A breath. In, out. His finger on the trigger. It should be cold, but he couldn't feel it in his prosthetic fingers. He felt it in his chest, though, spreading out like icy water spilling around his ribs.
In. Out. A breath.
Jason would have done it by now. Wouldn't he? Izuku couldn't say. Bennet deserved – Bennet probably deserved it. As far as Izuku knew, she'd sent the OMC to their horrible deaths without batting an eyelid, almost certainly to facilitate whatever plan All for One had in the works. She wasn't an innocent. She probably deserved to die, and it wouldn't be too hard to cover up. So long as nobody ever knew, it would be like it never happened. Nobody needed to know.
He would know.
A decision. A choice. Heroes didn't kill. Red Hood was never a good Hero.
Red Hood was never a good Hero.
But he was better than this.
Izuku's finger left the trigger, and his arm drooped as though the pistol was suddenly too heavy.
"No," he said, quietly, but without a tremor in his voice. He'd made his choice – and in hindsight, wasn't it easy? Like a weight from his shoulders, like the crushing bands of steel around his lungs had turned to air. He'd found a line he wouldn't cross and the understanding was like an iron rod in his spine.
"No?" Chitose said, before Tatsuyuki could speak, "You won't kill her? After everything she's done? Don't you think she deserves it?"
"It's not about deserving," Izuku said. He was still facing Bennet, so he had to raise his voice. He didn't look around, because he was busy watching Bennet herself, seeing the hope flash in her eyes. He wondered if this was it – if this was where he blew his cover. Bennet didn't deserve to be rescued, really, especially if it meant losing their spy in the MLA – but maybe Izuku's morals deserved it. He'd have to take out Chitose first, he knew, her Quirk too powerful, so use the gun. She was behind him, to his right. Twenty feet, that was what they said, the point where a knifeman could get to someone before they could draw a gun. Chitose was a lot closer, but Izuku already had the gun in hand.
Funny, that he was ready to kill his way out in order to avoid executing someone. Ironic.
"If it's not about deserving, then what is it about?" Chitose asked, her voice calming, soothing, "You killed Chronostasis, didn't you? What makes her different?"
Izuku turned, meeting her green eyes. Chitose didn't look angry. Oh, Tatsuyuki looked furious, but Chitose looked – well, curious.
"Chronostasis was coming right at me," Izuku said, the words coming more easily to his mouth than he'd expected, "It was a fight. This isn't. This is an execution."
"A fight, an execution, who cares?" Tatsuyuki demanded, "Dead is dead and it's what she deserves! How can you be one of us if you back off at the first hurdle?"
"If you're trying to be Heroes," Izuku said, refusing to be intimidated, "Then beating someone to within an inch of her life and then murdering her isn't Heroic!"
"Oh, what, you think we should give her to the police? Hand her over to the government? And what will they do, what will they care? Justice, that's what matters! Justice! And justice, here, is her dead at our hands!"
Izuku drew in a deep, steadying breath, knowing that he was too close to breaking character. But he couldn't give in, not now. If he broke character then fine. Better that than letting himself be bullied into murder.
"Your hands, maybe," he said grimly, "Not mine."
Tatsuyuki's eyes bulged with shock and fury at the quiet defiance, but Chitose laughed. It rang hideously in that place of blood and pain, echoing weirdly off the walls and stinging Izuku's ears and she clapped her hands once, twice, a mimicry of applause.
"Good," she said, "Very good, Akatani."
"Good-" Tatsuyuki spluttered, but she spoke over him without even a sideways glance.
"Bennet deserves to die, it's true," Chitose said, "And she'll have to, there's no other way now. But you, here? Standing up for something you believe in? Oh, it's beautiful! It's magnificent, even if it's so misguided. There's a fire in your heart, dear. I wouldn't want to extinguish it."
She turned to Tatsuyuki, and Izuku didn't like the way she was smiling. It was too sharp, too wide. Carnivorous, almost, and Bennet whimpered behind Izuku.
"It's not like we weren't ready for this," Chitose said, "Besides, didn't you want your chance to kill a traitor?"
Tatsuyuki stood very still for a moment, before a chuckle echoed from somewhere deep in his barrel chest. Izuku felt it shake him, like it was reverberating in his bones, and an awful resignation settled on him as he realised. They weren't going to just let him walk away. He'd gotten away with his refusal, but they were still going to kill Bennet in front of him. To make a point, to try and desensitise him, what did it matter? What mattered was whether he was going to stand aside and let it happen.
He wasn't going to, he realised. It wasn't a pleasant realisation. He was really going to die here, to save goddamn Bennet of all people? It wasn't like she was Eri. She was a traitor criminal working with the worst criminal in the world. But he was going to try anyway, wasn't he?
He must be stupid, Izuku concluded, but the decision settled something in him. Behind him, Bennet had moved from whimpering to outright sobbing, whispering to herself.
"No," she said, "No, please, no. I – I did all you asked! I did what you wanted, I took the Quirk, I took the Quirk, I paid for it! It's mine, it's mine!"
What?
"What?" Tatsuyuki said, unintentionally mimicking Izuku's thoughts, "What are you raving about? Have you lost your mind, traitor?"
"She said she'd taken the Quirk," Izuku said, instinctively backing away as Bennet struggled in her chains. She was practically frothing at the mouth, words spilling half-formed from her lips, and Izuku reached back for the door, pulling it open. Chitose stepped back to join him, giving him the briefest glance.
"Taken? There's been rumours before, but-"
"She's just crazy," Tatsuyuki snarled. Bennet started to sob again, jagged and broken sounds that spilled from her lips, before she choked on something. Izuku stepped back again, into the doorway.
"No," Bennet said, "No, please. I've been loyal. I've been good. Please."
Whoever she was speaking to didn't listen, and light began to spill from her eyes and her mouth. Izuku's mouth moved before his brain did.
"Bomb!" he shouted, immediately flinging himself back into the corridor. Chitose landed next to him a second later, stumbling in her haste to get out of the way, and Izuku scrambled to the side as Tatsuyuki flung himself at the doorway. He hurled himself through, a hand reaching for the door, and Izuku heard Bennet's final words.
"I'm sorry," she said, a moment before her words twisted into a scream and the world went white.
The blast was more concussive than firestorm, but it was enough to punch Izuku off his feet, throwing him down the corridor. He twisted as he went and landed rolling and gasping, breathing harshly through the pain, Chitose flung the other way. Izuku heard a sickening thud as Tatsuyuki was slapped into the wall by the pressure, the man's barking cry of pain ripping through the ringing in Izuku's ears. Above them, in the Agency, an alarm began to wail. A second. A third. And somewhere, in Izuku's muddled brain, the connections were made.
Bennet had gotten a Quirk from All for One. All for One was at war with the MLA. Bennet's capture was a trap.
He needed to get out of here.
Izuku rolled over, a groan falling from his lips, but a mental check found no unusually sharp pains other than the ones that could be expected from being hurled five feet onto concrete: he'd be bruised tomorrow, but that was it. He reached out, hand falling onto the cold metal and plastic of the handgun Tatsuyuki had given him, and slid it back over to him. Better safe than sorry, and as he pushed himself up he quickly checked that the safety was on before tucking it into the pocket of his hoody.
"Akatani!" Chitose called, her voice cut out halfway through by a cough, "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Izuku called back, hurrying towards her. She was on her feet, one hand rubbing at her other wrist, but she shook it out and looked over to him when he approached.
