I walked with a firm stride down the sidewalk, wearing Kai Chisaki's face like an old coat. All around me, the urban landscape was breaking down at a steady pace. I looked to both sides, taking in the pulled-down metal shutters, the trash piling up at the curbs, and the cracks splitting the asphalt. I paused to wonder if the chaos was starting to look better... or if it just looked worse. It was a weird thought. Maybe the Lich's essence was assimilating me a little more every day, or maybe I was just adapting to the perks of the environment. Who knows. At the end of the day, I was still me, right?
The dull thud of two military boots hitting the pavement cut my walk short. A mid-rank hero, wearing a visibly worn tactical uniform, landed a few yards away. His breathing was heavy, and he had a hand raised in a stop gesture.
"Excuse me, citizen. I need you to show me your ID right now," he said, keeping a cautious distance.
I raised an eyebrow, not moving a single muscle.
I haven't even done anything yet, I thought.
"Oh yeah? Mind telling me why?" I asked, letting my voice hold that sharp, distant edge signature to Overhaul.
"We have a report of an active suspect matching your appearance in this sector," the guy explained, adjusting his tactical belt as his eyes sized me up. "If this turns out to be a mistake, I apologize in advance, but it's strict Commission protocol due to the state of emergency."
That's weird. Isn't that miserable bastard supposed to be dead already or locked up rotting in a cell? I mused silently, processing the irony of it all.
"I don't have an ID on me," I replied with absolute indifference.
The hero frowned. He clearly didn't care for the dismissive tone.
"Understand the situation, sir. The city is under martial law. Traveling without valid documentation in a radioactive quarantine zone is a major offense," he said, taking a step forward as his stance stiffened. "If you don't have your physical credentials or the digital record of your Quirk, you'll have to come with me to the central station to verify your data in the system."
"I'll pass," I answered, turning around to keep walking. "I have better things to do than waste my time at a police station."
"Hold it right there!" the hero raised his voice, vaulting straight into my path. "I'm not asking for your permission. It's an order. If you refuse to cooperate, I will be forced to arrest you for non-compliance and contempt of emergency authority."
I stopped again. I locked eyes with him, feeling the absurd fragility of his bone structure and the carelessness with which he was threatening something way beyond his comprehension.
"I suggest you think twice before taking another step," I said under my breath.
The hero gritted his teeth. The tension in the air grew thick. Realizing I didn't have the slightest intention of moving, he reached for his military holster and activated his Quirk; metal plates began bursting from his forearms, plating over his fists.
"I tried doing this the easy way," he declared, charging forward with his arm cocked back to take me down by force.
The guy came in for a direct tackle, throwing a punch reinforced by his metal plates straight at my face. I didn't even bother raising my arms. A simple side-step, executed with the casual ease of dodging a drunk on the sidewalk, was all it took for his strike to hit nothing but thin air.
The hero stumbled from his own momentum, but he recovered quickly and spun on his heels, unleashing a rapid volley of hooks.
"Stand still!" he grunted through his teeth, clenching his jaw.
I just pivoted on the ball of my foot, letting his armored fists pass millimeters from my cheek and coat. The straps on his uniform snapped with every desperate swing. The whole scene was almost endearing: a biological organism with an imminent expiration date burning through its last reserves of stamina in a display of pure mechanical force. Man, my mindset really is changing every day.
"Lots of muscle, zero technique," I commented, tilting my head just in time to dodge an ascending uppercut that smashed into the brick wall behind me.
The concrete fractured, sending up a cloud of gray dust. The guy let out a heavy gasp; the ambient radiation and continuous effort were starting to take a toll on his lungs.
"Shut up... Don't mock me, you damn villain!" he yelled, leading with his shoulder to try and plow me to the ground.
I took a clean leap backward, landing on the rim of a dumpster with flawless balance. Crossing my arms, I kept up Chisaki's persona as I looked down at him.
"Do you usually get gassed this fast on all your patrols?" I asked, enunciating each word with a tone of mock concern. "With this level of performance, I'm surprised the Commission lets you carry a license in your wallet."
"I told you to shut up!" the hero roared, springing off both legs.
The plates on his arms expanded, covering all the way up to his shoulders in a makeshift armor of heavy iron. He launched a forward thrust with his entire body weight behind it.
Instead of dodging, I waited until the final millisecond. I shifted my torso just a couple of inches to the left and extended two fingers on my right hand, giving a light tap to the side of his loaded elbow. The heavy metal mass lost its original trajectory; the guy overshot completely, losing his center of gravity and crashing face-first into the pavement.
The sound of the impact echoed through the entire alleyway. The hero was left sprawling on his hands and knees, spitting blood and gasping for air, trying in vain to push himself up while his armor clattered from a lack of power.
I stepped off the dumpster without making a sound. I walked over slowly until I was standing right beside his head, watching him tremble on the asphalt.
"I appreciate the enthusiasm," I said, leaning down slightly toward him, "but physical effort doesn't make up for a lack of intellect. Are you getting back up, or can we wrap up this job interview now?"
Agh... Why the hell am I talking like some library nerd?
I paused for a second to process it. For real though—where the hell was this sudden urge to drop such elaborate speeches coming from? Who knows. Maybe this body's brain had some weird tic, or maybe I just liked the sound of my own voice acting all superior.
