Lost to the Zone
Chapter 5: It's Easy
29 June 2156, 10:25
Mustafa, Japan
Last night, for the first time in two years, Midoriya Inko had slept like a baby. Twelve hours of uninterrupted rest, after years of tirelessly looking for her son she was finally able to rest. Inko wearily opened her eyes, puffy and swollen from crying herself to sleep the previous night, cheeks crusted from the tears of joy she shed.
Turning her head, Inko's sleepy gaze fell on a picture frame placed on her nightstand. Illuminated by the light bleeding through the shades of her bedroom window, a smiling family peers back. Her family, her beloved husband and bright son. The photo had been taken when Izuku was three years old, when her husband had just received a promotion and the apartment was so full of warmth and life. Her husband, who so loved playing with Izuku, taught the boy so much about the heroes he worked with as a Heroic Affairs Investigator for the World Heroes Organization under the jurisdiction of the United Nations. Izuku had picked up Hisashi's analytical abilities and sharp mind, be it by their little games or genetics, Inko had no clue. But one thing was for certain, and it was that Izuku was a frightening reflection of Hisashi in his youth, down to the way he had grown up to be just as imposing and wild haired as his father.
A pang of awe extended through her body at the thought. Her little boy had grown so much! All this time that she had been looking for her baby, two harrowing years, he came back to her a grown man. Dressed strangely, walking strangely, acting strangely, talking strangely; Izuku had experienced something life changing, but she knew in her heart he hadn't changed. She would broach the subject of what happened to him slowly, but one thing she had learned in two years of searching for Izuku and finding so many other missing children was this, he will need time to work through things, time to return to a sense of normality. Izuku was strong, always was, and so very much like his father, Inko had faith that he-.
Her internal thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of activity coming from the apartment's kitchen, hissing pans and the telltale noise of plates being placed on the counter. Inko sat up and swung her legs out from under the covers, hauling herself out of her bed, grabbing the robe that hung from the corner bedpost as she made her way to the bedroom door.
Puttering down the hall leading to the kitchen, Inko was struck with the scent of something similar to the smell of cooking pancakes and eggs being cooked. Turning the corner, she saw Izuku, his hair tied back in a ponytail, dressed in a black turtleneck sweater and green cargo pants, curiously, Inko noted, he was still wearing that camouflage neck gaiter. Her son was occupied using the spatula to transfer something that looked like really thick pancakes onto a plate already filled with a small pile of similarly thick pancakes. Beside the pile were a pair of plates occupied with omelettes and processed meats and a small bowl of sliced fruit. For a moment, a single solitary second, Inko thought she could see her husband superimposed over Izuku. She teared up, fighting the urge to burst into tears.
"Good morning mom." Izuku said, turning to greet her as he turned off the stove and set the overhead fan to a low setting. He frowned, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. "Are you alright?" He asked, eyes flickering to take note of her wet and swollen eyes and tear crusted cheeks.
Inko sniffed, quickly stepping over to the sink and, turning the tap on, she splashed water on her face, wiping clean the remnants of the previous night's joyous crying. Taking a kitchen towel, she gently dabbed her face dry, shakily giggling. "Don't mind me honey, I'm just- I'm so happy you're home and when I saw you here I was reminded of your father." Inko sniffed again, smiling at her son.
Izuku gave a small smile in return. "I still miss him." Izuku muttered as he turned back to the kitchen counter and picked up the plates of food and carried them to the dining table.
"Me too sweetie." Inko sighed. "What's that you have there?" She asked, referring to the pile of thick pancakes Izuku was walking back into the kitchen for. Plate in hand, the man smirked at his mother. "Syrniki! Cheese pancakes. I haven't had any in months and saw you had the ingredients to make them, so I took the liberty to throw some together."
Placing the plate on the table, Izuku motioned for his mother to sit down, pulling a chair out and waiting for her to take a seat. Inko, thinking to herself about how Izuku has managed to remain such a gentleman despite being god knows where for two years, sits down, allowing for Izuku to push her chair in.
Once Izuku is seated, Inko reaches for a set of chopsticks but only finds a fork and knife. She is thrown off for a moment but when she considers the meal for what it is, it only makes sense that Izuku would put out the silverware rather than the chopsticks. Steadying herself, Inko clasps her hands together. "Itadakimasu."
