Chapter 30: A Battle with the Heroes
Nagant could see the first S-300 the moment she arrived. It rested atop a small hill, with around a dozen infantry standing by, with the other three being a good few meters away from each other. She also spotted some BMPs, patrolling the nearby area. None of this, however, was an actual danger to her objective. What was, was the seven L-16 mortars spotted alongside the S-300s.
Taking quick note of their positions, Nagant quickly went over to a secluded hill, after hiding her JLTV. Once there her forearm bent back, as the barrel of her quirk came out. Moving carefully, she ripped a small tuft of hair from her head, before reshaping it into a bullet. From this distance, she could see she had two options. One was to maximize the power in her shots, which would ultimately destroy the S-300s like a bullet through paper.
But that would give away her position quite quickly, so there was option two. A more precise, albeit tedious shot to break the machine's. The decision was made as she checked her watch, finding only two hours until the C-17s would be in range. While it was likely the planes would make it through, that didn't mean all of them would. And with every piece of equipment being in desperate need, that meant time was of the essence.
So she looked back over the hill as she overcharged her quirk. Then aiming at one system, she fired. The gunshot sounded like a tank had fired, and it was only superseded as the first S-300 exploded. A large flaming hole was soon spotted where one of the AA missiles would have been located. With little time, Nagant began to crawl away from her previous position.
It was as she reached the other hill, that the first round of mortars hit the other hill. In a matter of moments, it was completely flattened. Not letting herself get distracted, Nagant turned back over to her second target. With the enemy focused on her last position, she set up her rifle quirk again, overcharging it. Then just like the first, she fired. A second S-300 exploded as its missiles were struck.
Quickly Nagant crawled out of the way again, right as the mortars hit the hill. It was worrying, the bombardment had arrived much faster than the last time. And she could hear the BMPs moving on her position. Having little time, she backtracked to the first hill, ensuring she wasn't spotted. But just as she finished setting up and prepared to fire, the S-300 she was aiming at came to life.
Its large tubes began to lift back before several missiles were launched into the air. Fearing she had been too late, Nagant looked down at her watch, only to become confused. She still had another hour before the C-17s came into detection range. Looking back over she found that whatever the S-300s were shooting at, had used all their missiles, with the crews around them rapidly reloading the systems.
It made her pause for a second, as she considered her next move. What were they trying to shoot down, if not the C-17s? As the question entered her mind, a call came from her codec. Quickly making sure the area around her was secluded, she answered.
"Mam?" the officer on the other end asked.
"I'm here, something come up?" she asked him, all the while keeping a lookout across the surrounding hill.
"Affirmative mam. A force of heroes was reported to have entered the sector. Reports suggest at least four divisions worth."
Heroes? All the way out here? It did answer one question though, but it left another.
"Where are they heading?"
"It's unknown, but hundreds of transport aircraft were spotted across the sector. I'd assume parachuting into the field."
"With no form of support?" Nagant muttered incredulously. It made her wonder if leaving the last S-300s intact was a smart idea. For one they would waste ammo on a different enemy, while the MSF's C-17s could slip by. And it could divert the hero's attention away from the MSF. However, that was if the Remnant forces were their only targets. Something that seemed more unlikely, as the call dragged on.
"Did the aircraft carrier arrive yet?"
"It has. It's currently circling Nigeria's coastline."
"Good, call them and order for jets to intercept those transports," Nagant ordered, before slowly making her way back to the hidden JLTV. She would come back for the surviving S-300s, but right now they seemed to be more than needed.
After what felt like an eternity, Grizzly sat down. He was caked in sweat and felt every inch of his body ache. In a pained fashion, he took off one of his shoes. See, back when he was a hero, there were many things he had previously taken for granted. Some he had expected to have lost. Air conditioning, Wifi, and a nearby store were things he expected to lose.
What he didn't expect, was not being able to shower for a week after being covered in sweat, mud, and just about every bug in the African wilderness. He didn't expect to have to go a full week on nothing but a half-empty MRE kit. And he most definitely did not expect, going without clean socks being the worst of all.
Especially as he looked down at his foot. The pair of socks were filthy, and it was only by some miracle that Grizzly hadn't gotten trench foot. Yet he was close, the pain he felt standing up told him that at every moment. So slowly he pulled off the first sock, before cleaning his foot with a disinfectant spray. It was a miserable process, as he did the same with his other foot.
This entire ordeal was miserable. The mud, the endless shelling, the lack of food, the low ammunition, the desperation. And yet, a part of him was willing to go through it again. After all this, he'd probably be the first one charging in. It was strange to look back on, how he went from the abomination of a hero costume to basic camo fatigues. Eventually, Eagle came over to join him.
"Rookie," he greeted, before slumping down in a foldable chair he was carrying, "feels good to finally relax, doesn't it?"
"Heh, that it does. Another week out in the field and I think my damn legs would have fallen off." Grizzly replied, the now clean socks covering his feet. He would never again take this luxury for granted.
"How long are we even supposed to be out here?" Grizzly asked him.
"Beats me, but the way I see it we have two possibilities. The first is us being stuck here for another few months on reconstruction efforts." Eagle replied before taking a sip from his canteen.
"And the other?"
"The other possibility is us getting flown out with a large batch of reinforcements coming to replace us."
"Doesn't sound all that bad."
"Well, I hate to rain on your parade," Ape began, the two noticing him walk over, "but I'm afraid neither is happening for the time being."
"It's always something new, isn't it," Eagle muttered, the once positive mood now bashed.
"What's the problem this time sir?" Grizzly asked him.
"From what I've learned, a large contingent of heroes has entered the sector."
"And that's a problem because?" Grizzly inquired, the ex-hero not entirely sure what the Lieutenant was referring to.
"Because the boys down in Intel believe the HPSC has labeled us as enemy combatants." Ape calmly answered as Eagle passed over his canteen.
"Now based on simple logic, command assumes the HPSC is targeting this airport. However, they aren't entirely sure. So for the time being, the entire area is on alert."
"Well then," Grizzly began, as he began putting his boots back on, "so much for a break. What're we doing?"
"As of right now, simple security detail. But I want eyes to the sky. Any and all sightings of a parachute are to be called in."
"Understood," Eagle replied, "Alright Rookie, let's get to work."
And just as they stepped outside, the first C-17 came in for a landing. Grizzly watched as it rolled across the runway slowing down, before it began turning to a different area. Once fully stopped and out of the way, a second C-17 came in. The massive planes' crews started unloading them then. Efficiently, the support team staff wheeled out the large pauldrons of supplies.
Grizzly let out a low whistle as an Apache was soon pulled out of the C-17s hangar bay.
"Damn those things are big," he commented, still walking aside the others.
"You can gawk later Rookie, we got work to do."
Silently Grizzly agreed, even if the sight was impressive. More aircraft would land and unload their cargo, all in orderly chaos. Large construction equipment was brought in once the last C-17 landed. And with it the Base Development team got to work building up the runway, ensuring other planes could land. The medical team loaded up a convoy of FMTVs and drove off to a camp of refugees.
As the music rang out over the radio, Cunning Ox tried his best to relax in his seat. All the while the soldier driving couldn't help but hum along. The fighting seemed to have died down, at least temporarily from what they could see. They drove down a long-abandoned road, covered in the occasional crater or destroyed vehicle. It made Ox slightly worried about mines, but the MRAP at the front of the convoy should hopefully alert them if anything arose.
"Gotta say," the driver started, attempting to have a friendly conversation, "It's nice to be out in the field again."
"I'll have to disagree with you on that one. I'm not entirely interested in getting shot at," Ox replied as he turned to look out the window. Outside he could see a pack of wild dogs feeding on the carcass of an elephant. Made him wonder if the MSF had any preservation contracts in the region.
"I'm not in the mood to get shot either. I just meant it's nice to be surrounded by plant life, rather than the dull concrete and steel back at the base." the driver replied.
"Eh, true. Can't go wrong with a bit of grass." Ox agreed.
"You know, I heard they started building mini forests back on Mother Base." the driver told him, as the truck turned to the right.
"Seriously?" Ox asked.
"That's what I heard, although my buddy might have been exaggerating. Still, wonder if the FOB over here is gonna get something like it." the driver replied, as Ox felt the truck shift. It turned slightly to avoid a burnt-out vehicle while staying on the word.