"Good," she said, "Good. Tatsuyuki took most of the blast, where is he?"
Izuku looked over to the wall opposite the door. Chitose followed his gaze, cursing under her breath, and then rushed over. Tatsuyuki sat crumpled at the foot of the wall, one arm folded in front of him and the other clearly broken. Izuku spared a second to glance in the cell, confirming that nothing but a charred and blackened husk remained of Mara Bennet, before he joined Chitose. All that, and Bennet had died anyway. God damn it.
"Is he alive?" he asked. Chitose, pressing two fingers to Tatsuyuki's jaw, didn't need to answer as Tatsuyuki stirred, a low moan spilling out.
"His arm's broken," she said, "But I don't think anything else is. His shoulder seems okay, and his collarbone. He hit the wall hard, but he's tough."
She looked up, as though she was trying to peer through the concrete and earth above them to the Agency, and grimaced.
"The Agency must be under attack," she said, "It was a trap, all along. We need to get him out."
Izuku, personally, wouldn't have minded leaving him – and if he had a therapist he'd probably need to talk to them about his willingness to leave a man to die, when he hadn't been willing to kill Bennet – but that wasn't exactly something he could say. He nodded, instead, although inwardly he didn't like their chances. Izuku was stronger than he looked but he wasn't exactly huge, and neither was Chitose. Tatsuyuki was a big man: carrying him out was going to be difficult.
"It's his right side," Chitose said, "We might be able to carry him, if we're strong enough, but – no, carrying him isn't going to work. He's too big. Tatsuyuki. Tatsuyuki! We can't carry you, you need to wake up!"
And Tatsuyuki, like a miracle, stirred. His groan turned into a clenched-teeth hiss of pain as he came back to consciousness, his lips pressing hard together to hold in a scream, but he blinked his eyes open and swayed.
"What – what happened? Bennet-"
"Some kind of bomb, maybe a Quirk," Chitose said hurriedly, "I can't contact anyone! Mellifluid isn't answering, but the alarm isn't stopping – we need to get out of here. Up to the Agency, at least."
Tatsuyuki closed his eyes for a long, long second, but when he reopened them they were lit by a fire of fanaticism.
"Help me up," he snarled, "And let's go."
If Izuku had any compliments to give Tatsuyuki, it was that the man was tough as all hell. He'd slammed shoulder first into the wall, by Izuku's guess: his arm was broken, and the rest of his right side was probably one single massive bruise, not to mention any potential head injuries. But he was still walking, still moving on. Izuku was fairly sure that, in the same situation, he'd barely be conscious. That didn't mean Tatsuyuki would be any use in a fight, he'd probably be worse than useless, but still. Izuku could admire that kind of toughness.
"There are ways out," Chitose said, "We have an underground parking area, and there are escape vehicles there. We just need to get to the entrance, it's not far away."
"We need to know what's happening first," Tatsuyuki said, his words punctuated by gasping breaths and snarls of pain, "If it really is an attack. Akatani-"
"Sir!" shouted a voice and a man came gliding down the corridor, on a sheet of glitteringly thick air that spread in front of him. He was wide-eyed, his voice shaky with panic, but he managed to prevent himself from slamming into anyone as he skidded to a halt.
"Mellifluid," Tatsuyuki ground out, "Report!"
"Bombs," Mellifluid said hastily, "Someone set off a bomb at the front door, and at the back. We don't know who, but we're preparing for an attack. What happened?"
"The prisoner," Tatsuyuki grunted, "She must have swallowed a bomb or something, not sure, but she exploded. Knocked me into a wall."
Mellifluid's face was hidden behind a full-face mask, but Izuku could imagine raking his eyes over Tatsuyuki, the alarm taking over his expression when he realised the state that Tatsuyuki was in. The alarm was still wailing, the noise digging into Izuku's skull, but maybe it was only a bomb. Maybe it was just a warning?
Maybe gold would rain from the sky, and everyone would live forever. Izuku didn't entertain the optimism for more than a couple of seconds. Tatsukyuki and Chitose didn't seem convinced either, because after less than a minute of hurried whispering Chitose stepped back and turned to Izuku.
"Come on," she said, "We need to get out of here. We'll evacuate, to make sure questions aren't asked. Tatsuyuki, be careful."
"I can't exactly do any fighting like this," he growled, "Get out of here."
Chitose reached out as though to grab Izuku by the arm, but he quickly stepped forwards, avoiding her. Just in case, remembering her Quirk. She didn't seem to notice, turning her grab into a quick beckoning motion.
"Come on," she said, "This way. It's down here."
Chitose led the way down a corridor, past a staircase that Izuku was fairly sure led to the Agency offices. There were men and women already hurrying the same way, civilian staff, although Izuku noticed that at least one or two of them were armed – some kind of guards? Izuku didn't know, and didn't care to ask. There was something about this that just didn't seem right. Something off. Something like…
Something like Shigaraki having attacked multiple Hero Agencies at this point, and almost certainly being familiar with the way their evacuation procedures would work. Which would be more important to the League of Villains, attacking the Heroes in the Agency or making a point that the civilians couldn't be protected? What would Joker do – maybe a bad example, because Joker would go after the civilians purely due to thinking it was funny. Alright. What would Bane do?
Bane, Izuku realised, would probably try to attack both groups at the same time. And between the League of Villains and the Eight Precepts, Shigaraki would have enough manpower. The realisation came a moment too late, and the thought was still filtering through his mind when the wall came down. For the second time in the day Izuku flung himself away from an explosion, though this one was less explosion and more a simple, brute force impact, the clatter of bricks against the walls and floor, a choking, suffocating cloud of dust and a cold, metallic laugh as an enormous being, only human by the most generous of descriptions and with skin black as pitch, shambled through the hole. A Nomu.
Screams. Yells, civilians running – Chitose was turning back, her teeth bared in a manic smile, fingers curled into a loose claw as she started towards them – but the Nomu was close, roaring. The exposed brain poking out of its skull wobbled sickeningly with the percussion of its voice and Izuku stepped back, retreating towards the stairs to the upper offices of the agency instinctively. Wisps of sickly purple smoke wound around the Nomu, like fingers scraping along the bony plates that clad its bulky frame, and a short man in a gas mask and school uniform stepped out from behind it. One of the League, although Izuku couldn't remember his name. And, to be fair, the gun in his hand was a rather larger concern.
"Oh, civilians," he said, his voice muffled by the mask but still intelligible, "Nomu? Kill them for me."
Izuku, in the breathless second he had before anyone moved, mentally upgraded the seriousness of the situation from 'not good' to 'actually pretty bad'.
He wished he had his armour.
And then, all at once, everyone moved.
The Nomu roared again, lurching forwards. It wasn't as fast as the ones Izuku had seen before, slowed by the heavy, bony armour plates, but it came on like an avalanche. Izuku dropped to one knee, under the smashing fist, and threw himself away from it. Shards of brick and plaster rapped against his back as he rolled, springing to his feet and still moving, the Nomu wrenching its arm out of the wall with another gurgling howl. The League member laughed and stepped forwards, that gas still wisping around him and slowly thickening, and lifted his gun. Crushed or shot, what a way to go, but Izuku wasn't interested in trying either. He reached behind him as the gunman leisurely levelled his revolver, imagining the smirk on the face behind the gas mask, and took a breath.