Looking up as she picks up her fork, she is surprised to find Izuku was already halfway through eating his plate of eggs. The way he was ravenously eating his food, it was like he hadn't eaten in days!
Inko giggled, "You look like you were starving sweetie." Izuku stopped, fork halfway to his mouth, a slice of processed meat hanging from the utensil. Swallowing, Izuku put the fork down and reached for the stack of syrniki. Taking four from the plate, Izuku hummed.
"I guess so?" Izuku used a spoon to scoop some fruit out of the bowl he'd prepared. "I think the last time I ate something other than an energy bar was… um, about three days ago? But those were just some slabs of boar meat I hunted. My last real meal was probably at the Beard's Bar two months ago."
Inko reached across the table, reaching for Izuku's hand, her face worried when the man flinched upon physical contact. Turning Izuku's hand over, Inko took note of how calloused and scarred it was, pocked and raised from burns and tears. Eyes watery, the woman looked Izuku in the eye, her fingers lightly tracing over the numerous scars on her son's hand.
"We-" Inko swallowed the lump forming in her throat. "Were you safe?" Inko felt silly asking her son, her baby boy, who had been missing for two long years, if he was safe in some strange place after coming back looking so different, carrying so many scars and peculiarities. But she had to know, to know that he had people looking after him.
Izuku knew what she really meant, knew what she wanted to know. But he felt himself remembering the Zone, a man with a gentle word always in hand and a conviction to guide a young boy through the horrors of the Zone. A woman, dressed from head to toe in green camouflage, a sharp tongue hidden by a mask, and a past filled with pain and betrayal. A pair of brothers, impoverished and driven to artifact hunting to care for an ill mother back home, so loyal and earnest, quick to always lend a helping hand. He could remember how it had been...
Izuku slid behind a ruined brick wall, an ankle catching painfully on a divot in front of the wall, but the young man paid the pain little mind. He wasn't going to complain, not when bullets were whizzing past the impromptu cover, several rounds of 9x18mm, 20/70 7.5mm buckshot, and 7.62x39mm slammed into the wall, pulverizing sections of the decaying bricks.
"Keep firing guys! We got this bitch pinned!" A voice shouted above the blasts and burps of gunfire. Izuku, breathing heavily, lifted his gun and swung it around the corner to fire back blindly, but his submachine gun only let loose two rounds before clicking empty. Cursing, Izuku pulled the gun back and began to check over his Thompson. A quick examination of the stick magazine revealed the gun to be empty, spent of the .45 ACP Izuku had been so careful of sparing. Izuku tossed the gun aside, the heavy Lend Lease Act weapon clattered heftily as it hit the ground. He was out of ammo.
A strange light calm came over Izuku. He pulled out a loose cigarette from a breast pocket in his dark blue anorak, and let it rest between his lips, using a beaten up lighter to light the dart. With a puff of smoke, Izuku felt the nicotine buzz take over.
"Cheeki breeki, iv damke!" the cry cutting through the gunfire as the sound of heavy boots on gravel approached from the other side of the wall.
Suddenly a series of explosions went off, the assaulters screaming in pain and surprise as shockwaves, shrapnel, and rapid bursts of gunfire tore them apart.
"KID!" A shout broke through the haze of combat, rousing Izuku as he recognized Diver approaching him, flanked by someone in green flecktarn, and two young men in leather jackets, providing covering fire as the older man made his way to the boy. Pulling up beside Izuku, Diver began to check over the younger man, ensuring he was uninjured.
"Come on Kid, we still have to fight our way out of here." Diver said. Izuku realized then, as the man handed Izuku a smoke grenade, that he was out of ammo. But he wasn't out of options.
Pulling the tabs from the Soviet era smoke grenade, thick grey smoke spilled from the tube. Allowing a few seconds for the grenade to cook up some more smoke, Izuku tossed it over the wall. Steeling himself, Izuku pulled his knife from its sheath and ran out of cover toward the nearest gangster, obsidian steel flashing as he was given covering fire by his allies.
