Chapter 543 - 38-41

Chapter 38: A Trip to the Top

Snake sat down for a moment, thinking about his next move. So far, he'd cleared the first, second, and third floors, and had found nothing. There were barely any clues to this organization's identity, none of the prisoners had been found, and the sun would be coming up in a couple hours. Sure, he still had time, Snake noted checking the watch on his arm. But he also had twelve more floors to cover, with an unknown number of guards.

There really wasn't that much of a choice though. Even with all the unknowns, Snake still had to keep moving forward. So quickly checking over the last of the area, he stood back up and walked over to the stairwell he came from. From there he sneakily walked up to the fourth floor. Pushing the door open just a crack, Snake looked in. From his current angle, he could see a large desk sitting in the middle of the room.

As well as several wide-open areas with green screens and bits of furniture. If he had to guess, he'd say he found a newsroom. He also spotted a few smaller rooms breaking the area apart. Very quietly, he could also hear voices talking inside, possibly three different people. He couldn't hear what they were saying though, only where it was coming from.

"Nagant," Snake began, "You see anyone on the third floor?"

"No, the main window I'm looking through only shows a conference room," she replied. Quietly sighing, Snake moved into the newsroom. The room itself was a chaotic mess, as Snake ducked behind knocked-over desks and fallen camera equipment. It only became more present as he kept moving forward. Soon enough he arrived at one of the smaller rooms on the floor. Opening its door, he found it to be the conference room Nagant was talking about. Finding nothing important he stepped back, but left the door open just in case.

Moving over to the next room, he heard the voices from earlier. Peeking through the door he found it to be a recording studio and spotted three guards. The guards are lounging in the room, facing a TV on the wall. One had a mutant quirk, with the guard resembling a bipedal shark, another had some kind of light quirk, with the gun in their hand glowing and dimming, and the final guard had some telekinetic quirk, if the bullets floating into an open magazine were anything to go by.

Silently Snake pushed the door open and entered, now hearing what they were discussing.

"-ere the hell does he get off? Making me carry a bunch of fucking boxes like a delivery man." the guard with the light quirk complained, now dubbed as Light.

"Can you shut up for five minutes?" the telekinetic guard muttered quietly, it being present how tired the man was. Snake quietly noted him as Tele for the time being.

"He's got a point," the shark man stated, "Bossman said this was a security gig, not carrying whatever the hell was in those crates."

"Yeah, now that I think about it, what were we even carrying?" Light asked as he stopped messing with his quirk. Unaware by all, Snake had slowly crawled over to them. Yet he waited as they began talking, hoping to get some sort of info.

"Whatever it was, it was damn heavy. Mine had to be several hundred pounds." Shark explained, leaning back into a rather large chair.

"Really?" Light inquired, "Mine felt pretty light, must have given you the heavy stuff."

"Can the two of you, shut up?" Tele muttered again, rubbing his brow with one hand.

"Oh, my apologies sleeping beauty," Shark mocked, to which a small coffee cup was levitated and thrown at the guard's head. It shattered against him harmlessly, and Shark turned away uncaring. That was until he heard Tele mutter under his breath.

"Damn mutie."

In the few seconds Snake had, he pulled out a cardboard box and ducked underneath it. Just as he did so Shark whipped around, a distinct look of hidden anger on his face.

"Sorry, you mind saying that again?" he asked, malice lacing every word. Now Light couldn't tell if Tele was suicidal, insane, or too tired to realize his actions, but he thought it wise to duck behind his chair.

"You can't hear, talk too damn much, and you have that ugly mug for a face. Then again, I should have expected this from a mutie." Tele replied as objects around him began to float. At the same time, Shark snarled and clenched his hands into fists. Quietly Snake watched the scene escalate. He pondered if intervening at the moment would be wise. On the one hand, if it escalated any further then the entire building would be put on alert. On the other, it risked possibly exposing himself and having the guards' anger redirected towards him.

And he wasn't in the mood to be shark bait. The decision was made for him though when a table was thrown at Shark. It missed but impaled itself in the wall hard enough for the room to shake. So, planning quickly Snake threw off the cardboard box with his pistol drawn. In a quick motion unnoticed by the furious guards, he shot a tranquilizer round at Light. It knocked the guard out instantly, with Snake then aiming at Tele. The man himself was too angry to notice his fallen ally, instead focused on throwing a filing cabinet at Shark.

So, Snake pulled the trigger, knocking Tele out as well. However, that now drew Shark's attention. The large guard was confused for a moment, overcoming his brief rage, before he spotted Snake. The guard reached for his radio, while Snake fired every round he had. None affected the mutant as he shielded himself with a nearby chair, so Snake charged him. Drawing his knife, he threw it at Shark's hand.

The guard moved quickly, pulling his hand away at the right moment. The knife missed his hand but collided with the guard's radio. It was flung into the wall behind Shark, with the knife held to the radio on the wall. With the radio dealt with Snake ejected his pistol's magazine, quickly loading another. Shark not standing idle, charged Snake. With one fluid motion, he grabbed Snake by the neck and hoisted him into the air. Struggling, Snake moved to fire his pistol, only for Shark to yank it out of his hands.

It was then crushed into a fine paste, while Snake continued to struggle. He lifted his legs up before wrapping them around Shark's arm. Once done he threw all his weight into flipping the mutant. Caught off guard and off balance, Shark found himself falling and his grip on Snake loosening. It was just enough to break free and switch to his M4.

Bringing it up he found Shark moving to stand back up, only to have his knees shot out in quick succession. He fell back to the ground then, with Snake now walking over to him. He stayed out of arms reach, but close enough to inspect Shark's person. Finding no hidden weapon or communications, Snake aimed his M4 at Shark's head.

"I've got questions, and you're going to answer them, understood?" Snake began. Shark remained quiet for a moment, turning his head to look at the barrel pointing at him.

"I'll talk," Shark stated.

"Good, those crates you and your buddies were talking about, where did you take them?" Snake demanded.

"Fifteenth floor," Shark replied, leaving Snake confused. The stairs only went to the fourteenth floor, and he assumed the elevator was similar. He could be wrong of course, but best to be sure.

"You take the elevator?" he asked, to which Shark shook his head no.

"Secret entrance, it's a small spot hidden in a janitorial closet on the fourteenth floor," he explained, leaving Snake even more confused. What were they carrying, if the entire fifteenth floor needed to be cut off?

"Anyone on the fourteenth floor?"

"Not that I know of." Shark replied, "The last of the guys up there should be in the security room, but that's on the thirteenth floor."

Snake thought over the information for a moment, before walking up and slamming the butt of his M4 into Shark. With the mutant unconscious Snake proceeded to zip-tie him and the other guards in the room. Once done he hid them under what furniture he could find and left the recording studio. All the while he activated his codec and kept an eye out around the halls.

"Nagant, can you see anything on the fifteenth floor?" Snake asked.

"Not at the moment," She replied, "I'll have to reposition to get a clear look."

"Call me when you do, a couple of guards down here took something of interest there," Snake explained.

"Any indication of what it is?" Nagant asked.

"None, not even the guards know," Snake answered.

"Great," she remarked sarcastically, "I'll report back in a minute."

The codec went silent then, as Snake reentered the stairwell. With a tired sigh, he made his ascent. It was a long dubious process, with every floor looking the exact same. He wasn't sure if it was intentional or not, but the floors lacked any distinct markings. The only clue that he was getting somewhere was his mental count. He checked his watch when he arrived at the tenth floor. The op had started pretty late into the night, and it had been a few hours since they started.

Realizing what little time was left until daybreak, Snake quickened his pace reaching the thirteenth floor. Taking a minute, his codec rang as Nagant called.

"The fifteenth floor is completely boarded up," Nagant stated.

"What about the floors below?" Snake asked.

"The fourteenth floor is completely empty. Nothing but wide-open space and a small janitor's closet. The thirteenth floor is harder to tell, but I think eight guards. I don't know about the room in the center though," Nagant answered to which Snake peered into the room. The floor branched off into several areas, but most had large windows displaying the interior. Except for the room in the center, Snake suspected that to be the security room. This would be difficult, especially without his pistol.

"Do you have a shot on any of the guards?"

"I do, but they'll hear the window shatter," Nagant answered before pausing for a moment.

"Boss, permission to fire?" Nagant asked as Snake closed the door to the stairwell, hiding behind its concrete wall.

"Granted," Snake replied. The seconds after the word left his mouth, the sound of glass shattering was heard. A few moments later, he could hear eight distinct thuds in the next room, all in quick succession. Opening the door back up, he found the guards unconscious on the floor. Wasting no time he went over to the enclosed room, before quietly opening the door. Inside was a set of screens linked to security cameras. Though there were only a dozen of them, and most were on the fourteenth floor.

It made some sense; one would want a supposedly secret entrance to be under surveillance. Lest someone stumble upon it by accident. But it also left the rest of the building unprotected. It was suspicious, but Snake didn't have time to think it over. After all, everything about this building was suspicious. The first floor had a bunch of fake doors that served no purpose. The second was nothing but one giant office, with no other rooms or halls or anything. And now the fourteenth floor was empty of everything.

It was chaotic, and nothing about it made sense. So, Snake decided to try and make sense of it. He switched the screens over to previous security footage, going over anything in the last few hours. The only working camera on the first floor showed the prisoners being hauled off in several trucks, just as the first guard said. At the same time, he spotted the other three carrying large crates up the stairs. Switching over to the fourteenth floor's feed he watched the guards enter the closet and paused the feed.

Examining the crates closer, he could see wires in some of them, but nothing distinguishing. Unpausing the feed a few minutes later the guards left the closet crates no longer in hand. It left Snake worried about what lay ahead. It might be a bomb. That was his first assumption. But he didn't know. Whatever was on the fifteenth floor had the answer. So, he shut down the security cameras and walked back out to the stairwell. With a deep breath, he climbed up to the fourteenth floor and entered.

