A police officer, noticing Wade's escape attempt, quickly approached and stood over him. The officer's gun was trained directly at Wade's face, his voice stern and unyielding. "Don't move! If you try anything, I'll shoot!"
Wade, however, remained unfazed. With a look of disdain, he glanced up at the officer. In an instant, a bolt of electricity shot from his tentacles, striking the officer in the chest. The officer collapsed, his life extinguished in a flash.
Wade rose to his feet, brushing himself off with a sneer. "Can't move faster than lightning, pig," he muttered disdainfully.
He then surveyed the scene around him, his gaze landed on the medical personnel attending to Zak and Brock, who were still unconscious. A malicious grin spread across his face, his mind already plotting his next move in the chaos.
Meanwhile, in a graveyard of twisted metal and overturned vehicles, Izuku and the stone giant of the Renegades were engaged in a tense and dangerous dance. Izuku darted between cars, using every bit of agility and tactical acumen at his disposal, while Peter pursued him relentlessly, his frustration manifesting in the form of hurled vehicles aimed in Izuku's direction.
'This guy's too strong. No way I can fight him head on.' He thought while ducking behind a vehicle, narrowly avoiding another car thrown by Peter.
As his eyes darted around for anything he could use, he caught sight of the signpost he'd been using earlier lying close by– its end still dripping with Serena's venom.
Recalling the cracked indent on Peter's chest, an idea sparked in the super-soldier's mind.
"You seem to have a level head, Mister Stonewall." Izuku called out. "Why associate yourself with criminals like the Renegades?"
Peter, halting his advance, rumbled a response. "Society's always seen me as a monster, ever since my Meta-Ability came in…even my own family. I'm just living up to what everyone expects of me."
"It's not too late to choose differently, regardless of what society says. You choose who you want to be."
Peter's reply was laced with cynicism. "Wishful thinking. The real world never accepts those who are different from them."
As Peter approached the car Izuku was presumed to be hiding behind, he found the spot was empty. In that moment of confusion, Izuku emerged from his actual hiding spot and thrust the venom-tipped end of the signpost into the cracked area in Peter's chest.
"AAARGGH!" Peter grunted in agony, his eyes reflecting a mixture of pain and disbelief. With a burst of raw strength, he wrenched the venom-coated signpost from his chest and flung it aside. He then lurched toward Izuku, a menacing figure despite his now waning strength.
Retreating swiftly, Izuku reached for the damaged car door he had used earlier, now lifting it once more as a makeshift shield. Peter's movements grew sluggish, and his imposing form began to sway unsteadily. Moments later, he collapsed, succumbing to the venom's potency.
Izuku, catching his breath, stood over the stone man's fallen form. 'Stonewall neutralized. That's all of–'
Piercing howls of pain echoed from across the parking lot, snapping Izuku out of his thoughts. He recognized the direction of the cries – it was from where he had last seen Wade. Instinctively, Izuku dashed towards the source of the commotion, his grip firm on the blue-starred taxi door.
The situation in Lot 13 had reached a fever pitch.
Flames ravaged several vehicles, casting a haunting orange glow across the area. Firefighters, who had rapidly responded to the emergency, were fervently battling the blaze. They maneuvered through the smoke and heat, directing powerful streams of water at the fiery inferno that crackled and roared around them.
In a stark contrast to the firefighters' life-saving efforts, Wade had seized control of a critical section of the lot. Standing amidst the chaos, his body crackled with ominous blue electrical energy, intimidating the ring of police officers who cautiously surrounded him. In point blank range of his electrical attacks were three medical first responders and the unconscious figures of Brock and Zak, now unwilling pawns in his dangerous game.
One of the first responders, their voice laced with urgency and fear, implored Wade for mercy. "Please, let us get them to the ambulances! They're not going to make it if they don't get help now!"
Wade, however, was impassive to their pleas. "I want a clear path out of here for me and my associates. Do that, and nobody else has to die… maybe." His tone was icy, his demands clear.
Amidst this tense standoff, the female reporter and her cameraman continued their coverage from a safer distance, capturing every moment of the unfolding drama.
Meanwhile, Izuku observed the situation from behind his makeshift shield, crouched behind a vehicle. His analytical gaze swept over the scene – the cautious police, the vulnerable hostages, and the dangerous Wade.
'Damn! I was sure that hit would have kept him unconscious. Still need to work on my strikes…' The soldier was still learning how much strength he should apply to his strikes for them to be effective without being fatal. 'Okay, focus. No way I can try and insulate him with a tire again… So what's my next move?'
Determining a course of action was complex; Wade's electrical powers posed a significant threat, especially with hostages involved and firefighters nearby spraying water.
Wait! Izuku snapped his head to the firefighters, noting their gear. Boots, gloves, and coats that were heavily insulated with leather and rubber.
With a plan in mind, Izuku darted towards the closest fire truck where firefighters were scrambling to uncurl the hose in response to the blaze. As Izuku approached, one firefighter mistook him for a mere civilian and attempted to intervene. "Hey, back off! This area's dangerous! You need to get to–"
"I'm sorry, sir, but I need to borrow your uniform!" Izuku implored, his voice tinged with urgency yet marked by respect. "And when I signal, I need you to use the hose on that meta-human." He gestured to Wade across the lot. "But only on my signal!"
The firefighters, initially taken aback by the request, exchanged skeptical looks. One, in particular, voiced his skepticism. "Why the hell should we listen to you?"
