Chapter 588 - 104-105

Chapter 104: A Fun Game

Madam President had good news for the first time in nearly a month. Genuine, good news. While the Ninth Circle's stunt in Tokyo was a shocking display of force, it garnered very good press. It wasn't another week-long slog with thousands dead, no. In one night local heroes, All Might, and Star and Stripe had managed to beat hundreds of cultists, for comparatively few casualties.

It was a godsend. Already, Madam President could see approval ratings stabilize, and the media sang their praises. It was a single moment of desperately needed calm. One she couldn't afford to lose. So as she sat in her high-rise office, her phone in hand, Madam President watched the sun rest in the sky above her. Behind her, assembled around her desk, were most of the HPSC's high-ranking staff. Each one looked at the woman nervously, all wary of her previous words.

"You sure this is wise Ma'am?" one of her department heads asked, with Madam President quietly sighing.

"I've been given no other choice," Madam President replied, slowly pressing her hand up against the glass in front of her, "I want all our efforts against the Ninth Circle doubled. Whatever it takes, this cult must be put to heel."

"And what of the MSF?" another head asked, with Madam President pausing for a moment. It was not a decision she liked, but for the time being, the MSF would have to be ignored. The HPSC's resources were fracturing by the day, with money and manpower having to be diverted to dealing with the MSF or the Ninth Circle. Better to focus it on the group committing domestic terrorism.

"As much as I loathe to say it, there is nothing we can do at the moment," Madam President answered, her eyes shifting over the glass carefully. After a moment she saw the reflection of her employees resting behind her. Though she hid it, Madam President was quietly fuming at her words. It infuriated her to no end.

"The massacre has cemented their reputation to the public. And I don't plan on concocting any more false flag attempts," Madam President continued her memory of the last attempt still fresh in her mind. To think any of this could even happen. As of yet, the MSF hadn't said anything about the several villains they'd snuck into the Festival. Whether it was because they didn't know or because their priority was on the Ninth Circle, didn't fully matter. Either way, she didn't want to risk another large-scale villain attack so soon.

Especially when she didn't know what villain organizations were still loyal to her. Ignoring false flags, appealing to the public hadn't worked on kicking the MSF out either. There was still a monumental number of people distrustful toward the MSF, but with the Japanese parliament signing a contract and All Might backing them, nothing could actually be done. So like it or not the MSF was here to stay. Yet the more Madam President thought about it, the more she began to consider that a good thing.

"At the same time, should the Russians or Chinese try anything, those mercenaries would act as a necessary bulwark," Madam President added, finally glancing away from the window. Volkov had been clear. Very clear. While Madam President still believed hero society would live on through this turbulent time, she could now see the changes in the winds. Though they were just rumors, Russian actions in Europe had begun to… escalate. In just the last few weeks, there were reports of four different black op raids into Poland, Finland, Estonia, and even Turkey.

China meanwhile had joined Russia in weapon development programs. Along with a dramatic increase in PLA training exercises. War was most definitely brewing on the horizon. If it broke out, well, the MSF having close ties to Poland would mean they'd be involved in the fighting. And with both China and Russia being close to Japan, Madam President was beginning to hope the MSF would stick around a while longer. Which, assuming the HPSC did nothing, she was confident would occur.

For whatever reason these mercenaries were rather… moralistic. If their troops weren't, then Snake at the very least was. So should war come, Madam President doubted he'd leave and let all of Japan's innocents die. With all that said though…

"Intelligence gathering and cyber security efforts against the MSF will continue, everything else will be diverted," Madam President ordered calmly. Just because she'd stopped trying to remove the MSF from Japan, didn't mean she'd stop keeping tabs on them. Her final order did seem to bring some of her employees some comfort. Walking back toward her desk, Madam President soon sat down and leaned forward.

"Now, sitrep for the last week?" Madam President requested, watching as one man stepped forward. Quickly the man cleared his throat and presented a large stack of reports.

"So far so good. They haven't been particularly talkative with us, but the MSF reports a decrease in Musutafu's crime," he explained, with Madam President slowly nodding along. After a few seconds, the man set the reports down and someone else stepped forward.

