(sorry I didn't post new chapters for the Multiverse one this month but I am busy. I am In a role with my novel currently the best work I have done so far in the planning face hopefully soon enough I will be able to release it)
The scene then cut to the present. The squad was walking along the beach, sand crunching under their boots, until the sudden echo of an explosion shook the air—remnants of the chaotic fight from the first team. Bloodsport instantly snapped to attention, pulling out a piece of metal that shifted and unfolded in his hands, transforming into a sleek weapon.
Several of the students leaned forward in surprise, their eyes widening.
"Some kind of quirk?" Medaria muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. He tilted his head, trying to puzzle it out.
"I don't know," Melissa responded softly, squinting at the screen. "It looks more like technology to me…"
Melissa's hand shot up politely. "Excuse me, Mr. Seven," she asked, her voice carrying a note of genuine curiosity, "what year does this time period take place in?"
Seven paused, his gaze flicking toward her. "It's around the time where quirks started appearing for the first time."
The room buzzed with whispers.
"Wait—does that mean…?" Kaminari leaned forward, startled.
"No," Seven cut in firmly, "this isn't the start of superpowers for them. It happened much earlier. How long ago… you'll find out later. Just focus back on the movie."
And they did.
Onscreen, Bloodsport asked about the situation, his voice tense. The calm voice over comms reassured him that it was an extraction mission. Bloodsport gave a sharp nod, then motioned for his team to move through the woods to reach their destination.
Peacemaker raised an eyebrow. "Is there a blockade?"
"There is," Bloodsport confirmed.
"Then how do we get in? Especially with King Shark with us?" Peacemaker pressed.
"That's true," Battle Fist muttered from his seat, half to himself. "What's his mutant quirk? King would stand out, making the squad easy to spot."
"That's only assuming Blackguard told the new government about Team Two," Phantom Thief countered. He crossed his arms, thinking aloud. "And even if he did, it's not a guarantee that he knows the members of the second team."
"I don't think they know about the fact there's two teams," Medaria interrupted, shaking his head.
Onscreen, Bloodsport's startled reaction to the distant explosions proved the point. Waller even had to explain it was a distraction, making it clear that he wasn't aware of the other squad at all.
Ida adjusted her glasses, speaking with cool logic. "That makes it safe to assume the two teams don't know about each other."
Those listening nearby nodded along, finding her reasoning sound.
"Wait—if they don't know about each other," Kaminari blurted suddenly, "then why did Peacemaker worry about King Shark?" His question left several of the students frowning in confusion.
"Actually, it's very simple," Gang Orca's deep voice rumbled from the side.
Everyone turned as he straightened, arms crossed. "Heroes with mutant-type quirks are easily recognizable to the average person. Depending on how drastic your mutation is, the more you stand out. And if you are famous enough then That applies even outside your own country."
He tapped a finger against his arm. "Once, I visited a friend in London. A citizen—someone who didn't even know my name or what country I came from—still recognized me instantly just from my appearance." He gave a small, almost sheepish cough. "Sorry. I got a little carried away."
Some of his fellow heroes chuckled.
"But what I was trying to say," Gang Orca continued, "is that the same applies to villains. Peacemaker must be concerned because King Shark might be famous enough for people outside of his country to recognize him."
The explanation clicked, and the students nodded along, understanding the situation more clearly now. Their gazes shifted back toward the screen.
Among them, Spinner had overheard the conversation. A tight knot of concern twisted in his stomach. His disguise when going out in public wasn't very good, and the thought that people could spot him instantly—without needing a name or reputation—gnawed at him.
Before he could dwell on it further, complaints rose in the room. The screen had frozen, halting the movie. Spinner stiffened, guilt prickling across his face. He immediately knew it was his fault for not paying attention the screen freezes if not everyone is paying attention he quickly pay detention back not letting his teammates know it was him who was paying attention
Back on the screen, the squad trudged into the woods, weapons low but eyes alert. Bloodsport's voice broke the silence.
"I don't know."
Peacemaker immediately jabbed back, puffing his chest out. "You're the leader, right? Aren't you supposed to know what to do?"
Bloodsport shot him a glare, his voice sharp with venom. "Eat a bag of dicks."
Without missing a beat, Peacemaker grinned and declared, "If this whole beach were covered in dicks, and someone told me I had to eat every single one of them for liberty? I'd say, 'no problem.'"
The absurd confidence in his tone hung in the air. In the audience, several students blinked in confusion, while a few others looked downright disgusted. Ashido gagged a little under her breath, while Jirou gave him a deadpan stare as if trying to process whether he was serious or just insane.
"You know," Kirishima muttered, raising a hand hesitantly, "that actually brings me to something I've been wondering. Why's he called Peacemaker?"
That question made the entire class fall quiet. They hadn't considered it before, but Kirishima had a point.
Bakugo scowled, arms crossed. "He just said he'd eat a beach full of dicks for liberty. That's not exactly normal. Sounds more like something a freaky villain would say."
No one seemed to have an answer, so naturally, their eyes turned toward Seventh.
Seven tapped his chin, weighing his words. "It's not too bad if I give you the surface answer. At least, part of it." He leaned forward slightly, holding everyone's attention. "It's very simple. He'd do anything for peace."
He made a gun gesture with his fingers, pretending to pull the trigger. The motion landed like a gunshot itself, making the meaning crystal clear.