"If it did what would they put there?"
"Hmmm, maybe something from the region. I mean what better than something local."
"I guess that's true. Maybe they could bring some plants from Venezuela. I remember they had this really cool flower I saw in the jungle once."
"You remember the name?" the driver asked.
"I never learned it. But it was a bright pink with some splotches of white."
"Huh, it sounds pretty. Might be nice for a park."
"That's what I was thinking," Ox told him, as he kept gazing out the truck's window.
"That actually reminds me, you know anywhere I can get a bouquet?"
"A bouquet… all the way out here…" Ox replied, looking back at the driver.
"I know it's a long shot, maybe I could find some in a field or something."
"You got a girlfriend?" Ox asked.
"I'm engaged actually." the driver replied.
"The hell are you doing in the field while engaged. I swear this is the moment you say I can't wait to go home and see my family and then an AT round hits our truck… shit I'm sitting right next to you, I'm fucked."
"Well, I haven't said those words yet, so no jinx."
"Doesn't pointing out the jinx create a jinx."
"I think you're overthinking things now."
"Maybe, but who's to say," Ox replied, as the refugee camp finally came into view. It was honestly smaller than he expected, but he chalked that up to how spread out the battle was.
"Seems were here. You start unloading the truck, I've got paperwork to go sort out." the driver ordered, as the truck parked at a nearby tent. Giving the man a small nod, Ox hopped out and went over to the end of the truck. Opening up the back, he pulled out the first box of supplies. If he had to guess it was mostly full of disinfectants, if the sloshing liquid sounds were anything to go by.
Looking around he carried it off to a large pile the support team members were slowly building up. It had crates of bandages, coolers for blood and organs, electrical generators, x-rays, and a lot of other equipment. Making sure not to damage the nearby box of vaccines, Ox set the box down and went back over to the truck. As he did so, he could hear the sound of something…
He couldn't tell what it was, but it sounded like it was above him. Looking up, he thought he saw something. But the sun made it hard to look, and then he felt pain cover his entire left body. The world went black for a solid few moments as he passed out. When he woke back up, every part of him felt like he was hit by a semi-truck. He was lying on… something sharp? It was pressing into his back and made it hard to lean back up. Just as he was about to stand, something shoved him back to the ground, pressing the sharp object deeper into his back.
Ox let out a small cry in pain then, his eyes finally surveying the area. A large boot rested on top of him, and he could narrowly hear the sounds of gunfire around him. The boot had an odd pair of wings on the side, along with an infinity symbol plastered on the ankle. Its light blue hue stood out, as white trimmings laced up it, up to a more complex costume with a long flowing cape.
"There will be none of that villain! Fear not citizens, for the heroes have arrived!" the hero proclaimed, as Ox slowly turned his head to the side. There he saw what he was on top of, that box of vaccines now shattered. Struggling to stay awake, Ox finally fell unconscious, as the hero kicked him in the face.
The gunfire echoed around Bison as he ducked behind a concrete barricade. He peeked back over it quickly, before firing at a lone hero with his M4. The 5.56 rounds easily punctured the costume as the hero fell back dead. With one hero eliminated, he was forced back behind cover as another hero threw a ball of energy at him. It soared by, scorching the concrete before dissipating completely. What he wouldn't give to be back in his tank by now.
"CP this is Delta four! We need reinforcements!" Bison called out over the radio, as more soldiers around him fired into the crowd of heroes.
"Affirmative Delta four, backup is now on route!" CP replied as Bison looked back over the wall. The refugee camp was a cluster fuck. The convoy of arrived trucks was all but destroyed, and Bison didn't know what happened to the supplies. Even worse was the fighting itself. The main skirmishes had left the outskirts of the camp and were now in the middle of refugee tents.
Looking back over, Bison found another four heroes trying to approach the barricade. Not giving them the chance, he chucked a grenade over and watched as the heroes scrambled. Two were caught in the main blast and were killed instantly. The other two were wounded by shrapnel before another hero began to drag them to cover. But more heroes arrived to replace them.
The first one that arrived possessed a telekinetic quirk and lifted the barricade away. With his cover gone, Bison rolled out of the way before a large wrecking ball slammed into his previous position. Aiming his rifle back up, he fired at the hero with the wrecking ball, before falling back completely.
He could hear the chaos around him as he ran. Refugees fled alongside soldiers, with some heroes mistaking it as hostages being taken. Eventually, Bison met up with a small squad of soldiers, the men setting up an M249 in the patchwork of tents. Taking cover next to one he turned and asked, "Where's your CO?"
"Not sure, haven't seen him since the shooting started." the soldier replied, just as the next wave of heroes arrived. The machine gunner held down the trigger to the M249, the bullets tearing through the lightly armored heroes. In response one hero held up their hand, creating a translucent shield. The M249's rounds bounced off it as the heroes slowly got closer. It cracked the longer they shot it, but Bison wasn't sure if it would break.
It didn't in the end, as several heroes attacked once close enough. Bison attempted to shoot them with his M4, only for it to be slapped away by a hero with boxing gloves. The costume gave away his quirk, with Bison figuring out it was strength-based. But that didn't help him, as the hero threw a punch, and launched Bison fifteen feet away. The tanker landed on the ground hard, before passing out in pain.
What the HPSC was doing, could only be called art to the President. There was no better word to describe it. With the Tyrant's nukes no longer in play, a good majority of the villains they had released were sent back to prison. Those that weren't were shipped over to Africa. For one sole purpose. The heroes had captured the abandoned factory quite quickly, overrunning what forces had occupied the area.
With it, she had flown in hundreds of reporters to document the scene. Not as the disaster of a madman with WMDs, but as the defeat of a dangerous villain with a radiation quirk. It was quite easy to do. Have some of the heroes pose with the Nigerian flag, write off some minuscule death number, and document a hundred photos for every member partaking in the "battle".
Truly, it was art. Even better, was the possible prestige of the MSF's downfall. The best of her agents confidently informed her that the battle would last only a day. And with the reports she was given, it seemed more and more likely. The President could already see the headlines. Army of villains defeated by a coalition of heroes, citizens of Nigeria forever grateful. She could almost taste the profit.
And then Night Owl walked in, ruining her good mood. With a sigh, she looked over to the scientist as he closer her office doors.
"Night Owl," she greeted, "this better be important."
"I believe it is. See, someone had the bright idea to cut my funding, and I must say. Doing so after I gave you your saboteur, you really know how to break my heart."
"You still haven't brought us any progress on your research. Be glad I didn't cancel it entirely." the President retorted. Six years now, and the best Night Owl had managed to report, was that he had discovered Hell dimensions. Something that got them nowhere, aside from explaining why the project's casualty numbers were so high.
"I will get you results. Science just takes time."
"Then I suggest you stop wasting mine." the President stated dryly, "Is that all?"
She could see Night Owl mulling over his words, before walking out of the office. Unaware of the man's true thoughts, she went back to reading over combat reports. For you see, contrary to the President's beliefs, Night Owl had made progress. But of course, why would he ever share that with her?
Snake glanced at the maps quietly as Midoriya sat in a nearby chair. Miller accompanied them along with Ocelot, the two currently bickering over their next action.
"Look, I know how the HPSC thinks and acts. Their main goal is going to be large-encompassing attacks with their heavy hitters. That's why we need to pull back and use those B-52s you bought up."
"That risks blowing up thousands of innocent civilians. I agree we need to pull back, but it needs methodical. From your own report, the heroes have no current logistics. So let's focus on keeping it that way. Well starve them out, and force a surrender."
Midoriya could only watch as the two bickered, trying to determine who was correct. Eventually, he turned over to Snake, confusion covering his face.
"So, I don't mean to be rude, but why am I here?" he asked Snake. Looking back over, Snake pushed a map over to him as he smoked a cigar.
"Well, you wanted me to train you. And training is not just physical, but mental."
He held the cigar with his wounded arm, as his free one pointed out at several points on the map. For Midoriya, they made no sense. Snake pointed at a river, a hill, a flat plains, and a beach.
"Now, looking at those areas, what can you tell me?"
"That they're all different landmarks?"
"True, but what about in a military sense?"