"The stock market has continued to fall, however with All Might's speech things should be stabilizing in a few days," the next man explained, while Madam President grabbed the first report, "Although with Musutafu in ruins, housing prices have gone up dramatically, along with the cost of food, water, and electricity."

"Ah, some of those issues should hopefully be resolved in a few weeks," a different man piped up, not explaining further. Madam President knew why though. Another aid package was being sent in from abroad, totaling nearly two billion dollars worth of foodstuffs. Again, a new man stepped forward, replacing the previous one quietly.

"For something more positive, David Shield has announced that the I-Island Expo is still scheduled to occur near the country's coast," the new man explained, with Madam President sighing in relief. With I-Island coming so close to Japan, tourism was likely going to rise temporarily. It should bring in some extra revenue. Not to mention the expo would bring some more good press toward heroics, assuming they could unveil some more advanced support equipment.

And with I-Island security being second only to Tarturus, the entire expo should be secure from outside threats. Though speaking of outside threats, there was still the question of the Ninth Circle. Looking over the reports before her, she didn't find much good news. Some captured weapon caches here and there, a few villain attacks foiled, but nothing grand.

"What of the cultists we captured?" Madam President inquired, quietly reading a new file.

"I'm sorry to say we've made little progress," one man would answer, "Standard interrogation techniques are proving ineffective, as are more… advanced techniques. Worse, a few of the prisoners managed to kill themselves. Now the majority of the prisoners are being put in straight jackets."

"Suicidal bastards," Madam President grumbled tiredly. Why couldn't they have been normal villains? The boring simple kind any random hero could fight in the street and win. The man speaking cleared his throat again, now pointing at the middle of the stack of files.

"We have, however, found a pattern in their members," the man explained, while Madam President grabbed the file from the stack.

"Going through records, over forty percent of the cultists we captured had some kind of mental illness. Twenty percent meanwhile were mutants, fifteen percent were disabled or in chronic pain, another twenty percent were poor, homeless, ex-cons, or suffering from some kind of addiction, and five percent are career villains," the man continued, with Madam President slowly grumbling again. In other words, the cult's ranks were made up of the desperate.

Those at the bottom of society, the people with no other option but villainy. Truthfully Madam President didn't care. Desperate people made villains the public could hate and people heroes could fight. It generated money and lots of it. However, with the Ninth Circle in mind, this figure proved… worrying. Counting just the poor, meant the Ninth Circle had possibly thousands of recruits at their fingertips.

Sure, not all of Japan's poverty-stricken would be willing to commit such atrocious crimes, but… well, Madam President began to remember what the cult even stood for. How they claimed to be fighting against the world's suffering. If one had to go without food, shelter, or medicine for long enough, well that argument begins to sound far too appealing. Tiredly, Madam President sighed, bringing a hand to her head.

If she wanted hero society to remain in charge, and for her pockets to stay full, then she'd have to be more… charitable. Madam President could only shudder at the thought. This is going to cost me billions, she remarked annoyed, before slowly checking when parliament got back in session.

Even with his apartment door closed, Ryan could still hear his pregnant wife Carol watching TV. Through the building's hall, the man quietly paced around with his phone in hand. With the building having an exterior corridor, Ryan could feel a cool breeze rush by him. At the same time, he felt the warmth of the sun shine down on him, glistening Honolulu in its heat.

"-In other news Goldberg Industrial Support dropped another three hundred points today, marking the largest dip in the company's market in decades," a news anchor explained, doing nothing to ease Ryan's dread, "Analysts suggest the company's stock will continue to fall in the coming few weeks, joining the likes of Jupiter Support, Syntax, General Equipment, and now Pacifica Technologies-"

"It's unacceptable!" a senator exclaimed, as Carol switched to a different station, "What President Morrison is proposing is akin to fanatic militarization. The world has already become tense enough as it is, with the likes of that cult in Japan or the MSF. Everyone is afraid, I am too, but the last thing we need is the country building up its nuclear arsenal to fight a nonexistent enemy."

For a moment some reporters began to speak up but quieted down quickly as the senator continued to talk.

"The world is rearming at an unheard-of pace, turning everything into a tinderbox. All President Morrison is doing is adding fuel to a very possible fire. We need to let cooler heads take charge, to ensure we don't escalate a situation," the senator continued before he pointed out one reporter.