The realization sent a ripple of unease through the room. Some of the students stiffened, anger flashing in their eyes. Others shifted uncomfortably, unnerved by the idea of someone so casually equating murder with peace.
All Might's face hardened, his usual warmth gone. His fists clenched ever so slightly. The villains in the audience, however, turned cold—glaring daggers at Peacemaker. They had assumed he was one of them, someone But this? This was different. This was killing in the name of "peace," and it made them despise him more.
The only exception was Stain. His eyes, which had drifted in boredom until now, snapped toward Peacemaker with sharp focus. He leaned forward, intrigued. To Peacemaker the first person with at least somewhat of heroic intentions in this film that showed up but because he kills people, he was obviously not a true hero but again he's the closest thing to a hero while he saw in this film so he prefers to pay attention to him but that wasn't a full reason for some reason. He felt some sort of connection towards peacemaker but he doesn't know what it is yet.
Back on the screen, Ratcatcher tilted her head in confusion. "Why would there even be a beach full of dicks?"
Peacemaker shrugged. "I don't know what madmen think."
Bloodsport stopped walking, his tone dripping with contempt. "You use 'liberty' as an excuse to do whatever the hell you want." He turned and walked off, clearly finished with the conversation.
But Peacemaker's voice followed, loud and cutting. "At least I don't kill people for money!"
That line struck the audience harder than anything else. A hush fell across the students as they pieced it together. That was the truth—Bloodsport wasn't just a soldier or mercenary. He was an assassin.
Some of the younger students gasped, their eyes wide. For many of them, assassins were just figures from movies, news headlines, or horror stories whispered in hushed tones. Now they were watching one, live, on screen.
The pro heroes reacted differently. Aizawa's expression didn't change much, but his narrowed eyes showed recognition. As an underground hero, he had crossed paths with assassins before—people who thrived in the shadows as much as he did.
Endeavor, however, looked more serious than usual. He had the highest number of solved cases in Japan, not just because of relentless patrols, but because he involved himself in every type of crime—bodyguarding, organized crime, contract killers. He had fought assassins before, and he knew how dangerous they were.
All Might, too, understood the weight of what they had just learned. His record was built on hope and inspiration, but even he had faced killers who lived in the dark corners of society.
Hawks, on the other hand, leaned back with a faint smirk. He hadn't dealt with assassins the same way as the others—because more often than not, he was the assassin.
Back on the screen, before Peacemaker and Bloodsport could escalate into a fight, Ratcatcher turned the attention elsewhere. She pointed out the strange condition on Polka-Dot Man's face. His skin was covered in glowing, multicolored lumps, each pulsing faintly in the dim light. The squad shifted uncomfortably, and in the theater, the audience mirrored that same unease.
"What the hell is that?" someone whispered, the words slipping out before they could stop themselves.
"Is that some kind of disease unique to this universe?" Midnight muttered, her eyes narrowing.
Nezu adjusted his paws against his chair. "No… I think it's a side effect. Likely tied to his quirk
The other teachers nodded at his reasoning, and the students murmured in agreement. Unlike in DC where powers with side-effects or drawbacks are extremely rare in their world it's extremely common powers without drawbacks are rare in their world.
Back on the screen, Peacemaker tilted his head at Polka-Dot Man. "That's a rash?" he asked, deadpan.
Before anyone could comment further, another explosion rocked the battlefield, the thunderous noise making several students flinch. Harley Quinn burst back into frame, sprinting desperately through gunfire and chaos. Toga bolted upright, her voice cutting through the theater. "She's still alive!"
The outburst startled several people, but Toga didn't care. Her eyes were locked on Harley as if willing her to survive. Harley dived into a crater, the camera following her down into the dirt where Javelin lay bleeding out, riddled with wounds.
Some of the more sensitive students quickly averted their eyes. Uraraka clenched her fists in her lap. Shoji quietly extended an arm to shield Eri's line of sight, even though she was already burying her face against Mirio's side.
On screen, Javelin coughed, forcing his iconic weapon into Harley's arms. And then, with one final breath, he died. Harley stared at the weapon, her confusion turning to anger. She slapped his chest and screamed at him for handing her his javelin without explaining what she was supposed to do with it.
The sheer absurdity of it made a few of the audience members stifle chuckles, though the mood was still heavy. Toga and Twice leaned forward, speaking almost at the same time. "Why did he give her the javelin?"
The rest of the League groaned, slapping their foreheads. "You two really don't get it," Spinner muttered, though none of them bothered to explain. Still, a few of them secretly filed the idea away—if they ever found themselves in a similar situation, maybe there was some value in handing over a weapon to someone they trusted most.
Back on screen, Harley peered out from the crater as soldiers surrounded her. Her frustration boiled over. "He just gave me this javelin, and now he's dead, and I don't even know what I'm supposed to do with it!" she shouted.
This time, more of the students outright laughed, unable to help themselves. The blunt honesty of her words lightened the otherwise brutal moment.
The camera cut again, this time to Rick Flag sprinting through the jungle. Relief washed over some of the watchers. "Rick Flag survived!" a few of the students and even a couple of the pros muttered with surprise.