Midoriya thought about it carefully. In a military sense? The question was so vague to him. Did he mean in combat? Or maybe he meant logistics-wise? He couldn't tell, but he focused on the map intently. Deciding to start simply he looked at the hill. It was common logic that the high ground won, whether it be in heroics or the military. However, he stopped when he noticed something else.
The hill was positioned behind a red line, as was the beach. Enemy territory maybe? He couldn't tell, but it seemed likely. So that meant the hill was not an advantage, but instead a disadvantage. Not entirely sure, he looked back over to Snake.
"Well… the hill is a priority target as the enemy could position artillery or some missile systems, and have the area be well protected with the high ground," Midoriya answered, with Snake giving him a small nod to carry on.
"The river is a good defensive area as the enemy has to waste time and resources to cross it. The beach is a terrible position to be in, as the enemy is exposed on wide open ground with sand limiting their movement. And the same can be said for the field, only without the sand."
"Good. Now what you're seeing, is a map of the current battle in Nigeria." Snake told him, "This specific hill was used exactly as you said, with the local forces setting up MRLS systems in that area."
"What about the beach?"
"It's like you said, it's a terrible position. As such the entire coastline is pretty much empty." Snake answered, before taking a puff from his cigar.
"Which is why this spot," Snake stated pointing at a lone section of beach, "is perfect for a naval landing."
"But I thought it was a terrible position to be in?"
"It is, but that's why the main objective is to get off the beach," Snake told him, before looking over to Miller and Ocelot. The two were still busy bickering, and Osprey looked ready to restrain the both of them.
"Ocelot, we're going with Miller's plan. But if it comes to it, I want those B-52s ready," he ordered. It seemed to appease them before he turned back over to Midoriya, the boy again focused on the map. He scribbled away, as he went over every inch of it, bringing a small smile to Snake's face.
"Alright Izuku, what do you know about logistics?"
Chapter 31: A People's Wrath
This… was not how the President was expecting things to go down. It was now day two of the originally planned one-day battle. Previous reports had been, after scrupulous review, over-inflated for enemy casualty numbers. Several heroes had in actuality, mistaken the Remnant forces, for the MSF. So in a matter of hours, there were more casualties counted, than MSF on the continent.
An apparent four thousand, when only two thousand five hundred were deployed. This was not good. As the President had almost declared the operation a victory before a swarm of Apaches annihilated a once "secure" position. This led to a disturbing discovery. That is the MSF's combat doctrine when dealing with heroes. It was a simple but effective strategy. Whenever an incredibly powerful hero was spotted at the scene, the MSF would fall back, and bomb the area with artillery.
Once the bombardment was finished, either a, the hero was forced to retreat, or b, the hero was killed. With the area now clear, the MSF would move in with heavy armor to reseal the gap in their lines, or worse, exploit the one that just formed in the HPSCs. Of course, artillery wasn't the only option the MSF took. Other reports claimed thousands of drones rigged with C4 flew into the area, and all rammed into specific heroes.
Another said the heroes encountered a field of landmines and were thoroughly delayed and hit by an airstrike. Of course, none of that mattered, as the President had a bigger issue to worry about. This battle was only supposed to last a day. They would move in, overwhelm the MSF with the sheer number of heroes, take a few photos, and return home victorious. They didn't have any supplies for a prolonged engagement.
And now the MSF had locked down air superiority and any transports flown into the area were shot down. The only gains that had been made, were done by a group of Polish heroes. Now this wouldn't normally be a problem, the media would take any victory the heroes achieved. But Poland's heroes were different. They still had media attention and merchandising deals as per requirements.
But they didn't act like normal heroes. Their costumes were dull boring colors or camouflage. Hero names were usually short, simple, and had no true brand appeal. And even stranger, they used guns. It was the antithesis of what a hero was supposed to be. Yet money kept flowing in, so nothing was done about it. At the moment the President couldn't tell if that was a good or a bad thing.
She wouldn't have time to figure it out either, as her phone started to ring. Picking it up, she found Techno calling. Suspecting some change in Africa, she picked up.
"Madam President," Techno greeted.
"What is it this time?" the President asked, continuing to look over nearby documents.
"A group of heroes is having some difficulties, mam."
"The entire damn front is having difficulties."
"My apologies, I should have been more specific. They've encountered a problem with the local populace."
"Problem how?"
As Bison stirred awake, he found his arms handcuffed together. He struggled a little, but ultimately it was fruitless. Taking a quick look around, he found himself in the center of the refugee camp. Surrounding him were dozens of other soldiers, with some heroes watching nearby. There was, however, a glaring lack of refugees.
The rational part of his brain told him that the refugees were simply in another area. But that did little to ease his worries. He didn't fight all this time just so they could die now. Yet his attention was taken as he heard one of the heroes talking.
"What do you mean you're not coming? We have over forty villains here waiting for pickup!"
"I told you, fighter jets shot down the last guys who got close. Your on foot I'm afraid."
"On foot!? Are you hearing yourself!? There's nothing but desert to the north, and villains to the south, east, and west!"
"Look man, I'm sorry but I don't know what to tell you."
And with that, the other end hung up, leaving a furious hero to pace around the area. It had an effect on the other heroes, as they learned of their predicament. It was plain to see for Bison, especially when he saw one scrounging through an empty MRE. Soon enough, a voice quietly called out to him.
"Captain, glad to see you're awake."
He looked over to find his gunner Zebra resting not far from him.
"Zebra, is it just you and me?"
"From what I've seen so far, yeah."
"Damn shame," Bison replies solemnly before he noticed a wounded soldier next to Zebra. His back was all torn up, and he could see bits of glass sticking out of his cuts.
"What the hell happened to him?" Bison asked.
"A dipshit hero dropkicked him into a box of vaccines," Zebra replied, a hint of malice clear in his voice.
"Figures," Bison muttered, "any idea on what happened to the civics?"
"Not a clue. Last I saw, some heroes were rounding them up." Zebra answered before a hero smacked him across the head.
"No talking." the hero ordered.
"Well geez, guess someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning." Zebra joked, resulting in another smack across the head.
"I said, no talking." the hero ordered again.
"You'd know I'd consider this torture, maybe we could call-"
"I suggest you listen to him Zebra, bad mouthing them isn't going to do anything." Bison interrupted, not wanting things to escalate further.
You should listen to your friend here." the hero stated.
"I'll listen when you stop calling me a villain." Zebra retorted, leading Bison to mental facepalm.
"And what would you prefer? Terrorist? War criminal? Human Trafficker?"
"Well, none of those seem to fit me. I'll go with an adventurer. That has a nice ring to it."
"Zebra, just shut up." Bison sighed, not wanting this to go on any further. The last thing he needed was someone getting killed for running their mouth. Zebra relented though, remaining silent then. Satisfied the hero walked away, patrolling the nearby area. Bored out of his mind, Bison decided to try and sleep. Sure, it was the middle of the day and the sun was up. But there wasn't anything else he could do.
The heroes kept them in one spot, unable to move at all, and not allowed to talk. So sleeping, was his only form of entertainment. Laying back onto the ground, he tried his best to find comfort in the hard ground. It wasn't that bad, compared to the outer hull of his Abrams. A bit uneven, but one couldn't really complain. And just as he was about to fall asleep, something kicked him.
"Ow! Son of a…" Bison muttered, cutting himself off as he opened his eyes. He found a hero standing above him before he was hoisted up.
"Move." the hero ordered, as other heroes did the same to other soldiers. Distantly Bison could hear the sounds of gunfire. It was getting close too, and based on the direction it had to be friendlies. He could hear freedom getting ever closer, yet he could do nothing. Walking forward the large mass of people followed them.
Looking back he found Zebra walking behind him, trying his best to steady the wounded soldier leaning on him. The man stumbled a bit but managed to keep pace with them. It was when they left the camp, that Bison spotted the refugees. He couldn't understand why, but they had all been huddled outside the camp. No reason came to mind, for why the heroes forced them out.
But he noticed something else as they walked. A group of heroes went over to the refugees, most having a wide smile plastered across their faces. He even spotted some with pens, waiting for someone to ask for an autograph. They spoke loudly enough that despite how far they were, Bison could hear them.
"Do not worry citizens! You're all free to go home! There is no need to thank us! We are only doing our job! So if you could all disperse the area, that would be much appreciated!"