His M4 was drawn all the while, with Snake eyeing every corner of the empty room. Reaching the closet, he opened the door with little difficulty. Inside was a small ladder, with a hatch at the top. Carefully Snake climbed up, ensuring the hatch wouldn't slam shut the moment he was there. When he stepped foot onto the floor, his questions were replaced with new ones. Every inch of the floor's walls had been covered in TV screens. Hundreds of them laced the entire area, along with three crates resting solely in the middle of the room. On top of the crates rested a letter.

Wary, Snake approached it. It was a crisp white with gold and pink lament lacing its outskirts. It was sealed shut with a glob of pink wax, with the logo of a top hat and cane. For a moment Snake hesitated before the TV screens turned on. Whipping his M4 around Snake saw the TVs forming words. Welcome. Congratulations. Open it. Carefully Snake did so, reaching out and grabbing the letter. Tearing it open, he pulled out a small business card. The same top hat and cane logo was on the front, as on the letter. But the company information was scratched out, replaced by a long message.

Congratulations! You have been cordially invited to the event of a lifetime! A show so grand the fun will kill you! While I would have loved to give it to you in person, I thought a test was needed before bringing you on. For that, I give you The Ascent! The beginning of a new attraction that has been officially tested by YOU. Something I assume you did flawlessly if you're reading this. But what is a game without a prize! In the room with you should be three crates! Pick whichever one you want, but only one. So, enjoy the gift, and I look forward to your performance!

Snake wanted to tear the letter up then and there. Reluctantly he looked over to the crates, as the screens shifted over to the words "Choose one". There wasn't much he could do to differentiate them. For all he knew the crates were rigged to blow. Choosing nothing seemed like the best option, that was until the screens shifted again. The words changed to a countdown. It left him with little time, as Snake rushed back over to the hatch in the floor. Dropping through it he slammed the hatch shut, just as the floor above detonated.

Snake could feel the heat from the hatch, the floor most likely on fire. The entire building should have heard the detonation, but at this point, it didn't matter. Nothing was here, and the only way he'd be able to claim his "Prize" would be digging in the ashes.

"They're not firing," Zebra noted aloud. Sure enough, nothing was happening. It left Bison confused. For the last hour, the MSF had been advancing toward Mgbaba with a large amount of armor. It was a third of the MSF's manpower on the continent, all concentrated on this assault. And nothing was happening. No enemy artillery, no minefields, not even a lone squad.

"Where the hell are they?" Lion asked, as the Abrams kept driving.

"Beats me," Rhino muttered, looking over at Bison, "Anything sir?"

"Nothing on the drone I'm afraid," Bison replied. The drone's feed displayed burnt-out suburbs so far. That and lots of destroyed vehicles, corpses, and craters. He held up the controls then, displaying them towards Rhino.

"Damn," was all Rhino said, before turning back to his station. It was strange to see this much destruction and not a single enemy. It was worrying, especially when the drone showed a lack of civilian presence. Bison decided to bring the drone back then, to make sure it would have enough charge once they finally encountered the enemy. The quietness itself though was unnerving.

The entire war in Africa had been nonstop action on all fronts, they always had something to do, with an enemy to fight. But now they had to sit and wait, pondering over when the fight was going to occur.

"Think they're out of ammo sir?" Zebra asked, to which Bison shook his head no.

"Outta landmines maybe," Bison stated, recounting their surprising lack so far, "But I doubt they've run out of shells."

"What then, think they pulled back?" Zebra inquired, looking away from the gun's cameras.

"No, reports said the enemy had been fortifying this area for months. If not against us then their rival in the area," Bison answered, "Besides, command said resistance would be scarce, not nonexistent."

Zebra simply nodded, returning his gaze back to the gun's cameras. For a moment the tank went quiet before Zebra spoke up again.

"Enemy combatant, seventy meters." he stated calmly, "They're not moving."

Bison looked through the tank's cameras then, spotting what Zebra was referring to. He redirected the drone then, sending it over to inspect the enemy. It was a grizzly sight, the militant's eyes were stark red and heavily irritated, and his hands were placed near his throat. The man seemed to have suffocated. It was then that some strong smell hit his nose, catching Bison off guard. He could only describe the smell like bleach. Bison's eyes widened as the thought struck his mind.

He quickly grabbed his radio before addressing his crew.

"Lion back the tank up, Zebra, Rhino check if the hatches are sealed!" He ordered, leaving the crew confused. They acted quickly though as Bison felt the tank moving in reverse.

"Command this is Prospector 1-1, we've found the possibility of chemical weapons on the field," Bison stated. It was silent for only a few seconds before command responded.

"Understood Prospector, do you have eyes on a low cloud?" Command asked while Bison turned back over to the drone.

"Negative," Bison answered.

"What does it smell like?"

"Bleach,"

"Possibly chlorine gas. Change of plans, I want your company to pull back three miles. The assault's off."

"Understood."

Ocelot looked at the corpse in front of him fiercely. Cops surrounded the area with dozens of civilians being ushered away. Heroes lined the streets as well, putting out the flaming car the now-dead HPSC representative had been driving. Ocelot couldn't care less for the man… woman… whatever this scorched beyond-recognition person was. But it couldn't help but bring a bit of curiosity. Reps had been dropping like flies recently and at an astonishingly fast rate.

No one was sure of the culprit, but the higher-ups suspected the MSF. Ocelot knew otherwise of course, yet that didn't seem to help him. Especially once the fire had been put out. By the looks of it, a bomb had been planted on the undercarriage and set off via a timer. They had no DNA, no fingerprints, and no knowledge of when the bomb was set up. It puzzled even the police surrounding Ocelot. And then Ocelot heard a low whistle behind him.

"Heard from a little birdie you were here, seems I was right," Hawks commented, flying above Ocelot. Unbeknownst to everyone around him, Ocelot grimaced. There were many people in the HPSC he had to deal with to maintain his cover. He hated few but most he didn't care about. But Hawks? Hawks was the only one he feared. It was invisible to the public, but Ocelot could see what the hero really was. How could he not, it was like looking in a damn mirror. The smug smile, cocky attitude, the manipulative side hidden beneath charm, resembled a younger him perfectly.

Ocelot couldn't tell what Hawks was thinking, and that kept him on edge. If anyone could root him out, it was Hawks. So, Ocelot kept his intentions hidden, barely looking over at the hero.

"So, you did, aren't you supposed to be in Fukuoka?" Ocelot retorted. Hawks lazily drifted downwards in response; his wings positioned to make him fall like a leaf.

"Got bored, besides President's orders," Hawks replied, with his feet now touching the ground.

"Find anything interesting?" Hawks asked, with Ocelot shaking his head no.

"We're waiting for DNA confirmation on the victim. Might give us some clue on who our mysterious rep is." Ocelot answered, pulling out one of his revolvers. He spun it around his finger, continuing to inspect the burnt-out car. It had all the standards that the HPSC issued its reps. Tinted windows, reinforced frames, thicker glass, the works. It didn't give any clue as to who it was though. Out of the corner of his eye though, Ocelot spotted something.

It was a burnt-up toy of some hero he didn't recognize. It was rather big and puffy, giving some clue as to its identity.

"Any idea what the plush is?" Ocelot asked grabbing it with a gloved hand. He held it out to Hawks then, before shaking off some soot.

"Hmm, assuming it's a hero I'd say Fatgum." Hawks noted, "His agency did start selling those jumbo toys recently."

"How recently?"

"Beats me, maybe one or two days. Why, you want one?" Hawks teased to which Ocelot had to hold himself from rolling his eyes. Silently Ocelot went over what reps had an admiration for Fatgum and eliminated them from the list. That was until he remembered one rep discussing his son's birthday. He couldn't remember the name at the moment but that alone gave some picture.

The rep stopped to buy a plush from a store, leaving his car unattended. This being a new toy, would mean it would be in high demand. Meaning a long wait and ample time for the perpetrator to set up the bomb. All he needed was the store's location.

"Yes actually," Ocelot replied, his own smug grin gracing his face, "Know where I can get one?"

Chapter 39: A Continued Investigation

"What the hell happened to keep it low profile!?" Kowalczyk reprimanded over the codec. It was early in the morning now, with Snake and Nagant sitting inside their SUV. The police had swarmed into the building after the bombs detonated, but not before Snake found his "prize". It was a small victory, of course, Kowalczyk didn't see that.

"You didn't give us any intel on bombs," Snake retorted, "Hell you barely gave us anything to work with!"

"What I gave you was more than enough to accomplish the job, everything else is above your paygrade." Kowalczyk countered.

"If your government wants me to take this group down then I need more info to work with," Snake replied, turning over to look at Nagant. She had been quiet throughout the call, but her displeasure was clear on her face.

"Not happening. You already got everything you need, so do what we paid you for." Kowalczyk ordered, before abruptly hanging up. Snake simply sighed as he looked back out the SUV's window.

"Rat bastard," Nagant muttered, "Where the hell does he get off?"

"He's keeping something from us. Either that or he's incompetent." Snake commented, his hand now tapping on his "prize".

"I don't care which, I'm not working for someone like that again," Nagant replied, before leaning back into her chair.

"You won't. We'll do this damn operation ourselves if we have to." Snake told her, before bringing his "prize" into view. Nagant looked over at it curiously, while Snake inspected it carefully. It took some thorough digging, but he found it in the ashes. It was an old, charred jack in the box, with Russian words scratched on the exterior. When Snake translated it, he found it to be a long list of numbers. On the interior though the jack bore a few more clues. It wore a crisp white suit, with a pink undershirt and a yellow business tie. On its head was the same white top hat as the logo.