"Senator, what about the rumors circulating of Russian heroes and special forces conducting a black op in Finland yesterday?" the reporter asked, as Ryan continued to pace around. Looking at his phone, he heard the same annoying tone saying the caller couldn't be reached. Tiredly he hung up and began calling again.

"Until these rumors have been proven true, they are nothing more than inflammatory remarks," the senator reasoned, "The Kremlin has made worrying statements, but these are worrying times. With the coming UN talks with the MSF, I am sure tensions will be lessened."

"And what of Volkov's claims about Poland and Ukraine harboring alleged villains-" a reporter began to ask, though Ryan didn't register the rest of the question. Again his phone said the caller couldn't be reached. Mentally swearing he tried again.

"Come on, come on," Ryan muttered, before turning and leaning against a nearby railing. Looking out over Honolulu, he could feel his anxiety taking hold. Just why wouldn't he pick up, Ryan questioned. As the thought popped into his mind, his phone clicked.

"Tom! Tom you there?" Ryan quickly asked, before hearing his friend grumble on the other end. At the same time pandemonium seemed to echo through the microphone.

"Ryan, I'm a bit busy right now," Tom replied tiredly, as someone shouted on the other end. Ryan didn't hear exactly what, but the only words that registered were fiscal and report.

"I know, and I'm sorry, but I've been trying to reach you for an hour," Ryan told him while running a hand through his hair, "It's just-"

"The emails?" Tom interrupted, with Ryan freezing. Yeah… the emails. It was a rather vague way of putting it, and in Ryan's mind, underscored their significance. Put simply, Ryan worked at the Leʻaleʻa toy company. He worked as the foreman of a small factory in Hawaii and had spent the last six months ensuring the company's latest line of toys was made on time. Everything had been going well. They'd been on schedule, under budget, and were in the midst of releasing their newest line.

So, he'd decided to take the day off. Spend the day with his pregnant wife, ensuring everything was ready for the day to be. But, in the middle of the night, Leʻaleʻa's management had sent out a series of emails. Announcing that the latest toy line was being abandoned. Before Ryan had tried calling Tom, he'd had his own employees calling him, trying to figure out just what was going on. Now with Tom being the Project Manager, Ryan had hoped he'd have some answers.

"They've got everyone in the office worried, and I just wanted verification of their authenticity," Ryan explained, with Tom staying quiet for a moment. Only the sound of a mechanical keyboard came through the phone. After a minute Tom sighed, with the sound of coffee being poured into a mug following.

"I don't know what to tell you," Tom replied, with Ryan feeling the color drain from his face. He stopped himself though, maybe he was misreading the situation.

"So they're not real?" Ryan asked, only for Tom to crush his hope. He hadn't even said anything yet, but he could hear the chaos going on behind him. Employees ran about scrambling to gather any kind of report. Most shouted indiscernible things as reports were passed around.

"No… they… they are," Tom answered, before trying to stifle a yawn, "It's… complicated-"

"Complicated!? We spent six months working on this toy line! Everything is ready to ship out, and they're canceling it now!?" Ryan exclaimed, before wincing to himself as he turned toward his apartment door. Hoping Carol hadn't heard him, he turned back to his phone.

"I don't like it either, but-" Tom began to say, his every word laced with exhaustion.

"Tom, for the love of everything holy, why are they doing this?" Ryan interrupted, confusion raking his mind. Corporate had dedicated millions to this toy line and had hundreds of investors lined up to support their release. Was this all some elaborate tax write-off, Ryan questioned. No, they'd spent weeks advertising everything. Millions had been spent putting up posters all over the country, millions more had been spent covering the internet in ads.

It made no sense to Ryan. But after a few minutes, he noticed Tom waiting to answer. Every so often he'd hear a hesitant click of a pen or a tap of his finger.

"...Linebacker's dead," Tom warily replied, with Ryan's eyes going wide.

"He was in Tokyo during the massacre," Tom explained further, "A missile struck his hotel room."

"You're… you're joking…" Ryan muttered, running his hand through his hair again. This… this was bad. Linebacker was a rather popular hero. He wasn't in the US's top ten, but he had a decent fanbase. To describe him, he was the answer you'd get from a seven-year-old boy when asked what they wanted to be when they grew up. He was an NFL star, a pro hero, and a volunteer firefighter.