A silence hung over the area for a moment, as the heroes' smiles drooped slightly. The refugees didn't move back an inch, instead, they walked forward. And the heroes became confused, with the first rock being thrown.
"GO HOME!"
"FUCK OFF!
"WHERE WERE YOU WHEN WE NEEDED YOU!"
"YOU'RE NO HERO! FUCK OFF!"
"WE HAVE NO HOME TO GO TO, YOU BASTARD!"
"MY SON'S DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU! FUCK OFF!"
It escalated almost immediately. Anything and everything was thrown at the heroes. Rocks, bricks, clumps of mud, and even some personal items. The heroes attempted to shield themselves from the ensuing onslaught but were forced to back up. Once they ran out of things to throw the refugees switched to quirks. Eyeballs were thrown. Detachable appendages, blocks of ice, bones, anything.
It forced the soldiers to stop as the other heroes went to go help their allies. But in the end, it didn't matter. It was a few hundred heroes against almost a thousand refugees. The heroes unsure of what to actually do were slowly pushed back to where the soldiers stood. What even were they going to do? There were children in the crowd, they couldn't start throwing punches willy-nilly.
"What is the meaning of this!? We're here to rescue you!"
"WE DIDN'T NEED YOUR RESCUE!"
"THEY WERE PROTECTING US FROM THE WARLORDS!"
"YOU SMASHED UP THE LAST OF THE MEDICAL SUPPLIES!"
The heroes were forced into a corner then, as they bumped into the soldiers behind them. They were entirely surrounded and outnumbered horribly. The crowd didn't care as they effectively shoved past the heroes, approaching the soldiers. One hero spotted this and was about to use his quirk, by the crowd was faster.
Four people cornered and grappled the man, before forcing him to the ground. They did the same to another hero, and another, before half of them were being restrained. At that point, Bison felt a light tug on his cuffs and found a rather large refugee standing near him. In a swift motion, the refugee broke his cuffs and moved to do the same with the others.
Now freed, the soldiers looked back over at the surrounded heroes. Finding themselves in a precarious situation, the heroes that could escape, did. It was either that or risk punching a civilian and risk their career. But to Bison, it seemed almost pointless. They had fought for a full day, killing each other. Only for them to just leave. All that bloodshed, for nothing.
"Unidentified aircraft, you are flying in restricted airspace," Impulse began, as he flew his F-35 next to the large cargo plane. Darksider flew on the other side, with Butcher and Mustang flying a couple meters behind.
"Identify yourself or turn back," he ordered. The other end of the radio remained silent, refusing to answer. At the moment, the only thing keeping that plane in the sky was the lack of identification. For all Impulse knew it could be carrying anything from civilian goods over to Egypt, or resupply for the heroes.
"Unidentified aircraft," Impulse stated again, "you are flying in restricted airspace. Identify yourself or turn back."
Again, silence. The longer this lasted, the more his finger hovered over the trigger. Were it a civilian plane it would have responded, but the radio could also be broken. He didn't know, and he wasn't particularly in the mood to shoot down a civilian.
"Unidentified aircraft, you are flying in restricted airspace. Identify yourself or I will be forced to engage." Impulse threatened, hoping it would force the plane to respond.
"This is Captain Edward Ryans," the other end finally responded. Mentally, Impulse took note of the Captain's name. He still didn't have a true identification for the plane, but it was something.
"Captain as stated previously you are flying in restricted airspace. Where are you going?"
"...We're a medical group sent by the Red Cross organization."
And yet the plane held no red cross. Nowhere on the plane was a cross visible.
"Anything more specific Captain, such as a location?"
"Yes, the Lagos airport."
An airport that was on the other side of the country, miles from where they were.
"One moment please," Impulse told the captain, before calling command. He sat there waiting, as he inspected the large cargo plane. It held no discernible logos or features to identify it. Yet the captain claimed it was the red cross. It was already fishy enough, but the last thing he wanted, was to be sitting in Prague for an itchy trigger finger.
"Diamond actual, this is Diamond two. I've got a cargo plane claiming to be part of the Red Cross organization." Impulse said, the radio picking up his every word. It was followed by a long silence, most likely command investigating the situation.
"Diamond two, the higher-ups have just checked in with the Red Cross. None of their aircraft have been sent into the area."
"Understood, permission to engage?"
"Authorized, but only if they ignore further warnings."
He switched back over to the captain's radio then.
"Captain Ryans this is restricted airspace. Turn around or we will be forced to engage." Impulse ordered, before moving his jet into position. Just as he did so, he spotted the rear of the cargo plane opening up. And began rolling out of the back. Impulse mentally swore, before firing a missile into the cargo plane. It struck and tore off the right wing of the aircraft, causing it to list. Its weakened state further deteriorated as Darksider launched his own missile.
It struck the main fuselage of the plane, ripping what was left in half. Looking back Impulse could see at least three parachutes below him, drifting to the ground below. Moving his plane downward, he switched to the gun pod and lined up a shot on the first parachute. The bullets cut through it like paper, before striking the cargo beneath it. Darksider did the same with the other two.
"You know, this is kinda boring," Butcher noted over the radio.
"You can say that again. All these heroes and the HPSC couldn't send a single fighter jet?" Darksider commented.
"There heroes, if it's not a fistfight on the ground then it doesn't matter." Mustang chimed in.
"Still, I heard some of their heroes can fly," Butcher replied.
"Yes they can fly, but what exactly do you expect them to do? Punch us out of the sky with the super strength they don't have?" Mustang countered.
"I mean there was that dragon hero." Butcher reasoned back.
"Can she breath fire?" Mustang asked.
"No."
"Can she fly at Mach 1.6?"
"No."
"Is her skin thick enough to survive a Sidewinder?"
"... No."
"Then again, what are they going to do?"
"I don't know. Maybe one of them has a quirk for this."
Midoriya was bored. With Snake being wounded that meant no CQC training or field missions. He could work on his stealth capabilities, but the majority of the men were sent to Africa. So the exercise would be easier than when he first started. And as much as he wanted to improve his skills, he wasn't really in the mood for it.
So instead, he laid back on his bed staring at the ceiling, with Rody giving him ideas.
"I heard the residential platforms have theaters, maybe we could go see a movie," Rody told him, as he spun around in Midoriya's desk chair. Over the years his room had changed a bit. The dozens of All Might posters still littered the walls, but there were a lot of other things as well. Blueprints for military hardware he found interesting, photos of the people he considered family… weapons he most definitely did not sneak out of the armory.
Small things like that. For the most part, though, it was the same old room he'd grown up in.
"Well, Strangelove did want me to watch A Space Odyssey," Midoriya replied, petting the back of DDs head. She had of course encouraged him to watch it. But every time he asked about it she talked about its complex themes and ideas, ultimately confusing him.
"Could we do Top Gun instead?" Rody asked.
"Haven't you already watched that?"
"Well yeah but-"
"Fourteen times?"
"I see your point." Rody conceded, "I'll watch Top Gun Maverick instead."
"Thirteen times. Actually wait, the reboots or the original?"
"Original."
"Hmmm, maybe."
"Wait! I got it!" Rody suddenly exclaimed, standing up from his chair. Midoriya looked over at him, slightly confused by the outburst.
"Karaoke!"
"...You do know neither of us can sing, right?" Midoriya asked.
"So? It'll be fun." Rody replied as he left the room. Midoriya debated following him, but Rody soon returned. He carried a console with him and hooked it up to the computer on Midoriya's desk. He then turned back around and ran back out the door, then came back with a pair of wireless microphones.
"I guess we're doing this then," Midoriya muttered as he stood up. Rody passed him the other mic, before turning on the monitor. In a few moments, the game was turned on, and they were scrolling through songs.
"What about Take On Me?" Rody asked, it is clear how much time he spent with Pequod.
"Maybe, I can't hit the high notes though."
"True. Hey, what's this one?"
Midoriya looked at the song Rody was asking about. It took him a minute but it was in Japanese. It was strange to Midoriya. He could still speak his native tongue due to time with Miller, but it felt oddly foreign to him. Everything he did was in English nowadays. When he talked to the staff it was in English. When he wrote in his notebook or read a novel it was in English.