In the jack's hand was a small cane, with a pink diamond on the tip. The most important thing was the jack's head. His face was a pale white, with an unshaved face. Long black hair dangled off its head, and it felt greasy when Snake touched it. The jack was both cleanly dressed and poorly kept. Who the jack was depicting, Snake didn't know. But it gave them some semblance of a lower-ranking head, or maybe the leader himself. At the moment though, Nagant focused on the Russian numerals.

"Know what it is?" Nagant asked as Snake handed it to her.

"Coordinates, maybe a number we can contact. We'll try both just in case." Snake answered thinking over what else he had found in the building.

"The guards said they transported the prisoners out hours ago, right?" Nagant asked, looking over at Snake. He simply nodded, before reaching for his Idroid. Once in his hand, he pulled up the security footage from the building. It displayed the event in full. The trucks arrived, the guards loaded the prisoners and then drove off. However now, Nagant noticed something odd.

"The logos on the trucks are different," She noted aloud, switching her gaze from the jack in the box to the Idroid. Seeing what she meant, Snake thought back to what he found on the first floor. Searching through his pockets again he brought out the letter from the receptionist's desk. Sure enough, the logo on the letter matched with the one on the trucks. When he first found it, it seemed like a trap. But with how the operation ended Snake found its meaning change.

"So, a Russian railway company transported the prisoners out to Siberia." Snake muttered, "The letter must have been hinting at the general area, and the jack in the box is the exact location."

"Either that or whoever we're dealing with really wants you to call," Nagant commented, before handing the jack in the box back.

Finding the store the HPSC's mysterious rep went to didn't take long. It did, however, take a while to get there. The store was located on the other side of the country, which somewhat explained the car. However, it was also the size of a shopping mall. That made Ocelot pause for a moment, as both he and Hawks stared up at the large building.

"And I thought everything in Japan was small," Ocelot half muttered and half-joked.

"I expected to see something like this in the US," Hawks agreed, causing Ocelot to look over at him.

"You know what this is?" Ocelot asked, motioning at the store in front of them.

"Kinda. It's a new brand of hero megastores." Hawks explained, "Must have opened up here recently."

Ocelot had to agree, as he noticed a far-off grand opening banner resting in a dumpster. He also noticed all the customers leaving the store. All walked out with one thing and one thing only, hero merch. He didn't recognize all the heroes present, but there were some notable ones. All Might's merch was there, as well as Endeavor's, but there was also Present Mic's and surprisingly enough Nezu's. More importantly, though, were the jumbo Fatgum plushies.

"Bingo," Hawks commented, pointing at a small child. In the child's arms was one such plushie. It matched the toy they found at the scene to a tee. The two began walking up to the store, barely making it halfway before Hawks was swarmed by fans. Ocelot simply left him behind, continuing forward. Somehow the store looked even bigger on the inside, which was already saying something.

The first aisle he passed held a large section of produce, all marketed with a different hero. Now Ocelot was by no means poor, the HPSC and the MSF provided a decent paycheck, but even he knew that almost fifteen thousand yen for a pound of rice was ridiculously overpriced. He didn't even need to see the rest of the aisle to understand how expensive all of it was.

The second aisle was more of the same, except it was now canned products. These were also overpriced; however, the large brandings gave him some idea as to why. Especially as he stared down the container of All Might's All-American Ramen, and the dozen other copycat brands. He was about to enter the third aisle when he felt something light touch his shoulder.

"Took you long enough," Ocelot stated, watching as the red feather flew back over to Hawks.

"Well, when duty calls," Hawks replied, the two now walking over to a lone cashier. As Hawks was about to speak, Ocelot stopped him.

"I'd rather not get trapped in another hour-long autograph session," he explained, before having Hawks stand back slightly. With Hawks out of the way, Ocelot stepped forward.

"Excuse me, mam?" he began, the cashier turning over to look at him.

"Yes?" she asked, looking over Ocelot carefully.

"Could you call the manager out here for a moment?"

"Um, sure. Just one moment."

She turned away for a few moments before a well-dressed man shortly approached them. His hair was nicely kept, with slight stubble on his chin. His business suit was crisp with a Best Jeanist tie to finish it.

"Kaneko Haruto," the man greeted, "How can I help you?"

"You the manager?" Ocelot asked only for Kaneko to shake his head.

"I'm the owner, the manager is out for lunch at the moment," Kaneko explained before his eyes landed on Hawks. Yet he remained professional, keeping quiet as Ocelot began.

"There was a murder yesterday, and we're trying to find some leads." Ocelot explained, "We believe the victim was shopping here before their death, and we'd like your assistance in this investigation."

"Well, if it's any help we have security cameras watching the nearby parking lot," Kaneko replied. Wordlessly Ocelot motioned for the man to lead the way. He did so quickly, with the two reaching the security room fast.

"They're not the best cameras I'm afraid, but they should do the trick," Kaneko stated.

"They'll do fine," Ocelot told him. He got to work then, scouring through the day of the murder. He found nothing so far, it being hours of nothing changing. But Hawks soon pointed at the screen.

"Stop," Hawks stated, with Ocelot pausing the footage. Hawk's finger rested on a car in the parking lot. It was difficult to recognize without the burns, but it was the same car. And stepping out of it was their mystery rep.

"Recognize the rep?" Ocelot asked Hawks.

"Not a clue," Hawks replied thinking over who the man might be, "At least we got a face now."

Ocelot unpaused the footage then, fast-forwarding through a good three hours of the day. Eventually, someone else approached the rep's car, with Ocelot pausing the footage again. And as he examined the perpetrator, he knew the President wouldn't be happy about this. In a spandex-clad costume, the assassin laid down and placed a package underneath the car.

"Shit," Hawks muttered quietly, with Ocelot silently agreeing.

"Color scheme seems familiar," Ocelot commented as he looked over the hero's costume. It was reminiscent of a leopard, which became more present when he spotted the costume's hood. It was the head of a Sri Lankan leopard, positioned to look like the jaws encircled the head.

"Ghost Leopard," Hawks stated, "I've worked with him a couple of times."

"You know why he would do this?" Ocelot asked.

"Not a clue," Hawks replied.

"Well then, best we ask him," Ocelot told him, before walking out of the security room.

Grizzly could still see the shell. It was just sitting there, embedded into the ground. He could feel eternity tick away as he watched it. It didn't go off, but he couldn't be sure. It just sat there. Any second it could detonate, any second he would die. So why didn't it? It sat there mocking him. He could hear the shell taunting him. Coward. Worthless. Fraud. The words echoed around him, with the shell never ceasing its taunts.

Grizzly clawed at his uniform, desperate to breathe. But it didn't loosen. His uniform constricted around him choking him. All the while the shell kept mocking him. Coward Worthless. Fraud. He ripped the fabric of his uniform, tearing it away from his body. But another layer rested beneath it, tightening its grasp. He tore it away and then tore away the third layer he found.

The shell still rested there in front of him. Still taunting him. Still mocking him. Still just sitting there. It did not move, it did not detonate, it did nothing but mock. He tore away the fourth and fifth layers of his uniform. But it only got tighter. He couldn't breathe. He clawed desperately for any sense of relief. And then he woke up.

He jolted up in his quarters, looking around as he remembered where he was. His breathing calmed, as Grizzly realized he had hyperventilated.

"Damn it," was all he could mutter, as his hand traced over his forehead. He sat there for a moment, pondering over the silence. He didn't want to think of what had happened, so he looked around his room. It was sparsely decorated, what with him being deployed for the majority of the time. But it was something to keep his mind at bay. Across the FOB and Mother Base, the majority of the MSF's quarters were separated into small three-room blocks.

There was a small bathroom, bedroom, and common area. It was cramped somewhat, but no one needed the excess space when alone. His sidearm rested on a small nightstand built into the wall, with a lamp sitting next to it. On the other side of the room was a dresser, with a small mirror on top. And aside from the lone window next to his bed, that was it. Eventually, Grizzly got up and went through his dresser.

At that moment, he heard someone knock on his door.

"Yo, Rookie you up?" Eagle asked, waiting for Grizzly to respond. Quickly getting dressed, Grizzly walked over and opened the door. He was about to say hi when Eagle stopped him.

"Whoa, have you been sleeping, okay?" Eagle asked examining him thoroughly. It left Grizzly puzzled for a moment before he walked back inside his quarters and to his mirror.

"Not really," he replied. He didn't think it had been that bad though. It was the occasional nightmare, but nothing more. His face said otherwise. Heavy bags rested under his eyes, and only now did he see the mess his hair was in.

"You seriously have to talk to someone about this," Eagle told him as he walked in. He leaned on one of the walls as Grizzly looked back over at him.

"That's why you here?" Grizzly asked to which Eagle nodded.

"Ape gave his orders for a reason," Eagle answered, "this was one of them."

Grizzly thought it over for a moment, before trying to fix his messy hair. He shuddered a little when he found a small piece of mud he had missed. At this point going bald seemed to be the easiest way to clean his head. He was presentable though, managing to comb his hair down.

"What now?" he asked, turning over to the Staff Sergeant.

"Who knows," Eagle replied before stepping out of Grizzly's quarters.

"Walk with me," he told him. Grizzly quickly did so, walking in step next to Eagle. The two remained in silence for a moment, before reaching the outside. The warm sun felt nice upon Grizzly's skin, as he looked out over the base.

"You have any hobbies?" Eagle asked. Grizzly thought over it for a moment before coming to an answer.

"Not really," he replied.

"Then it's time to get one," Eagle told him, the two continuing to walk forward. They reached one of the tram systems on the FOB and found it bustling with people. Getting on, Grizzly was still unsure as to where they were going.

"Alright, what are you good at? What do you like?" Eagle asked, feeling the tram start to move.

"I had a bit of a green thumb back home. Why?" Grizzly asked in turn.