But the relief didn't last. Within moments, Flag was cornered, surrounded on all sides by armed soldiers. Endeavor swore under his breath, frustration written across his face. "Dammit…" He couldn't hide his anger—Flag was the only person in the squad who had shown consistent leadership and decency. To see him captured felt like a blow.
Stain's glare burned into the screen. He may not have viewed soldiers as heroes, but in his eyes they were still men putting their lives on the line for something bigger than themselves. Watching them crush Flag's resistance twisted his stomach with the same frustration Endeavor felt.
In the theater, Toga sniffled. Spinner and Twice noticed and immediately leaned toward her, trying to offer comfort as her voice cracked. "Harley's captured…!"
Midoriya slumped in his seat, guilt heavy on his expression. "They all died," Uraraka whispered beside him, her voice small and weighted with grief.
Ida pushed up his glasses, his voice trembling as he tried to restore some order. "Not… not technically. Flag and Harley survived. At least…" His voice faltered, betraying his own shaken state.
The room was silent for a long moment after that. Even those who laughed earlier now sat with grim faces. No matter how absurd, chaotic, or comedic the squad's antics had been, the reality of what happened on that beach was undeniable. The first team was gone.
And everyone in the theater felt the weight of that failure.
(From now on, I will be updating once a week in this day exactly but an exchange the chapters would be a lot more longer than usual)
The scene cut to the squad reaching a small clearing. Bloodsport looked around the terrain, checking sight lines and cover before speaking. He told the team they would rest here and continue toward the city by nightfall.
"That's actually a good call," Aizawa muttered from his seat, his tired eyes shifting toward his students. His tone wasn't praise—it was a reminder. "Camping like this isn't glamorous, but it's one of the few practical ways to rest during a mission."
A few of the kids shifted uncomfortably, especially those who already looked disgusted at the idea of sleeping outside. Aizawa noticed, and the corners of his mouth twitched into a grin that was just a little too sharp. "I think the next time we have a training camp, you'll all be sleeping in the woods. No more cabins."
His words earned a visible shiver from both Class 1-A and 1-B. Even Vlad King raised an eyebrow, as if wondering if Aizawa was actually serious.
Back on the screen, the squad was shown sleeping. Bloodsport stirred awake when he heard faint movement. He sat up quietly, watching Polka-Dot Man rise and shuffle away toward the bushes. In the dim light, his body looked horrifying—the glowing lumps on his skin seemed ready to burst, making him look like he was about to explode.
"Oh my God," Mina whispered, hugging her arms close. "How the hell did he end up like that?"
Several other students were just as horrified, their eyes locked on his condition.
The screen followed Polka-Dot Man as he disappeared behind the trees, just out of view. A strange rainbow glow flashed faintly in the distance. Moments later, he returned, his skin clear again, the lumps gone as if they had never been there.
Confusion swept through the theater. "What just happened?" Jirou asked, brows furrowed.
A low, steady voice cut through the uncertainty. All For One. He leaned forward, his tone calm but heavy. "This is the nature of his power. A storage-type ability. He accumulates energy, but like all containers, he has a limit. When that limit is reached, he must release it."
The students glanced at each other, surprised by how clear the explanation was. A few even muttered a quiet "wow" under their breath.
"I've never heard of a power like that before," one of the students whispered.
"That's because most who are born with powers like this are already dead," All For One said coldly.
That made the room tense instantly.
When a quirk constantly absorbs energy without activation, without any ability to stop it, the user eventually has to release that energy. And if the only way to release it is through destructive blasts or other dangerous means, then they have no choice but to unleash it.
But society doesn't tolerate that. Using your quirk outside your home is forbidden without a license. And since most awaken their quirks at around four years old, they have to wait ten years before they can even apply for one. Parents won't wait ten years while their home is being destroyed day after day. Unless they are extremely wealthy, they abandon the child.
At that point, those children either die… or they survive long enough to become villains."
His words silenced everyone. Even the League wasn't smirking. The heroes sat stiffly, unable to fire back, because deep down, they all knew he wasn't lying.
You're lying there is no way this is actually happened before Midori screamed
No Fat Gum said. His normally jovial expression was replaced by a tight, pained look. His hand clenched into a fist on his knee. Finally, he spoke quietly, his voice rough.
"My brother…" he said, drawing a few surprised looks. "He had something like that. A collection-type quirk, but destructive. While I store fat, he stored energy through breathing. Every few hours, he had to release it. And every release shattered part of our home. The walls, the furniture… everything."
He exhaled slowly, eyes darkened. "Our parents couldn't handle it. One day, they just kicked him out. I never found out what happened to him after that. And I never heard of any villain with a power like his."
The unspoken truth settled in. Everyone understood what he meant: his brother didn't survive.
The students were still rattled from All For One's earlier explanation, but he seemed perfectly content, sitting smugly. For him, this film wasn't just entertainment—it was a weapon. Every twisted truth he revealed chipped away at the young heroes' faith in their own society, and he relished in their silence.
Back on the screen, Bloodsport stirred awake and noticed movement. When he turned, he saw King Shark looming over Ratcatcher, trying to eat her like she was nothing more than a sandwich.
The theater erupted.
The kids screamed, and the students shouted in panic. Even the villains blinked in surprise—most of them had expected King Shark to be dangerous, but not in such a clumsy, horrifyingly casual way.
Before anyone in the audience could process, Bloodsport reacted fast. He pulled his weapon and opened fire, each shot forcing King Shark back until the massive creature slammed into a tree.