"That place was never truly safe, but I had people I could rely on." Izuku said softly, digging into his syrniki with less fervor than he would have previously.
Mustafa, Japan
UA University
Nezu was inherently an early riser. When one was a quirked escaped lab experiment hellbent on the nurturing of future civil servants to pave the way for a more exciting means of total world domination, naturally he would want to make use of as much daylight to get things done. So when he arose from his den, dressed, refreshed, earl grey tea in hand, and logged into his email to begin pestering Japan's cabinet with well veiled blackmail and demands, he was only mildly interested to see that he had received an email from Detective Tsukauchi, the subject line simply titled "New Case" that didn't seem to be all too urgent to address. In all likelihood, the detective was just looking into poking the highly intelligent chimer's brain for any thoughts on a new case.
As such, Nezu hadn't bothered looking into the email until noon, just after cajoling the Prime Minister into seeking a research grant for materials research and a mining survey in Eastern Europe. Believing the case files would make for good light reading as he ate his lunch, Nezu opened the email, humming lightly as he took a bite of his onigiri. And for the next thirty minutes the rest of his lunch went uneaten, the creature far too engrossed in the report and attached documents the detective had sent him.
In truth, Nexu was compartmentalizing the fact that his world view was being shattered by three mere journal entries written by a man who vanished mysteriously two years ago. Journal entries, filled with scattered yet highly advanced theories and accounts of universal and temporal travel by paranormal means not incited by any quirk, but by a whole metaphysical superconciousness with the mentality of a toddler. A whole universe filled with unbelievable and awesome phenomena that terrified Nezu on a primal level just as much as it fascinated him. A world set 150 years in the past, yet they were already hundreds of years more advanced in technology, materials, and scientific understanding compared to the world Nezu was born into. And all of that knowledge, all that potential good, resided in the mind of a marginalized young man so brilliant, so honorable, so kind… Nezu had to have him. He had to sink his claws into the man before the corrupting forces of the HPSC saw fit to make him vanish into the black books.
Izuku Midoriya had just stepped back into the world, right into a grand game Nezu had been simply toying with, and was now the very piece that could wipe the board. That man held the future in his hands, and Nezu refused to allow him to fade into obscurity.
Nezu smiled, a chuckle slowly titering its way from his snout. "Oh this is going to be so much fun!" The chimera cackled, tearing a bite away from his onigiri.
29 June 2156, 13:42
Takoba, Shizuoka, Japan
Izuku hadn't stayed home for very long after finishing his breakfast. He could tell his mother was trying to give him some space, to let Izuku feel like nothing was going to be any different compared to before he had disappeared, something he appreciated greatly. But she wanted to know what happened, wanted to know more, and that curiosity combined with the heavy atmosphere of false normalcy was too much for Izuku to handle right now.
Normalcy was something he so desperately wanted, but what use does a soldier with three years of trauma and an armory of worn weapons in his pilgrim bag have in a world of superpowers? Jackshit as far as Izuku could tell. Hell, the fact that he had seriously considered how he would even repair his kalash last night was already a sign that he was too stuck on a life of fighting.
No, he was back home in Japan, he had no need for his rifle or gun parts. He has to just be a normal civilian and live a perfectly normal life, get a job, buy a house in the countryside, and die alone surrounded by a menagerie of animals. A normal quirkless life. To do that, Izuku had to start by getting some money, and maybe find himself a ride to fix up. Which is why Izuku had chosen to take a walk off a short pier… literally as the pier at Takoba Beach had long since collapsed under the weight of the trash littering the coast. Looking up at the mounds of trash looming over him, Izuku whistled in awe, a look of disgust on his face as he kicked a loose hubcap away.
"Holy shit… If I had never seen the Garbage back in the Zone, I'd say this is the biggest dump I've ever seen, but it's definitely up there with how this landfill is right in the center of Shizuoka." Izuku muttered, looking back over his shoulder at the busy roads and bustling shops across the street. "Yeah, this is just disappointing."
As awful as Izuku found the dump to be, he knew the place had to be overflowing with valuable salvage. Scrap metal, broken appliances, and precious and rare metals, all of it a veritable goldmine. He could make some good money here by just picking through the dump and cleaning the place up. But first, he needed a smoke.