"Heh, well believe it or not Rookie but a hobby helps," Eagle replied, leaving Grizzly even more confused.

"Everyone has their way of coping with the horrors of war. Some guys paint, others read." Eagle explained before they both felt the tram come to a stop. They soon got off, with Grizzly now seeing they were on one of the residential platforms. This one in particular was dedicated to a mass of stores. They were mostly small shops selling luxury goods, nothing overly important.

"What about you?" Grizzly asked, with Eagle giving him a brief chuckle.

"Call it counterproductive, but I collect guns." Eagle answered, "Whatever I find on the battlefield that isn't a trap, I take with me."

"I'm pretty sure I would have noticed if you were doing that," Grizzly commented.

"Would you? I may be quirkless Rookie, but that doesn't mean I don't have a few tricks." Eagle replied.

"What about Ape?"

"Surprisingly enough he's a Warhammer fanatic." Eagle told him, before quietly muttering "And a fucking heretic". The two kept walking before Eagle came to an abrupt stop. They had entered the structure on the platform, what could best be described as a mall. Looking around Grizzly still wasn't sure why they had stopped here specifically.

"Alright, anything of interest?" Eagle asked him, to which Grizzly more thoroughly examined the area. There was a large variety of stores, most catering to either the civilians or the MSF. The first store he found was covered in foliage, making him somewhat tempted to check it out. But something else soon caught his eye. It was a small store selling kitchen supplies. Now his quarters already had the basics, a couple of bowls, some forks, a microwave oven, and a minifridge.

But nothing overly complex. Something about it lured him in.

Rody had no idea what was going on. Next to him, Midoriya was talking to a couple of soldiers. It was a rather interesting conversation, that had entranced both parties involved. However, Rody didn't understand a word.

"[So, I'm hiding behind cover, waiting for the enemy to stick their head out when a grenade landed right next to me,]" the soldier said in Spanish, with Midoriya shocked.

"[What did you do!?]" Midoriya asked in turn, leaving Rody all the more confused.

"[Ha! Nothing! The imbécil left the pin in. So, I picked it up, took out the pin, and tossed it back over.]" the soldier replied, having a chuckle as he did so. As he did so Rody only looked on lost. He tapped Midoriya's shoulder then, hoping to get his friend's attention.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"Oh, Bat was talking about his time in Venezuela," Midoriya replied, leaving Rody still dumbstruck. This was visible on Pina as well, as the bird sat in Rody's hair.

"You speak Spanish?"

"Somewhat. I picked up a little over the years."

"Huh, didn't know you were bilingual," Rody commented, with Pina nodding in agreement. To which Midoriya sheepishly chuckled.

"Well, uh… about that," Midoriya began, leaving Rody puzzled for a second. Realization quickly struck then as he snapped his fingers.

"Oh, that's right! You speak Japanese too, right?" Rody inquired as Midoriya nodded his head, "Guess you're multilingual actually."

He didn't notice Midoriya's sheepish look as he continued.

"I don't think I could learn three languages," Rody admitted, rubbing the back of his head. Only now did he notice Midoriya.

"It's nine actually," Midoriya quietly muttered, as he watched Rody's eyes widen, and Pina fall out of his hair in shock.

"Five!?" Rody exclaimed, "You can speak five languages!?"

"Yeah," Midoriya replied, somewhat embarrassed now.

"What else can you speak?" Rody asked, the shock of the moment wearing off. The soldiers with them simply looked on amused, not wanting to disturb the scene.

"[They do know we're still here, right?]"

"[Shut the fuck up this is hilarious.]"

Midoriya held out his hand then, counting off what languages he could remember.

"Well, I'm fluent in Spanish, Japanese, English, Vietnamese, and bits of French." Midoriya began, "and I started learning Igbo, Yoruba, Arabic, and Hausa."

"So, you're learning how to speak nine languages," Rody surmised, the surprise still there in his voice. It also had Midoriya realize exactly how big of a feat that was.

"Huh, I guess I am," he replied.

Miller tiredly rubbed his brow as he read over the latest reports. Mgbaba was effectively a ghost town. Not a single resident had been found alive so far, and that became clearer the further they went.

"The gas cloud has dispersed at the moment, so entering the city should be relatively safe," an officer explained, "However we're unsure if the enemy has more chemical weapons."

"And once we occupy the city, the enemy would try to gas us out." Miller surmised. He picked up the documents in front of him carefully. This entire event was a double-edged sword, except one side was significantly sharper than the other. The only good news is the lack of an enemy presence in the city. All the MSF had to do, was walk in.

"Do we have the whereabouts of the enemy's current frontline?" Miller asked as he looked back at the officer.

"Negative sir, it seems they've pulled back for the moment. Most likely to avoid the possibility of the gas hitting them as well." the officer replied. Miller grumbled to himself as he looked over the map of the area. If the enemy used artillery for the gas, then they could have a max range of fifteen miles at worst. If it was by MLRS or an infiltration mission, then the MSF had bigger problems.

"I want intel scouring over the surrounding fifteen miles. The moment they hear anything about chemical weapons I want a location and jets scrambled," he ordered before a new thought struck him.

"On second thought, I want the cruiser assigned to that task. Have its crew ready to strike if needed. And once our men enter the city, I want it locked down."

"Yes sir."

With that Miller returned to the reports he was given. Recruitment numbers had surged again, with the force in Africa reaching seven thousand five hundred active members. In total, it brought the MSF to twenty-five thousand personnel. It brought a small smile to Miller's face as he reflected on how far they had come. That was quickly dashed when he read the next report.

"General Osprey needs how many M1150s?" Miller muttered aloud, worried by the number in front of him.

"His request was for fifty," an officer explained, "the minefields on the south of Mgbaba were larger than expected."

"Have the support department reroute some equipment. If it's not possible, then get R&D to modify some extra Abrams we have lying around." Miller ordered tiredly. Managing the MSF had seemed so easy in the past, but now he could barely get a break. But he kept on, finding the one document that had piqued his interest. The request for construction equipment to be sent down. It had Miller look back on the MSF's previous goals, a nation of soldiers. Snake had never fully decided on a name for their hypothetical nation, but one did come up again and again.

It wasn't their goal now of course, but in an ironic twist, it seemed to be happening anyway. With a quick flick of his wrist, the authorization for the request was signed, and with it the beginning of Outer Heaven.

"Sho, I'm telling you it wasn't me!" Present Mic yelled, cowering from the angry form of Aizawa. Midnight could only look on amused as the forever tired hero glared at his friend. Now why was this happening you ask? Well, it was the early morning over at UA, with the majority of the staff preparing for the day. Vlad King, Ectoplasm, and Snipe were busy preparing their lesson plans, Cementoss, and Power Loader were doing some last-minute grading.

At this point Aizawa had arrived and went to start a fresh pot of coffee. However, his specific blend was gone. And Mic had the unfortunate timing to be the last one to use the coffee machine. Which is why he now hiding behind a table as a shield.

"Somehow I find that hard to believe," Aizawa replied, activating his quirk at that moment.

"As funny as this is," Midnight began, "It really wasn't him."

Aizawa's hair dropped as he looked over at his other friend curiously.

"Care to explain?" he asked.

"I saw Nezu grab a box of your coffee." Midnight replied. And in an instance, all of Aizawa's anger was gone. Instead replaced with confusion, abject horror, and annoyance.

"See! I told you it wasn't me!" Mic exclaimed loudly, before he himself paused over what had just been said.

"Nezu… took some of my coffee?" Aizawa inquired. The words didn't sound believable. The rat's thing had been tea. Never once had he ever drunk a cup of coffee to any of their knowledge. But Midnight simply nodded.

"He walked in, grabbed as many boxes as he could and walked out." Midnight replied, leaving Aizawa and Mic baffled at the statement.

"Thats not worrying in the slightest," Mic remarked sarcastically. He froze somewhat when he noticed Aizawa moving to the door.

"Uh… Sho?"

"I'm either getting my coffee, or I'm getting fired. I don't care which." was Aizawa's only reply as he stepped outside. The others soon followed, both in the hopes of convincing their friend to stop or to see the fallout. When they arrived at Nezu's office, Aizawa almost immediately barged in. But when he tried to open the door, it wouldn't budge. He tried again but to no avail. He paused for a moment confused, before he realized what was happening.

"He's locked down his office." Aizawa muttered, to the displeasure and joy of his colleagues.

"And for good reason to," a new voice added, with the teachers' eyes widening. They looked down to find Nezu standing next to them, sipping away at a pot of coffee. And I mean a pot of coffee, as Aizawa debated whether to glare or remain neutral.

"May I ask why?" Aizawa inquired.

"Certainly, but don't expect an answer." Nezu replied calmly, before taking another sip from the coffee pot.

"But if you really must know, UA's international status has just recently been revoked."

That statement left them all shocked for a moment, but it didn't become present on Aizawa's face.

"I apologize for not informing you all sooner, but I didn't have a lot of time to find a solution. Although I fear this one may be as equally as temporary." Nezu explained, before walking over to his office's door.

"I'll tell you about the rest in our next staff meeting. Now, I'm still quite busy so I won't be available for a while."

And with a quick goodbye Nezu stepped into his office, with the doors quickly closing behind him. It left the three teachers somewhat dumbfounded at the information they had just been given. They would have lingered on it longer, if Aizawa didn't remember something.

"Damn it, still didn't get my coffee."

Chapter 40: An Ocelot and a Hawk

Aizawa couldn't remember a time he saw Nezu this tired. The rat's fur had been poorly done, although an attempt seemed to have been made. His suit was wrinkled and had either coffee or tea stains present. But like with his fur, there had been an attempt to clean it up. It did nothing to hide Nezu's eyes though. Large bags rested under them, with the rat's eyes closing slightly only to shoot back open. What made it worse? The rat was sitting in his chair for once, instead of his scarf.