He didn't know how he felt about that. Feeling almost alienation from his own language. But he shrugged off the feeling quickly, as he looked back at the song. It translated to Judgement and had a strange album cover. Two men were on the front, one had an eye patch and a tuxedo, and the other had an orange shirt and white suit.
"It's worth a shot," Midoriya replied, selecting the song. After a brief countdown, it started up. The beginning held a loud instrumental part, as the sound of an electric guitar echoed around the room. The screen itself didn't change, still holding the album cover as its background. Before it shifted and lyrics appeared. Taking a quick breath, Midoriya started.
"Reeru kara hazureta" The words felt awkward as they left his mouth, the feeling of alienation returning, but he kept going.
"Furyouhin no norainu sa. Da kedo kantan ni wa."
Rody took over then, trying his best to pronounce the words. It was a bit butchered but passable.
"Teeru wa furanai ze yes ma ni Narisobireta."
As awkward and dumb as it felt for Midoriya, it was fun. A small smile covered his face as the two both sang the next lines.
"Waru ni nokosareta NO to iu na no, JUSTICE!"
No, it was most definitely fun for the two. It was loud, it was dumb, and they were bad at it. Their words were out of pitch, too early, and too late. And yet it was fun, the two simply enjoyed the day.
"WOW, BREAKIN' THE LAW, BREAKIN' THE WORLD, kowase!"
Chapter 32: A Visit to I-Island
As Night Owl took his first steps onto the artificial island, one thought came to mind.
"I fucking hate this place,"
I-island was nothing more than an affront to science in his eyes. Not because of how it was built or the technology behind it. No, those alone were the most valuable pieces of technology he could ever want. He hated what the island represented. A supposed shining beacon of progress and science. It couldn't be farther from the truth, but he couldn't let his gracious host see his annoyance.
"Dr. Philips! A pleasure to finally be meeting you." David Shield greeted, holding his hand out. Hearing his fake name be called, he looked over at the man, before shaking his hand. A wide, friendly smile plastered on his face.
"And a pleasure it is to meet you, Mr. Shield. I must say, the island seems to be coming along well." Night Owl noted as he gazed out at the massive skyscrapers towering over everything. It was visible even from the landing strip, regardless of the massive wall blocking their view. He could admit the city itself was a marvel of technology.
The fact the city seemed to ignore the bustling oceans beneath it, the thousands, possibly millions of tons floating on top of it. But it only made him hate this place more. Technology like this and they build a symbol of lies.
"It impresses even me sometimes. So much work done in such a short time frame. However, I doubt you're here to discuss architecture."
"Actually," Night Owl began, "that is why I'm here. The World Hero Association has sent me to do an inspection of I-island's structural stability."
That was the simple explanation, and also his cover story. It was the WHA that sent him but under the orders of the HPSC. Boy, you just have to love corruption. Regardless, the President wanted him to scout out possible technologies that might assist the HPSC's efforts against the MSF.
She had effectively given him a bottomless check. A check he wasn't going to waste on her demands. He had a different target in mind, it wouldn't advance his goals per se, but it was more for a personal vendetta.
"I can assure you I-island is perfectly sound, and if it isn't we have enough backups to ensure it's safe," Shield told him, with Night Owl's smile shifting slightly. It appeared more dissatisfied somehow, while barely changing at all.
"I know, but orders are orders. And I'm not allowed back home until we're done."
"Well… alright then. If the WHA is truly adamant about this." David replied as the two began walking to the main superstructure. Once there Night Owl found the entire thing being held together by a large number of support pillars. And the pillars themselves were the size of some buildings. If that wasn't enough, he found his explanation for how the city wasn't affected by the ocean's waves.
The pillars were almost like massive shock absorbers, moving with the waves to keep the island perfectly stable. There had to be hundreds of them, all going through the same motion at a time. Truly a marvel of technology.
"What you're seeing, is pillar section A out of twenty-six others." David began, motioning to the area around them, "The entire section has around a hundred pillars. Periodically we shut down half for repairs while keeping the other half active."
"Impressive, although I'm a bit worried about how I-island does with external threats."
"In case of an external threat, the entire outer superstructure was designed to be stronger than a bomb shelter. Our security systems as well, are comparable to that of Tartarus."
Considering what had previously occurred in Tartarus, Night Owl debated whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. Bad in that the most secure prison in the world lost to one quirkless man, granted, with inside help. Good in that the most secure prison in the world lost to one Big Boss. So really it was a coin flip.
The strength of the superstructure, however, might pose a problem. He might need to check if The Broker has any GBU-28s in his possession. If not, maybe he could raid an armory.
"And these are positioned all across the island, correct?" Night Owl asked him, as David began pulling him to a new part of the area.
"They are, and should a section fail, the others can pick up the slack."
"But that begs the question, how many sections are needed?"
"All would be preferable; however, the island can survive with half."
"And if they do fail?" Night Owl asked again, both to further his cover story and for his genuine intrigue.
"And if they do, we have several pumps across the island to keep it from flooding. Believe me, we've thought of everything." David answered.
"I'm sure you have," Night Owl agreed, "but you know how bureaucrats are."
"Heh, you've got me there," David replied, ignorant of Night Owl's true intentions. There was, of course, one last thing Night Owl needed to know.
"Now, this should be the last thing, but what about the power grid?"
"That was the first thing we worked on, see the entire island is powered by a nuclear reactor. Every aspect of the reactor is monitored at all times and is also guarded by people with danger-sensing quirks. If anything were to go wrong, we would know." David informed him, as the two then left the section, returning to the outside.
"Well, that should be it." Night Owl surmised, looking around the streets of the floating city.
"It truly was a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Philips. Perhaps we'll be discussing something more scientific next time."
"Heh, one can only hope." Night Owl replied, taking everything he had learned to heart. Some slight changes would need to be made in his plan, but it was all in the realm of possibility. After all, he no longer needed the old dimensional constant. Now he could do, whatever he- wait a minute was that the same cafe from Israel, Night Owl thought, spotting the building out of the corner of his eye. Perhaps his plan could wait, as Night Owl went over to the small coffee shop.
"Holy shit," Eagle muttered, as he gazed through the scope of his rifle, "you were not kidding."
"I told you," Grizzly replied a smirk crossing his face. Disgruntled, Eagle passed him a twenty-dollar bill, before Ape did the same. Why you ask? It was quite simple really. Once word had been received that reinforcements were needed at a nearby refugee camp, they were ordered to go help. Along with an extra company that had just arrived, armed with the R&D team's new Walker Gears.
When they arrived, the situation seemed to sort itself out as, in an ironic turn of events, the refugees were defending the soldiers. But that wasn't the end. They reinforced the camp and received new orders. They were to intercept the fleeing heroes and ensure they couldn't regroup. It had taken an hour-long trip to the JLTV, where they discussed the heroes they were facing.
It inevitably turned to costumes, when Eagle pointed out the odd design of some heroes. This is where the bet came in. See there was a small group of heroes Grizzly learned about back home. They were stationed in Hawaii and had a rather odd choice of costume. I mean he wasn't one to complain but they were a bit worrying.
And when he explained this to the others, they claimed it was a lie. So, he made a bet, if they were to witness these heroes with their own eyes, whether it be photo, video, or in person, they would all pay him twenty dollars. It was the easiest money he made.
"I don't know what to think of this," Ape muttered, "it's utter bullshit."
"Heh, and you thought I was bluffing," Grizzly told him, before jokingly counting his money.
"I expected many things in life, the Bikini Brigade was not one of them," Eagle said, the man still surveying the area with his scope.
"Well, you seem rather interested." Grizzly joked, to which Eagle responded by flipping him off.
"This honestly doesn't seem fair; they've got about a dozen girls over there clothed in basically nothing. We've got the high ground, artillery, and Walker Gears." Eagle told them.
"What do you expect us to do, go easy on them?" Ape replied as Eagle looked away from his scope.
"No, but this might become a slaughter rather than a battle. I don't like heroes as much as the next guy, no offense Rookie, but I'm not keen on…" Eagle began, as he swapped to his binoculars. He slowly paused as he looked back at the enemy in front of them, before he felt himself become disgusted.
"Uh… Rookie?"
"Yeah?"
"How old was that Bikini Brigade you mentioned?"