Izuku reached into a pocket in his cargo pants. Then he patted the rest of his pockets.
"Fuck." Izuku hissed. He left his smokes in his plate carrier. Izuku looked around trying to find anyone to bum a smoke off of. A convenience store wouldn't be much use to someone without a yen to his name, seeing as most of the bills he had when he showed up in the Zone ended up being used as tinder. Plus he also hadn't had the foresight to ask his mother for some cash before he left the house.
His attention was drawn to a group of four men across the street laughing as they entered an alleyway, one of the men smoking a cigarette. Izuku hummed in satisfaction and crossed the street to catch up to the group, the road momentarily void of passing traffic. Looking in from the mouth of the alley, Izuku could see that it was fairly dark, even in the afternoon sun. Laughter and hooting drifted out from deep in the alley, the men seemingly being around a corner within the maze of neighboring buildings.
Izuku walked into the alleyway, following the raucous noise the group were making, rounding the corner to find the four men passing around some beer bottles and blister packs of pills.
"I'm telling you bro, these babies will pump you up! The gains you'll get will be so much better than the all natural route or going way into the protein." Said one man, a guy with extremely muscular arms and legs barely contained by a pair of tiny gym shorts and tank top that couldn't seem to keep still, to the smoker in the group.
The smoker, a lean man with short dark hair wearing a baseball jersey and baggy pants, turned the blister pack over in a hand. "Eh, I dunno man. Ya sure this stuff's better than Trigger? I hear that stuff'll give you instant results." Baseball man took a swig of his beer.
A guy who seemed like the result of the unholy matrimony between a hammerhead shark and a bodybuilder named Helga casually dumped an entire bottle of beer into his jaws, some of the beverage spilling onto his ripped up and stretched out shirt. "Nah, Trigger gives you a crazy awesome boost and a high instantly but keeps you from thinking shit through and only is good for like an hour. Plus it also doesn't give you any long term gains, and you'd have to inject it every time you need that boost. Nah, you'd be better off with the A-Rod special haha." The shark man burped loudly, swiping his armored forearm across his maw. "Pretty sure they don't even care to check the pros here anymore anyway."
Baseball dude nodded along. "Yeah I guess so, not like Trigger would help me with my bullseye quirk, I just need to be stronger to pitch faster." The man pocketed the drugs just as the fourth guy, a man with feline features, long sideburns, and sharpened claws, just as muscle bound as the other two meatheads in the group, exclaimed in surprise as he took notice of Izuku rounding the corner of the alleyway.
The man, who seemed to resemble a mix of a lynx and mountain lion, faced Izuku, and pointing at him exclaimed, "Oi, what are ya doing here shithead?" Izuku held up his hands, noticing how the men all tensed up. "Easy there. Just itching for a smoke but I left mine at home. Saw one of you was smoking and followed you gentlemen in here to see if I can borrow a cigarette off you. That's all." Izuku wasn't looking for a fight, and most certainly didn't care if they were in some back alley having a drug deal, he just wanted a cigarette and he was going to make it clear.
Baseball guy let the cigarette he had in his mouth fall to the ground. Crushing it with his foot, he eyed the other guys in the group. "Yeah I don't think so buddy. Something tells me you'd likely blab about us to the first hero you see." The meatheads of the group all started walking slowly toward Izuku. "And I'm afraid we can't let that happen."
That seemed to be the signal, because Hammerhead chose that moment to throw the empty beer bottle he had at Izuku. A beer bottle that Izuku promptly caught with ease.
"Right so, I suppose that's a no on the sharing is caring." Izuku quickly slung the beer bottle back at the man with the hammerhead, the glass slamming into the guy's nose and visibly stunning him. This retaliation was the starting bell for the rest of the goons, the men immediately rushing toward Izuku with hostile intent. The stalker grabbed the nearest mook, the man with sharpened nails, by the arm and redirected the Sabertooth wannabe's strike to slice the side of the man wielding a vibrating switchblade. The attack averted, the feline man received a throat punch that knocked him on his ass gasping for air. Facing the now bleeding man, Izuku quirked an eyebrow.