When it came to action figures, he sold right next to the likes of the US's top ten. Better yet, the hero had been a genuinely good person. Linebacker had been a kind-hearted man, who for the most part lived paycheck to paycheck. Everything he made was dedicated to charity. He loved talking to fans and generally helped out all over the country. To hear he was dead… it was shocking to Ryan.

The man was a genuine saint. But… that brought more dread to Ryan's mind. The newest line of toys was centered around Linebacker. He was the face of everything, and now he was dead.

"I wish I was," Tom replied solemnly, with Ryan stabilizing himself on a nearby wall. Somehow the news just got worse.

"He uh… he wasn't the only one either," Tom continued, the man clearing his throat briefly, "Montana Dan, Mafioso, Pulse, and Hertz were also in Japan at the time."

Ryan's eyes couldn't get any wider. All five heroes had toy deals with Leʻaleʻa. Worse yet, Leʻaleʻa wasn't that big of a company. So those dead heroes made up fifty percent of the company's product lines. Add on Heart Star's recent arrest, and the majority of the company's toy lines were now dead in the water.

"Seeing as how half the product line was centered around their images, management doesn't believe it's wise to continue with the release," Tom further explained, as Ryan slid down the wall he stood by.

"This… this is insane," Ryan muttered anxiously, "We worked our asses off for those toys."

"That brings me to some… more bad news," Tom announced, with Ryan quickly noticing a shift in his friend's tone. Whereas before Tom had been rather quiet and nervous, now his words were laced with annoyance.

"Corporate's considering pay cuts across the board," Tom told him, the man sounding far angrier than before, "Nothing official, I'll tell you if I find out more, but the idea is in the air."

The words left Ryan quiet. This… this couldn't be happening. Not now of all time. All that work, all those nights he'd spent toiling away on overtime, all for nothing.

"So… on top of not making any money off of this project, we're making even less, to make up for their losses," Ryan tiredly commented, picturing Tom angrily nodding in his head.

"I'm sorry, honestly I am," Tom told him, trying his best to sound comforting. Though it mattered little to Ryan.

"Damn it, I've got a kid on the way man! I-I-I-I-I was going to buy Carol a house with that money!" Ryan yelled angrily, shooting up from his spot on the floor as he began to pace around. Carol's pregnancy had been a surprise to both of them. They wanted kids, but at the moment they lived in a cramped one-bedroom apartment. So the two had spent almost all their time getting ready for their child's arrival. They both worked extra hours and invested some money here and there, essentially doing whatever they could.

But now… they were in the third trimester. Month eight out of nine, and they were still no closer to moving. He… he needed that money. And… wait… didn't the CEO give himself a pay raise a week ago? That… he… ugh! All it did was make Ryan angrier, as he again paced around the hall.

"I know, and I'm sorry," Tom told him exhausted, pity clear in his tone, "If there is anything I can do to help-"

"No, no, it's… it's fine, just… take care, Tommy," Ryan replied, nervously leaning against the railing again. With that final word, Tom offered one last condolence, before Ryan hung up. With a sigh, Ryan looked out at the surrounding city. Nervously he heard his apartment door open and glanced over to see Carol poking her head through.

"Ry? Is everything alright?" she asked worriedly, with Ryan mentally swearing.

"Oh, yeah. Everything's fine," he nervously lied, though Carol easily saw right through it. Slowly shaking her head, she walked through the door and wrapped her arms around Ryan.

"Work?" Carol asked, with Ryan quietly enjoying the embrace. Still fuming, he stayed quiet for a moment, relishing her presence.

"Yeah," Ryan warily told her, "Just got off the phone with Tommy. He says the emails were legit and… and that there may be pay cuts coming."

"Oh…" Carol commented surprised, her tone downtrodden. It was only for a second before her arms tightened around Ryan.

"It'll be fine," she told him, somewhat confidently, "We'll think of something in no time."

It caused Ryan to smile, a light chuckle forming on his lips. Ever the optimist, Ryan thought. It was part of the reason he loved her.

"Besides, we could always stay at my brother's house," Carol then reasoned, with Ryan snorting.

"He'd let you stay. He'd have me sit outside," Ryan joked, with Carol laughing as well.