Before Izuku could provide an explanation, the situation rapidly deteriorated. Serena, her face contorted with unbridled rage, charged towards them, intent on destruction. "Kill! Kill! Kill!" she screamed maniacally.
Reacting swiftly, Izuku positioned himself between the firefighters and Serena, using the battered car door as a makeshift shield. The firefighters watched in alarm as Serena's venomous snakehead-arms lashed out, snapping dangerously close.
With a swift movement, Izuku charged forward and slammed it forward, hitting Serena squarely and knocking her off balance. As she stumbled back, he discarded the door and grabbed a nearby fire hose with both hands.
"Turn it on, now!" he commanded, his tone urgent and authoritative.
Understanding Izuku's intention, the firefighters quickly turned on the hose. Serena, determined to fight back, raised her arms and unleashed dual streams of venom. But the firefighters' response was immediate and powerful – a forceful jet of water shot from the hose, overpowering Serena's venom and pushing her back relentlessly.
Struggling against the overwhelming force of the water, Serena's resolve faltered. "Dammit! I'll–f**k?!" she exclaimed before being swept off her feet. She crashed to the ground, her head striking a curb block with a thud, rendering her unconscious.
"Stay down this time." Izuku said.
With the danger averted, the firefighters shut off the hose. Still holding the hose, Izuku breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to them, nodding in gratitude. "Thanks."
The firefighters, now regarding Izuku with a mix of surprise and admiration, quickly acquiesced to his earlier request. One began removing his coat and boots. "Here, you said you needed to borrow my uniform?" he said, handing them over to Izuku.
Another firefighter, remembering the plan, chimed in, "And you mentioned a signal too, right?"
Izuku nodded and gave the firefighters a decisive rundown of his plan.
Across Lot 13, Wade menacingly approached the hostages, with electricity crackling from his tentacle-like appendages. The police, aware of his lethal capabilities, were forced into a reluctant stand-down.
Wade's gaze fixated on Zak, who lay barely breathing on a stretcher, a prime target for his wrath. Aiming his electrified tentacle at the rookie pitcher, Wade barked a threat to the surrounding officers. "Back off, or I'll fry this cheater and fraud first!"
"Please, don't!" One of the responders pleaded. "He's already barely hanging on. If you shock him again, it'll kill him!"
"That won't be a problem if these pigs comply," Wade spat. Despite his outward confidence, internally he was seething with frustration and confusion. 'Where the hell did Serena and Peter go!? Did they really ditch me?' he thought furiously.
"Besides," Wade continued, pausing to glower down at Zak, "as far as I'm concerned, cheaters like this guy deserve death."
As the police tried to negotiate with Wade, hoping to de-escalate the situation, the reporter and her cameraman continued to capture the unfolding drama.
Meanwhile, lying prone on the stretcher, Zak slowly drifted back to consciousness. His mind was foggy, each thought struggling to form through the haze of pain and disorientation. His body ached profoundly, a testament to the physical abuse he had endured at the hands of the Renegades.
As awareness gradually returned, the memories of the night's events began to replay in his mind. The sharp, stinging pain of venom injections, the jolting shocks of electricity, and the relentless physical assault all merged into a nightmarish tapestry.
His eyes fluttered open, squinting against the bright lights and the flickering flames that surrounded him. The sounds of chaos – shouts, the crackling fire, and the distant wail of sirens – filled his ears.
Realizing the gravity of his situation, Zak's heart pounded in his chest. He tried to move, but his body refused to cooperate, wracked with pain and weakness. 'This can't be happening,' he thought, his mind reeling in disbelief and fear. 'This is a nightmare…'
He could faintly see the silhouette of Wade, electricity crackling around him, holding others hostage. The sense of helplessness was overwhelming, the grim reality setting in – he might not make it out alive.
'Someone...please...help me...' Zak teared up, his thoughts were a jumble of fear, regret, and a desperate hope for rescue.
"That's enough!" The sudden shout cut through the tension, drawing all eyes to its source.
Confusion spread among the crowd as they saw a figure clad in a firefighter's jacket, boots, and gloves, contrasted with a star-spangled jersey and an American flag neck gaiter. Only his eyes and short green hair were visible. He stood proudly holding the battered, blue-starred car door as a shield.
"Is that the guy from earlier?" one of the officers muttered, eyeing the newcomer warily.
The reporter, sensing a new twist in the story, nudged her cameraman. "Keep filming, this is getting even more interesting," she whispered.
Izuku stepped forward with a determined look in his eyes, addressing Wade directly. "Let them go, Mister Shockley."
Wade, recognizing Izuku as the one who had earlier immobilized him with a tire, responded with a sneer. "So, you're the tire guy. Playing superhero now, are you?" he mocked.
Unfazed, Izuku replied, "I'm just a man who won't stand by while evil triumphs."
Wade's smirk widened. "Oh, a wannabe hero, huh? You think you can take me down?"
Izuku met his gaze squarely. "I've already handled you once, and your friends aren't a threat anymore."
This revelation stunned Wade, his blue eyes widening in disbelief. The surrounding police, the hostages, and the media crew capturing the event shared his shock.
Izuku pressed on. "Stand down, Mister Shockley. No more need for violence."
Wade's face contorted with rage, and the electricity around his tentacles surged with greater intensity. "Someone always has to get hurt. Let's start with you!" he bellowed, unleashing a torrent of electricity towards Izuku.