Ratcatcher, groggy and confused, sat up and complained that she had been having a nice dream—only for Peacemaker to jab, "Was it about you being eaten by King Shark?" Ratcatcher denied it, insisting King Shark wouldn't try such a thing. But then her rat, Sebastian, squeaked insistently in confirmation.
"You bastard!" Ratcatcher shouted, pulling out her glowing staff. In an instant, rats swarmed out of nowhere, filling the screen.
The reaction inside the theater was chaos.
Aizawa immediately buried his face in his scarf, bracing himself.
And then it came—
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"
Both Koda and Present Mic screamed in unison, so loud that even without Mic's quirk, everyone's ears rang painfully.
Students groaned, some clutching their ears, while Aizawa let out the deepest sigh of disappointment yet. "Unbelievable…" he muttered.
Back on the screen, Bloodsport panicked, squealing and twisting away, trying not to touch the tide of rats rushing around him. He begged Ratcatcher to call them off, revealing—reluctantly—that he had a phobia. Ratcatcher stared at him, dumbfounded. " And You're in a team with me!"
The theater went dead silent for a beat. Then Bakugo barked in disbelief, "You're telling me this badass assassin is afraid of RATS?!" Similar comments erupted across the rows.
But amidst the mockery, Koda and Present Mic actually looked… relieved. Both of them had always felt small for their fear of rats, but seeing someone as intimidating as Bloodsport share the same phobia? It made them feel just a little bit better.
Back on the screen, as Bloodsport panicked and tried to hold his ground against the wave of rats, the camera shifted back to the monitoring room. One of Waller's agents leaned in and told her about Bloodsport's fear of rats.
The entire cast leaned forward, curious about how she'd respond. Waller raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "He has a phobia of rats?" she asked.
Bloodsport's voice came through the comms, sharp and irritated: "I'm an assassin. Why would I ever tell anyone about this?"
That line made several students murmur in agreement. Even some heroes had to admit — it was a fair point.
"This is ridiculous," Endeavor snapped, clearly fed up. "Weasel not being able to swim, now this? They put a rat-phobic man with a rat controller? Utter incompetence."
Hawks gave him a sideways look. "Not this time. A phobia isn't like swimming — you can test that. But you can't test for someone's deepest fear unless you see it play out like this. There's no way they could've known."
Seven finally chimed in, confirming Hawks' point. "Exactly. You could've caught the Weasel thing ahead of time, no excuse there. But this? Phobias don't come up in normal tests. Either someone admits it, or they get exposed in the field."
The heroes sat back, some grudgingly accepting the explanation. The students, though, were still buzzing in disbelief that someone as intimidating as Bloodsport could be terrified of something as small as rats.
The heroes sat back, some grudgingly accepting the explanation. The students, though, were still buzzing in disbelief that someone as intimidating as Bloodsport could be terrified of something as small as rats.
Back on the screen, Sebastian tried to be friendly with Bloodsport, but it only freaked him out more. Bloodsport yelled for the rats to get away, and Ratcatcher reluctantly complied, calling them back. The audience chuckled a little when Peacemaker smirked and asked if they should just kill King Shark.
Some of the girls who had found King Shark cute earlier wanted to say no immediately, but the memory of him nearly eating Ratcatcher silenced them. They exchanged awkward glances, torn between sympathy and fear.
Then Waller's voice came through, firm and cold: No. He's the strongest member of your team. You need him.
That caught the audience off guard.
"The strongest?" Bakugo scoffed loudly. "That's natural bullshit. Bloodsport literally just took him down!"
Best Jeanist adjusted his collar calmly. "No, he didn't defeat him. Look carefully. None of Bloodsport's shots actually left a mark. No wounds, no bruises. King Shark wasn't really hurt."
Aizawa nodded in agreement. "Exactly. He only got knocked back because of poor posture when he lunged in. That wasn't weakness—it was positioning."
The two pro heroes' explanations silenced Bakugo, and several students realized how wrong their first impression had been. Their eyes widened at the thought: King Shark really was that tough.
Back on the screen, Bloodsport asked how they could function as a team if they had to constantly worry about being eaten. Ratcatcher leaned against King Shark and gently asked him if he would eat his friends. His sad answer—he didn't have any—made her pause. Then she told him they were his friends now.
The audience collectively froze, staring at her.
"Is she being serious? Just… trusting him like that?" Dust Man sneered, his voice dripping disbelief.
Dabi tilted his head, smirking faintly. "Yeah. Staying in prison that long must've rotted her brain."
"No…" Spinner interrupted, arms crossed but voice calmer. "I think that was genuine. She really meant it."
"King Shark is adorable and cool, and he looks trustworthy!" Toga chimed in, hugging her knees with a dreamy smile.
"I think we could trust him too," Twice added enthusiastically. "…and then he'll eat us all," he finished with a nervous laugh.
Mr. Compress, however, sat silently with his arms folded. He didn't voice a thought, but it was clear he was watching the interaction carefully.
On the screen, King Shark and Ratcatcher shook hands, the shark's massive fin engulfing her smaller hand. Bloodsport muttered under his breath, calling her an idiot for trusting him, which earned a few chuckles from the audience.
The film then cut to later. In the monitoring room, one of Waller's agents suddenly sat up straighter, his eyes locked on a feed. "I'm so good at my job," he muttered proudly before calling for Waller.