Aizawa wasn't one to judge though, he'd shown up to the meeting still inside his sleeping bag. But when Nezu was like this, it sent all of UA a bleak message. So, the staff had been gathered into the conference room and now waited as the last few people entered the room. Once done, Aizawa saw Nezu wait a moment before pressing a button on his side of the table. Around them heavily armored shutters slammed down, locking the entire area and activating a hidden signal jammer.

If the first clue to this meeting's importance was a tired Nezu, the second was a full lockdown. Something the others noticed quickly.

"I'm afraid I will have to start this meeting with some grim news," Nezu began, "Recently the United Nations has elected to remove UA's status as an international entity."

He paused momentarily, taking a quick second to drink from a nearby coffee cup.

"Due to this some of our policies will have to change, to remain in the good graces of the HPSC. The largest on my list is the expulsion rule." Nezu explained, now looking over at Aizawa. He didn't miss how much malice Nezu placed on the HPSC when he spoke.

"Effective immediately, we are only allowed to expel one class a year. At the same time, we are to increase class hours, and issue temporary pay cuts."

For the rest of the staff, these requirements weren't all that bad. None of them had to fully expel a class before, and while the increased hours were a tad annoying, they were doable. Not to mention pay was never really an issue for them, so that matter was a non-issue. However, it was the policies' implementation that worried them. They couldn't understand what Nezu had against the HPSC, but they trusted him enough to stand by him.

"How high are hours going to be increased?" Aizawa asked tiredly, mentally checking over his nonexistent sleep schedule.

"At the moment, three hours," Nezu answered, equally as tired. His eyes closed for a second before jutting back open, with the rat shaking his head to stay awake.

"What are the other changes?" Midnight asked.

"Well, for less important matters we are to change the entrance exam as well."

"They finally taking my advice?" Aizawa asked hopefully, though he knew it was extremely unlikely. And sure enough, Nezu shook his head.

"No, rather they want our focus to be on physical quirks exclusively. Though I managed to get a compromise and kept the hidden off buttons on the robots."

Aizawa grumbled in response, glaring as the rat soon began passing around documents. He took one glance before seeing it was a long list of changes the HPSC would be enacting. Yet he didn't fully buy that all of this would happen.

"I'm going to assume you have a plan," he stated matter of factly. Nezu gave him a light chuckle in response before his eyes closed again.

"It's rather last minute but I've decided that we need to be more charitable as heroes. So, UA will be the first charity hero school in the country. In around thirty business days that is."

"A charity…" Snipe pondered, "You sure the HPSC's gonna buy that?"

"They won't, but legally they won't have a choice."

"Still seems a bit extreme. I mean, we'd effectively be cutting off all funding aside from donations."

"Hence the pay cuts," Nezu stated to which everyone soon began to realize what was happening.

"So, you plan to follow the HPSC's guidelines for thirty days, before announcing UA as a charity and reverting the policy changes." Snipe recounted, to the tired form of Nezu.

"That would be correct."

"That still doesn't address the issue of funding," Ectoplasm stated, the math teacher going over the numbers on a different document.

"At best we are left with four years of available resources, maybe less."

"I'll figure something out," Nezu replied. With that last statement, Nezu took a moment to look around the room.

"Does anyone have anything else they'd like to bring forward?" he asked, being answered by a long silence.

"Then this meeting is adjourned."

Bison watched as the dozens of M1150s rolled forward, with the occasional explosion going off in front of them. Clearing the city was a long monotonous process. Not because of enemy presence, they were all dead Bison noted as his tank drove by another abandoned corpse. No, it was because of landmines. While the outskirts of the city and suburbs were empty and undefended, the interior was not.

From what was found the suburbs were effectively a trap, made to lull attacking troops into a sense of security with the lack of resistance. Only to meet a vast swath of landmines, hidden artillery guns, heavy machine guns, and buildings rigged with explosives. It would have been a costly battle, but not so much now. While Bison was happy with the lack of combat, he was also displeased. Without combat, his crew didn't have anything to do except trail behind the mine clearers.

Which is why he found Rhino and Zebra playing on a pair of Nintendo Flips. He didn't know much about what they were doing, but if the constant swearing was anything to go by, then Zebra was winning. He could hear Rhino trying to hype himself up all the while.

"You could just pay up now you know," Zebra said from his chair, "Would save you a lot of time."

Rhino didn't give a response, at least not one Bison could hear from the loader's position.

"Breath in, and out," Rhino said to himself, "Just roll it nice and easy- fuck!"

What followed was a rather creative arrangement of expletives and the loud laughter of Zebra. While interested, Bison elected to focus on the goal at hand. Such was the curse of being commander, but he'd do it regardless. Activating the tank's surveillance drone, he flew it around the area. It wasn't for any grand purpose, but it at least gave him something to do. The surrounding landscape was bleak though.

Every few seconds he'd find a group of corpses, huddled together in small groups. A nearby park showed a tale of some temporary peace. Contrary to the rest of the city it held no barbed wire, armored vehicles, or even militants. It was relatively undamaged and looked nice. It made it hard to look at when he began counting the bodies. Some big event was being held before the attack.

With a solemn sigh, he called the drone back, sending it to inspect the company's rear. But all in all, nothing happened. And Bison didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse.

Ocelot let out a low whistle as he looked at the mansion in front of him. It hadn't taken long to find Ghost Leopard's home. After all, they only needed to check the hero registry. But it also bore new fruit to their investigation, as they discovered their mystery rep's name. One Representative Watase. As expected, he was an up-and-comer for the VP position. Ocelot could only add him to the ever-growing list of victims. Why he had been killed was still a mystery, but he hoped some clues would be found soon as the two approached the house.

Now the house wasn't large by any means, but instead luxuriously decorated. On the outside marble statues decorated a small garden, with cherry blossom trees swaying gently in the wind. A small pond rested in the middle of the garden, and in the middle of the pond was a fountain. The structure itself was just as grand, hosting a semi-futuristic aesthetic.

"This the place?" he asked Hawks. The hero nodded as he walked forward, entering the garden. Ocelot quickly followed him, continuing to inspect the area. So far, no staff had been seen, which was somewhat odd. A place this nice usually had someone tending the grounds, but it was vacant. They made it to the house and then looked around the front door. Hawks turned to Ocelot then, before grabbing one of his sharp feathers.

Ocelot simply nodded before turning away to keep watch. As he did so Hawks put the feather in the door's lock and started picking it. After a few moments, he unlocked it and slowly opened the door. He put the feather back with his wings and stepped inside. Ocelot then followed, before quietly closing the door. The moment he did, he could hear a commotion across the hall.

"No damn, it!" the voice yelled out, "You said if I completed your task then you'd help me in the rankings!"

"Oh, I promised no such thing. I said I might help you, not that I would." a second voice replied, though it was more distorted than the first. Moving forward, Ocelot peeked around a doorway trying to find the voice. He found it coming from a small living room, with Ghost Leopard pacing around. The hero's costume rested on a nearby table, with a small phone resting next to it.

"You two-timing double-crossing son of a bitch! We had a deal!" Ghost Leopard shouted angrily.

"What can I say, deals change." the distorted voice replied, before hanging up. Furious, Ghost Leopard activated his quirk, a large spectral cat appearing from somewhere. It started tearing up whatever it could get its hands on before its jaws grabbed and threw a nearby chair. Ocelot looked over at Hawks and found the hero grabbing a feather from his wings. It was distinctly sword-like, and Ocelot could see where this was going.

"You got a plan?" he asked, drawing his two revolvers. He spun them around a few times, before ensuring they were loaded.

"Was hoping you had one," Hawks replied, the hero watching as Ghost Leopard continued to trash his home. Slowly though, Ghost Leopard calmed down. He was still visibly angry, but he'd turned off his quirk. Quickly Ocelot thought of a plan.

"You're faster than me, so it shouldn't be difficult to subdue him." Ocelot deduced, "I'll distract him, while you take him down."

Hawks only nodded as Ocelot stood up. He leaned against the doorframe as Hawks quietly snuck around, moving to a different position. With a deep breath, Ocelot spoke up.

"Quite a lively conversation you were having," he commented, dragging Ghost Leopard's attention over to him. The hero's anger came back slightly, with the specter of his quirk beginning to form.

"And you are villain?" Ghost Leopard asked, malice lining his words.

"Hey now, villain is a strong word," Ocelot replied, "And one that does not describe who I am. See, you can call me Revolver Ocelot,"

"Revolver Ocelot?" Ghost Leopard muttered, his anger faltering slightly as he thought over the name.

"You're HPSC, aren't you?"

"That I am. Now, we can do this the easy way," Ocelot began, his hands slowly raising his revolvers, "or we can do it the hard way."

"Ha! Or what? Are you going to shoot me? A hero?" Ghost Leopard asked, his quirk ready to tear Ocelot apart. What he didn't notice though, was Hawks moving right behind him.

"If it comes down to it," Ocelot replied, before nodding to Hawks. In a flash, Ghost Leopard was swept off his feet, as Hawks' feathers swarmed around him. The hero tried to activate his quirk, but the feathers knocked him into a nearby wall. Trying to get on his feet, he felt several sharp feathers stab into his hands and legs, trapping him against the wall. Only then did the hero see Hawks.

"You're pretty good," Ocelot complimented, walking over to Ghost Leopard.

"Well, I aim to impress," Hawks replied, also walking up to Ghost Leopard, "Long time no see Ghostie, how have you been?"

"Y-you!" was all Ghost Leopard could strain out. He tried to activate his quirk but froze when he felt a sharp feather press against his neck.

"I wouldn't try anything if I were you," Ocelot commented, now spinning one of his revolvers. He tossed it into the air then, catching it with one finger as it continued to spin.