To everyone's astonishment, the electrical attack seemed to have no effect on Izuku, who remained steadfast behind his shield. "Huh?!" Wade gasped, confusion etching his features. 'That should've been enough to take him down!'
Peering from behind his shield, Izuku explained, "This uniform is insulated. Your electricity can't touch me."
However, Wade's keen eyes noticed something – the soles of Izuku's boots were partially melted, revealing a vulnerability. A sly, malicious grin spread across Wade's face. "Insulated? Not enough apparently!" he taunted, sensing an opportunity to turn the tables.
Wade surged forward, narrowing the gap between them, and released more electricity. Izuku maintained a defensive stance as he continued backtracking despite the lightning striking his shield. Nonetheless, Izuku noted that his gloves and boots were starting to partially melt under the barrage of electricity.
'This won't hold out long! Just need to get him further away.' Izuku thought, determined.
Seizing the moment of distraction, the police officers sprang into action. They quickly moved in to shield the hostages, providing cover as the first responders hurriedly resumed their task of getting Zak and Brock to the nearby ambulances. The urgency was palpable, each movement a race against time.
"Running away?!" Wade, his frustration boiling over, shouted vehemently as he advanced. "I can't stand wannabe heroes like you, all talk and no action!"
Izuku, still backtracking under the relentless barrage, saw his opportunity. "Now!" he yelled, his voice cutting through the chaos.
Wade paused, momentarily confused by Izuku's shout. His confusion turned to shock as, out of the corner of his eye, noticed the firefighters redirecting their hoses towards him. The meta-human had no time to dodge as powerful jets of water hit him with full force, the unexpected deluge short-circuiting his electrical abilities.
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" Wade bellowed out in agony.
Electric sparks flew wildly from his body as the water engulfed him, his powers turning against him in a dramatic display. Wade's body convulsed under the torrent before he finally collapsed to the ground, rendered unconscious by the very element that had amplified his threat.
The firefighters quickly shut off the hose, and silence fell over the scene.
"T-Tell me you got all that…?" The female reporter uttered in astonishment.
"Yeah… All of it." The cameraman nodded, equally shocked.
Izuku lowered the car door before dropping it to the ground, his breathing heavy but steady. He looked around at the subdued chaos – the hostages safe, the Renegades defeated, and the immediate danger averted.
"Mission: complete." Izuku uttered.
Relief immediately washed over him, mixed with the fatigue from the intense ordeal.
LA Police Station No.9
In the sterile, dimly lit interrogation room of one of Los Angeles's Police Stations, Izuku sat across from an investigator. He still adorned the baseball jersey and neck gaiter he had exchanged from a fan, albeit it now sported plenty of new tears from the battle.
The air was thick with tension as the investigator probed into the night's events at Lot 13, seeking to understand why Izuku had intervened.
Izuku's responses were brief and to the point, revealing nothing that could compromise his identity. "I'm sorry, sir. I know you're just doing your job, but I'm under orders not to disclose my identity," he stated firmly.
"A military man, huh? What branch?" the investigator pressed, trying to piece together the puzzle.
"That's classified," Izuku replied, his expression unyielding.
The interrogator was getting frustrated. "Look! We need answers. Who do I need to call for–"
The interrogation was interrupted as several people in suits stepped into the room. Senator Brandt was among them, his presence immediately altering the dynamics of the room.
Senator Brandt addressed the investigator. "This individual is free to leave," he stated authoritatively, careful not to mention Izuku by name.
Later, as Izuku and Senator Brandt walked out of the police station, Brandt spoke dryly. "Colonel Phillips won't be happy about this. You know that, right?"
Izuku remained silent, mentally preparing himself for any repercussions that might follow his actions.
Brandt, glancing at Izuku, added, "Despite breaking protocol, what you did out there... I'm proud of you, son."
Izuku, finally breaking his silence, inquired about the wellbeing of those involved in the incident. "Is everyone okay? What about the Renegades?"
Brandt sighed; the weight of the news evident in his tone. "We lost some officers, and over a dozen more are critically injured. The bystanders were relatively unharmed, thankfully. Those meta criminals are being detained…with specialized restraints."
"I see." Hearing all of this, a shadow of grief crossed Izuku's face. "What about the Dodgers pitcher, Zak Powers? He was on the scene too."
"Powers is in the ICU at McCoy General. He's fortunate to be alive from what I've been told."
He hesitated for a moment before continuing, "Sir, I understand the circumstances are complicated, but may I ask a favor?"
Brandt responded, "You saved my life before, son. And after what you've done tonight... I'll do whatever I can. What do you need?"
McCoy General Hospital
In a quiet, sterile room of the ICU, Zak Powers lay in a hospital bed, his body a patchwork of bandages, with his left arm and right leg encased in casts. The room was dimly lit, the only significant light coming from the television playing in the background. Outside, armed guards were standing watch in case anyone else made an attempt on Zak's life.
Zak's consciousness slowly surfaced through a haze of painkillers, each breath bringing a dull reminder of his ordeal. He felt weak, his body heavy and unresponsive, the aftermath of the venom and physical trauma he had endured.
As he blinked his eyes open, the television caught his attention, which was playing breaking news from a local station.
"Breaking news from Dodgers Stadium tonight, where chaos erupted after Game 7's climactic finish. In a shocking turn of events, the infamous LA Renegades launched a violent assault on the New York Yankees team buses, endangering players, staff, and bystanders alike. Amidst this turmoil, a mysterious figure emerged, now hailed as 'The Star-Spangled Man.' This unknown hero bravely stepped into the fray, potentially averting a catastrophic outcome."