"I'll be sure he books you a hotel," Carol joked back, laughing quietly. She stopped then, as she felt a light kick from her stomach. It made Ryan pause as well before the two chuckled fondly. Though through it all, Ryan couldn't help but worry. The world had changed so rapidly, he didn't know what to think. First, it was the massacre in Japan, then the stock market dropping, the military having been looted, and now it was his job at risk.

Things… things were getting out of hand, and Ryan didn't know what to do.

Though class 1A had been perfectly content to hang out in the infirmary, Recovery Girl was having none of it. The moment the nurse showed up and saw almost the entire class sitting about, she wasted no time kicking everyone out. Akatani's wounds were healed, Bakugo was told to come visit for physical therapy every day, and then Recovery shoved them out the door. It left the class quiet for a second before Kaminari remembered he and Kirishima had their game on pause.

So now, Kaminari was busy trying to defend his flank, while also watching both Akatani and Bakugo look at the new dorms. Bakugo ultimately seemed impressed, though he didn't say it out loud. Seconds later the blonde walked away to inspect his room, while Akatani stuck around. To Kaminari's surprise, Akatani kinda seemed like a fish out of water.

"Yo! Like the new place?" Kaminari asked, sparing Akatani a glance before refocusing on the holo table. Currently he and Kirishima were locked in a space battle, playing Halo Fleet Command.

"It's nice, yeah," Akatani replied, the teen quickly turning toward Kaminari with a smile, "The furniture's not what I was expecting though."

"Smaller than usual?" Kaminari asked, with Akatani shaking his head.

"Nah, if anything it's massive. I don't remember ever seeing a couch this size," Akatani replied, with Kaminari looking back at him surprised.

"Huh, thought you'd have the same opinion as Iida," Kaminari commented, with Akatani raising a brow.

"Why's that… Oh, right, right. Son of a mercenary, heh," Akatani chuckled, before rubbing the back of his head.

"Yeah no, not really used to all this… luxury," Akatani added, with Kaminari nodding along, "I mean I lived comfortably, but… this is just something else."

At the last word, Kaminari laughed, as Akatani wasn't entirely wrong. For whatever reason the dorms had been built like a luxury suite. It looked like a generic army barracks on the outside, but Kaminari could have sworn barracks didn't have decorative ferns. In fact, small luxuries lined the entire dorm. Just small things, like cheap paintings or potted plants. And while he hadn't checked his quarters bathroom, he'd been told by Tokoyami that the showers had over a dozen different settings.

As he thought all of this though, he heard Sero and Kirishima begin to murmur.

"Kirishima, he's open," Sero pointed out, while Kaminari shifted on the couch. Pretending to be unaware he kept his eyes on Akatani and leaned on the couch's backrest.

"Don't let him know that," Kirishima shushed, while Kaminari smiled mischievously. Now for their game, Kirishima had chosen the UNSC, while Kaminari preferred the Covenant. The majority of their ships were spread out across an entire solar system. Now Kaminari had started thirty-six ships, while Kirishima had ninety.

On a stats basis, the UNSC had been buffed to fight a more comparable battle against the Covenant. They were essentially a jack-of-trades faction, with a decent fleet size, decent damage, and decent health. In total Kirishima had fifty-four Paris-class frigates, fifteen Halcyon-class cruisers, seventeen Marathon-class cruisers, and three Valiant-class super heavy cruisers. Now his four Valiants were centered around the system's star, with the rest of his fleet spread out and searching for Kaminari's.

Speaking of which, Kaminari's fleet was made up of one Sh'wada-pattern supercarrier, six Zanar-pattern light cruisers, and twenty-nine Ceudar-pattern corvettes. Now truthfully, the supercarrier was pretty much worthless to Kaminari. It was a twenty-eight-kilometer-long ship, but it stole away ninety percent of his available ship points, forcing him to bring along so many corvettes. This, however, was by design.

At the start of the game, Kaminari had hidden his fleet behind a large gas giant. Every so often he'd send out a corvette to scout the area. This cost him three ships, but let him know where Kirishima's Valiants were. Where the rest of his ships were, didn't truly matter for one reason. The second Kaminari learned where the Valiants were, he sent out his supercarrier. Not to destroy Kirishima's ships, no. The Sh'wada was a distraction.