Timing.
Izuku threw the shard of brick in his hand an instant before the gunman pulled the trigger, the rock whipping across the open space. It hit the top of the gas mask just as the trigger was pulled, the man jerking back with a cry, the gun firing into the ceiling, and Izuku was already over the open space, fist closing.
Gas mask. Whatever that gas was, the guy probably wasn't immune to it – take out the mask. Disarm the gun. Go from there.
The gunman was open, still reeling from the rock that had cracked his mask, and Izuku took advantage of it. Right fist into abdomen just under the ribs, drive the breath from him. Left hand to the throat, fingers straight, worsen it. Left hand to the pipes that ran from gas mask over his shoulders, rip it out. Reverse the motion, elbow to jaw, keep moving to grab the gun-hand wrist. Right palm to elbow, dislocate, take the gun, pistol whip to skull.
Glass broke. The Leaguer let out a wheezing cry, stumbling back, and Izuku felt that coldness settle onto him, that chill that said: if this man has to die for me to make it out of here, then he dies. The irony of that wasn't lost on him. Izuku looked past the gunman and his heart skipped a beat as he saw the second Nomu, this one so much lankier, and the man in front of it: slightly hunched, pale, covered in hands. Shigaraki. Oh, hell no.
Less than a second between recognition and decision and Izuku shoved the gun-man hard, sending him spilling backwards into Shigaraki. Shigaraki dodged, whip-quick and light on his feet, and Izuku levelled the stolen revolver into the path of Shigaraki's movement. Thumb the hammer, pull the trigger, a miss by mere inches as Shigaraki's dodge was foiled by his flailing comrade, slowing him just enough and Izuku ignored the disappointment, already backing away. Behind him the Nomu howled loud enough to wake the dead and Izuku half turned, trying to keep them all in view. Futile, but he had to try. The Nomu roared at him, maw filled with mismatched fangs gaping and slavering, arms spread to crush and smash. Thumb the hammer, pull the trigger, a moment of agonising hope as the bullet punched through a plate of ivory armour and kept going but it was only a flesh wound, the Nomu still coming, Shigaraki pushing the gas-mask guy aside and starting forwards and a voice cut through the screams and the shouts.
"Hey!" Chitose shouted, "Don't turn your back on me."
Izuku looked over to her, past the roaring Nomu, so he saw the moment she casually brought up both hands, each one filled with glittering beads from her bracelets, and threw them out at the Nomu. They hit like a hailstorm, every one of them bursting into cracks of fire that raked across the creatures back in a torrent of snapping explosions. It shrieked in surprise and pain, spinning around, and Chitose wound up her right hand with a brick in it.
"Pay attention!" she sang, and threw. The Nomu roared and punched the brick as it flew towards it but it exploded on impact. Burning shards scattered across the corridor, the pressure wave buffeted Izuku's hair, and the Nomu howled in pain. Izuku saw a spray of blood burst from the fist it had punched with, now broken and mangled, and felt a flash of hope.
"We're not done yet!" Chitose shouted, two more bricks in her hands. Izuku heard the walls creak, instinctively retreating towards the stairs. Chitose threw.
The Nomu slammed into the wall, more brick breaking under him, and Izuku heard the walls creak again. Chitose looked up, Izuku looked up, from the corner of his eye he saw Shigaraki and the gas-mask man look up and, with the inevitability of an avalanche, the roof collapsed. A supporting beam barely missed Izuku as he scuttled back, more dust, more bricks, the Nomu shrieking as it was half-buried under the collapsing wall. The building was still mostly in place, but the corridor was half blocked. The corridor was half blocked, and Izuku was on the wrong side.
He looked once at Shigaraki, made eye contact with Chitose through the barricade, and bolted for the stairs.
Upwards, upwards, he could find another way down. Chitose shouted his name, but when he glanced over his shoulder he saw her expression grim with understanding as she retreated. That glance over his shoulder made it clear that the gas-mask wearing man was already starting after him, hands reaching out as though to grab, and Izuku knew he didn't have time. He put his head down and ran. He took the steps three at a time, springing up the stairs in his haste to get away, but he still heard yelling behind him. He reached the top of the stairs and swept a desperate look around, seeing a short corridor lined with doors. Office rooms, and he picked one at random and sprinted for it, thumping into the door and scrabbling blindly for the handle. His fingers caught on it, pushing it down, and he nearly fell into the large room beyond. Computers, desks, swivel chairs and flimsy barricades to separate the room into cubicles. Izuku looked up, but there wasn't a false ceiling. Just flat plastic boards set with eye-stinging illumination strips that were the only source of light in the room, the windows covered by blinds. Izuku slammed his fist into the light switch, plunging the room into dimness,
Boots thudded behind him and Izuku kicked the nearest chair, sending it across to one of the cubicles like he'd knocked it over in his rush. He turned back afterwards, flattening himself against the wall next to the door and holding his breath.
The door slammed open, and Izuku heard the door handle crack into the wall.
"Alright," snarled that distorted, muffled voice, made jagged by heaving breaths as the man, whatever he was actually called, ran at the door, "You might as well come out and-"
Izuku never found out what the man wanted from him, because the moment the door was flung open and the man charged in Izuku slammed the butt of the pistol into his chest, just under the throat. The man gagged, staggering, and yelled out in pain as Izuku kicked at his knee, sending him to one knee. Flip the gun from left hand to right, grab the other gas-mask pipe, knee to the jaw. The pipe tore free and Izuku pivoted, spun and drove his heel into the front of the gas-mask. Something crunched, probably a nose given the yell the man let out as he went over backwards, and Izuku looked through the doorway and got a perfect view of Shigaraki, approaching at speed.
He levelled the gun.
Shigaraki dodged, lurching to the side and out of Izuku's field of view the instant Izuku pulled the trigger, but it slowed him enough that Izuku could slam the door. He turned around and ran, jumping onto a chair and off the back to vault into a cubicle, landing with a soft thud and ducking into a crouch. The entrance to this cubicle didn't face the door Shigaraki had been running at, which might buy Izuku some time. Some. More than the bullets, hopefully.
Six bullets in the revolver to start with, assumedly – depending on how careful the gas-guy was. Say six. One shot at Izuku. One at Shigaraki. One at the Nomu. A second at Shigaraki. Either one bullet left or two, and Izuku carefully eased the gun open to check. Only five chambers filled, one free as a safety. One bullet left, not counting the gun Tatsuyuki had given him. The door crashed open again and Izuku clicked the gun closed as quietly as he could.
"You think that's enough to stop me?" demanded the gas-guy, his voice thickened in a way that made Izuku suspect a broken nose. Already nasal, it was even more annoying now.
"Mustard. We don't have time to play games," said an all too familiar voice, soft and whispering as though it's owner couldn't raise their voice, "We need you back down, to keep the Heroes off when they arrive. Where's your usual gas?"
Shigaraki. Izuku was reasonably confident of his ability to take out… Mustard, Mustard – as in the gas, unless he really liked the condiment - without his gun: he had little confidence in his ability to do the same to Shigaraki. He'd need the second gun, which meant that he'd need to take the risk and check the bullets with the two of them in the room. Izuku wasn't going to die because of a gun loaded with blanks.