The footage showed the man in a firefighter uniform over a Team USA baseball jersey, his identity concealed, standing resolutely against Wade Shockley. He wielded a battered white car door with a blue star, an impromptu shield in the face of danger.
The reporter continued, "Witnesses at the scene report that the Star-Spangled Man, donned in a mishmash of firefighting gear and Team USA baseball garb, courageously confronted the feared meta-human faction. With valor as his only weapon, this enigmatic man succeeded in overcoming the Renegades. The footage currently on your screens captures the moment he led Wade Shockley, a well-known member of the renegade group, away from innocent hostages. In a remarkable maneuver, firefighters then intervened, dousing Shockley with water, effectively neutralizing his dangerous abilities."
Zak watched in disbelief. 'Seriously? Some random guy took on those three bastards? Who the hell is he?' he wondered, his mind racing with questions.
His train of thought was interrupted as the door to his room creaked open. A soldier stepped in, clad in an army camouflage uniform, with a black face mask covering the lower half of his face and a cap concealing his hair.
"Mister Powers? May I come in?" the soldier asked, his voice measured and calm.
Zak, still processing the influx of information and his own situation, responded with a hint of confusion. "Sure. I...guess..." he said, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
The soldier entered the room, softly shutting the door behind him and approached Zak's bedside. In the background, the television continued its coverage of the enigmatic hero's actions at Dodger Stadium.
The soldier, his voice tinged with concern, asked, "How are you feeling?"
Zak, lying weakly in the hospital bed, responded wearily, "...Like trash."
The soldier nodded empathetically. "You've sustained multiple fractures in your left arm and right leg, which is relatively fortunate, given that Stonewall was the one manhandling you. Puncture wounds in your right thigh; thankfully, the venom Serena Viper injected you with wasn't lethal, but the electrical assaults from Wade Shockley have left significant scarring on your chest and shoulders."
Zak's gaze fell upon his bandaged body, then shifted suspiciously to the soldier. "Isn't the doctor supposed to give me my diagnosis? Who are you?"
The soldier hesitated, realizing his oversight. "Ah, you were unconscious when I last saw you, and I was in a different outfit." He cast a brief glance at the television, where the news was still highlighting the defeat of the Renegades and the deeds of the Star-Spangled Man.
Following the soldier's gaze, Zak's eyes flickered between the television and the figure before him. The realization dawned quickly.
His hazel eyes widened in shock and recognition. "Hold on… You're that guy, aren't you? The one they're talking about on the news?"
Izuku, maintaining his disguised appearance, wordlessly nodded.
"The conclusion of the Fall Classic was marred by tragedy as a night of celebration turned into a harrowing ordeal. In a brutal attack by the Renegades, nine LAPD officers tragically lost their lives, and over thirteen others sustained critical injuries." The broadcast shifted to display the profiles of the nine fallen officers. "Adding to the night's sorrow, Brock Armstrong, the promising rookie of the New York Yankees, was also a victim of the attack. Speculations suggest that the revelation of Armstrong being a meta-human might have triggered the Renegades' targeted assault on the Yankees' team bus."
As the television broadcast continued, painting a grim picture of the night's events, Zak Powers' expression turned somber. He was acutely aware of the weight of the tragedy, and a heavy realization slowly crept over him.
"It's my fault…" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
Izuku looked at Zak with a mix of curiosity and concern. "Why would you think that?" he asked gently.
Zak's eyes, filled with a deep, haunting guilt, met the soldier's. "If I hadn't let my pride take over... If I had just thrown a breaking ball at Armstrong, maybe the Dodgers could've won. Our identities as meta-humans would've stayed secret. The Renegades... they wouldn't have had a reason to attack."
Izuku listened in silence, his expression carefully neutral despite being taken aback by Zak's self-blame.
Zak's voice trembled with emotion. "Because of me, Armstrong and those officers are dead. I should've... I should've died in that parking lot."
Izuku's demeanor shifted at Zak's words. "Don't talk like that," he said firmly, a note of reprimand in his tone.
Zak's frustration and despair poured out. "Why not?! Even if I recover, my career's finished. I'm the biggest cheater in sports history. And even beyond that, my life... it's going to be a living hell, hounded by people who'll never let me forget. I might as well be dead!"
Izuku leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "Listen to me, Mister Pow—Zak. Your life is worth more than your career or what others think of you. You made mistakes, yes, but that doesn't define your entire life. You have the power to change, to make things right in different ways."
Zak looked away, his emotions a tumultuous mix of regret, anger, and helplessness. The soldier's words seemed distant, almost unreal, as he grappled with the enormity of the situation and his role in it.
Izuku continued, "Surviving tonight... it's a chance. A chance to redefine who you are, to rise above your past actions. Don't waste it wishing for death."
The room fell silent, save for the low hum of the hospital equipment and the distant murmur of the television.
After what seemed like hours, Zak turned back to the soldier. "Why are you here? To give me a pep talk?"
His identity still veiled, Izuku responded, "I'm here to offer you another chance."
Reaching into his camouflage jacket, he pulled out a manila folder and handed it to Zak. "Your baseball career may be over, but there's another door open for you. One that can not only redefine your future but also help reshape the perception of meta-humans."
Zak, his expression a mix of confusion and intrigue, accepted the folder. "Why are you helping me?" he asked, looking up at the mysterious soldier.
