Around fifteen minutes ago,
Gran Torino tried to blink away the blurriness for a second time.
His mind felt so befuddled that he couldn't even tell how much time had passed since the last time he had woken up; five days? Three hours? Ten minutes?
The first thing the old Pro noticed was the dryness.
He was thirsty.
He looked around, trying to catch sight of a nurse, hoping he was in a hospital.
When he didn't hear anything, he tried to move his toes and gave up.
Then, as the feeling of loss settled into his heart, he woke up fully.
Instantly, Gran Torino realized that he had been wrong.
This was indeed a medical facility, but it wasn't a Hospital room.
It would have been impossible for a newbie to tell the difference. But he? He was old and had been visiting wounded Heroes for decades… enough time to intuitively pick up the hints.
The question was — if he wasn't in a Hospital, then where was he, who brought him here, and for what reason?!
Gran Torino decided against calling out for someone, especially when no one had shown up by themselves yet, despite a camera pointed right at him.
Perhaps, his well wisher-cum-kidnapper was watching him right at this moment, trying to see what he would do now that he had woken up.
Perhaps, no one was watching him because of some inexplicable reason.
The chances of the latter happening were little, but never zero.
This meant it was his only chance to get up and assess the true extent of his situation.
Gran Torino let out a suppressed grunt as he sat up, feeling the blankness beneath his knees.
He grabbed the teal-colored sheet over him and paused. Then, taking a deep breath, he threw it open, daring to look at the loss with clenched teeth.
Yes.
It was as he'd thought.
They were gone.
His legs were gone.
Bandages were wrapped to his knees, where they coiled over each other and ceased to exist.
And, if his legs were gone, then so was his Quirk.
Now, Gran Torino only hoped that this wasn't some Villain's sick joke. Only a few truly lowly ones, like All For One, would go so far as to keep him alive, while taking away his legs and Quirk to make him feel so…
Gran Torino clenched his teeth again, trying to look past his anger and pain.
He focused on the task at hand — to figure out where he was and how not to let someone take advantage of his presence here.
But, without legs and a Quirk, it became a challenge even to get off the bed, much less accomplish the daring task Gran Torino had in his mind.
There was a reason he had remained a Top Hero in Japan for decades, though.
It wasn't just because of his Quirk and accomplishments, but also because of his dauntless will.
Somehow, the old man climbed down the bed and let himself fall on the floor.
He was going to crawl to the door when he spied a wheelchair folded right under the bed.
Thanking his makers, Gran Torino pulled it out and threw himself on it, letting out a breath of relief. Hurriedly, he poured himself a glass of water and rolled toward the door after killing the thirst.
Steeling his resolve for what awaited him on the other side of the door, he pulled it open.
It was an empty corridor, with pin-drop silence patrolling its entire length.
Gran Torino rolled himself out and instinctively turned deeper into the corridor instead of leaving the medical facility.
The very next room had a big, red bulb on it.
Gran Torino knew that he shouldn't waste his time on finding out what was in that room, but he couldn't help it. What if there were more wounded Heroes here? What if his well-wisher wasn't a well-wisher after all, as he feared?
So, Gran Torino grabbed the knob and twisted, getting immediately surprised to find it unlocked.
However, nothing could have prepared the old thing for the sight within the room.
On a humongous steel bed, bound by heavy, reinforced alloy bolts and belts, was a Nomu, lacking a head.
It was cut open so brutally that hooked chains, coming from different directions, were keeping its flesh pried open, revealing its innards.
With his breath caught in his throat, Gran Torino's gaze widened, and he found two more such beds, both carrying the same gruesome scene.
It's… impossible… Gran Torino thought, dread filling his old heart.
It became just too obvious to him now where he was.
He was at the place where Nomu were being created by All For One's secret associate!
And, as he had feared the most, his well-wisher hadn't saved him for the sake of it, but this monster planned to turn him into a Nomu, too!
Shaking slightly, Gran Torino turned around and rolled out into the corridor, even forgetting to close the door. With a blank, pale face, he looked deeper into the corridor, now knowing what lay behind the other doors. He should have just returned to his room and taken his life before the monster could turn him into a Nomu, a weapon to attack innocents.
But Gran Torino couldn't let himself fall into despair just yet.
If there was a way to contact All Might, or just anyone, and let that person know of what was happening here, then it was his duty to find that way till his last breath!
So, grabbing the wheels of the chair tightly, Gran Torino turned his chair toward the door leading out of the medical facility. He exerted himself so much that the ends of his legs began bleeding, the bandages gaining a red tinge. His heart booming in his chest, feeling the time running out, Gran Torino reached for the doorknob.
Before he could even touch the knob, though, it turned by itself, the door opening right into his face.
It was a man, donning a white lab coat and a clownish mask.
Gran Torino kept looking at the man, hope abandoning him.
Dr. Blessed kicked the wheelchair back and walked in, closing the door behind him before staring at the Pro.
"Out for a walk…" he said, his voice carrying a sick amusement. "… grandpa?"