"W-what do you want?" Ghost Leopard muttered, fighting through the pain in his hands and legs.

"Whatever's in your fridge for starters," Hawks joked before walking off in the direction of the kitchen, "Oh! Also, who it was that hired you to kill Representative Watase?"

"What makes you think I killed him?" Ghost Leopard countered.

"Aside from video evidence, that little conversation you and your buddy had for one." Ocelot rebuked, now holstering both his revolvers.

"I was settling a ranking dispute." Ghost Leopard told him defiantly, though Ocelot could hear the strain in his voice from the pain in his hands.

"That's bullshit and you know it," Ocelot stated, "So you can either tell us what we want, or I'm going to have to get creative."

"It was a ranking dispute, that's it."

Ocelot sighed as he paced around the room for a moment, looking over Ghost Leopard.

"Hawks, how sharp are your feathers?" Ocelot asked to the worry of Ghost Leopard.

"Cut through concrete once on a good day," Hawks replied, now returning from the kitchen with a coke in hand.

"You mind if I borrow one?" Ocelot inquired, to which Hawks handed him a sharpened feather. With it now in hand, Ocelot stepped over to Ghost Leopard, before peeling away a small portion of the hero's shirt.

"You know, people tend to forget how vulnerable we humans are," Ocelot began, moving the feather over to Ghost Leopard's chest.

"All these unique quirks and abilities teach people of their invincibility, of their power," Ocelot continued, "But when it comes down to it, people forget just how easy it is for flesh to break."

Ocelot pushed the feather into Ghost Leopard's chest, and like a knife through butter, he carved away a part of his muscle. Not enough to kill him or hurt anything vital, but enough to cause Ghost Leopard to shout in pain. Soon a solid square of flesh fell to the ground, drenching the floor in blood.

"The ultimate form of expression I call it," Ocelot told him, flicking bits of blood off the feather. He held up the feather again, moving it towards Ghost Leopard's chest. The hero shifted trying to avoid it but was futile. Slowly Ocelot pushed it into the hero's chest, causing Ghost Leopard to groan in pain.

"Now," Ocelot began again, slowly carving out another piece, "who hired you?"

"I-I don't know, he promised he'd manipulate the hero rankings if I helped him!" Ghost Leopard replied. His voice was strained as he did so.

"All he gave me was a list of targets!"

"So, you killed more than one rep then. What about his goals, did he give any hint as to why he wanted them dead?"

"I don't know, he never said anything about it!"

"Somehow I don't believe that."

"It's true! He never… told…"

Ocelot paused as Ghost Leopard tried to breathe. He stepped back as the hero struggled, confused as to what was happening.

"What did you do!?" Ghost Leopard tried to demand, his body acting against his wishes. Ocelot could only watch as the hero looked up defiantly one last time before his head slumped down. He turned to Hawks, finding him equally as shocked. Stepping forward, Ocelot checked Ghost Leopard's pulse, only to find nothing. He silently swore as he stepped back. He wasn't sure what had happened, but it was like he died of a heart attack.

"Strangelove," Miller greeted, stepping into the doctor's lab, "You need something?"

"A second opinion," she replied, motioning him forward. Inside the lab, scientists roamed about, working on whatever projects they could think of. At the same time, he spotted Paz watching over Hal at a nearby workbench. The two waved when they saw him, as Strangelove kept him moving forward.

"Hal seems to be doing well," he commented, finding a small smile on Strangelove's face.

"I found him tearing apart a computer yesterday. He said he was trying to fix it," she told him, a strong fondness in her voice. It made Miller chuckle as they kept moving forward.

"Explains why I found my watch in pieces," Miller replied.

"I hope he didn't break it," Strangelove inquired.

"Heh, not at all. The damn thing works as good as the day I bought it." Miller answered as the two came to a stop in the R&D department's ballistics range. Around them, scientists tested out different weapons and ordinances. The most prominent of which were the blueprints Nezu had given them. However, he did notice a rather odd one quite quickly. It was large and bulky, with a long charging cable leading to a battery. Strangelove noticed his curiosity and waved it off.

"Hand-held railgun," she explained, "it's still in its testing phase I'm afraid."

Miller looked back at her incredulously not believing the words he had just heard. But Strangelove didn't indulge him further, instead motioning him to a firing range. Overcoming the sudden surprise, Miller looked down at the range's table, finding an XM7 sitting on top.

"We've managed to create a working copy of the rifle, however, some of the soldiers testing it had a few complaints. And with Soul unavailable at the moment, that leaves me to test it, so I need your assistance," she told him.

"Well, let's get started then," Miller replied, picking up the rifle. And the first thing he noticed was the weight. It had caught him off guard how heavy it was. An M4 weighed around six pounds without any ammo. This thing felt like nine. It didn't seem like much, but all the other equipment a soldier carried meant it would add up fast.

"Weight might be an issue," he told Strangelove, the doctor quickly writing it down. He held up the rifle and inspected the chamber. Finding it loaded he aimed at a target and turned off the safety. Then with a quick three-round burst, he saw the target get hit. He also felt it, as the rifle had a bit of a kick.

"What's this chambered in?" he asked, removing the magazine from the rifle.

"It fires 6.8, with twenty-round magazines."

"Twenty rounds is going to be a problem," Miller told her, "Most infantry squads get two hundred and ten rounds max. We're looking at one forty with this thing."

Miller looked over the rifle then, inspecting it thoroughly. A few adjustments might need to be made, but it was still a gun. It would work.

"See if you can get this chambered in 5.56 or at the very least a bigger mag." Miller told her, "The 6.8 one will be a standard battle rifle, the 5.56 with be a standard assault rifle."

He set the rifle down then, finding Strangelove busy with her notes.

"Was there anything else?" he asked.

"Not at the moment, however, the prototypes for XM250 should be finishing in an hour," Strangelove answered.

"A shame. I was hoping to try that railgun you mentioned." Miller commented, looking over at the railgun.

"I wouldn't, it'll punch your arm out of its socket," Strangelove told him, before walking off in the direction of Hal. At that moment his codec was beginning to ring. Finding it to be Snake he answered it.

"Kaz," Snake began, "I need you to check some coordinates for me."

"There's nothing here," Miller told him, to which Snake grumbled in response. It had been a few days of driving from Belarus's border to Russian Siberia, with most of it spent going over maps. They had tried the numbers as a frequency at first, and sure enough, they worked. Not in the way they expected though, as the number went over to an automated message repeating a line of binary. The binary was translated to "Welcome to the show". So, all in all it gave them nothing.

They contacted Miller then, hoping to get some information on the general area. Instead, they found themselves caught in a small blizzard in a forest. Now snow pounded on the SUV's windshield as they drove forward. The roaring winds from the blizzard would push the car around, not enough to cause harm, but to make driving annoying. Something Nagant became all the more vocal about, while Snake went over maps Miller sent him.

"It might be due to the blizzard's interference, but the satellites can't see anything," Miller explained further.

"It's not that," Snake countered, "Even normal maps don't show anything, just a massive forest. The coordinates could be wrong."

"It could also be underground," Nagant stated.

"Possibly, but that begs the question, where's the entrance?" Snake told her, thinking over their next action.

"We've got a couple of GBU-28s if needed," Miller suggested, though there was hesitance in his voice. And for good reason.

"Too risky," Snake replied, "one wrong move and we blow up a group of prisoners."

"Not to mention the attention it would bring us," Nagant added, before swearing the SUV away from a rock. She swore as she did so, having to avoid a tree as well. Yet she soon spotted something down the road. It was a small clearing in the tree line, with tire tracks visible in the snow.

"Boss," she said slowing down the car as Snake looked over, "Found a clearing over here with tire tracks."

"Fresh tracks, in this weather?" Snake muttered looking over at the clearing.

"Might be recent," Nagant told him, as the SUV came to a stop at the clearing.

"Lines up with the map too," Snake added, looking down at the coordinates listed. He didn't realize how close they were until now.

"Odd," Miller said, "There's no clearing on satellite either."

"It's covered up," Snake deduced, "the trees are large enough to cover up the path, making it unnoticeable."

"Unless you're right next to it," Nagant realized.

"A hidden pathway then," Miller stated, "I'll see if I can get any drones or aircraft into the area. Maybe they'll see what the satellites can't."

"So, we going in?" Nagant asked, answered by a calm nod from Snake. She turned the steering wheel around, and the SUV went with it. Along the way, the forest seemed to get darker as the trees appeared taller. Looking up, Snake couldn't see the sky anymore, only the thick branches of the tall trees. The further they went, the more recent the tire tracks became. Soon enough something became visible in the forest.

It was a lone sign resting in the middle of a wide clearing. It was wide open, but the top was still covered up by large foliage. The sign however was the more worrying part.

"That's a human face," Nagant muttered, disgust becoming present in her voice.

"It looks like it's been there a while," Snake noted. It appeared as if it was frozen on the sign, and showed it reaching the decaying process. Looking around, Snake found the tire tracks would stop, right in front of the sign. A sign that simply said "Welcome".

Chapter 41: A Game's Beginning

"You mean to tell me that your only lead, a man who may I remind you was in the prime of his life with no medical problems to speak of, died of a heart attack," the President muttered, seemingly more to herself than to Ocelot.

"That would be correct mam," Ocelot replied anyway. It still bothered him as he and Hawks inspected the rest of Ghost Leopard's house. The hero was by no means old, but he wasn't young either, yet to suffer a heart attack so suddenly seemed impossible.

"We believe it to be the work of a quirk," he explained further, while carefully searching through a kitchen drawer. Inside he found the parts for what appeared to be a makeshift pipe-bomb haphazardly hidden away. It at least gave some credence to Ghost Leopard being the killer, but not who employed him.

"Most likely a timed or passive quirk until the recipient activates it. But there's something else. When we arrived, we overheard Ghost Leopard talking to the guy who hired him. Apparently, he has some leeway in the Hero Rankings."