The soldier replied with conviction, "Because I believe everyone deserves a second chance. Without that, what incentive is there to change?"
Zak's gaze lingered on the soldier, a sense of familiarity creeping in. "You remind me of someone..." he mused aloud.
The soldier tensed slightly, wondering if Zak was on the verge of recognizing him. "Yeah?"
Zak nodded. "You look like him in the face. That's about it though. You're a helluva lot bigger than he was." He momentarily paused; his expression tinged with regret. "Do I even deserve a second chance?"
"I believe you do." Izuku, still concealed behind his mask, responded gently, "and I'm sure that kid would say yes too."
Zak's eyes held a flicker of hope as he nodded in gratitude. "Thanks... I'll look at this later... when I'm not under the influence of these meds."
Izuku nodded in understanding, offering Zak a parting wish for his wellbeing. As he exited the room, he left Zak alone with his thoughts and the mysterious folder.
'Why'd he call me by my first name? Aren't military people supposed to address people with their last names?' Zak pondered. 'He talks like we know each other or something…'
Alone now, Zak turned his attention to the folder. On its cover was the emblem of the SSR, an insignia he didn't recognize. "What the hell is the SSR?" he wondered aloud; his curiosity piqued amidst the haze of his medication.
Yuma Proving Ground, AZ - February 2043
Soaring high above Arizona's Yuma Proving Ground, a military aircraft sliced through the azure sky. Inside, Izuku Midoriya, garbed in his parachute gear, awaited his turn with focused eyes and controlled breathing. This day marked the pinnacle of his Pararescue training, the final chapter in his comprehensive All-Special Forces Training Program.
As each soldier before him strode to the hatch and disappeared into the sky, Izuku stood watch. The idea of skydiving, once a distant, unthinkable notion, had now become a reality, reshaping him through his extensive training and experiences.
Drawing in a deep breath, Izuku relished the crisp, high-altitude air mixed with the mechanical hum of the aircraft's engines. It was a distinct sensation, teetering on the edge of a world so far removed from the ground. Upon receiving the jump signal, he advanced toward the hatch, embodying the confidence he had cultivated throughout his transformative journey.
Decisively, Izuku stepped into the open air, leaving the plane's roar behind as he plunged into the quiet rush of freefall from 30,000 feet (9144 meters). Below him, the Earth sprawled out in a vibrant mosaic of colors and contours, a breathtaking view from this lofty vantage point. The wind howled past, buffeting his body as he descended at exhilarating speed.
In the midst of the descent, Izuku found a profound sense of liberation. His body stabilized in a controlled skydive, feeling akin to a bird gliding through the sky, with every sense sharpened and every moment crystallized.
As he neared the ground, the desert's rugged landscape grew clearer. Checking his altimeter, Izuku timed his parachute deployment with precision, the act a harmonious blend of skill and trust in his training and equipment. Skillfully, he steered towards the designated landing zone, each maneuver reflecting his evolution from a trainee to a proficient paratrooper.
Touching down, Izuku managed a smooth landing, his boots kissing the earth as he pushed forward to maintain balance. A deep, satisfied sigh escaped him. 'Despite all of the training, it's still incredibly thrilling,' he thought.
Unhooking from his parachute, Izuku's mind raced through the myriad of training he had endured over the past nine months. From the grueling Navy SEALs sessions to the Coast Guard's DSF, the strategic Marine Raiders, the resilient Army Rangers, the aviation-focused Night Stalkers, and the versatile Green Berets, culminating with the Air Force Pararescuemen. Each phase had honed him, enhancing his abilities and strengthening his resolve.
Izuku was prepared, mentally and physically, for the next phase of his journey. He was ready to join the frontline in Japan, to stand with his friends and comrades in the ongoing war effort.
'I'm ready. I'll see you all soon,' he thought, his determination unwavering as he gazed into the distance.
"Specialist Midoriya!"
Izuku snapped to attention as Staff Sergeant Ted Grey walked briskly towards him.
"Relax, Specialist," Grey commanded.
Izuku eased his stance, awaiting further instructions. Grey's expression was serious, but there was a hint of something else – anticipation, perhaps.
"I've just got word from Senator Brandt," Grey began. "He's requested to meet with you personally at his residence. We're set to depart for Los Angeles at 15:00. Make sure you're packed and ready."
Izuku, slightly puzzled, acknowledged the order. "Understood, sir. May I ask, though," he hesitated, choosing his words carefully, "about my deployment to Japan with the SSR? Now that my training is complete, will I be joining the effort there?"
Staff Sergeant Grey gave a non-committal shrug. "That's not my call, Specialist. My guess is that's exactly what Senator Brandt wants to discuss with you. Be prepared for anything."
Izuku nodded, his mind already racing with possibilities as he processed this unexpected development.
On the sprawling balcony of Senator Brandt's Los Angeles residence, Izuku stood in his immaculate US Army Service Uniform, adorned with the specialist rank patch and badges representing the elite special forces he had trained with. The air was filled with the gentle hum of the city, and the distant lights twinkled like stars fallen to earth.
Senator Brandt and Izuku stood on the balcony, the vast Los Angeles cityscape stretching out beneath them.
"It's been quite a journey since the World Series chaos," Brandt began, breaking the silence. "How have you been coping with the aftermath and your training?"
Izuku nodded, reflecting on the past four months. "It's been intense, sir. Each day presented all sorts of new challenges… But I believe those experiences have sharpened my skills and prepared me for what's ahead."