The moment Kirishima found the Sh'wada gunning for his largest ships, the majority of his fleet was diverted toward protecting his command ship, the oddly named Let's Dance. Through the fight Kaminari managed to destroy twenty of Kirishima's ships, but his carrier was quickly losing health. That was where phase two came in. The rest of Kaminari's fleet was split in two and sent to take the long way around the solar system. His supercarrier meanwhile had been ordered to fall back.

Kirishima, having seen an opportunity to cripple Kaminari, had given chase. Entirely unaware the rest of Kaminari's fleet was now behind, above, and below him. Or, he was unaware. With a snicker, Kaminari turned to watch as Kirishima found the first of Kaminari's fleet pop up on screen.

"Where did they come from!?" Sero exclaimed shocked, causing Kaminari to laugh again. Quickly Kirishima began to scramble, turning his ships in every direction to protect their unguarded engines. Streams of plasma shot out into the void, as coilguns fired rapidly without care. Hull plating buckled and broke under stress, as fighter craft fought about nearly unseen. A MAC round tore apart one of Kaminari's corvettes, while two of Kirishima's Valiants boiled and melted.

"Kaminari, how are you doing this!?" Kirishima yelled out panicked, watching as his command ship was cut in half by a plasma lance. In seconds the battle was over. Quietly Kaminari counted up the floating wrecks on display. Ten of his ships, including the supercarrier, were gone. All his cruisers remained intact thankfully. Kirishima meanwhile, was down to just twenty-three frigates.

"Ready to hear about the Great Journey?" Kaminari smugly asked, with Kirishima resting his chin on his hands. At the same time, Akatani looked between the three of them intrigued, and quietly sat down next to Kirishima.

"Not yet," Kirishima eventually replied, before he began to motion around the holo table. Seeing this Kaminari began to split up his fleet again. As it stood both fleets were now equal in size, but Kaminari held the damage and health advantage. Kirishima though, had a range advantage. Glancing toward Kirishima, Kaminari hoped to read what Kirishima was planning. Instead, he found Akatani looking over the map and whispering to their red-haired friend.

"Akatani, you better not be giving out tips," Kaminari commented, with Akatani looking back in mock surprise.

"Me? I'm not doing anything," Akatani told him, before giving Kaminari the cheekiest grin imaginable, "Just enjoying the show."

Three vs one then, Kaminari thought to himself, his eyes tracing over Sero, Kirishima, and now Akatani. With his fleet again split up, Kaminari began sending them out to what was originally Kirishima's part of the map. A handful of his corvettes surveyed a small colony world and found no resistance. For ten minutes his fleet spread out, scouring planets, asteroids, comets, and every inch of void imaginable.

And he found nothing. Which Kaminari instantly found suspicious. He should have run into a handful of Kirishima's ships by now, just one or two. To run into none of them, implied Kirishima had all his ships in the same place. And seeing as how Kaminari hadn't stumbled onto a blob of metal the size of a small town, it meant Kirishima had his ships constantly moving. After another ten minutes, two of his corvettes found the blob of ships.

Smiling Kaminari readied the rest of his fleet to move in and intercept, only for twenty-three MACs to open fire, and instantly destroy his corvettes. By the time Kaminari's fleet arrived, Kirishima was gone. This continued for a while, as Kaminari was stuck in a cycle. With how big the map was his fleet needed to be split up to find Kirishima. However it meant his ships would get instantly blown apart.

At the same time concentrating his entire fleet together meant it would take an hour to find Kirishima normally. Now that wasn't possible as the game had a time limit. When it ends the game would count up the total number of ship points still alive, convert them based on differing faction strengths, and determine a winner. Unfortunately, Kirishima just barely beat out Kaminari's ship points, as Kaminari lost another four corvettes.

This time his plasma cannons had blown up two frigates, but it wasn't enough. Kaminari needed a decisive battle that Kirishima would not give him. Looking up, Kaminari found Sero, Kirishima, and Akatani all murmuring again, discussing an unheard plan. The electric teen could only look confused. His eyes dropping back to the map, Kaminari began to slowly panic.