Cementoss leaned forward slightly, already suspicious. "He's found someone," he whispered under his breath. "But who…?"
Endeavor's lips curled into a grim smile, a spark of recognition flashing across his eyes.
On the screen, Waller called the team and informed them of Flag's situation and that he'd been captured. Bloodsport asked about the second team and why no one had been told earlier. Waller's cold reply was that knowing wasn't relevant until now.
Wood's voice broke the silence in the theater. "So… Bloodsport already knows Flag from a past mission. Makes sense."
"That would explain it," death arms muttered. "Flag seemed close to Harley too—so he must've been leading and babysitting this team more than once."
Back on the screen, Waller told the squad to kill any soldier they came across because they were all considered dangerous. That order made the students and many of the heroes shift uncomfortably in their seats. Even if they understood how important this mission was, the thought of being ordered to kill on sight left a bitter taste. They tried to rationalize it: these were soldiers, people trained and signed up to risk their lives for their country. But still, killing them without hesitation… that wasn't something any of them were ready to accept so easily.
Some of the younger students clenched their fists, trying to suppress their unease. Even some of the pros found themselves shifting uncomfortably. Heroes are taught to neutralize threats, not execute them. They reminded themselves to keep their eyes on the bigger picture—this mission must be important if Waller was pushing it this far.
The screen then cut to the squad creeping along the edge of the base through the woods. Bloodsport checked his device, scanning the area and confirming their position. That was when Peacemaker casually remarked about "the smell of blood in the morning."
That single line unsettled the entire audience. Even though Seven had already explained Peacemaker's nature and why he ended up in prison, hearing him say it out loud in such a casual tone was different. A few students who had found him amusing earlier—like Phantom Thief, Real Steel, Kirishima, and Chargebolt—looked down, disappointed. They had enjoyed laughing at his humor, but this felt… wrong.
Ratcatcher looked at Peacemaker sharply and asked why he was even called "Peacemaker" when he spoke like that. He simply responded with chilling conviction: "I cherish peace with all my heart. I don't care how many men, women, and children I need to kill to get it."
The weight of his words froze the entire theatre. Jaws dropped. Students stared in disbelief. Heroes looked appalled. And All Might—All Might couldn't even speak. His anger was visible in the tightness of his jaw and the way his hands shook slightly. The very essence of peace, twisted and corrupted into something so violent, so hollow… it enraged him beyond words.
The villains, however, leaned forward. They had thought Peacemaker was simply another hired killer, but this philosophy intrigued them. It wasn't their kind of villainy—it was something alien to them, and some even despised it—but they couldn't deny its weight.
The silence was broken only when the movie showed two men on screen who didn't look like regular soldiers. A few of the sharper minds in the audience grew suspicious, but their thoughts were cut short when the scene shifted again.
The screen followed one of the "soldiers" as he stepped away, unknowingly passing King Shark. The massive creature crept silently from the shadows, looming closer until he pounced, wrapping his jaws around the man. Before the poor soldier could even scream, King Shark bit down and swallowed him whole.
The theatre went deathly quiet. No one moved, no one breathed. The gruesome sight shocked everyone so much that their instinct to scream was suppressed. The silence was only broken when the colors on the screen shifted slightly and King Shark's name card appeared, introducing him officially.
That finally snapped Present Mic out of his stunned state. Falling back on instinct, he began reading the card out loud:
"King Shark. If you're terrified of sea creatures, too bad. The most fearsome predator of the seas has grown legs, and now he walks among us. He can eat you in an instant and overpower you like nothing. He is the unstoppable shark. Don't take him for a joke—he's the most dangerous shark around."
"Metapower/Quirk: Shark Mutation.
The cast tried to distract themselves from the memory of King Shark devouring a man by focusing on the flashy introduction card and description instead. The words Metapower/Quirk: Shark Mutation caught Midoriya's eyes instantly, and of course, he leaned forward like he always did when quirks—or in this case, "powers"—were being described. He scribbled furiously into his notebook, muttering under his breath about classifications and power categories.
But something else grabbed his attention: the card didn't just say Quirk. It also listed Metapower.
That little detail made the students murmur among themselves until a few looked over to Seven for clarification. Normally, they might've tried to theorize it on their own, but this was different—they didn't even have a base of knowledge to start with.
Seven gave a casual shrug. "In this world, powers aren't called Quirks. They're called Metapowers. And the people who have them? They're called Metahumans."
"That name sounds… a bit random," Battle Fist commented, crossing his arms.
"It's not random," Seven corrected. "It's because in their society, Metahumans are considered a distinct group. The terminology stuck."
The students muttered to themselves, processing that. Dabi, of all people, was the first to speak up, smirking faintly. "You know… 'Metahuman' does sound cooler than Quirk-user. Has more bite to it."
Momo raised her hand politely, her expression thoughtful. "Excuse me… but I find it strange. Even when quirks first appeared in our world, the terminology eventually settled on something that didn't completely separate people with or without powers. Why use a name that draws such a sharp line, as though they are a different species entirely?"
That question made several heads turn toward Seven again. He leaned back, tone light but carrying weight. "That's the complicated part. It's not just about powers—it's about how they're defined in this world. The term 'Metahuman' isn't a pacific term for a group of people like with your quirks. I'm not gonna explain it but when we get to our third project, you'll have a clearer understanding of what it really means to be a Metahuman."