"Whatever," I grumbled to myself.
On the ground, the hero was trying to pull himself together, his left arm snapped in several grotesque places. Despite the fractures, I noticed his free right hand was clutching a tactical comms unit, holding an active emergency call open.
"Heh... heh... You're fucked... Backup is on the way..." he stammered, spitting a thick thread of blood onto the asphalt.
"Meh, I couldn't care less," I replied, shrugging without an ounce of interest. "As long as GOLB doesn't show up to ruin my day, the rest of them can go straight to hell for all I care."
"GOLB?... Who the hell is..."
I didn't let him finish. A quick, sharp chop to the back of his neck knocked him out cold. The guy collapsed onto the pavement like a sack of potatoes.
I stared at his uniform for a couple of seconds, thrown off by how heavily militarized the design was. Things in hero society must be getting seriously fucked up if standard patrol gear looks like military combat suits now.
"Anyway, not my problem."
Instead of taking off, I decided to make the most of that distress call. I leaped up to the roof of the adjacent building, sat on the edge with my arms crossed, and started waiting for reinforcements—charging up my aura in the classic Piccolo pose to kill time.
POV Switch: League's Underground Lab
"How is the progress coming along, Doctor?" All For One asked, dragging his oxygen tank stand along as he walked casually down the dimly lit hallway.
"Everything is moving according to schedule, my lord," Garaki replied without looking away from the monitors, his hands busy over the keyboard.
In the background, the main TV screen was tuned to a breaking news report. The broadcast wasn't showing clear footage, but the reporter's voice sounded rattled from the scene:
"—We repeat! An unidentified suspect wearing a surgical mask and a dark coat has destroyed a militarized patrol unit in the southern sector. The Commission is tracking the individual, whose appearance matches that of the former leader of the Shie Hassaikai, Kai Chisaki..."
Doctor Garaki stopped typing abruptly and scowled at the screen.
"Don't you find that strange, my lord? Chisaki was supposed to be completely incapacitated and under maximum security—or dead, I can't quite recall. How on earth could he be causing havoc out in the streets?"
All For One stared at the screen for a moment before letting out a raspy chuckle.
"Who knows. Perhaps he hired a duplicator, or maybe it's just a poor imitation born out of media panic. After all, the press doesn't even know who they're looking for."
The villain turned around, looking toward the incubation tanks where several massive silhouettes floated in amniotic fluid.
"Even so... we cannot afford uncalculated anomalies in our territory. Send a couple of tracking Nomus to that location. If he proves to be a nuisance, eliminate him. If he holds any value, bring him to me."
The two of them kept chatting normally until a violent, flashing light suddenly lit up the lab's shadow-draped interior, forcing them to whip their heads around immediately.
"What on earth...?" Garaki muttered, squinting behind his thick lenses.
"A portal?" All For One said, his tone turning severe. His stance shifted instantly, tensing his muscles and readying his defensive Quirks for an unexpected fight.
Before either of them could react, a tear in space ripped open right above them, and a heavy object plummeted down, slamming directly into one of the culture tanks. The reinforced glass container shattered with a deafening crash, spilling gallons of amniotic fluid and chunks of synthetic flesh across the lab floor.
Silence reclaimed the room, broken only by the steady dripping of fluid onto the tiles.
"..."
"..."
"Is that... a hand?" Garaki asked, blinking in absolute bewilderment.
In front of them, amidst the shattered glass and the remains of the destroyed Nomu, lay a severed, skeletal hand.
"Does it possess an active Quirk?" the Doctor inquired, turning to his leader.
All For One scowled beneath his scars, focusing the analytical vision of his passive Quirks onto the skeletal remains.
"My tracking Quirk registers absolutely nothing. No Quirk Factor, no trace of human biology... It is simply a dry piece of bone," he answered, letting a slight touch of frustration slip into his voice.
However, before they could take a step to examine it, the apparent fossil began to convulse. The dry phalanges twisted with a dry crunch, and with a grotesque, unnatural movement, the hand pushed itself up onto its palm, propping its fingers against the wet floor like a spider coming to life.
Both Garaki and All For One tensed out of pure reflex, taking a step back as the atmosphere inside the lab grew inexplicably heavy.
"A severed hand moving without muscle or biological mass..." Garaki adjusted his glasses with trembling fingers, shifting from apprehension to immediate scientific fascination. "This is beyond intriguing."
Out of nowhere, the skeletal hand planted its fingertips firmly and stood upright in the middle of the pool of amniotic fluid. With an articulated, grotesque movement, the palm and thumb split away from the rest of the fingers, mimicking the motion of a mouth opening wide.
At that exact moment, the lab's flickering lights projected a massive, distorted shadow against the back wall. The silhouette didn't belong to a simple limb—it was the hulking frame of a horned creature clad in dark robes, sporting a skeletal grin curved into a mocking smirk.
"Greetings... I see you carry quite a delicious amount of chaos on your shoulders," a dry, raspy, cavernous voice echoed, sounding like it came from thin air itself. "I am, so to speak, a newcomer to this world. I'd like to propose a little truce... What do you say?"
The shadow cast on the wall tilted its head, keeping that sinister grin intact while the runic hand waited patiently for a stunned All For One to answer.
End of Chapter 21.
Author's Note: Hey there! :D