breathing being heard. Trumpet eventually cleared his throat, and nervously eyed Re-Destro.
"I don't mean to doubt you Grand Commander, but are we sure this is the best course of action?" Trumpet inquired, with Re-Destro slowly nodding.
"I am," Re-Destro replied, with Trumpet quietly gulping. He didn't dare speak out though. His doubts were quietly squashed and ignored as loyalty won out in the end. Re-Destro had a plan, what he needed was faith. Wordlessly Re-Destro turned back toward Skeptic, with his hands placed together.
"Now, what of the MSF?" Re-Destro inquired before he watched Skeptic freeze.
"I am… still working on that front," Skeptic replied, a mix of anger and annoyance clear in his tone.
"Oh?" Re-Destro pressured, with Skeptic glancing down at his computer.
"Their cyber security has been… difficult," Skeptic answered, giving no further explanation. Though he didn't have to. The media had been abuzz about the MSF's supposed technological advancements. The most prevalent of which, was their sentient AIs. Now Re-Destro didn't doubt Skeptic's abilities, but… well, these were AIs he was talking about. The Grand Commander doubted Skeptic would ever break through the MSF's systems.
It's why Curious was out investigating in the field. Because as far as Re-Destro was concerned, the Ninth Circle was a secondary threat. The MSF was simply a wild card. They didn't obey the whims of the oppressors, but they didn't fight on the side of the villains. Whether they would support the MLA when the time of liberation comes, was entirely up in the air. In some cases, the MSF even challenged existing MLA beliefs. For Re-Destro wanted total meta-ability liberation. The ability to let anyone and everyone use their quick however they see fit.
Yet through the massacre, the MSF and the cult made meta-abilities seem like cheap gimmicks. The vast majority of their forces had used meta-abilities in the fighting, but all anyone focused on was the artillery and the tanks. What would the point of liberation be, if their meta-abilities ultimately didn't matter? The idea was absurd to even think about. To think technology could ever surpass the dominance of a quirk, was tantamount to idiocy.
The next phase of human evolution couldn't be compared to soulless circuits and wires. Yet it was being compared. There was also the same issue the MSF shared with the Ninth Circle. Should a fight break out between the MLA and the MSF, Re-Destro was confident they could win, but they'd again suffer devastating losses. Possibly ending the liberation. Right now, the MSF could either be a great ally or an annoying adversary.
The ring of a phone broke Re-Destro out of his thoughts, the sound emanating from Trumpet's pocket. Pulling the phone out, Trumpet grimaced.
"My apologies, Grand Commander," Trumpet told him, with Re-Destro waving it off.
"It's fine," Re-Destro replied, his hands moving to cover his mouth, "I trust it is important business?"
Trumpet simply nodded in response, before answering the call. He made sure to keep it quiet, not wanting to disturb the rest of the meeting. But of course, that didn't fully matter.
"Hello? Woah, slow down… now!? What do you mean now!? I'm in a meeting- yes with the Grand Commander… I'll-I'll tell him," Trumpet murmured, slowly piquing Re-Destro's interest. Rather quickly Trumpet hung up the phone and stood up from his seat.
"Has something come up?" Re-Destro asked, with Trumpet rapidly nodding. The politician was practically rushing out the door as quickly as possible. But he still took a moment to address the Grand Commander with respect.
"Parliament's just called an emergency session," Trumpet replied, the words leaving his mouth far too slowly for his liking, "They're holding a vote of no confidence for the Prime Minister."
The news left Re-Destro quiet for a second, his eyes going wide.
"Go," Re-Destro ordered, and Trumpet nearly booked it out of the room.
Looking over her small store, Abby couldn't help but grow nervous. Her little business had been open for nearly a century, passed on by her parents and grandparents. And for years, she had little issue running the place. But that was then, and right now her checkout counter was surrounded by at least a hundred angry customers. What sucked, was they were all people she knew.
Abby didn't live in a big city. Instead, her shop was situated in the English countryside, in a small remote town. So she'd run into the same customers day after day.
"You've got to be kidding me!" Mr. Grayson exclaimed, the town's doctor looking over an empty shelf stripped of its goods.
"How are you out of sugar!?" Mrs. Weatherby demanded, the woman fighting over the last bag with her next-door neighbor Oliver.
"You're charging me twenty pounds for a bottle of olive oil!?" James, the town's sole lawyer yelled, holding said bottle aloft for everyone to see.
"I know, everyone! I'm sorry!" Abby called out, her hands held out defensively as they stayed crowded around her, "Stock has been running low for the past few days! More will be arriving tomorrow!"
Of course, Abby didn't fully believe that. After the Musutafu Massacre, confidence in the world's heroes and global security had rapidly dropped. The attack was on the other side of the world, sure. But the moment they started shooting and sinking commercial ships, a lot of companies quickly became hesitant to start sending out goods. No one wanted to risk death over ensuring the UK had its tea imports.
