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After nearly half a minute of stunned silence, the weight of the beach massacre still hung over the room like a storm cloud. Seven finally exhaled and broke it.
"Alright, guys… I'm gonna give you a small break—twenty minutes—to process everything that happened in the beach battle."
Nobody said anything right away. The cast just sat there, eyes shifting between each other, the monitors, and the floor, like they were afraid to speak first. It took almost a full minute before someone even dared to open their mouth, and even then, their words were hesitant, testing the air.
Seven leaned back slightly, letting them talk amongst themselves. He knew this wasn't a moment for him to lead a conversation—it was better to let them process and vent in their own way, to voice questions instead of spiraling into one of those drawn-out debates that went nowhere.
The chatter was uneven at first. Some whispered to their neighbors, others spoke more loudly about certain moments, but no one sounded at ease.
By the time the twenty minutes passed, all eyes gradually turned to Seven, silently expecting answers.
Principal Nezu—ever the polite one—cleared his throat and tilted his head with his usual unreadable smile. "If I may…"
But before he could continue, Aizawa cut in bluntly, his voice like a whip. "Why the hell didn't you warn us about the blood?"
The room froze again for a second, tension prickling in the air.
Seven shrugged lightly, as if he didn't see the big deal. "Well… I just didn't mention it. And it's not really that important."
Aizawa's eyes narrowed, his tone sharpening. "Not important? There were children and students watching this."
Seven raised a hand toward the two youngest in the room. "First of all—during that twenty-minute break, did any of you even ask the two children? Kota, Eri—cover your ears for a second."
The kids obeyed without question, small hands pressing against their heads.
"They were fine," Seven continued, his voice calm but firm. "Because I did some editing for them. From their perspective, things were a little different—less violent. For example, when Blackguard… exploded? They didn't see the gore. They saw bullets hit his head, and then his head turned into red confetti."
That at least seemed to ease some of the tension in the adults—though only slightly.
"As for the students…" Seven's gaze swept across Class 1-A. "They're going to experience this kind of thing eventually. Better they start seeing the reality now."
"They still have three years before they should be experiencing that," Aizawa shot back, his voice carrying a simmering anger.
Seven let out a low chuckle—though there was no humor in it. "You can't be serious. A bunch of your Class 1-A students have been volunteering themselves for danger from day one—ignoring orders from heroes and teachers, like with that serial killer incident." His words grew sharper. "They nearly died, and what was their punishment? A slap on the wrist. Students get harsher consequences for being late for curfew than they do for running headfirst into lethal situations. And you expect me to believe you don't encourage that behavior?"
That stung enough to pull another stretch of heavy silence from the room. A few heroes shifted uncomfortably, others looked away.
It was Red riot who broke it, scratching the back of his head with an awkward grin. "Sooo… uh, are we gonna talk about the rest of the stuff that happened?" He wasn't trying to dismiss what was said—everyone knew they'd circle back to it—but someone had to break the tension before it got worse.
The silence after the last statement didn't last long before Dust Man leaned forward, brow furrowed.
"What the hell was happening in that beach battle? And what's up with that second team?" he asked, frustration lacing his tone.
Seven folded his arms.
"Well, there's a lot to cover here. So if you guys could ask something specific, it'd help."
Endeavor raised his hand.
"That woman in charge—in the end, when we saw the second team—she mentioned the enemy was distracted. Could you elaborate on that?"
Seven nodded.
"The first team was always meant to be a distraction for the second team. Even though Blackguard betrayed them, the first team still accomplished their purpose—just… in a much messier way than intended."
Ida's eyes widened slightly.
"Wait… did she send them purposefully to die?" he asked, his voice trembling at the possibility.
Seven quickly shook his head.
"No. The plan for the distraction should've been much safer and wouldn't have required any casualties at all… if everything had gone the way it was supposed to. But we all know it didn't."
That answer allowed Ida to breathe again. His shoulders relaxed as relief settled in—it wasn't meant to be a suicide operation. But the thought brought up another question that had been gnawing at him. He raised his arm high.
"Yes, Ida? What's your question?" Seven asked.
Ida lowered his hand, his voice firm now.
"I think it's time you tell us the true meaning behind the nickname of Task Force X."
At that, many others in the room leaned forward, their curiosity clear. Some had already guessed, but they wanted to hear it confirmed.
Seven didn't hesitate.
"It's very simple. Task Force X is a team of supervillains created by the government to take on dangerous missions for them. These missions are often so high-risk that some people call them suicide missions. Anything could go wrong and kill them—as we just saw earlier."
No one was surprised by the answer, but knowing it as fact instead of speculation still left them unsettled.