"The little bastard broke my gas mask, you know my gas knocks me out as well," Mustard said, his voice sounding considerably whinier, "If I bring it out I'll get knocked out before I can find him, and then the gas will go, and then I'll be helpless when the Heroes get here-"
"Mustard," Shigaraki interrupted, voice so soft and yet so threatening, "I don't care. Overhaul wants this kid dead, and I want information from Chitose. We haven't caught Chitose, so we'll at least kill the kid. Get looking."
"Um, yeah. Yeah! How long do we have before, you know, backup arrives?"
Shigaraki didn't sigh, but Izuku could hear the sigh in his tone. It was reminiscent of Aizawa, in a way.
"If All Might is near? As long as it takes him to defeat Muscular," he said, "If it's anyone else? However long it takes them to call All Might. Hurry up. This would be quicker if you'd trained your Quirk, like I told you to."
Mustard spluttered. Izuku glanced around the cubicle and picked up a pen. Weapon of last resort.
"I've been trying!" he protested, "Do you know how hard it is to build up resistance to a Quirk like mine?"
There was a brief, chilling silence before he coughed and Shigaraki let out a whispery, papery sigh.
"As though adding a carry to our team wasn't bad enough," he said, "You have to be a noob as well. Get better. We can't afford to be dragging you around. Get another mask. You've got the inventory space to carry one, right?"
Using their voices as cover for any noise he made, Izuku slid the pen up his sleeve and pulled out his stolen gun, laying the revolver on the floor for a moment. He popped the magazine out, checking the bullets before reloading. Real bullets. Gave a bit of insight into whether or not Chitose and Tatsuyuki had really intended him to kill Bennet – looked like they really did. Good way to keep people in the group, sharing culpability, but Izuku didn't think they did that for every recruit. The logistics of that many murders just didn't work out.
Made him feel special, in a way.
Izuku briefly weighed the chances of bursting out of cover and raining bullets down on Mustard and Shigaraki, hoping to kill or incapacitate them both before making an escape, but decided against it after a painful moment of thought. Shigaraki was just too fast, too dangerous for Izuku to take that risk.
"Are there any other ways out?" Shigaraki asked, "Other doors? Mikumo went out the window when Overhaul had him."
"He hasn't jumped yet," Mustard replied. He sounded quelled, even the way he kicked over one of the cubicle walls near to him quieter than before. Shigaraki hummed, although it was barely audible given his quiet voice.
"Three doors out," he said, "One we came in through, two still closed. Four windows that he could jump through."
"It's a long fall," Mustard protested. Shigaraki laughed, a wheezing thing that sent a shudder up Izuku's spine.
"Worse than one of us killing him?" he asked, "He's still in here."
Shigaraki was working with Mustard too, Izuku thought, which was going to make Izuku's smoke pellets much less useful. Maybe if Shigaraki wasn't wearing a gas mask any longer, but his voice had that slightly metallic quality that Izuku associated with wearing a mask. This was going to be a difficult one: Izuku briefly considered waiting for Hero support to arrive, before discarding the thought. It would take too long. There was a quiet ringtone and Shigaraki made a confused noise.
"Yeah?" he said, still in that papery whisper. Izuku had no idea what he heard but he sighed softly.
"Yeah, I know," he said. Izuku heard him end the call.
"Mustard," Shigaraki said, "You're needed at the front. The Heroes are trying to hole up, use your Quirk to flush them out."
"I haven't got-"
Mustard cut off by a wheeze, like something had been rammed into his stomach. When Shigaraki next spoke his voice was still very quiet, but it lacked the muffling edge of a gas mask.
"Use mine," he said, "Now get out of here. I'll deal with Mikumo."
"He broke my nose," Mustard protested, "I want to-"
"Mustard," said that deadly whisper, and Mustard went silent, "Listen. You're two – oh right now, to him. You want to make it three? Nah. Let your team get the win, instead of fumbling. Go for the objective."
Footsteps, getting faster the further away they went, and then it was just Izuku and Shigaraki. Not quite what Izuku had been hoping for, but one against one was better odds. And maybe, just maybe, he could actually kill Shigaraki this time. That would take the wind out of the League's sails, hopefully.
Footsteps. Shigaraki was much quieter than Mustard, not least because he wasn't shouting threats, but that didn't make him less intimidating. Izuku concentrated on keeping his breathing quiet and even, listening carefully. He heard Shigaraki let out a breath, and then a whooshing noise – like dust falling to the ground. Maybe Shigaraki was decaying the cubicle walls? They weren't exactly solid in any case.
He could burst out, Izuku thought. Shigaraki was fast, dodging Izuku's aim, but he wasn't so fast that he could outrun a bullet. Izuku could get his measure, and the other gun had plenty of bullets. It would be a risk, but Izuku took plenty of risks. He could do it.
Something hit the wall behind him with a thud and Izuku reacted instantly, whirling away and raising his gun. Less than a second later his instincts screamed at him and he twisted desperately towards the cubicle entrance, gun swinging wildly as he tried to counter the feint.
Shigaraki came through the entrance with a triumphant hiss, hand swinging down. Izuku flinched back and away, getting his body out of the way, but Shigaraki got his hands on the gun and Izuku abandoned it. He lurched back, heel catching and sending him toppling, but he rolled to his feet and reached back, getting both hands on the pc monitor in the cubicle and swinging it hard around. It caught Shigaraki across both arms, knocking him back just a step before he snarled and threw it aside, rushing in again before Izuku had a chance to draw his second gun.
Shigaraki came in fast, his right hand falling open palmed, like a slap aimed at Izuku's face. Far deadlier than a slap, though, and Izuku let the stolen pen drop into his hand and twisted, stabbing up with it. Shigaraki hissed as the pen caught him in the palm, recoiling, and Izuku twisted the stabbing motion into a punch that Shigaraki barely avoided. Twist his wrist in just the right way, the blades springing out of his prosthetic – thank you, Hatsume – and swing back, for the throat. Shigaraki was saved by the way he was already backpedalling, the only thing preventing Izuku from repeating his USJ feat, but Izuku didn't let the failure stop him. Carry the spin around, rotating entirely, and Shigaraki was still off-balance when Izuku's spinning kick slammed into his chest and sent him staggering. Izuku didn't hesitate, pulling his smoke pellets from his hidden pockets and smashing them into the ground, vanishing into the smoke. He ducked through the door into the next room, melting into the thickest shadows, just before the door slammed open again and Shigaraki darted through. He ducked behind a row of cubicles and Izuku clenched his fingers around his gun, regretting the missed chance to shoot.
Shigaraki laughed. It was a wheezing, choking thing that sent a chill through Izuku, but it was a laugh.
"I knew it," Shigaraki said as Izuku retreated into the cubicles, using every shadow to his advantage, "I knew it! The movements, and the fighting, and the gun, I had an idea. But the blades? The smoke? I knew it. Is that you, Red Hood?"
Izuku wasn't stupid enough to reply, or even make a noise. Still, his heart sank and Shigaraki clearly took the lack of reply as an answer. His laugh was cracked and wheezing, unhinged and gleeful. Izuku hoped that this wasn't a Joker situation. Having villains after him normally was bad enough, without one developing an obsession.
"I'm glad," Shigaraki said, and Izuku resigned himself to having a weirdly obsessive villain following him until death did they part – Shigaraki's, if Izuku had anything to say about it. But Shigaraki was still talking.
"After we last met," Shigaraki said, still so soft and whispering, "After Stain. I asked Sensei – how did the two of you live? What made you strong? And do you know what he asked me?"