Which left Abby in her current situation. Half of her store was currently out of stock. She still had bread, potatoes, and whatnot, so no one would starve. But she was out of sugar, tea, coffee, bananas, chocolate, cooking oils, cheese, beef, chicken, milk, watermelon, and nearly a dozen other items. With confidence in global security hopefully stabilizing, imports should start coming in again, but Abby wasn't sure that would happen.
That cult in Japan still hadn't been dealt with, the Russians were doing some shady stuff, and China was beginning to blame it for supposed black ops. It all seemed… it did nothing but cause Abby to worry. The world seemed ready to snap at any moment, and once again imports would come to a halt. She didn't dare say this out loud, not when her own neighbors continued to yell about the next item they found.
Abby couldn't help but shrink back at the sight. Yet before Gregory, the school's principal, could yell about the price of beans, an older shrewd voice yelled over him.
"Enough of this!" the voice called out, his accent thick and raspy, "Calm down all of you!"
It caused everyone in the shop to go silent before the clinking of metal echoed through the building. There Abby spotted the town's hero, Arthur, walking about. The man was damn near ancient, his hair a stark white and his face wrinkled beyond belief. Scars lined his chin, and his right eye had been replaced with a fake. But standing in his hero costume, an old 16th-century set of knight's armor, one wouldn't see his age. They'd see his disappointment.
"Unbelievable, the lot of you!" Arthur lambasted, with Abby watching as the crowd shrunk back, "You run out of tea for one day, and start tearing old Abigail a new one!"
Slowly Arthur began walking around the store, his eyes never leaving the crowd. To everyone, it felt like he was boring a hole straight through them. Tiredly the old man grumbled and rubbed his brow carefully.
"She's run this store for years now and has gone above and beyond for this community," Arthur went on, trying his best to keep his tone calm, "After all, it was Abigail who commissioned your wedding cake, Mrs. Clarkson. It was Abigail who watched your kids when you went on holiday Archie. And it was Abigail who helped push your car to the mechanic Samuel."
Each name Arthur called out, soon shrank back, before regret seemed to take hold for all of them. It earned a groan from Arthur, the old knight removing his hand from his brow.
"So don't complain when things out of her control go wrong. We all know she'd fix this if she could," Arthur went on, his arms slowly crossing together, "We've all been neighbors for years now. All our children go to the same schools. We all walk the same roads day after day and celebrate the same birthdays and holidays. We're a community, so act like it."
There, the store was left quiet. Bashfully a few customers began to leave. Others walked toward the checkout counter, paid for their items, and left with regret clear on their faces. One by one the store emptied out, until only Arthur and Abby were left. Tiredly the old knight grabbed a single apple from a nearby bin.
"I'm sorry about them," Arthur told her, while Abby waved him off.
"Don't be. It wasn't your doing," Abby replied before Arthur handed her some money. Quietly Abby grabbed it and put it in the register. Leaning against the counter, Arthur took a small bite from the apple, the crunch being loud and crisp.
"So how are classes? Still trying to get your degree?" Arthur asked, with Abby smiling softly. It was often for Arthur to just stick around on occasion. All across town, he'd check up on people, just to see how they were doing. It was nice. He was like the entire town's own personal grandpa.
"They're ok," Abby replied, remembering the night classes she'd signed up for, "Got me up later than I like, but I'm doing well."
The store was still her number one priority, but oftentimes the town's school needed substitutes. Abby was normally the first to volunteer but believed her skills were lacking. So she'd taken up online classes to refresh herself on the material.
"Ah, that's good to hear," Arthur replied, before taking another bite out of his apple.
"What about you? Find a replacement yet?" Abby asked, watching as Arthur slowly became somber.
"Afraid not. Still searching on that front," Arthur answered tiredly. For years the hero had been searching for someone to replace him. A successor to watch over the town when he finally retired. It had been… well, nearly impossible. No hero wanted to watch over some bumpkin country town. Not when the likes of London brought far more fans and a lot more money. It was a sad truth to Arthur.
"Well, I'll be off," Arthur told her, the hero slowly walking toward the door, "Another grand quest awaits me!"
With a wave Arthur began to step out the door, a chuckle at his lips.
"I'll warn you of any dragons," Abby joked, with Arthur laughing loudly. Soon he was gone, leaving Abby in her now-empty store.
So, I'm gonna be honest China's whole story is having a bit of a rewrite. I'm gonna have to rewrite bits of chapter 103. But just know, Civil War, GHDP is formed, CCP loses power and fractures, CCP reforms, and the CCP starts screwing over the nation to make the GHDP look bad and tries to retake power.