Brandt's gaze lingered on the city. "It's a relief to hear you've been forging ahead. The situation here, however, has been less straightforward. The meta-human crisis has been escalating, stirring public unrest and fear."
Izuku turned to face Brandt, his expression one of concern. "I don't have much time to stay in touch with the news, but I do know the tension between the public and meta-humans has been growing; especially after Game 7."
"Exactly," Brandt replied, his tone grave. "And that's where the heart of our problem lies. There's a lack of understanding and trust. People are scared, and the incidents are only fueling that fear. There are groups of people demanding that all meta-humans be segregated from the public, stripped of rights, and some of the extremists are advocating for them to be killed."
Izuku absorbed Brandt's words, the gravity of the situation becoming increasingly apparent. "That's horrible," he said solemnly. "Segregation or genocide? Those are paths that lead to more conflict, not resolution."
Brandt nodded; his face etched with the weight of his responsibilities. "It's a complex issue. On one hand, there are legitimate concerns about safety with meta-humans living amongst regular people, but on the other, we're facing the risk of violating fundamental human rights and freedoms. Either way, it isn't good."
"There must be a way to bridge this divide," Izuku suggested, his mind recalling all of his past historical studies while searching for potential solutions. "Fear often comes from misunderstanding. Maybe what's needed is a way to foster dialogue and empathy."
"That's a perceptive observation, Specialist Midoriya," Brandt said, turning to face him. "You see, that's where you come in."
"Me?" Izuku looked at him, bemused.
Seizing the moment, Brandt pulled out a tablet and handed it to Izuku, who watched attentively as a series of clips and interviews unfolded, each shedding light on the public perception of the "Star-Spangled Man."
"The Star-Spangled Man has become a hot topic overnight. Is he a hero stepping up in times of crisis, or just another vigilante taking the law into his own hands?" One media personality asked.
Another media personality questioned, "There's speculation he might be a meta-human. If so, does that change how we should view his actions? Is he the bridge between us and the meta-human community?"
A middle-aged woman, her eyes filled with gratitude, spoke up. "That night at Dodger Stadium, he saved lives. My family could have been caught in that chaos. To me, he's nothing short of a hero."
A stout middle-aged man, adorning Dodgers gear, excitedly claimed, "Yeah, I saw him! I traded my Team USA gear with the guy in exchange for his military jacket. There wasn't a name on it, but the guy's definitely a soldier, I tell yah!"
The next person was masked in anonymity, their figure shadowed, and voice altered. "It's heartening, you know? Seeing someone, meta-human or not, being praised for doing good. It gives me hope in these troubled times."
A young man standing on the street commented, "He's like a comic book hero come to life, man. Seeing someone stand up against those Renegade (BLEEP) was (BLEEP) awesome! Makes you think we can all do something to help."
Another anonymous figure added, "Star-Spangled Man seems to be changing the narrative. Maybe now people can start seeing us as individuals, not as threats."
A third media personality with a stern expression countered,"But let's not jump to conclusions. While his actions were commendable, operating outside the law sets a dangerous precedent. We need more information before we can label him a hero."
An elderly gentleman appeared with a smile. "In my years, I've seen a lot. But this? It gives me hope. Hope that maybe we can find a way to live together, meta-humans and regular folks alike. I dunno…" he shrugged. "Maybe it's a pipe dream, but people can dream. Can't they?"
As the montage concluded, Izuku looked up, visibly surprised by the impact of his actions. "I–I had no idea it had reached this extent," he admitted.
Brandt sighed. "I hoped the buzz would die down, but it's only grown. Your actions during the Renegades incident have painted a different narrative – a meta-human, or someone perceived as one, acting selflessly to protect others. It's a powerful image, one that contradicts the prevailing fear."
Izuku's brows furrowed in thought. "I was just doing what I felt was right, sir. I never intended to become a... talking point."
"And yet, you've become a symbol of hope for many," Brandt continued. "The public is curious about the Star-Spangled Man. They want to know who he is, see more of him in action."
Izuku, wary, asked directly, "What are you proposing, sir?"
Brandt's eyes twinkled with a hint of ambition. "I want you to become a hero of the people, Izuku."
Confusion crossed Izuku's face. "Aren't I already doing that with all my military training?"
"Yes, your military skills are invaluable," Brandt conceded. "But what we need now is a symbol. Someone the public can rally behind, a figure of hope."
Izuku furrowed his brow, concern evident in his tone. "A symbol? But what about my deployment to Japan? There's a war going on there that needs attention."
Brandt paused, weighing his words carefully. "The war is important, but so is the home front. We need someone to bridge the gap between the public and the meta-humans, to ease tensions and inspire. You can be that bridge, Izuku."
Izuku stood silently, processing the weight of the senator's words. The role proposed was far from anything he had envisioned, yet he'd agree that the need for such a figure in these tumultuous times was undeniable.
"It's a role I hadn't envisioned for myself…" As Izuku contemplated the idea, he'd admit that it resonated with him, aligning with his own values and the sense of duty that had driven him throughout his training. "...but if it can help prevent any further violence, then it is something I'd be willing to consider."
Senator Brandt extended his hand towards Izuku, his expression a blend of seriousness and a hint of satisfaction. "In that case, congratulations, Specialist Midoriya," he said firmly as their hands clasped in a firm handshake. "You're going to be promoted."
Izuku, taken aback, returned the handshake but his face mirrored his confusion. "Promoted?"