"Are you using your hands to vibrate that knife? And you're here dealing performance enhancing drugs? Bro you could make a killing in adult entertainment." The living vibrator gasped in confusion and pain, not getting the chance to speak before receiving a suckerpunch that took him out of the fight. "Yeah, sleep on it buddy. Think you're due for a career change."
The hammerhead goon, no longer seeing stars, let out a battle cry as he charged at Izuku, arms held out in preparation to grab hold of the stalker. Just as the shark man drew close, Izuku ducked under the intended hold and, bracing himself solidly on the ground, bodily slammed a shoulder into the man's gut, knocking the wind out of him as Izuku wrapped his arms around the man's legs. Using the grand principles of physics and general disrespect for the specimen of room temperature IQ, Izuku lifted the man and flipped him over his shoulder, letting the hammerhead slam head first into the ground. Before the man could even groan in pain, Izuku delivered a swift and heavy kick to the man's face, knocking both the man and a shark tooth out. "Get rotated idiot." Izuku huffed.
Walking back to the struggling feline goon, Izuku put a boot down on the cat man's chest. "Stay the fuck down idiot. Don't even bother trying to get up to rejoin the fight, I'll just punch the air out of you again." The man collapsed with a resigned expression, their hands protecting their throat. "Smart move." Izuku hummed, digging a heavy steel toed boot into the man's chest. "Now, where is your last friend?"
"Oi jackass! Eat this!" The final man stepped out from behind a dumpster, a handgun in one hand, tilted sideways gangster style. Izuku prepared to duck behind some crates for cover, but as the man was bringing the gun up to bear on Izuku, his arm struck the side of the dumpster in his haste to shoot, causing himself to lose his grip on the gun and drop it. Time seemed to slow down as Izuku watched the gun slowly fall, rotating and tumbling until it finally struck the ground, the muzzle pointed upwards. And it was with the sudden boom of a single gunshot and the flare of muzzle flash that time resumed, and idiot number four received a bullet in the knee from his own gun.
As the goon fell to the ground, screaming and cursing whilst he tenderly grasped the shattered and bleeding remains of his kneecap, Izuku approached in disbelief of the level of stupidity he had witnessed. Bending down, Izuku carefully snatched up the handgun, ejecting the magazine and clearing the chamber before looking over the gun. Groaning, Izuku quickly disassembled the gun, throwing the slide into the dumpster and dropping the rest at his feet.
"You fucking idiot. You've clearly never even used, let alone held a gun before, and the one time you seem to get your hands on a gun, you don't pay attention to your surroundings, bump into a dumpster, drop your weapon because you decide to to hold it like a wannabe gangster, and, the final nail in the coffin, you are using a SIG P320?!" Izuku yelled at the man crying on the ground.
"You absolute buffoon, you moron–that gun is more of a danger to you than you are to anyone else. Pretty sure those things stopped getting produced a hundred years ago because they kept going off when bumped. And you, you imbecile," Izuku gestured wildly at the whimpering man curled up on the slick ground, "absolutely got taken for a ride by whatever black market arms dealer sold you that thing."
Izuku sighed, the itch for a cigarette now stronger than before. "Whatever. I'm going to steal from you guys now. Call this compensation for me having to deal with you four ingrates and getting an ambulance over here. Damn it, I just wanted a cig." The man only sobbed as blood slowly dripped from his knee, some incomprehensible babble about his baseball career being over warbled between wet choking tears.
Frisking the man's pockets, Izuku found a box of matches, a pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes, a bunch of loose 9mm rounds, a flip phone with a baseball bat charm, and the man's wallet containing 5,000 yen, an ID card identifying the man as one Yamaguchi Idachi, and a punch card for a frozen yogurt shop promising a free frozen yogurt with the purchase of ten yogurts. The card had nine punch holes. Izuku pocketed the money, the bullets, and the yogurt card. He wasn't going to say no to the prospect of a free yogurt in the future.
"Now then…" Izuku swiped a couple cigarettes from the pack, placing one in his mouth and the rest in his pocket before lighting a match. "Let's see what your friends have."