"Eighteen to nineteen…"
Grizzly's eyes began to widen slowly as Ape looked over at the two.
"...So… they don't appear to be eighteen."
"Oh for fucks sake!" Ape exclaimed as the other soldiers in the squad began to worry. Quickly Ape pulled out his radio.
"CP this is Alpha five, we've got possible child combatants on the field," Ape replied angrily before looking back over to Eagle.
"Keep an eye on them, I don't want them getting killed out there," he ordered, as CP began to reply. Eagle for his part, turned over to the drone operator, who simply nodded. He then turned back over as the drone flew overhead. It flew just high enough not to be noticed but low enough for the sensory equipment. All that did was further his disgust at the sight, especially when he saw Grizzly grimace.
"Shit, they don't look older than sixteen," Grizzly stated, looking away from the drone's camera feed. One of the girl's legs was bent at the wrong angle, while another had something jutting out of their gut.
"The hell are they doing out here? I know the HPSC is low, but this is downright despicable."
"They might be on an internship. I did it a few years ago."
"Well, some internship."
The entire thing was a grizzly scene, the longer the soldiers looked at it. These were kids dying, and those injuries were most likely caused by them. Shelled by one of their own guns, completely unaware of who the true target was. One soldier threw up at the notion, caking the ground in shame. At that point, Ape had finally gotten word to the rest of the company.
Silently he looked out at the soldiers around him, examining every feature. He mentally eliminated each one before he looked at Grizzly.
"Alright, I need you, to walk out over to them."
"Sir?"
"You're the youngest out of all of us. Thought it might help them somewhat. Leave your weapons here and your helmet. Talk them down." Ape ordered. And Grizzly did so, unstrapping his helmet, before passing his M4 to Eagle. Then, he was off. He walked out nervously, anxious about his next course of action. He didn't want to appear threatening, so he walked slowly. As he got closer, he could hear the hero students talking.
"Katie, please breath it's going to be fine!"
"I-i'm t-trying… i-it h-hurts!"
Grizzly decided to quicken his step then, all the while grimacing at the girl's cries. It got worse the closer he got, every whimper becoming more noticeable.
"D-do we pull it out?"
"I-i don't remember, I wasn't in class when we did this."
"I-i j-just w-want t-to go h-home."
"Well get home, don't worry."
Getting close enough for the students to notice him, he held up his hands in front of him. Right as the first student turned over to him. She froze for just a moment, paralyzed in fear. The others reacted similarly, with only one getting into a fighting stance. But Grizzly could tell she was also afraid.
"It's ok, I'm not here to fight." Grizzly began, keeping his hands visibly in the air. It did little to ease their worries. They were deathly afraid, forgetting what training they had. Having a closer look, Grizzly could see it was worse than he thought. The girls were caked in mud, with small splotches of blood on their arms. Or dripping down their heads. The drone feed had been correct though.
One girl was impaled on a piece of wood, possibly caused by an explosion. The other one's leg wasn't just broken, it was hanging on by a thread. It was being held together in a makeshift sling, but it barely stopped the bleeding.
"Stand back villain! We're not afraid!" the girl in the fighting stance shouted. It was nearly imperceptible, but Grizzly could still hear the fear in her voice.
"Look, I'm not coming any closer. I'm just here to talk." Grizzly replied.
"Why should we believe you, villain? You're just trying to trick us!"
"I'm not. All I'm here for is to talk."
"Talk about what?"
"About your surrender."
"And why would we surrender! The moment we do you're just going to kill us!"
"We're not going to, trust me. No one wants more blood to be spilled. Besides, I don't think you have many options left." Grizzly began, before pointing over at the impaled girl, "If I have anything to go by the only thing keeping her alive is that spike of wood. And you don't have anything that can help her."
The girls seemed to ponder his words but were still hesitant.
"But we do, all you need to do is stand down. No harm will come to you."
"Why should we trust you? You, villains, are the entire reason we're in this mess!"
"I can't really give you a reason, we haven't done anything to earn your trust. So here, the hill behind me has forty soldiers hiding behind it. They have artillery on standby ready to flatten the area, and mechanized support not far away."
He then pointed off to a different hill, but the girls still focused on him.
"Over there are another twenty-five soldiers, and if I remember correctly several mortar crews. This area is completely surrounded, and this discussion is why the shooting hasn't started. We don't want to kill you, we never even wanted to hurt you. That's why we're asking you to stand down."
"And if we don't?"
"Well, that just makes the fight a lot harder. It's a bit hard to do non-lethal with a bullet. I mean I think it's been done, but I'm not a good enough shot for that." Grizzly replied, before thinking over what was just said, "That doesn't really help though, does it."
Reluctantly, they stood down. Although Grizzly could tell it was more due to a growing sense of defeatism rather than truly convincing them. He might need to take a class on how to talk people down because he honestly doesn't remember the one, he learned in heroics. The girls still looked at him with distrust, and he couldn't blame them. But at least a fight didn't break out.
And then an artillery shell landed right next to him.
Midoriya gagged as he looked at the Otton frog on his plate. Rody had a similar reaction, while Snake just ate unfazed.
"Do I really have to eat this?" Midoriya asked him, his face as green as his hair.
"Yes, sometimes you're cut off from supplies in the field. That means you make do with what's available, even a frog." Snake replied, before taking another bite of his food. Midoriya could hear him mutter, "Tasty" between bites.
"That doesn't explain why I have to do it." Rody commented.
"Because someone thought it wise to swipe my wallet," Snake replied, as he slowly turned to Rody, "That, and you want to become a pilot. So, should you ever crash or get stranded, this knowledge will help you survive. Now eat, else I start serving iguana as well."
Putting on his best brave face, Midoriya picked up part of the frog. It had already been cut up and prepared, but it didn't make it seem any more appetizing. Slowly he brought it to his mouth, before taking a small bite. He chewed for a moment, expecting to throw up what breakfast he previously had.
"Huh… it's not as bad as I thought." Midoriya stated, before taking a second bite, "Tastes kinda like chicken actually."
"Like I said, tasty," Snake told him, before finishing the last of his meal. Rody looked at the two incredulously, somewhat disgusted by their answers. But there wasn't a backing out now, so he readied himself for the next few seconds.
"Well, when in Rome," Rody muttered, before taking a large bite out of the frog. Surprisingly, it did taste like chicken.
"Now remember, there are some creatures that are dangerous to eat if not prepared well. As well as some that are genuinely inedible. I should know," Snake stated, remembering those poison dart frogs back in Russia. It was a mistake he paid dearly for; however, they did make his fight with The Fear easier.
"Do they all taste like chicken?" Midoriya asked, before taking another bite. It made him wonder what a python tasted like.
"Depends," Snake replied, before pulling out a cigar.
"This was honestly surprising," Rody comments. As he did so, Snake noticed a small pink bird, resting in the boy's hair. It had a mask and seemed to be asleep. With it came two thoughts, how long had it been there? And what did it taste like? Yet he was stirred out of his thoughts, when his codec began to ring. Answering the call, he found Miller waiting on the other end.
"Miller?"
"Snake, we've got a situation down in Africa."
Snake sighed as his hand rubbed his brow, "There's always a situation. What's it this time?"
"It's not completely confirmed, but I'm getting reports of children present on the battlefield."
"Child soldiers?"
"Child heroes actually."
"Great," Snake muttered, "order a halt on all offensives. Have the men focus on sneaking behind enemy lines and extracting them covertly. I'd rather not have some pre-teen blown apart by an artillery shell."
"Got it Boss."
Chapter 33: A Negotiation
"Alright, that should do it, Boss," the doctor proclaimed as he removed Snake's bandages. Five years in this dimension and he was still amazed by quirks. What would have taken months to recover, was fixed in three days by a medic with a healing quirk. It felt good to breathe well again, as he pulled out a fresh cigar. Was it counterproductive to keep smoking after he had been healed?
Absolutely, but no one was going to convince him to stop. With his cigar lit, he began leaving the medical ward, as the doctor gave him a crisp salute. One Snake returned as he walked outside. Then the crisp sea air filled his lungs, the outside was surprisingly lovely, considering the circumstances.