Los Angeles, CA – March 2043
Backstage of a large auditorium, amidst the bustle of last-minute preparations, Izuku stood in front of a full-length mirror, hesitantly adjusting the costume he was supposed to wear. The fabric felt foreign against his skin, a stark contrast to his usual military attire. He stared at his reflection, a mix of doubt and resolve in his eyes.
"I...don't know if I can do this," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
One of Senator Brandt's secretaries, a well-dressed woman in her mid-thirties, approached him, her expression one of encouragement. "You'll do just fine, Captain Midoriya. Remember, you've skydived on several occasions. Speaking in front of a crowd shouldn't be a big deal compared to that."
Izuku gave a small, unconvinced smile. 'Skydiving and public speaking are two very different kinds of fears,' he thought to himself.
The secretary continued, adjusting a crease in his spandex. "This first public showing is crucial. It sets the standard moving forward and builds on the existing momentum of the 'Star-Spangled Man.' You've already made quite an impression."
Izuku sighed softly. "When I said I wanted to make a difference, this wasn't exactly how I imagined it."
The secretary nodded sympathetically. "I understand your reservations but consider this: Senator Brandt has a lot of influence on Capitol Hill. If you play your part well, you'll be leading your own platoon before you know it."
Izuku frowned. He wasn't looking to lead a platoon. He just wanted to fight alongside his comrades.
His gaze then fell on the blonde wig laid out for him. "And what's with the blonde wig?" he asked, his tone laced with a hint of exasperation.
The secretary shrugged casually. "It matches the outfit better. Plus, with the helmet, it's not like anyone will recognize you."
Izuku frowned slightly, reaching for the wig. 'In other words, it covers up my Japanese heritage,' he thought, a tinge of frustration evident in his expression.
"It also gives you a more cinematic look, you know?" the secretary added with a light-hearted tone, attempting to ease the tension.
Izuku reluctantly donned the wig, adjusting it to fit snugly before putting a helmet on over it.
With a deep breath, he picked up the last item to complete the ensemble, slipping his left arm through the shield's leather straps.
Izuku looked at himself in the mirror again, barely recognizing the person staring back at him.
The secretary gave him an encouraging nod. "It's time, Captain. Remember, you're not just representing yourself out there, but an ideal. An ideal of unity and hope."
Izuku nodded, steeling himself for the task ahead. 'You can do this. Just picture everyone in their underwear… No, that's just weird! Who came up with that anyway?'
Shaking his head, Izuku made his way to the stage, the weight of the steel shield on his arm felt heavier than usual, symbolic of the new role he was about to embrace.
Under the bright lights of a grand stage, set in a large auditorium filled with an eager and bustling crowd, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation. Banners adorned the walls, and the air was thick with excitement.
Senator Brandt stood confidently at the podium, his gaze sweeping across the eager crowd gathered in the auditorium. The anticipation in the air was palpable as he prepared to make the much-awaited introduction.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice resonating with authority and a hint of excitement. "Tonight, we gather here to witness a momentous occasion, a turning point in our nation's history. Just a few months ago, the city of Los Angeles and indeed our entire nation was rocked by the events that unfolded at Dodgers Stadium. In the face of fear and chaos, when the notorious Renegades threatened the lives of countless innocents, one individual stood up against the tide of terror."
He paused, letting his words sink in, as the audience listened with rapt attention.
"This individual, known only as the Star-Spangled Man, stepped into harm's way, not for glory or recognition, but because it was the right thing to do. He stood up against the Renegades, protecting our citizens and upholding the values we hold dear. His bravery and selflessness have become a beacon of hope in these challenging times."
The crowd murmured in agreement, many recalling the heroic actions that had been broadcasted in the news.
"And just as soon as he arrived on the scene, he disappeared without a trace. Leaving us all to speculate as to who he is and what his intentions are." A small smirk crossed the senator's face as he continued, "until tonight, that is."
This piqued the crowd's curiosity as they began to talk amongst themselves.
"It is my profound honor to introduce to you a figure who embodies the very essence of American courage and integrity. A symbol of unity and resilience, standing tall in the face of adversity. Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to the Star-Spangled Man himself, the one and only Captain America!"
As the curtains parted, a beam of spotlight cut through the dimmed auditorium, revealing the figure now stepping onto the stage.
Clad in a suit that was a blend of heroism and theatrical flair. His attire was a spandex ensemble, primarily in blue, with a striking white star emblazoned on the chest. The suit's midsection boasted red and white vertical stripes, reminiscent of the American flag. His sleeves, adorned with white stripes near the cuffs, flowed into red gloves extending halfway up his forearms, adding a vivid contrast to the ensemble.
His trousers, in the same vibrant blue as the top, were neatly tucked into tall, red leather boots. A utility belt, more for show than practicality, circled his waist, equipped with several pouches. The blue helmet he wore was marked by a bold white 'A' at the forefront, flanked by wing designs on either side.
But what truly completed the outfit was the iconic shield. A triangular heater shield, it was strapped to his left forearm, its design a patriotic canvas of a blue band with three white stars aligned horizontally, underlined by bold red and white stripes stretching vertically.
As Izuku made his grand entrance into the spotlight, the PA system came alive with a rousing anthem, its lyrics echoing through the auditorium.