If you're still going to your therapist, Izuku didn't say, but the temptation was there.
"He asked me," Shigaraki continued, "'What is strength?'. Do you know what strength is, Red Hood? Do you know what makes you strong?"
Oh no. Philosophical villains were the worst.
"Maybe, I thought, it's hatred," Shigaraki said, "But no. Maybe it's a strong Quirk? No. Maybe it's conviction? No. The, the Heroes I've killed. And the MLA creeps, they've had conviction. They've had powerful Quirks. But they've not been strong. Not like Stain. Not like you. So what is it, Red Hood? What makes you…strong?"
This was terrifying. Izuku would almost prefer the crowbar. Not quite, but almost.
He should run, Izuku thought. Break for the window, they were only one floor up. Izuku could manage a fall like that, and even if it was further than he expected he had his grapple. Running would be the smart thing. Part of him would regret not taking a chance to face Shigaraki, though.
That part was stupid. Izuku stayed crouched, gun in hand, but he started towards the nearest window. He could indulge his inner dramatic hero another day. He crept along, lining up with the window and, like an omen of death, Shigaraki stepped in the way. He turned his back to the window, the faint glow from behind the blinds silhouetting him in the darkness. His grin was wide and white, gruesomely stretched. Izuku could appreciate the aesthetic, even as frustration boiled in his stomach.
"Of course, you're a Hero," Shigaraki said, "You should say that strength is doing the right thing, shouldn't you?"
Izuku gave up sneaking. He needed to get to that window, and if that meant he had to go through Shigaraki then he'd take his odds.
"Probably," he said, straightening and walking out to stand opposite Shigaraki. All they needed now was a tumbleweed, maybe some cowboy music. The stray thought made Izuku's lips twitch, just a little. Shigaraki clapped sardonically, although it looked awkward having to keep his thumbs from contacting. Five-point contact Quirk, Izuku remembered the theory. Looked like it was right.
"Probably?" Shigaraki mused, "So you won't say it, then. What is it, Red Hood? What makes you strong?"
"I don't philosophise," Izuku said flatly, "And there's more to life than being strong."
"Ah," Shigaraki said, "But don't you see? You don't doubt. You don't hesitate. Doesn't that make you strong?"
Shigaraki was fast, Izuku knew, and the deadliness of his Quirk made him dangerous. No grappling. Even fighting at all was a risk, but that didn't make him invincible. Izuku could win this. More importantly, he could escape.
"I don't really care about strength."
"Maybe you don't," Shigaraki said. He reached up, tilting his chin back, and those long, thin fingers fluttered at his throat. The scar Izuku had left him was still there, stark and thick against the pale skin, but Shigaraki was still grinning when he dropped his chin back down.
"My throat," he said, "Your arm. Don't we both have something to take back?"
Izuku's eyes narrowed as Shigaraki bent forwards, both hands coming up. He hadn't wanted a rematch, but…well.
Well.
Izuku moved first.
Twist, bring the gun up, pulling the trigger and Shigaraki darted forwards, low to the ground and under the line of fire. Glass broke as Izuku's bullets hit the window and then Izuku was backing up as Shigaraki sprang forwards, right hand reaching. Smack the wrist with the gun to knock it away, twist, put his weight into a snapping counter-punch with his right and Shigaraki somehow got his left arm in the way, Izuku's knuckles cracking painfully against Shigaraki's forearm. Kick the shin, swing the gun back around, Shigaraki dropping to one knee to avoid the line of fire and pressing his hand to the floor and Izuku kicked off the ground a moment before it turned to dust underneath him. Both hands dropped onto Shigaraki's shoulders and he flipped over him, a handstand on Shigaraki's shoulders for less than a second before he completed the rotation, flipping in the air and driving his foot into Shigaraki's back. Shigaraki lurched forwards, cursing as he was forced to awkwardly twist sideways to avoid the hole he'd made, and Izuku levelled the gun.
"Nomu!" Shigaraki gasped, and the Nomu came through the hole in the floor like it had a lifelong ambition to be an All Might impersonator. Izuku yelped as he backpedalled away from it, and though he didn't forget to pull the trigger he was too surprised and the bullet went nowhere. The Nomu roared and started forwards, Shigaraki rising, and Izuku ran. He sprinted for the window without looking back, running at a pulse-pounding, lung straining pace, but he could still feel the Nomu and Shigaraki at his back. Any moment now an arm would grab him and smash him down, or he'd feel that decaying, rotting touch – or he'd make it to the broken window.
He made it. Every fibre of his being screamed of danger, every shred of him shrieked in anticipation but he made it, launching himself at the window in a desperate leap. He twisted as he leaped, hurling himself backwards out of the window, and levelled his gun. Shigaraki and the Nomu were close, so close, but not close enough. Izuku opened fire.
Shigaraki was still lightning fast, terrifyingly fast, but Izuku had seen him dodge before. The shots weren't Izuku's most accurate but they were good enough and Shigaraki snarled as the third caught him, gouging a bloody furrow through the meat of his thigh and sending him to the ground. The Nomu, closer, a larger target, caught four bullets in the chest before the gun clicked empty and its clumsy attempt to dodge rammed it into and through the wall and Izuku was in the clear air, flying backwards. He twisted his head back just enough to see that there was a lorry, fortuitously positioned and close enough that he wouldn't need his grapple, luck was with him, and took one last glance at Shigaraki's snarl before the wall covered it.
He thudded into the top of the lorry without any sort of elegance, slamming onto his back hard enough to bruise before his momentum kept him going, sliding sideways towards the edge of the lorry. Izuku hissed in a breath and twisted hard, a somersault in mid-air as he went off the edge that landed him on his feet, the impact jarring but only that and he caught his footing in time to throw himself under the lorry, out of sight. Hopefully Shigaraki had better things to do than to send the Nomu after him for a USJ repeat performance. Izuku liked his prosthetic well enough, but he also liked being able to applaud. He barely heard Shigaraki hiss, but he did hear the man order the Nomu to the front of the Agency. Izuku wasn't going to move yet, just to be sure, but it looked like he'd escaped the Agency. Now for the rest of his daring escape.
Looking back at the Agency, it really was going to have to be daring. Half the front wall had fallen inwards or outwards, probably because people kept throwing other people through them, and there were still shouts and screams rising loudly. Agency Heroes and Sidekicks were scattered about, fighting with figures in the familiar plague-doctor masks of the Eight Bullets, but that wasn't all. In the very centre of the brawl, holding Mellifluid up by the throat, was an enormous man covered in exposed muscle. The tightly knitted strands of crimson gleamed wetly in the sunlight, but something that should have been agonising didn't seem to faze him. The man-mountain jerked his wrist and the snap of Mellifluid's neck echoed around the empty air.
"Mediocre!" the man shouted, although the manic grin on his face didn't quite fit the word, "I thought this would be more of a fight! Come on, come on! Where's that Hero grit?"
Muscular. Izuku had looked him up, after hearing about him: bona-fide Hero Killer. Recruited by the League of Villains, apparently, and only interested in carnage. Izuku's fingers tightened around his gun despite knowing it was empty. It was a comfort thing. Izuku might, maybe, if he was fully armed – any qualms he had about shooting to kill didn't apply to Muscular. The muscle fibres covering him must be resistant, Izuku could hear gunfire but Muscular just laughed louder, but his face was exposed. A good shot, one good shot. Hadn't some of the Heroes Muscular had killed previously wounded him? Maybe, but right now escape was what mattered. Nedzu must have seen the situation through Izuku's glasses, Heroes would be on the way. Hopefully All Might, but if not there'd still be backup. Izuku just had to live long enough for it to matter.