The reports Miller had brought to his attention were true. The Intel teams weren't sure how many students were on the battlefield, but even the lowest estimates suggested a thousand. His order to halt all offensives couldn't have come at a better time, after all, this was now day four of the battle.
It was common knowledge that a human could survive three days without water, a fact the heroes had been pushing to the limit. And it only made the battle that much worse. Heroes were found dead, not because of bullet wounds or injuries, but by dehydration. Sources of water had been poisoned by the militants, and the MSF's main targets were heroes with water quirks.
While it was effective, Snake couldn't help but regret the tactic now. They could have been killing children out there. Whether it be directly or indirectly it was happening. He could only hope some of them would make it out alive, as he glared out at the surrounding platforms. All this bloodshed, and for what? The heroes weren't fighting for anything, not really. They were told it was to protect the innocent and save lives, but that wasn't what was happening.
It was funny actually. Heroes and soldiers weren't all that different. Both would be thrown away by those above them. Both couldn't picture a life off the field. Both had their bad apples, in war criminals, and money-hungry assholes. Just to inspire and indoctrinate a new bunch to replace them. It had Snake ponder these thoughts before he heard the sound of someone drinking.
He turned, finding Nezu sitting on the platform's railing, a teacup in his hand.
"Where the hell do you even come from?" Snake muttered to himself, before taking a puff from his cigar.
"Now, now, we may be allies, but I can't give away all my secrets," Nezu replied, his tail swaying slightly in the wind, "I believe there are more pressing matters though."
"So, you've heard."
"It's impossible not to. The HPSC has been doing damage control for the last three days." Nezu replied, before turning to face him. He pulled out a phone from one of his suit's pockets and handed it to Snake. Looking down at it, Snake found a news article plastered on the screen.
"Disaster In Nigeria! Ten Thousand Heroes Dead, Thousands More Missing!" Snake read aloud, before scrolling through the rest of the article.
"The HPSCs managed to cover up their involvement, pinning the blame onto the WHA. However, things are not looking good for them."
"I disagree, if anything this might help them."
"How do you mean?" Nezu asked him. Logically the trust in hero society would be shaken immensely. The death of so many heroes, and even the death of children. But Snake could see the alternative.
"Think of it, the biggest defeat heroes have ever taken. If I were a corporate big wig, I'd be shouting to the press that they need more funding."
It made too much sense, to be honest. It wouldn't be the hero's fault, no. It was the shoddily made support equipment, the lack of effective training and schools, and the underpaid heroes in the field. It was a lifeline the HPSC could cling to, and one they were actively holding onto as Snake read through the article.
"Top experts report that faulty support equipment led to forty percent of hero casualties. With this number Syntax, Jupiter Support, and General Equipment are now under investigation for corruption." Snake read aloud to which Nezu became visibly annoyed.
"A shame, sometimes I forget how illogical some humans are," Nezu muttered, before taking another sip of his tea.
"What's your next move?" Nezu asked him.
"As of right now, we might try negotiations. We don't have the leverage for anything drastic," Snake began, before taking a puff of his cigar, "However we might be able to force a ceasefire, possibly end the bloodshed."
Nezu simply nodded before a dissatisfied frown crossed his face.
"They were blaming education as well, correct?"
"They were,"
"Then I'm afraid I must go, I fear the HPSC with use this event as fodder to take control of UA." the rodent replied, before hopping off the railing. Snake handed him his phone, with Nezu gave him a small nod before walking off. Somehow, Snake couldn't help but feel the worst was yet to come.
"Report?" Nagant asked, looking over at the officers assembled. She'd gotten better at this commander thing, at least she hoped she did.
"The Western flank reports a cease in hostilities mam, the heroes there are beginning to surrender."
"The Southern flanks calmed down a bit, however, militant reinforcements have been spotted across the nearby river."
"The Eastern flank's having difficulties with some heroes. Most are with children and have made conventional fighting difficult."
Nagant nodded as the first three officers gave their reports, yet as they did so she spotted the final one looking away. He was focused on his radio, dragging away his attention every few moments until it became his turn. She soon found out why.
"The Northern flanks under heavy assault by Remnant forces. Enemy estimates are currently unknown however several hundred tanks have been spotted on mass. Possible T-72s, T-90s, and T-62s"
"Damn it, keep me posted on the situation. I want men rerouted from the south to the west. Are those B-52s still available?" she asked one of the officers.
"Yes, mam."
"Good, I want them in the skies pronto. Vulture, call the carrier's captain and see if he can spare any support." Nagant ordered.
"On it mam."
"Talon, those paratroopers have been begging to drop for days now, I want them securing logistical hubs behind enemy lines. And someone get me a feed of the front!"
For a split second, Grizzly's life flashed before his eyes. He saw his parents taking care of him, every friend he made, dozens of birthdays, and his first days as a hero. All of it in just a split second, and then nothing for five seconds. In the moments after, he found a shoddily made shell, lodged into the ground and still smoking. And the rest felt natural.
"Get down!"
The girls around him dropped to the ground before he did the same, a second shell soon hitting the ground around them. Unlike the first this one worked, the explosive mechanism detonating loudly. Bits of dirt and metal rained down on top of him before a third shell followed soon after. He looked back up to the girls, finding them near their two wounded. They didn't dare move, with Grizzly hearing faint cries as the shelling continued.
Slowly he crawled over to them, getting close to the wounded. The damage was even worse up close. The wooden piece was lodged close to the stomach, and it might have even pierced it. Yelling out to them, he looked out over the fields behind them.
"Stay low to the ground! Crawl over to the hills, and do not stay close together!"
They sat there nervously for a second before one became brave enough to move. The others soon followed, leaving Grizzly with the two wounded. Back over at the hills, Ape was moving quickly, with the other soldiers in tow.
"Get out there! Move!" he shouted before turning over to the droner operator, "Find those guns! I want counter-battery fire on their asses now!"
"Yes sir!"
"Enemy contact, five hundred meters, and closing!" a soldier called out, ducking as a bullet whizzed by. Ape looking out over the hill found the soldier's warning, as dozens of militants approached their position.
"Where the hell did they come from!?" Eagle called out, as the shelling came to a halt, the enemy not wanting to hit their men.
"Gator, Hornet, cover fire!" Ape ordered as the two machine gunners took position. Their M249s loaded and ready, the two held down the trigger. The 5.56 rounds ripped apart the approaching men, forcing several to duck for cover. There wasn't much to hide behind though, the area in front of the hills was mostly empty. That was until Ape spotted something else approaching.
It was a large vehicle, too far for him to determine what it was, but the aftermath informed him. As an explosion launched the two machine gunners backwards, both dead.
"Tank! Take cover!"
Ape silently swore as the tank fired again, tearing apart four men in the blast. From a far-off distance, he could see Grizzly freeze the tank, but another two came to replace it. For as effective as Grizzly's quirk was against enemy armor, it had one glaring weakness. It provided the enemy with a lot of cover.
"Walkers! Focus on the tanks!" Ape ordered, the drivers of their new weapons moving out. It was odd to see, the two-legged vehicles moving so quickly. In all honesty, Ape thought they'd fare better in an urban environment than out in the open. But you had to deal with the cards dealt, and if those cards had anti-tank weapons, then all the better. The walkers split up into two groups, moving out to the flanks.
The tanks soon noticed this and switched targets. With the tanks distracted, focusing on one side the other would fire their AT missiles. In mere seconds the two tanks were engulfed in flames, while the walkers with miniguns focused on infantry. The sheer quantity of rounds fired turned the enemy militants into a red mist. Yet the more militants they killed, the more seemed to arrive.
Another two tanks drove over, finding the other two destroyed. A walker gear moved to intercept and destroyed the first with an AT missile. But the second moved out of the way, obscuring itself behind its burnt-out ally. It left the walker vulnerable as a second pair of tanks drove up on the other side. In a matter of seconds, the walker was destroyed. It could only be described as chaos, as Ape ducked back behind the hill.
Peeking back over, he fired at an approaching militant squad. He managed to wound three and kill two, before ducking back again. He took a breath as he took note of the situation and attempted to calm his nerves. Just as he did so the drone operator called over to him.
"Enemy artillery's been spotted!"