" ~Who's strong and brave, here to save the American way?~"
" ~Who vows to fight like a man for what's right, night and day?~"
" ~Who will campaign for peace door-to-door in America?~"
" ~Carry the flag to unite all shore-to-shore in America~"
" ~From Hoboken to Spokane~"
" ~The Star-Spangled Man With a Plan!~"
The crowd's reaction was overwhelmingly positive, a surge of energy and enthusiasm filling the room. Their cheers and applause cascaded like waves, embracing this new beacon of hope and valor.
Despite the suit's theatricality and the song's nostalgic, old-fashioned tone, there was a palpable sense of relief and joy in the air. It was as if, in these dark and dreary times, the appearance of a classic superhero-like character provided a much-needed glimmer of optimism in a world grappling with uncertainty and fear.
Izuku's posture was slightly tense, betraying his nervousness. While the rest of the song played on low in the background, he approached the microphone, pausing for a moment to gather his thoughts.
"Thank you," he began, his voice slightly shaky. "I…I only have two fears. The first is being incapable of helping those in need due to my own weaknesses, and the second… is public speaking."
The audience chuckled, the icebreaker lightening the mood and making Izuku smile, feeling slightly more at ease.
"As Captain America, I stand before you not as a superhero from the pages of a comic book, nor some symbol of nationalism….but as someone who believes in the power of unity and understanding," Izuku continued, his voice gaining strength. "We are at a crucial juncture in our society, where fear and misunderstanding threaten to divide us. But it doesn't have to be this way."
He paused, looking out at the diverse faces in the crowd. "Meta-humans and humans have more in common than we have differences. We share the same dreams, hopes, and desire to live in a world where we can coexist peacefully."
Izuku's initial apprehension gave way to a growing confidence, his words flowing more naturally.
"This suit, this shield, they're just symbols. But the real strength lies in each of us – in our actions, our choices to stand up for what's right, to support and understand each other."
As Izuku concluded his speech, the nervousness that had initially gripped him had all but vanished, replaced by a sense of purpose and determination. "Let us all strive to be heroes in our own right, to be brave enough to stand for what's right, and to be the change we wish to see in the world."
As he stepped back, the auditorium erupted in applause, the sound echoing through the hall. Cameras flashed, capturing this historic moment. Izuku, standing tall and resolute in his Captain America persona, had ignited a spark of hope and inspiration, marking the beginning of a new era in the narrative of meta-humans and society.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's the last one for 2023!
I do apologize for this chapter's delay. Work and holidays have delayed me, and I also devoted some time to my other story.
After how the last chapter ended with the conclusion of the All-Star Games and Izuku's acceptance of One For All, I realize the events of this chapter of Izuku's story may not be as exciting…but they are important for what's to come.
For those wondering how Izuku could complete all of his training in nine months, this is where his enhanced brain and his ability to process information much faster and more efficiently comes into play.
Since Izuku is physically beyond human peak condition, it wouldn't be profitable for him to just undergo physical-based training. Izuku mostly underwent a lot of practical and combat-oriented training that involved learning skills and tactics from the special forces groups mentioned in the chapter.
So, the next chapter will pick up with the events in the Present (2197) Era and the start of the Internship/Stain arc. My goal is to have that written in like 2-3 chapters at most as I don't want to bog things down.
Note, I do have a link on my profile page featuring Izuku wearing the USO-inspired uniform. If you're curious, be sure to check it out.
Please leave any comments and critique in the review box below. Thank you for the support as always!
Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy New Year!
Salem Center, NY – April 2197
In the subdued ambiance of a low-key bar, a rugged man with a rough exterior sat alone at the counter. His features were striking - thick, dark hair with streaks of gray, a stern jawline adorned with a heavy beard, and piercing eyes that seemed to hold countless untold stories.
He took slow, contemplative sips of his whiskey, finding solace in the quiet hum of the bar, a stark contrast to his daytime role as a teacher.
'Who would've thunk it? Me, teaching,' he thought with a touch of irony. 'Life's full of surprises.'
His attention, initially lost in thought, drifted to the television mounted in the corner. The vibrant colors and dynamic action of UA's All-Star Games flickered across the screen, accompanied by English subtitles. He spared it only a brief glance, his fluency in Japanese making the subtitles unnecessary.
'Right… Forgot UA's All-Star Games were the other day.' Uninterested, the man glanced away.
The television's display of youthful heroics and intense competition was just background noise to him, until a name broke through the ambient sounds of the bar, seizing his attention.
"Midoriya Izuku."
The name struck a chord, pausing his hand mid-sip. Intrigued, he focused on the screen. It showed a young hero, Midoriya, engaging in heated battles with opponents named Bakugo and Todoroki in a large tournament style ring. His expression, typically stoic, shifted subtly, a flicker of recognition, or perhaps confusion, passing across his face.
"It can't be..." he whispered to himself, a wave of realization beginning to crest in his mind. Memories, long dormant, began to stir, brushing against the fringes of his consciousness.
Finishing his drink in one decisive gulp, he placed a few bills on the counter and stood up. Without a backward glance, he exited the bar, a whirl of thoughts enveloping him.
Outside, he retrieved his phone from his jacket and made a call. "Hey, Professor. I need some time off. Yeah, something came up... related to my past. I appreciate it. Also, tell those brats if they misbehave while I'm away, they'll have to answer to me."
With the call concluded, he stowed his phone and approached his motorcycle. 'Japan… Why does it always have to be Japan?' He mused dryly.
Mounting the bike, he revved the engine, the sound echoing in the quiet street. As he rode away into the fading light, his mind was awash with the implications of what he had just seen.