Making good on that thought, he immediately began to look for cover. He'd made his escape, there wasn't much he could do now other than make sure he didn't get himself killed before help arrived and he ran for the cover of the nearest alleyway immediately. He needed to ditch the gun as well, if he could. He'd flipped it to his flesh hand as he'd leaped, needing his prosthetic free in case he needed the grapple, and the last thing he wanted was his fingerprints on file. He scrubbed at the handle to the weapon with his hoody, but if it was never found that would be even better.
He threw it away, into the alleyway, and hoped it wouldn't be found. It might be fine. He looked over to the main entrance to the Agency, somehow still standing, and was just in time to watch it turn to dust. Shigaraki stepped through the fresh hole, dragging a clearly concussed Mustard by the collar, and casually threw him into the air. A swirling portal of darkness formed underneath Mustard, catching him, and Shigaraki stalked out into the open, only the faintest hitch in his walk from the bullet wound. He turned across towards where Muscular was now being harassed by Tatsuyuki, the MLA Hero sliding around at lightning speeds to land quick, ineffective blows. Izuku gritted his teeth at the confirmation that the portal villain, Shigaraki had called him Kurogiri, being present. Shigaraki swept his gaze around and, to Izuku's horror, noticed Izuku standing there. Shigaraki made eye contact with Izuku but didn't do anything: didn't call out, didn't charge, didn't sneer. Instead, chillingly, cracked lips parted into a mocking smile before Shigaraki lifted a hand in a lazy wave and turned away.
If he expected Izuku to lose his temper at being ignored and charge blindly in, then he was going to be disappointed. Izuku was more than happy to wait him out, although it did cut slightly to be so useless. Better useless than dead, though. Surely the Heroes couldn't be long.
"Weak!" Muscular bellowed, "Weak, weak! What happened to being a real Hero?"
"I'll show you being a hero!" Tatsuyuki screamed back, the visible portion of his face reddened with exertion as he slid under a smashing punch, glided smoothly in a circle and, still accelerating, hammered back towards Muscular. It was like the ground under him didn't have any friction, allowing him to move at incredible speeds, and Izuku could see his intent as he dashed towards Muscular. A single attack, with all of his speed, hoping for an immediate knockout. Muscular bellowed laughter, arms spread as though to embrace the incoming attack. Shigaraki was still walking towards the fight, posture loose and relaxed. Tatsuyuki hit what Izuku thought must have been full speed, blazing towards Muscular.
"Take this!" he screamed, "My final attack! Infinity Sliding Strike!"
Tatsuyuki kicked off with a howl, leaping right at Muscular with his right knee forwards, all of his weight and all of his speed behind the single blow. It landed with crushing force, sending Muscular back a single step, and Tatsuyuki roared aloud.
It didn't work.
Of course it didn't work, just as Izuku had expected: for all Tatsuyuki's bravery he didn't have nearly the mass required to strike a knockout blow on Muscular, and even if he did he'd probably break his own legs. As it was he'd barely even staggered Muscular, and Muscular's arms wrapped around Tatsuyuki with a joyful shout.
"Yes! Give me a hug!" Muscular yelled, crazed with joy, and Tatsuyuki's defiant shout turned to a scream as the massive limbs closed around him, crushing and smothering. Muscular held the crush for an agonising moment before he threw Tatsuyuki to the ground, the MLA Hero bouncing once before he came to a halt. He rolled over, a shaking hand reaching down to push himself to his feet, but Muscular had already crossed to the lorry and lifted it into the air above Tatsuyuki.
"Didn't your mother tell you not to stand in front of traffic?" he taunted, laughing insanely at his own joke. Shigaraki half turned to look at Muscular – Izuku could see the slightly incredulous expression on his face – but he didn't say or do anything and Tatsuyuki was still struggling, a spider wriggling under a descending boot. Izuku clenched his fist, hating that he had to watch, and then a roar split the air.
"Hell Spider!"
Eight finger-thin lines of flame streaked across the open space and struck Muscular like the fist of a furious god, exploding on impact into an orb of flame larger than Muscular himself. The impact, in sharp contrast to the uselessness of Tatsuyuki's earlier attack, blew Muscular off his feet and sent him skating back, the lorry landing on him. Shigaraki spun around, his earlier nonchalance entirely gone. Endeavour, the second ranked Hero in Japan, stood with flames licking around him and an expression of ferocious determination.
At last. Heroes.
"Heroes!" Muscular shouted, throwing the lorry off him. The vehicle smashed into the building a short way to Izuku's left, caving in the wall and setting off multiple alarms. As though there hadn't been enough collateral damage already, Izuku thought, but if Muscular decided to make a fight of it then there'd probably be more. There was a thud as All Might landed next to Endeavour, and Muscular immediately locked onto him. Izuku wouldn't have been surprised if the man had started to salivate.
"Now this is a fight worth having!" he exclaimed, walking forwards with arms flung wide. The charred marks on his exoskeleton of exposed muscle were already fading as writhing tendrils of meat burrowed out of him, coalescing and replacing the damaged parts. Endeavour shot a sideways glance at All Might, obvious from Izuku's position behind them, before speaking.
"No," he said flatly, "It isn't. Surrender, Muscular, and you'll get a fair trial."
"And what if I don't?" Muscular asked, grinning. Endeavour raised a single clenched fist.
"Surrender," he repeated, "Or we'll make you."
Muscular might actually have been drooling, Izuku thought. Either way, he was having far too much fun for Izuku's liking, and his next words only solidified the thought.
"Is that a promise?"
Endeavour crossed the open space in a blaze of flame, his fist hitting Muscular like a rocket and sending the massive villain sailing backwards. Endeavour lowered his fist, fire still spiralling around it.
"I don't banter with villains," he said, making a strong play for top ten in Izuku's freshly designed Weekly Irony Chart. That said, all things considered, Izuku would take questionable banter quality in exchange for an absolutely immense amount of firepower, which Endeavour definitely could deliver. Pun intended. A pair of Nomu landed next to Shigaraki with earth-shaking force, Muscular pushing to his feet with his laugh curdling into a joyful snarl, and All Might crouched slightly in preparation to charge.
"Wait," Shigaraki said, raising his voice although it sounded painful, "Wait, Muscular. Not yet."
"Not yet?" Endeavour asked, "You underestimate your influence, villain."
Shigaraki shrugged. He didn't offer a reply, but he didn't need to: without words a spiralling portal of blackness formed behind him. It wasn't large enough for him to pass through yet, but nearly and All Might took a step forwards.
"Leaving so soon?" he said, "What happened to your fire, young villain?"
Shigaraki gave him an ugly look, tilting his head to show off the scar that twisted across his throat. Izuku couldn't help but feel a flicker of pride, tinged with frustration. If that knife had only cut a little deeper…no time for regrets now, though. Endeavour scoffed.
"One injury and you give in?" he asked, a sneer obvious in his voice even with his back turned, and Shigaraki turned his eyes to him, "Is that it? Not much of a villain, are you?"