Moving quickly Ape pulled out his radio as the drone operator ran over to him. Looking over at the screen Ape relayed the gun's coordinates into the radio. The moment he did so a soldier ran up the hill with one of the girls in tow with a second soldier not far behind him. Then miles away the M270s adjusted their aim, as Ape gave them the last target.
With the MLRS ready to fire, Ape turned back over to the field. More soldiers were picking up the girls, as others provided covering fire. Ape soon joined them, as he aimed another squad of militants. He killed the machine gunner first, with a quick three-round burst. The militants surrounding the gunner dove away, making it harder for Ape to shoot them. All the while Grizzly was still focused on the wounded girls.
While he had left behind his M4, he still had his M9 pistol and a knife. He moved to the impaled girl while firing his M9 at an approaching militant. The bullet struck the militant in the face, the man falling over dead. The militant's rifle, a Beretta AR-70, then clattered to the ground, with Grizzly grabbing it and a few extra magazines quickly. After checking the magazine and chamber, he returned his focus to the wounded.
At the moment the only thing keeping the girl alive was the piece of wood jutting out of her. If he removed it, she would bleed out, or worse, her stomach acid would begin corroding her flesh. That was assuming it hadn't started to do so. Knowing they didn't have much time, Grizzly pulled out his knife. Moving carefully, he started to cut the ends of the wood off, allowing him to pick up the girl easier.
With both ends soon cut off, he spotted four militants approaching them. In a split-second Grizzly fired the AR-70, hitting two of them in the gut and chest. The other two reacted quickly and a stone wall appeared in front of them. Grizzly's rounds embedded themselves in the wall, forcing him to use his quirk again. Just as was about to do so a grenade was tossed over the wall.
He tried to freeze it, only to miss it. Expecting it to detonate he moved to shield the wounded girl. Then three seconds passed, and nothing happened. Looking back over he found a golden aura surrounding the grenade. Behind him the girl held out her arm, trying to fight through the pain.
"T-throw i-it!"
Grizzly did so, quickly kicking the grenade back over at the enemy. The girl dropped her arm as the grenade landed and subsequently detonated, with Grizzly hearing the pained screams of the enemy militants. With the four dealt with Grizzly looked over at the second wounded girl. She was passed out by now, most likely from blood loss. Thinking for a moment, he turned back over to the first girl.
"Can you walk?" he asked her, the girl looking deathly afraid.
"I-I think so," she replied.
"Good, I need you to carry your friend over to that hill. I'm going to cover you, ok?" Grizzly told her, as he checked the chamber of his AR-70.
"Ok." the girl replied, slowly working up the courage to move. With a silent nod, the girl stood up. She hobbled over to her friend, while Grizzly spotted another approaching squad. They were damn near endless as he fired into this new squad. His first rounds killed one man, tearing up his chest and right arm. But then his rifle clicked, forcing Grizzly to take cover behind the stone wall.
Rounds struck it hard, launching up bits of rock into the air. In a swift motion, Grizzly removed the empty magazine, before tossing it over the wall.
"Grenade!" a militant shouted, as the men jumped out of the way. They realized too late that it was a trap then when Grizzly aimed over the wall. He killed another man, the quick burst ripping apart a militant's face. Turning over he aimed at a second man before a burning pain shot up through his arm and chest. Falling back behind the wall, he felt a bullet lodged in his left arm.
His chest was fine, the bullets stopped by the body armor, but something had most definitely cracked. Fighting through the pain, he fired at another militant, hitting the man in the legs and gut. Looking back behind him, he saw the girl make it back over to the hill, with her friend being carried off by another soldier. And with it, the sky lit up as the MLRSs launched their missiles at the designated targets.
It was awe-inspiring to see, as explosions soon echoed from far away. Yet the battle didn't seem over, as Grizzly fired at another militant squad.
"One at a time! One at a time please!" the President of the WHA shouted, trying to calm the horde of reporters in front of him. In a far-off room, the President of the HPSC sat by watching the live feed. It was clear several mistakes were made. For one their puppet President for the World Hero's Association had no backbone. They had selected him off on loyalty, and the puppet had expected an easy cushy job.
Now here he was sweating to death on live television, trying to address the biggest failure in heroics ever. That was what Madam President noted as their first mistake. Their second was bringing the media along to Africa. For the most part, the HPSC had kept them relegated to hero-controlled areas. The big two are the Tyrant's fortress and the abandoned factory.
And for the most part, the media was satisfied, a of dangerous radioactive villains captured after a devastating attack. But then, they began to stray into other areas as people questioned why so many heroes had been assembled in Africa. And why three days had passed with families being unable to contact their children on the continent. This could have all been kept quiet, but no, Madam President just had to get money-hungry.
Now the repercussions were being shown live.
"Mr. President, why were so many foreign heroes assembled for this mission? Nigeria after all is ranked fifth in the number of heroes around the world." one reporter asked, as the others finally quieted down.
"Well… the Nigerian government did not believe their heroes were up to international standards, as such they contacted us for assistance against the Nuclear Gang." the President lied, lest the world learn the truth about Africa.
"But why were so many assembled? The team that took the Nuclear Gang down only had a dozen heroes, yet the WHA assembled sixty thousand." The same reporter asked.
"I must admit, that was an oversight on our part and the work of a clerical error." the President again lied. Madam President could already see he was starting to break. By the looks of it, a replacement would be needed quickly.
"Mr. President, how do you respond to reports of fighting all across the country, between an unknown force of villains and heroes?" a new reporter asked.
"Those reports are highly exaggerated. These villains are simply small-time criminals." the President answered.
"The reports state that thousands of refugees have been spotted on mass, fleeing certain sectors of the country."
"Mr. President, is it true an unknown band of mercenaries has begun fighting with local heroes in the area?"
"Well... uh… no."
Madam President sighed as she watched the questions continue. It was going to be hard to cover this up, and it might not even be possible. Sure, blaming support companies worked, but it didn't remove the public's knowledge. It simply gave them something else to point fingers at. That would work less and less, the longer this quagmire continued. And as if God and his angels were listening above, her phone began to ring.
Silently she held hope for Techno calling to inform her that they could shut down the internet for a brief few seconds. Instead, she found an unknown number. She was tempted to hang up when a text message appeared as well. It was a photo of her, from the outside the room. She looked over her shoulder quickly, finding a drone flying close to the window, with an all too familiar skull plaster on it.
She answered the call angrily. If the MSF thought intimidation would scare her, then they were mistaken. The windows of the room were damn near bulletproof, and that little drone wasn't going to accomplish anything.
"What do you want?" She demanded immediately; her eyes still transfixed on the drone.
"I want to make a bargain," Snake replied over the phone.
"You've called to surrender then." Madam President remarked.
"You and I both know that's a lie."
"Oh, I'm sure. What makes you think I would ever make a deal with you? Lest you forget the thousands of heroes engaged with your forces." the President reminded him, as she turned back over to the live broadcast. The puppet president was being escorted off the stage now, the interview seeming to be over.
"Desperation for one. You dug yourself a hole you cannot get out of. So, I'm offering you a solution." Snake told her, as she turned back over to the drone. She wasn't entirely sure, but she assumed the mercenary was currently watching her as they talked.
"That being?" she asked.
"A cease-fire. We'll stand down and allow your heroes safe passage out of the country if you stand down." Snake answered, with the President not trusting a word uttered.
"And let me guess, your demand is for us to leave the country."
"Yes."
"Why should I ever agree?"
"Because right now you don't have any other options. The media is busy tearing you apart right now, and every day that passes gives them more ammunition. So, consider this your only way out."
"I could send All Might down there right now and have him crush what men you have stationed there."
"And what would that accomplish? Another few days of fighting with thousands more dead. May I remind you, that some of these heroes brought interning students with them. How's the media going to react when they learn of their experiences on the front." Snake told her. The President clenched her fist then, silently furious as the man continued to talk.
It led the President to weigh her options. Continuing the fight any longer would only cause more problems. If they could leave now, she might be able to pull some strings to convince the people of a small victory. Nothing major, thousands of heroes were dead after all, but maybe a pyrrhic victory could be created.
It would be a difficult narrative to create, and the people's trust in hero society could be seen fracturing. She had no other options, no way to cover this incident up, lest they actually shut down the internet. Granted that may create more problems than solve. So, with a sigh, she looked straight at the drone's camera.
"You have a deal."