"What then, you think the person responsible is one of ours?" the President asked with a hint of disbelief in her voice.

"Can't think of who else it would be. The majority of the targets were reps trying to become VP." Ocelot explained further. It was only logical really. He knew the MSF wasn't killing off the HPSC's reps, and the President would have crucified any villain organization that tried it. Especially after "finding" the saboteur. So that left only one possibility. Now he could only debate whether finding the guy responsible was worthwhile.

For one it meant the HPSC would be clawing away at itself looking for the guy responsible. That would hamper quite a few operations. However, it could also lead to some unnecessary consequences if a rep decides to earn themselves some glory to fortify their position in the HPSC. And knowing just what the HPSC did for glory, he knew it would involve a large loss of life.

"Hmm, then someone's trying to kill off the competition." the President deduced stirring Ocelot out of his thoughts, "That would explain the attack on Night Owl,"

Ocelot froze for a moment as the words registered in his head. Even then he didn't fully believe what had been stated, for a solid few seconds.

"Night Owl was attacked?" he asked, an unnoticeable hint of worry clear in his voice. And for good reason. If Night Owl was on the list of targets, then that meant Night Owl was aiming for the VP spot. He could only dread what the madman would do if he got it. Even worse, why was he only now learning of this?

"He was, it happened about an hour ago, and he rushed into the ER." the President explained, confirming his fears. He continued to search around the house though, determined to find even a shred of evidence.

"From what I've been told he was poisoned at a cafe, and only survived due to the quick actions of a nearby hero." the President continued, right as Ocelot found a small glass vile in the kitchen's cupboards. Looking it over he couldn't find any clues as to what it was, but with its proximity to the pipe bomb parts he could infer its purpose.

"If Ghost Leopard's death is the work of a quirk like you think, then we may be dealing with multiple people."

"Seems reasonable." Ocelot agreed, "Might explain some of the more curious deaths I've seen."

Then again, he could be wrong. Ocelot simply wasn't sure, but something about Ghost Leopard's death seemed familiar. If it's what he thought it was, then the only way to know would be an autopsy. Still, he could only hope he was wrong, otherwise, the world would have a new problem. And letting the HPSC know of its existence would make it even worse.

Snake looked over the sign carefully. After hiding the SUV nearby and grabbing his and Nagant's equipment, the two now stood in front of the sign. Upon closer inspection, it held that weird feeling the building back in Belarus has. It was both a bloody mess and perfectly clean. And the face nailed onto the wood was in reality two stitched together. The right side was male with a dirty face and a large unkempt beard, and its mouth was positioned downward in a frown.

The other half was a woman with her face clean and beautiful, and her mouth positioned into a smile. There was nothing else surrounding the sign, just a blanket of snow that had gotten past the foliage above them.

"Tire tracks seem to stop here," Nagant noted, crouching down to better examine them. Snake eyed the nearby forest as she did so, hoping to find any clue.

"Think they went on foot?" Nagant asked.

"No. There would be other tracks if they did." Snake replied, looking back over to her. Curiously she began to dig away at the snow beneath her.

"Well, the foliage means they didn't fly out of here, and a lack of tracks means they didn't walk," she began before something became visible in the snow.

"Then they must have gone down," she said with a slight smile on her face. Under the snow rested a large slab of metal. Snake couldn't tell how large, but it was covering a decent part of the area. Having an idea, Snake walked over to the sign and carefully dug around it. It fell off to the side once he had cleared it, revealing a keypad under the snow.

"I think I found our entrance," he called out, wiping a bit of snow off the keypad's screen. Nagant soon walked over to him, before pulling out her Idroid. Scanning the keypad, the Idroid revealed what buttons were pressed the most. After a few seconds, the Idroid had the code needed.

"Well then," she commented looking over at Snake who punched in the code, "open sesame."

The ground beneath them began to shake suddenly, as the ground began moving downwards. Instinctively Snake checked over his rifle, ensuring it was loaded. The large elevator, like with everything else, held similarities to the sign. Half of its walls were rusted or missing panels and parts. The other half had a fresh coat of paint, and bright lights shining into the elevator.

One thing was for certain though, this facility seemed ex-military. Everything was heavily reinforced, even the rusted portions of the elevator. If Snake had to guess, the facility could probably survive a bunker buster. Then there was the general location and feeling of abandonment he got from it. It all added to that weird feeling he kept getting. Eventually, the elevator came to a stop, with a grand wooden doorway sitting in front of them. Silently looking over to Nagant, Snake motioned to the door. Quietly the two approached it, with weapons drawn.

Slowly he cracked the door open before his eyes widened. Snake ducked back quickly with Nagant doing the same as bullets flew through the door. They ripped off bits of wood from the door, as the enemy on the DHsK held down the trigger. When they stopped firing, a large hole rested above them, with a voice echoing out around the next room.

"Right on time ladies and gentlemen! Please give a warm welcome to this season's special guest, the legendary mercenary, Big Boss! And as always, I am your gracious host, the Showmaster!"

Carefully Snake peaked through the hole in the door above, finding what could only be described as madness in the next room. A dozen different men stood armed on what amounted to a large TV set. It had obstacles all around the room, with some coated in blood and others perfectly clean. Some were more comical, like giant boxing gloves on the walls, or moving platforms.

Others were more violent, with visible buzz saws moving along the floor, and small walls with hidden guillotines. Then there were the enemies themselves. Some wore suits or civilian clothes; others were clowns or jesters. But all were heavily armed, with body armor present as well. Snake ducked back down as another rain of bullets flew past him. It created a new hole to the side of him, as Showmaster kept talking.

"Now, now Big Boss. It's cheating to start before the rules have been read," the voice called out as a faint whirring noise. Looking up, a small drone flew above him with a camera positioned below it.

"Smile for the camera, would you?" Showmaster commented before the drone turned to the side, spotting Nagant.

"Oh! I didn't realize you brought a friend. Ah well, the more the merrier!"

The drone flew farther away, while still keeping the two in view.

"Now then viewers I wanted us to start off strong today, which is why this episode's first challenge is a fan favorite, hide and seek! The rules are simple, make it to the other side of the room and you live, get spotted, and-"

Another torrent of bullets flew by the two, this time tearing up the door near Nagant. She ducked back, narrowly avoiding the rounds before the machine gun stopped firing.

"Damn it, Terrence! How many times have we rehearsed this!"

A sole gunshot rang out then, followed by something hitting the ground.

"Ugh, extras." the voice muttered, giving Snake enough time to peek out over the door again. On an elevated platform, he spotted the DHsK and the corpse of the man who fired it. A new guard walked over and pulled his body away before quickly taking his place.

"Anyways, you have thirty minutes to win, else I'll set the room on fire. Starting… now!"

The gunfire resumed, although this time it became harder to avoid. Acting quickly Snake tossed out a flashbang and waited for it to go off. Once it did there was a brief lull in the gunfire, giving Nagant time to aim her M110. She pulled the trigger three times, with the bullets ricocheting off the walls and into the heads of three dazed enemies. Snake soon did the same, slowly advancing out of cover as he fired his M4 one.

"Hmph, so much for hide and seek," Showmaster muttered aloud. Snake ignored him as he pressed forward, spotting a clown with an AK-74. Quickly aiming he shot the clown, the 5.56 rounds tearing through his arms and denting the vest on his upper torso. Yet the clown made no cry of pain as he squirmed on the ground, trying to stand back up. Snake couldn't ponder this for long, before ducking back behind a small wall.

A new pair of clowns fired at him, one with an AK-74 and the other with a Saiga-12. Shotgun shells and 5.45 rounds impacted the wall hard, as Snake crawled away. Unseen by the enemy he crawled over to the side, flanking them. Quietly he shot them in the back of the head, before looking around the area. Nearby Nagant had moved forward, switching to her M18 and her quirk for close combat.

One guard tried to sneak up behind her, but the sound of his boots gave him away. In a fluid motion, Nagant moved her arm back as the barrel of her quirk shot out. It struck the guard in the chest, causing him to fly back. As he did so Nagant shot a second guard in the chest with her M18. Retracting her quirk, she shot the guard that had tried to sneak up on her. With two more dealt with, she kept moving forward, narrowly dodging a saw blade as a new guard fired at her.

Staying low she used the sawblade as cover, the bullets denting and breaking it. It came to a quick stop, with the guard quickly running out of ammo. With her opportunity, Nagant leaped over the sawblade and fired three rounds into the guard's chest. As she watched the guard fall dead, something about it seemed unnatural. For the few seconds she looked at it, no blood came out.

She assumed it was the ballistic plates stopping the rounds, but another look told her otherwise. Like Snake though, she couldn't ponder it for long, having to duck behind cover again quickly. Looking around, she saw Snake running over to her. He slid in beside her as the DHsK began firing again.

"How much time do we have left?" she asked while reloading her M18.

"Twenty-five minutes," Snake replied, before tossing out another flashbang. The DHsK stopped firing briefly, and Nagant took advantage of it. Switching back to her M110, she fired a round at the wall and watched as the round ricocheted and tore through the machine gun. To her dread, the Showmaster's voice rang out around them again.

"It seems our contestants are blitzing through the challenge easily folks! How about we up the difficulty?"

The temperature suddenly spiked around them, the heat coming from out of nowhere. Snake could already feel sweat forming on his brow, as he looked over at the other side of the room. Only two guards remained, and they had nothing more than AKS-74s. Yet they seemed unaffected by the growing heat. Turning back around, Snake checked the chamber of his M4 and looked over at Nagant.

"Only two left. I'll take the right; you take the left." Snake ordered.