Five minutes later and a quick call for an ambulance that definitely didn't leave Izuku scratching his head trying to remember the phone number (and most certainly did not require him nudging the feline man with a boot to get the right number), Izuku was walking back onto the filthy beach, 24,000 yen richer. Eyeing the nearest garbage dune, Izuku took a drag from his cigarette as he took a step towards the heap. "Alright, let's get started."
By the time the sun began setting, Izuku had managed to work through most of the garbage pile, separating much of the metal and appliances worth repairing and salvaging into their own stacks, and setting the trash that needs to be properly disposed of in its own pile to be gathered in bags at a later date. It was as Izuku was picking up a nearly intact microwave, the glass long shattered, that he found a handlebar poking out from between a bunch of black garbage bags. Intrigued, he began to dig through the garbage, tossing aside the black trash bags and revealing the treasure beneath.
"Holy shit…" Izuku said breathlessly. "It's a Suzuki Hayabusa." Kneeling down, Izuku began to inspect the sports motorcycle, chuckling in amazement as he began to realize the absolute gem he had just found. The bike's matte green paint was terribly scraped on the right side, and the engine appeared to be a total loss, but aside from that, the bike was perfectly capable of being restored. And judging by the engine model and tag on the bike, this was likely a 2099 Suzuki Hayabusa.
Izuku grinned, his eyes watering slightly as memories of his father came to mind, the man having loved motorcycles as much as Izuku loved heroes as a child. His father always exclaimed excitement at the prospect of one day restoring a bike with his son, and Izuku, being drawn to the idea of an intellectual and physical challenge presented by his dad, was always excited to learn more about his father's favorite subject just so he could be more like his number one hero, his dad. Whilst his father was obsessed with American cruiser bikes, Izuku had always found himself more drawn to the fast and nimble sports bikes. Looking at the bike, Izuku knew he could fix it, all it needed was a new engine and paint job, and he'd have a new ride. He just needed money and time to make it happen, and he had plenty of that now with regards to the potential salvage he could cash in.
Fully resolute in what was to be a new project, Izuku picked up a tarp he had found earlier and spread it over the motorcycle. Carefully making his way down from the trash dune, Izuku felt an old scar ache on his right shoulder. Rather than rub at the offending area, Izuku simply grabbed one of the cigarettes he pilfered earlier and lit it as he started his walk home, ignoring the pain and associated memories, his fingers itching at his waist for a flask that was not there.
A/N
Ok, I'm going to try to be brief.
This chapter could've been done two weeks ago but I got distracted by my girlfriend visiting from Canada for a week, playing Vintage Story and Grey Zone Warfare for like two weeks straight in my free time, taking care of my Golden Retriever who started having multiple health issues at once (He's fine now, just dealing with a hotspot on his butt now), and preparing for my Private Pilot Check ride (which is in 4 days and I'm anxious as all hell because I don't do well with oral exams, I talk too fucking much).
Anyway, couple of things:
1) I cut out a lot of what I was going to have Inko and Izuku discuss. The cut dialogue will instead be used as launching points for Izuku trying to deal with living in Japan again for future chapters. I also had four different kinds of fight scenes planned out to introduce different canon characters, but I ultimately decided to not introduce anyone and just have him deal with some idiots instead just because I had an idea literally last night and felt it better to incorporate that in likely the next chapter.
2) My progress for this chapter was also slowed down because I started working on drafts of the B side and C side for this story as well as for a long promised rewrite of my first fanfic, Raven's Reaper. Lemme explain: Turning this story into a series, kinda. This story will be the A-side, the main story; The B-side will be the long form flashbacks to Izuku's time in the Zone; and the C-side will be a combination of deleted scenes and more crack-like version of this story, more bits and pieces and not so much a full alternate version of the main story.
3) Realizing that I didn't explain this last chapter but I will not count Stalker 2 relevant to this story. I will use Stalker 2 locations and artifacts as I like, but for the most part they are not relevant to the story as I'm planning on really playing with how the Zone is described in the dialogue and lore sharing between stalkers in the original trilogy, Roadside Picnic, TTRPG, film, and Board Game.
Eh, that is all the time I have to write this. Sorry if the chapter is rough, still no Beta, and no time to edit. I've got physical training in an hour and then I have to study my ass off for my checkride. Hopefully I can get the next chapter out by mid June/early July.