The answer frustrated some of the more curious students—particularly Momo, Melissa, and Midoriya—but they reluctantly accepted that Seven wouldn't say more for now.
On the screen, the scene shifted to the squad stealthily moving through the base. A man fumbled with a bag, only for a cascade of frogs to leap out, startling him so badly that he fell back onto the ground. The view cut to his perspective, where Peacemaker calmly strode into frame. In one smooth motion, he hurled an axe into a soldier behind the fallen man, then hacked the survivor's hand and throat with a machete.
The brutal precision left the students reeling. Most turned their heads or covered their eyes, disturbed by how casually he dispatched them.
Except for one. Toga tilted her head, watching with unsettling fascination. "That cut was… clean. So smooth… I wonder if it was the machete, or just how skilled he is. Maybe when I get better, I should upgrade my knives too."
Nobody answered her. They'd grown used to Toga's muttered comments, but it still sent a chill through some of the students.
Then the scene paused for another flashy introduction card: Christopher Smith a.k.a. Peacemaker.
Present Mic perked up and read it out loud with his usual announcer flair, his voice echoing through the room.
"Christopher Smith, the self-proclaimed Peacemaker! No one loves peace more than him—at least, that's what he claims. Good, evil, monstrous—it doesn't matter. If it's in the name of peace, he'll do it!"
The last line made many of the students frown, some even exchanging uneasy glances. The idea of someone who would justify anything—no matter how horrific—in the name of peace unsettled them more than the violence itself.
And as if to hammer the point home, the card displayed:
Metapower/Quirk: None.
Special Item: Helmet.
It was silent for a while after Peacemaker's card appeared, the air thick with confusion, until a chorus of voices broke it.
"WHAT?!" everyone screamed at once.
Peacemaker himself, on screen, looked perfectly clueless, which only made the reaction stronger.
"Why the fuck is he here?!" Bakugo roared, his voice echoing across the theatre. His hands sparked violently, sweat dripping from his forehead as if he'd just been insulted personally.
"This… this makes no sense," Aizawa muttered, his normally calm tone cracking in disbelief. "Why is someone without a quirk on a mission like this?"
The outburst spread like wildfire. Every student, every pro hero, even some of the villains muttered similar complaints. They couldn't comprehend it. Their entire worldview was built on quirks being the deciding factor — quirks defined power, society, status. And yet here was a man standing alongside monsters and killers, armed with nothing but a helmet and skill.
Seven finally had to step in before the noise spiraled further. "Alright," he said flatly, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Calm down."
"Calm down?!" Dust Man snapped, eyes narrowing. "How could we, when there's a quirkless villain on an important mission like this?"
Seven's sigh carried both annoyance and something darker. "Every time I hear this nonsense from your world, it irritates me. You're all morons."
That made the theatre bristle with tension. Dozens of eyes narrowed, teachers straightened in their seats, and students froze, unsure if they'd just been insulted directly.
"Quirkless people… useless? Incapable of being heroes or villains?" Seven's words dripped with disdain. "If your world was even slightly different, maybe I'd understand the prejudice. But when your quirks are such pathetic, half-baked powers — when 90% of them are useless at the start — none of you have the right to call anyone powerless."
Bakugo surged to his feet, sparks flying, ready to shout back — but Seven didn't let him. His words cut straight through.
"Most of you could be taken down by a normal person with a gun. Tail Boy?" He gestured sharply at Ojiro. "All you have is a tail. Bang. You're dead. Koda? You talk to animals. Bang. Dead. Yaoyorozu? You could beat the man with a gun — but your creation speed and reaction time aren't fast enough to stop a bullet. Bang. You're dead too."
The students froze, horror etching itself onto their faces. They had never thought about it like this — their quirks compared against something so… mundane. And yet, hearing it out loud, they couldn't deny the terrifying truth behind it. Even a few in Class B glanced down at their own hands, suddenly doubting themselves.
Some of the pro heroes leaned forward, ready to object, but Seven cut them off before they could get a word out.
"Let's not just talk about the kids. Let's talk about you." His eyes scanned the teachers. "Midnight. A simple gas mask makes your quirk worthless. You're dead. Miss Joke — cover your ears or face a deaf opponent? Worthless. Dead. Aizawa—" Seven smirked, his tone sharper now. "You're dead too."
The room went still. Even Aizawa's tired eyes flickered with unease, though his face betrayed nothing.
"And the worst one here?" Seven's gaze landed on Snipe.
Snipe stiffened, genuinely caught off guard. "What are you—?"
"Your quirk enhances your aim. That's it. There are people in your world with similar quirks, but none of them — including you — are the best marksman alive. The best? She doesn't have a quirk. He's just a woman with a gun. You're nothing special. Just another guy with a firearm. And compared to their world?" Seven leaned forward, his voice almost taunting. "Peacemaker is a deadlier marksman than Lady Nagant herself… and he isn't even the best in his own universe."
The words hit like bullets. Everyone froze, stunned into silence.
Snipe's head dropped slightly, his hand tightening around the brim of his hat. He'd known, deep down, that his gift didn't make him untouchable — but hearing it thrown so bluntly, so cruelly, tore through him.