"And that's why they get their sentences shortened, isn't it?" Dabi asked suddenly, drawing all eyes back to him.
Seven tilted his head.
"Yes, you guessed it so quickly turned to the readers though this part is just my opinion, not a confirmed fact. I don't know the official reasoning, but here's what I think he turned back to the cast
"Because these missions are so dangerous, the villains would naturally prioritize their own safety over the mission's success. Even with bombs in their necks, they'd still likely do things halfheartedly just to survive. But if you offer them sentence reductions, it gives them a tangible reward for completing the mission properly. That way, they focus on actually doing the job instead of just saving their own skins."
A few people nodded, finally understanding the logic—though it didn't mean they agreed with it.
Midoriya frowned.
"But why even do this? Why not just ask their own heroes for help?"
Seven gave a small, knowing smile.
"You'll see the answer to that soon enough." His tone was deliberately mysterious, leaving the group even more curious.
Dust Man scoffed, clearly unimpressed.
"This team is worthless. If we were in the second team's place, we would've destroyed that army easily."
The rest of the League murmured in agreement.
Seven smirked slightly.
"I think you could destroy the army, sure. But I also think you shouldn't underestimate the Suicide Squad."
That made several eyebrows raise.
"Oh really? And why's that?" Dust Man challenged.
"First of all, remember—the first team was meant to be a distraction. Except for Harley and Captain Boomerang, most of them were what I'd consider C- or D-tier villains—at least in my opinion. I don't know every single member well, so that's just my take."
Spinner blinked.
"C-tier? D-tier? What's that supposed to mean?"
Seven chuckled.
"Right, I forgot—you don't have that kind of saying here. Let's put it this way… Dust Man, remember that dumb plan you came up with to take down All Might?"
Dust Man grumbled under his breath.
"Yeah, well… the villains you brought for that are like low-level, barely-threatening types. D-tier means they're stronger than those guys, and C-tier is a step above that. It's just a way of saying they're nowhere near top-tier threats, but not completely useless either."
The explanation clicked for everyone.
"I guess that makes sense," Midnight admitted. "The only ones that were actually useful in that fight were Captain Boomerang and Harley."
"And Boomerang only died because of bad luck," Miss Joke added.
Someone from the back spoke up.
"So… who's on team two? And how strong are they compared to the first team?"
Seven's gaze flicked back to the screen.
"Why don't we find out?"
Everyone's attention snapped toward the Screen again.
The scene cut abruptly to Waller's control room. Upbeat music kicked in—a jarring, almost mocking contrast to the carnage they had just witnessed on the beach. The agents inside were giving each other money, exchanging bills from a bet they'd clearly made beforehand. Some of them laughed loudly, enjoying themselves, while two of the younger agents even started dancing to the music.
The heroes and students stiffened in their seats, expressions hardening. The lighthearted mood in the monitoring room felt wrong—like a deliberate insult to the lives lost mere minutes ago.
Only the villains in the viewing room seemed unaffected. A few even smirked or tapped their feet to the beat, enjoying the track for what it was.
The screen changed again. Now it displayed photos of Team One, one after the other. Each picture appeared alongside a grim visual of their corpse.
Weasel—face pale, fur soaked—shown slumped lifeless in the water where he had drowned.
Mongal—her body blackened and charred—lay twisted in the wreckage from where she had burned to death.
The sight of the corpses made the viewers shift uncomfortably. They were criminals, yes—but seeing them like this, stripped of all the bravado they'd shown earlier, hit differently. For many, the thought settled in: They didn't deserve to die like that.
The next image was of Captain Boomerang. But instead of his full body, the camera showed only his severed arm, still clutching a boomerang mid-grip.
Spinner and Twice both went quiet, their usual energy fading. They each shed a tear—not for the morality of the man, but for the absurd, dark poetry of his end.
"I know it's messed up," Kirishima admitted with an uneasy laugh, "but… his arm like that? It kind of makes his death look a little cool. Even saying it out loud feels wrong."
"Nah," Bakugo said bluntly. "Even if it's screwed up, you're right. That pose is cool—intentional or not."
The next image hit harder. Savant's corpse lay sprawled in the sea, As the camera lingered, a bird landed beside him… the very same bird he had killed earlier that morning. It pecked at him without hesitation.
Tokoyami's voice dropped into a somber, almost philosophical tone.
"An eye for an eye."
Vantablack nodded beside him in agreement.
Then—another sharp cut.
The music shifted. The screen showed a pristine silver toilet with foam bubbling inside it, accompanied by the words: "Three Days Earlier."