"No," Shigaraki said, the Nomu stirring behind him, "Not yet. Tell me, Endeavour. What is strength?"
"What?" Endeavour asked, thrown. Shigaraki shrugged again.
"Something I was asked," he said, "To find, for myself. What is strength? A strong Quirk? Determination that doesn't end? What is it?"
"It's ignoring nonsense like you're spouting!" Endeavour barked. He stepped forwards and Muscular mimicked him, his grin returning.
"I don't think that's it," Shigaraki said, shaking his head, "I don't think that's it at all. Pity, I thought maybe the Number Two…ah, well. Muscular. It's time to leave."
"Leave?" Muscular said, his voice failing to reach a shout from what Izuku thought was pure shock, "Leave? Now? When I have All Might and Endeavour both before me?"
Shigaraki shrugged, apathy settling over his face. It was still very different to the raging maniac Izuku had seen previously, but no less chilling. More so, in fact. Villains who kept their heads were always the worst.
"You can stay, lose, and go back to prison," Shigaraki said, "Or you can come with me, and get a proper fight later. Your choice."
Muscular growled, but he retreated to Shigaraki's side. Shigaraki nodded and looked over to All Might. All Might started forwards and the Nomu moved to match him, a third landing behind Shigaraki. In its grasp it held Tatsuyuki, limp, and All Might hesitated.
"Hostages, now?" he asked, "I wish I could say I expected better."
Shigaraki just smiled.
"You know, All Might, speaking of expecting better. I'm not surprised that Endeavour was here so quickly. Explains a lot. But you? I'd have thought better of you. Maybe look into who you're protecting, next time."
And then, inevitably, Shigaraki looked past All Might to Izuku, and a smile parted those cracked, chapped lips.
"Or maybe not. See you next time, All Might."
"Wait!" All Might shouted, stepping forwards, but it was too late. The Noumu were still blocking his path, threatening Tatsuyuki, and Shigaraki was already stepping backwards towards the portal. But before he went, he met Izuku's eyes, still smiling. The portal behind him grew large enough for him to step through, All Might and Endeavour still in place, but Shigaraki looked only at Izuku. Before he stepped through the portal, his lips moved, exaggerated to make them easy to read.
A boss deserves a boss fight. Another time, Red Hood.
Izuku knew he wasn't imagining the chill that filled his spine at the words.
Muscular and two of the Nomu followed before the portal closed, but All Might and Endeavour were already springing into action. All Might hit the Nomu as it lifted Tatsuyuki into the air, snatching him away and punching it down, and Endeavour's flame consumed it as he landed a moment later. The sounds of battle in the Agency had faded, leaving behind only screams and shouts and the faint crackling of flame. The League of Villains were gone, but it was no defeat.
No defeat, but it was over.
It was surprising how many people turned up once the danger had passed, Izuku thought. Most of the Agency was demolished and most of the Heroes and Sidekicks there were either dead or injured, but a veritable horde of Heroes from elsewhere had begun arriving shortly after Shigaraki left and hadn't yet stopped. Accompanied by swarms of policemen and the forerunners of a plague of reporters, Izuku was almost feeling claustrophobic. He'd hoped to slip away and join up with All Might later on, but Chitose had emerged from the underground carpark just seconds after the fighting had been over and spotted him. Izuku had spent the minutes since then trying to avoid drawing too much attention while Chitose quietly fretted – the MLA must really care about his value as a propaganda piece.
"Excuse me, miss?" a policeman said. He was one of the only ones to come near, all of the journalists just circling at a distance. Maybe Chitose was good for something, given her reputation amongst the press. Running away from journalists did work in the short term, Izuku remembered from Jason's life, but it did also usually make them even more determined. Chitose looked across to the man, and Izuku mimicked her. He was young, with eyebrows that flickered like fire. No other noticeable Quirk effects, though. About average, then – most Quirks, after all, were weak.
"Yes?" Chitose said. The man coughed into his fist, seeming embarrassed, before he spoke again.
"We need you both to come with us," he explained, sounding apologetic, "We need to interview as many of the witnesses as we can, and since the two of your aren't injured…"
"I don't mind," Chitose said brightly, looking over, "Or, we don't mind. Right, Akatani?"
"Right," Izuku agreed, sticking to his usual eager to please mien that he preferred to adopt when in this disguise. It tended, he found, to throw people off guard. And he did like people being off guard.
"Great," one of the policemen said, "We've set up a temporary post just over here, for interviews. This way, please."
That was abrupt. Izuku would have expected that they'd wait until he had a responsible adult, a guardian. Wait. Were they considering Chitose a responsible guardian? That could be a problem, especially as he'd definitely need to lie about what had happened. Then again, Chitose would probably understand. As they walked Izuku caught All Might's eye and saw his raised eyebrow, the question clear - do you need me to get you out of there? Izuku offered him the briefest smile and shake of the head, saw All Might nod. At least someone knew where he was going.
"We're sorry, but we need to make sure that we know what happened, so it'll be more effective to speak to you both alone," one of the policemen said, and Izuku immediately categorised it as a lie. Well, not a complete lie – there was enough confidence in his voice that it must be partially true. But there was something else. They wanted to speak to them alone, which meant getting Izuku alone. Probably not MLA, then. Even if they'd miraculously worked out who he really was, why wouldn't they want Chitose there? The problem was that Izuku couldn't make a guess to who might be pulling the strings. There were far too many conspiracies in this damn country, and almost any one of them could be responsible.
Hell, for all Izuku knew both of the police officers were in different conspiracies. One of them could be Humarise and the other one HSPC, with Izuku being MLA while secretly being UA. Quite apart from the potential deluge of acronyms and the still fading stress of combat, Izuku was starting to get a headache from all the possibilities. Still, he followed. He wasn't yet so tired as to be incapable of defending himself, and if anything really went wrong All Might was so close that it would be mere heartbeats in between Nedzu seeing the issue through Izuku's miraculously intact spectacles and All Might crashing into the building. Not part of the Agency or a police station, which wasn't quite what Izuku might have expected. Still, he supposed that it was better than trying to move people away, and it was more or less secure. Actually, he thought as he looked around, he might be wrong – from the construction, it seemed like it might be part of the Agency. He asked, and one of the policemen nodded.
"It used to be the Agency, we're told," he said, "It was closed down when the new one was built, but it's still good enough. Slidin' Go is allowing us to use it."
"He's alive, then?" Chitose asked. Another nod.
"Yes, Miss. He was injured, but not badly enough that he couldn't give us permission to use this before he was taken to hospital. We did have to break the door down, though."
And why not? Tatsuyuki was probably panicking over his Agency being searched by non-MLA affiliates. Izuku wasn't an expert, but he was fairly sure that having murder-dungeons under your Agency wasn't accepted practice. This was why Jason had liked Gotham. So many abandoned warehouses and apartment blocks for nefarious deeds that you didn't want connected back to you. Foolish, in hindsight, to locate the cells under the Agency. Not that Izuku would be too sad if the MLA got busted for it, but it could definitely be inconvenient – not least because he'd probably end up in handcuffs.
Izuku eyed the handcuffs the officers wore on their belts and decided that he could probably pick the locks, so long as he was left alone for a couple of minutes to do it. That would be one way to end his infiltration, at least.
"Just through here," the lead policeman said, "There's two rooms, so we'll each take on if that's alright. Miss, you come with me."