Seven wasn't done. His gaze shifted, hard and deliberate. "And don't think I forgot about you," he said, pointing at Endeavor and All Might.
Bakugo stood up his palms parking ready to explode Are you seriously going to spit some bullshit? A quirkless man could never challenge me — or All Might."
Seven's smirk turned sharp. "Your quirk gives you enhanced durability, sure. But there are guns in Peacemaker's world that could put you down. A headshot from him? You'd be dead before the palm of your hands sparkles as for endeavour end All Might…" He paused, and some of the students leaned in, desperate for reassurance. "…to be fair, no ordinary man could kill him."
Some of the younger students exhaled in relief. But then Seven's eyes glinted with something darker.
"…but not every man is ordinary. There are extraordinary people without powers who will take down giants. You'll see them soon enough."
He gave them an evil smirk, one that made the room fall completely silent again.
The students were still shaken, their nerves raw. Seven's earlier words had destroyed many of their hopes — especially those with weaker quirks. They looked pale, discouraged, some even trembling. The teachers were already racking their brains for ways to console them later, but right now they knew silence was the only option.
Shigaraki, meanwhile, didn't seem shaken at all. His grin was crooked, calm, almost cruel. He had always known quirks could be meaningless, and Seven's brutal honesty only confirmed what he believed about the fragility of society. On the other side, Endeavor wasn't shaken either, but for a different reason. With his long career and experience, he already understood that quirks weren't the be-all and end-all. Guns, knives, explosives, strategy — he had fought assassins and criminals who had none of those gifts and still gave heroes trouble. But the idea that some quirkless people could actually take down him or even All Might? That left a sour taste in his mouth. He didn't like it, but he knew better than to underestimate anyone.
The movie continued.
On screen, a soldier crept up behind Peacemaker — only to be shot in the head before he could even aim. Another man in the woods dropped dead an instant later, a bullet tearing through him. The camera shifted, revealing Bloodsport standing steady, his strange wrist-mounted weapon still smoking. He moved with practiced efficiency, his weapon transforming seamlessly to meet each new threat.
The students gasped at the sight of the modular gun shifting shape.
"What the hell… is that his quirk?" Midoriya whispered to himself, analyzing even now.
"It doesn't look like a quirk," Melissa said quickly, her eyes narrowing as the weapon shifted again. "That's technology. But… way more advanced than what we have. His entire loadout is beyond anything I've ever seen."
On screen, another soldier rushed him with a knife. Bloodsport parried with brutal precision, then shot the man point-blank. He and Peacemaker immediately started taunting each other, trading mocking gestures even in the middle of the bloodshed.
Some of the students turned their faces away, closing their eyes in disgust at the gore. Others, like Kirishima and Kaminari, let out nervous chuckles, finding the childish gestures strangely funny — anything to help them forget Seven's earlier words.
Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Idiots," he muttered at the display, both at the squad and at his students for laughing.
Then the screen cut again, and Bloodsport's introduction card appeared.
Present Mic immediately snapped back into his announcer mode, voice booming.
"Name: Robert DuBois, a.k.a. Bloodsport! Metapower — none! Special Item — shapeshifting weapons!"
The audience froze. The second member of the team without a quirk.
The revelation didn't hit them the same way it had with Peacemaker. Earlier, they had been outraged, unable to comprehend how someone quirkless could be here. But after seeing Bloodsport in action, after watching him mow down trained soldiers with terrifying efficiency, the mood shifted. The shenanigans between him and Peacemaker might have been laughable, but the image of soldiers collapsing with every shot hadn't left their minds.
"This… this isn't a quirk," Melissa finally said, her voice hushed. "Those are weapons. Pure technology."
She quickly raised her hand. "Excuse me, Seven?"
He nodded for her to speak.
"You said this is around the time when quirks — sorry, metapowers — first started appearing. But if that's true, then… how could they already have technology like this? It doesn't match the era at all."
Everyone turned to Seven, curious.
"Well," Seven said with a small shrug, "even though this takes place around the same time period, a lot of things are different. Not just the locations — but the level of technology too. Their world developed in other ways. It's much more advanced than yours… though by how much, you'll find out later."
Melissa sat back, still chewing on the thought, while the others returned their eyes to the screen, unsettled but intrigued.
(this chapter wasn't complete, but I thought I might as well drop it early considering you guys will probably wait a month for the next chapter
Back on the screen, Bloodsport and Peacemaker moved further into the base. Peacemaker pulled the axe from the soldier's skull and casually carried it, while Bloodsport prepared his wire. Together they crept forward, silently taking down two more soldiers — Bloodsport strangling one with precision, Peacemaker slashing another's throat in one clean swing.
Many of the students flinched and covered their eyes, though a few of the braver ones forced themselves to watch through the cracks of their fingers. The repeated sound of muffled gasps and collapsing bodies made even the veterans in the room uneasy. The pro heroes scowled, their anger toward these villains only deepening with every quiet execution. For them, this wasn't just villainy — it was cold professionalism.
The League of Villains, on the other hand, couldn't help but be impressed. Twice leaned forward in excitement, blurting out, "Peacemaker's incredible!" before his other voice immediately mocked him, saying the costume looked ridiculous. Spinner chimed in, half-grinning, "Funny or not, he's efficient. No mask-persona act, just the same guy straight through." Both found themselves drawn to his blunt, consistent nature. Toga pouted from her seat, clearly unimpressed by all the attention Peacemaker was getting — she only cared about seeing Harley again.