"Got it," she replied before the two leaped out of cover. All the while they could feel the room's temperature increase, slowly becoming unbearably hot. A quick look back at the room's entrance revealed the wooden door beginning to smoke. Wasting no time, Snake rolled through a small wall avoiding a falling guillotine. Once clear he stood back up and kept running. The guard meanwhile held down the trigger on his gun, having no care for conserving ammo.

His shots were off and lacked any form of accuracy, which led to Snake quickly firing back. Two rounds cracked the guard's ballistic plates, and the third ripped through his skull. With little time Snake ignored the fact the guard's head held no blood and instead looked over to Nagant. Her guard was quickly killed and the two booked it for the end of the room. Thick black smoke was already forming above them as more of the room began to ignite. Running at a full sprint, they narrowly made it to the other end.

Ramming into the door, it cracked open loudly with an equally loud buzzer going off behind them.

"And they've done it! Truly a remarkable display ladies and gentlemen! I must say, I haven't seen a performance like that since Little Lucile back in season seventeen. Now, we'll be right back after these short messages, so stay tuned!"

With the quick break they had been given, Snake looked around the new room they had entered. Immediately something felt off as he looked around. There was only one exit, and it was behind a solid steel door. Then a metal door slammed down behind them, sealing them inside. Seeing what was happening Snake grabbed a small gasmask from his bag, remembering what had occurred in Venezuela. Nagant quickly did the same, right as a pale blue mist began to fill the room.

As the gas rose, Snake continued to inspect the room. Above them rested a vent, most likely where the gas would be filtered out. Quietly he motioned to it, informing Nagant. Nodding, she drew her knife, as Snake moved to boost her up. She fiddled with the vent's screws carefully, before removing the vent's cover. With the way open, the two climbed in.

"Ah, Nezu," Miller greeted, "What can I do you for?"

The meeting had been rather unexpected, and somewhat poorly timed. He'd just lost contact with Snake when he received word that the rat had called for a helicopter. He raised his brow however as Nezu seemed to cringe at his words and covered his ears.

"Can you be a little quieter, please? My sleep schedule has been rather nonexistent the last few days, and this headache is killing me."

"Oh, sorry," Miller replied quietly, as Nezu walked up to him. He took a seat nearby, watching as the officers moved around the operations room.

"No, no, it's fine. I did come in unannounced after all." Nezu told him, looking around the room.

"It seems you're quite busy," he noted, to which Miller nodded.

"Snakes on a contract out in Siberia, and we just lost contact with him," Miller explained as a nearby officer passed him a new document. He signed it quickly before passing it back.

"Then this is a bad time," Nezu replied, moving to stand back up. Miller stopped him though, before calling over a lower-ranking officer.

"Maybe, what exactly is it you need?" Miller asked before sending the officer out to grab some drinks.

"Well… UA is in a bit of a precarious situation at the moment, and I need a loan." Nez answered to the confusion of Miller.

"The HPSC?" Miller inquired, as the officer returned with a coffee and a tea. To Miller's surprise, Nezu took the coffee, leaving him with the tea.

"Yes, they just recently had our international entity status revoked," Nezu replied before taking a small sip.

"I'm making UA a charity to circumvent their control somewhat, however, we would be entirely reliant on outside donations."

"Which brings you to us," Miler deduced, "I think we can work something out."

"About that… it's quite a large sum of money." Nezu stated, but Miller wrote it off.

"Please, this is a high school we're talking about. How much could it be?" Miller replied before taking a sip of tea.

"Around forty-two billion," Nezu replied calmly. And suddenly Miller was coughing out a lung as he spit out the tea. In between coughs, he sputtered out "F-forty-two!?" before regaining his breath.

"Holy, is that in yen?" he asked, somewhat hopeful of Nezu's answer.

"USD I'm afraid," Nezu responded, crushing what hope Miller had held. Somehow the carrier and two submarines combined cost less. It was ludicrous to think about.

"For a school?"

"Some of our facilities are rather expensive," Nezu explained, before pulling out the Idroid he had been gifted. It lit up and displayed a spreadsheet of the entire school's budget. It wasn't even close to how much the MSFs spent and earned, but it was still a large amount.

"Five billion on raw materials, six billion for basic maintenance, four billion on school supplies. How big is your damn school?" Miller muttered as he went over everything. The MSF had the money available, but they were more than likely never getting it back. Thinking it over Miller looked back at the command room, an idea beginning to form.

"You have any contacts in Poland?" Miller asked.

"A few, yes"

"Alright then here's what we'll do. The Polish government won't give us any intel as to what we are facing. If you can get me a line with their President, then I can get you the money." Miller told him, as Nezu brought his hand to his chin in thought.

"I believe that is doable," Nezu replied.

"I hate to tell you this Midoriya, but you're not winning," Rody stated, somewhat smugly as Midoriya desperately scrambled to protect his base. The two were busy playing Command and Conquer Six, the reboot. They sat across from each other with two computers set up, and DD resting underneath the desks.

"My winning streak will not be so easily broken!" Midoriya countered "I will win, in the name of Ka- Oh that's an ion cannon."

The laser struck down, obliterating the last of his base's powerplants as Rody's aircraft flew in for a bombing run. Now Midoriya was beginning to worry and for good reason. With his main base destroyed, that left only his smaller secondary base. His funds were nonexistent as well, as he plunged everything into trying to stop Rody's advance. Only for his units to be caught in the ion cannon's blast.

"Sorry dude," Rody said with a cheeky grin on his face, "But this victory is mine!"

Carefully Midoriya thought up his next move. The ion cannon would take a couple of minutes to charge up again, so it wasn't a worry for the moment. However, Rody's faction was. While Rody was normally a Scrin player due to their better aircraft, the two had decided to randomly pick factions. That gave Midoriya Nod's Blackhand and Rody GDI's Steel Talons. This would be an issue, as Midoriya could not build aircraft, only anti-air. While Rody could create a mass of armored walkers.

With little time he decided the best plan would be to swarm Rody with flame throwers and hope they would torch his base. As he did so, Rody sat back and focused on cleaning up what remained of Midoriya's old base. He was confident that the game would soon be over but decided to remain cautious. The other times they had played this, Midoriya had usually won. Granted he normally got to play as the faction he knew the best, but Rody wasn't risking it.

"If you're so sure, let's make it interesting," Midoriya stated, confirming Rody's caution.

"If you win, I'll buy that F-14 model you were after,"

"The replica one?" Rody asked, intrigued by Midoriya's offer. Just as Midoriya was hoping.

"Adjustable wings and all," Midoriya answered, "But if I win, and you buy me that new All Might poster."

Rody's eyes widened slightly as he thought it over. The poster Midoriya was referring to, was a limited-edition copy with All Might's signature. It was rare, it was cool, and it was expensive. Rody wasn't even sure where Midoriya would put it though. One look at his room and you would find posters on the ceiling because the walls were out of space. Yet it was too good an offer to pass up.

"Deal," Rody replied, before calling his troops back to base. He wasn't stupid, he knew Midoriya would try something. So, opening the construction queue he built four anti-vehicle defenses and placed them around. Midoriya meanwhile, had built up a vast horde of infantry. With a few upgrades, all his troops had flamethrowers, even the anti-vehicle ones. With them ready he sent them out to where he suspected Rody's base was.

Sure enough, the computer rang out "Enemy Base Detected". Midoriya looked over the computer then, and chuckled when he saw Rody's face. Now it was Rody's turn to panic because there was a con to a mass of armor. It tends to be quite slow.

"Yes! Feel the cleansing flames!" Midoriya commented, watching as his units began burning away the few defenses Rody had built. As that happened Rody attempted to send in aircraft to fight back, only for Midoriya's rockets to shoot them down. All the while he could only watch as his main force slowly came back to base.

"Surrender my friend!" Midoriya stated, getting a little too into the game "The Blackhand has won this day!"

Then again Rody couldn't blame him.

"Never! The Steel Talons do not bow to terrorists!" Rody replied, while quickly spamming aircraft in the production queue. Every unit that was built, however, was quickly destroyed when it arrived. Seeing Rody's desperation, Midoriya sent his units to Rody's construction yard. They burned it to the ground quickly, before turning on the nearby structures. Soon Rody's barracks and airfield followed suit.

"It is hopeless! Your defeat was prophesied by Kane!" Midoriya told him, as his troops destroyed the last of Rody's harvesters.

"Prophecy or superstition? Either way he's wrong." Rody countered. He silently cheered as the first of his units made it back to base. Even with his construction yard gone, he could still salvage this.

"You will learn, there can only be peace through power!" Midoriya replied, now noticing Rody's troops arriving. Wasting no time he redirected his ant-vehicle units to attack Rody's walkers. Victory was as good as his. Rody was beginning to think so too, as Midoriya's remaining troops scorched his power plants. But then, he noticed the small square next to the map. Seeing how little time he had left, he had his faster units scout out the surrounding area, as his tougher ones moved to protect his super weapon.

"So, nonbeliever, any last words?" Midoriya taunted.

"Yeah," Rody replied, a wide smirk on his face "Exterminatus."

Midoriya became confused by it, before looking back at the screen. His eyes widened as he realized his mistake. In a panic, he sent his units to destroy the superweapon. But it was too late. Rody's units found Midoriya's second base, and with a few clicks, it was all destroyed. Midoriya could only stare in shock. The entire time he had forgotten about the ion cannon, thinking he had enough time to destroy it.

"Haha! Steel Talons rule!" Rody exclaimed. The screens changed over to the endgame page, with the two going over the game's statistics.

"Can't believe I forgot about the ion cannon," Midoriya muttered, to which Rody chuckled.

"I mean I forgot about it until five seconds ago," Rody told him, with Pina flying onto his shoulder. The bird nodded with him as Midoriya.

"But you know the deal," Rody told him, to which Midoriya gave him a light chuckle.

"Yeah, yeah… care for a rematch though?"

"Oh absolutely,"