"Of course," Chitose said. She shot a glance at Izuku, but he just shrugged. It would be fine. Or it wouldn't be fine, and then he'd just make it fine. It would be fine. Chitose and one policeman split away, turning left into a room, and the other policeman turned to Izuku.
"There's nothing to worry about," he said, "Like we said, we're just asking some questions. Once that's done we'll take you back out, and get in contact with your guardians. It's just that time is of the essence when getting first-hand accounts."
Well, it was true that memories faded quickly, but this was still far too eager. The policeman hadn't even given Izuku his name, and Izuku didn't think that was accidental. He kept his chin up, but his eyes flicked around his surroundings, taking it in. Just in case. The policeman put a hand on Izuku's shoulder in a nearly paternal manner. Izuku barely resisted the urge to fling himself to his feet and away, the leftover adrenaline from facing down Shigaraki that was still shuddering through his system making a nearly triumphant return, but he managed to keep his reaction down to a sharp shudder.
"Oh, sorry," the policeman said, letting Izuku go, "I didn't think. You don't like to be touched?"
Not by a potential enemy, no, but Izuku couldn't exactly say that so he restricted himself to a nod.
"This way, then," the policeman said, leading Izuku into the small room. There was a desk and two chairs, and the policeman sank into the furthest one. Izuku wasn't sure if he preferred that: there was an danger to having his back to the door that prickled at his paranoia, but at least it meant the door was close if he needed to escape. He couldn't even say that his paranoia wasn't well earned anymore. He sort of missed the days when it wasn't reasonable.
"Let's start with the basics," the policeman said, pulling a notepad and pen out of his pocket. Well, that was one weapon if Izuku needed it, although it would probably be easier to try and take the man's baton. Izuku's occasional lessons with Yaoyorozu were going fairly well, he could probably beat one man.
"The basics," the policeman repeated, "Your name is Akatani Mikumo, right?"
No recorder either, unless there was a small one hidden somewhere in the mans clothes. This got more suspicious by the moment, but Izuku decided to keep playing along.
"That's right."
"Good, good. And your Quirk? That's not recorded."
There was a second when Izuku wasn't sure what to say. He knew what his faked Quirk was called, but was it widespread knowledge that he didn't have it anymore? He didn't think so, but if this guy wasn't on the up and up, so to speak, he might know anyway. And, more than that, would Akatani have actually admitted that he didn't have it? No, Izuku decided, he wouldn't. Which meant…
"Pain Reduction," he said, deciding to just go with it. He made sure there was reluctance in his voice and the policeman glanced up from his notepad.
"Pain Reduction," he said, "It stops you from feeling pain, right? I'd heard that you got into some trouble that ended up with it not working, but it's back now?"
Every word this man said made Izuku more suspicious. Every single word. Maybe he really was just a well meaning man doing a poor job of expressing himself, because the odds of a secret agent being this blatant were pretty unlikely.
"I – it's not working, now," Izuku said, "But I've been told that it'll come back. The doctors are hopeful, so it's still my quirk."
The sympathy the man showed wasn't feigned. Maybe he was actually genuine?
"You're going to good doctors, then? Ones you can trust?" the policeman asked, "I know some people who'll help out, I can put you in contact with them if you need it. But if you don't, it's not a problem."
Wait. Putting him in contact with other people – was the man being blatant because he didn't think Izuku would get it? Was he actually a competent secret agent, trying to get things across to someone he thought might be too unsubtle to understand? That was a convenient answer, but also a little frightening because it made it so much more likely that he'd realise Izuku wasn't who he said he was. And wow, this double agent thing was getting out of hand. At least if Izuku was ever in danger of being revealed he could probably accuse anyone he saw of being a double agent and have a good chance of being correct.
"I'm okay, thank you," Izuku said, politely, "Could we go on with the interview? My guardians will be worrying."
"Oh! Yes, of course. My apologies."
The man was still scribbling something in his notepad, but now he looked up and cleared his throat.
"You were visiting the Agency with Miss Chitose, correct? Why were you here?"
"Miss Chitose is thinking of giving me an internship on being a journalist," Izuku said, the lie Chitose had come up with in case of a situation just like this coming out smoothly. It was almost as though he'd practiced it. The policeman made a sound of comprehension, nodding.
"Of course. The two of you were here for that purpose? A story?"
"Not a story yet," Izuku said, thinking fast, "Miss Chitose knows Slidin' Go, she said that it's important to know the people you might be working with."
"I suppose you'll find that easy, then, going to school with some upcoming Heroes," the policeman said, "You're in the same year as that Quirkless kid, aren't you?"
"Yes," Izuku said, the words curt and stiff. Unwelcoming. The man seemed to get the hint.
"Right. So you were visiting the Agency. What happened then?"
"Chitose and I had been given a tour," Izuku said, making it up as he went along and hoping that Chitose's story would be close enough to be written off as memory differences, if anyone cared to check, "We were about to leave when there was an explosion. Slidin' Go sent Chitose and I to evacuate along with everyone else, but halfway there the guy with the hands on him and the monsters came through the wall. We all ran, but I was cut off and had to run upstairs."
"Chitose left you?"
"She didn't have a choice," Izuku said, "There were too many of them. Most of them started fighting with the Heroes and sidekicks in the Agency, I think, but one of them followed me. The guy wearing the hands."
"Shigaraki chased you? Why?"
Well, given the way he'd been shouting about Overhaul wanting him alive, Izuku was pretty sure there was a bounty on his head. And then, of course, Shigaraki had recognised him and gone off on that whole tangent about strength which…well, it wasn't as though Shigaraki had been stable to begin with. But he was now unhinged in a new and unwelcome way, and Izuku sort of suspected he might have something to do with that. Izuku hated creating his own villains.
"I don't know why he chased me," Izuku said, "Maybe he thought I'd be easy to kill? We ran through the offices above the stairs, and I managed to lose him and escape out of a window. I just hid, after that. There wasn't anything I could do."
"You did the right thing," the policeman told him. Izuku was a little tired of being told that, but he took it as a sign that his lies had been convincing. The policeman had been writing the whole time, but Izuku wasn't convinced that he'd been taking notes: more and more he suspected that the man wasn't a police officer at all. Unsurprising, perhaps, but the man nodded down at his notebook.
"You did the right thing," he repeated, "Thank you for telling me."
"What, um. What happens now?" Izuku asked. The policeman looked up, smiling.
"Now, Mr Mikumo, I go and make my report. You're free to go, and thank you. Your report will be a great help to us. If you go down and back out, the Heroes will make sure you get home. And, here. I'm sure you know better than I do about how you feel, but in case you need help I've written down some numbers here."
The policeman tore a page out of his notepad with a crisp, sharp movement, passing it over to Izuku. Izuku nodded slowly.
"Thank you, sir," he said. The policeman smiled, but gestured Izuku to the door. Izuku took the hint. It didn't take him long to get back out of the building, but once there he paused and took the note out of his pocket again. He unfolded the note, looking down at it. If you decide you need help, it said at the top, over a list of numbers. Izuku frowned at the first, half-recognising it, and pulled out his phone long enough to look it up. A lawyer, specialising in discrimination. Charming, but not exactly useful for him. Unless you knew that he'd recently become Quirkless. Unless you thought that he might need help to get away from his former friends.
Maybe Akatani Mikumo would end up talking to Humarise after all. Truly, Izuku's bad luck was a spectacular thing.