On the screen, Peacemaker quietly dispatched another soldier in his sleep, stabbing him multiple times with the axe, while Bloodsport unleashed his shifting weapon. The chain formed instantly, whipping out to strike several soldiers at once, dropping them before they could make noise. Heroes like Cementoss and Vlad King admitted the technique itself was impressive, but Eraserhead paid closer attention — he could see the trained movement, the footwork, the way Bloodsport didn't waste a single strike. Even without a quirk, this was the work of someone with martial discipline, and that made him wary.
Then Peacemaker climbed to the roof of a shack. He blew into a dart gun, nailing three targets with silent precision, before smoothly switching to a suppressed pistol. Each kill was quick, quiet, efficient. Toga, watching closely, felt something stir inside her. "He's like me on missions… sneaking, silent, getting close." But her knives could only reach so far. The thought lingered in her head: maybe she needed new tools — quieter, deadlier weapons that could extend her reach.
Bloodsport then turned his weapon into a small flamethrower, burning two soldiers alive. The eerie silence of their screams left the audience shaken. Endeavor clenched his fists, disgusted at the sight, while Shoto frowned in anger. Dabi, however, smirked faintly, leaning back with arms crossed. He wasn't horrified — he was inspired. He was already imagining if he could replicate that quiet, suffocating burn with his own flames.
Watching all this, even the League started to shift in their seats. They had begun the screening mocking and dismissing these "quirkless" fighters. Now, though, they couldn't deny it — Peacemaker and Bloodsport weren't jokes. They were dangerous. And, whether they admitted it or not, some of them were starting to become fans. Even Tomura and Dabi found themselves unconsciously impressed.
Peacemaker dropped from the shack and leveled his gun right past Bloodsport's face to shoot a soldier who had just opened the curtains. Bloodsport blocked him, still walking backwards, glaring at him with his mask off.
"Oh no… they're gonna fight, aren't they?" Kaminari muttered nervously, shifting in his seat.
"What else do you expect from villains?" Death Arms grumbled, his tone bitter. His fellow pros beside him nodded grimly.
On the screen, Bloodsport and Peacemaker locked eyes like two predators daring the other to flinch. Bloodsport spotted a man lounging in a bathtub, oblivious to the chaos outside. Without hesitation, he fired a round at a nearby table, toppling a device into the tub and electrocuting the man instantly. Sparks flew, water boiled, and the man's body jolted before going limp. Bloodsport didn't break eye contact with Peacemaker, almost daring him to top that.
"Wait… wait, no way—are they seriously having a killing contest?!" one of the students yelped, voice pitched with disbelief.
The rest of the class recoiled, horrified, while the villains leaned forward with intrigue.
"We should do something like that someday," Shigaraki muttered under his breath.
"Yeah," Dabi agreed, a low smirk tugging at his lips. "Though let's be real—I'd roast you before you even tried."
Shigaraki clicked his tongue, annoyed but not arguing, knowing it was probably true for now.
Back on screen, Peacemaker took his turn—shooting a soldier who had just rounded the corner. The bullet hit, but the man didn't go down. Bloodsport arched an eyebrow.
"Non-lethal?" he challenged.
"Compression bullet," Peacemaker countered with a smug grin. A second later, the man's body ballooned grotesquely before bursting apart.
"No one likes a show-off," Bloodsport grumbled.
"Not unless what they're showing off is dope as hell," Peacemaker shot back without missing a beat.
Bloodsport scowled but admitted under his breath, "Damn… he's right."
The students collectively groaned or flinched. Their disgust and anger weighed heavy—but across the aisle, the League of Villains nodded in grudging agreement.
"As long as it's cool, you can't deny it," Mr. Compress said with a shrug. "Style has its place, even in murder."
"That's messed up," Kirishima muttered, clutching his fists.
"It's also true," Compress replied smoothly, not missing a beat.
Kaminari, still pale, whispered, "This is insane…" but even as he said it, a part of him noted Peacemaker's line. As someone who loved to brag himself, he couldn't help but remember it.
On screen, their contest escalated further. A lookout gunman emerged on a wooden tower, weapon drawn—but before he could even aim, Polka-Dot Man stepped forward. With a sudden surge, he unleashed his glowing polka dots, shredding the support beams beneath the man. The structure collapsed, crushing him instantly.
The students' jaws dropped.
"Holy shit! Did he just… shoot polka dots?!" Kaminari shouted, eyes wide.
"That's his quirk?!" Kirishima added, dumbfounded.
Deku, leaning forward, analyzed aloud: "It looks like he creates and launches them as projectiles. That wrist device must help him aim."
"The power output's way higher than I expected…" Iida adjusted his glasses, still rattled.
Ochaco flushed slightly, embarrassed. Good thing I didn't say anything about his name earlier… she thought. If she had mocked it, she'd be eating her words right now.
Unfortunately for Bakugo, he had mocked it earlier. He sat there fuming, red-faced with embarrassment and rage.
"Tch—don't give me that look, nerd!" he barked when he caught Deku glancing at him.
Meanwhile, All For One leaned back, intrigued. "So… not everyone in this team is powerless." His voice dripped with amusement, like a man cataloging tools for later use.