"Where are you now?" Kaminari muttered, slowly moving his ships to regroup. He'd gone over every piece of rock on the map. Just where was Kirishima… wait… this wasn't just Kirishima and Sero. This was Akatani's plan. Kaminari had nearly forgotten that fact. Stop thinking like Kirishima, and think like Akatani, Kaminari told himself. Where would he hide from an enemy… Didn't Akatani hide in a cardboard box?

The teen tended to hide in places no one was expecting or thought were idiotic to hide in. So where on the map, would that… be… Kaminari's eyes widened, the teen rapidly moving his ships toward the same gas giant he'd hidden behind. Kaminari hadn't thought of Kirishima using the exact same gas giant. It was on Kaminari's side of the map after all, and would have been incredibly difficult to get to.

But sure enough, Kaminari found it. Now all of Kirishima's ships were across from all of Kaminari's ships.

"Yes!" Kaminari yelled, before watching as his friends panicked.

"Crap! Crap!" Kirishima yelled, quickly moving as Klaxons blared through the table's speakers. Both fleets began opening fire as Kaminari moved to try and keep his ships coordinated.

"Shivas! Use the Shivas!" Sero called out, only for Akatani to shake his head

"No! The timer's almost up! Pull back!" Akatani stated while Kirishima grumbled in response.

"His ships are faster than mine! I can't outrun this!" Kirishima reasoned panicked, with Akatani soon conceding his argument. Instead, he began pointing at the map rapidly, exclaiming "Then focus fire on his cruisers!"

The battle devolved into sheer chaos. Kirishima had launched every Shiva nuclear missile he had left and quickly knocked out Kaminari's cruisers. From there, both fleets had broken formation, and now drifted in space wildly. Both teens tried to coordinate things, but their ships were now all over the place. Shells, missiles, balls of plasma, and fighters darted all over the map.

A Paris class drifted over a Ceudar-pattern, spinning as its coilguns fired in every direction. A Ceudar-pattern burned a hole through a Paris class, shearing the ship in two. All while One Final Effort began to blast through the table's speakers. Kaminari could barely comprehend what was going on, as all his ships drifted upwards, downwards, sideways, diagonally, and fired in every direction.

It was just a spherical blob of ships firing everything they had. And before either side could regain control of the chaos, the match ended. It happened so abruptly, that Kaminari forgot there was a timer to begin with.

"What!? We had him!" Sero exclaimed as Akatani and Kirishima watched the stats screenplay out.

"As if!" Kaminari called out laughing, "I was kicking your butts!"

"Then why is it a tie?" Kirishima asked, with Kaminari going quiet. His head whipped down to the stats screen and found Kirishima was right. By the time the game had ended, both ship point scores were essentially equal. Surviving Covenant ships were more valuable than surviving UNSC ships. And with a lot of Kaminari's fleet being gutted, the total balanced out against Kirishima's remaining frigates.

It was a tad bit disappointing, but then a thought came to the teen's mind.

"...It was a three vs one. A tie in that situation is a win in my book!" Kaminari quickly reasoned, with Kirishima and Akatani thinking it over.

"Alright, fair," Kirishima conceded, with a nervous chuckle. There they all went quiet for a moment, just scrolling through the game's menus.

"So… another game?" Akatani inquired, with Kirishima shrugging. Silently the red-haired teen shifted on the couch and scooched over, seemingly done for right now. Quickly Akatani took his place and looked over at Kaminari with a friendly smile.

"Maybe, could try something else," Kaminari replied, slowly checking the clock on a nearby wall. This single game had taken an awfully long time, but he was open to another round.

"May I make a suggestion then?" Akatani asked, with Kaminari hesitantly nodding his head. Very carefully Akatani left Halo Fleet Command and opened up the holo-table's library of games. He scrolled down for a while and eventually stopped on Star Wars: Chronicles of the Clone Wars. Instantly Kaminari began to smile giddily.

"Yes!" Kaminari told him with a laugh, watching as Akatani opened the game. Before Kaminari could utter another word though, Akatani yelled out, "Dibs on the Republic!"

"Come on!"

Jiro, simply put, was tired. When the other girls had gotten back with Eri, the small unicorn having been seemingly pampered like a princess, everyone had agreed to start a movie. Something friendly for Eri to watch and for everyone to relax to. Everyone had chosen a spot on the couch, snacks had been made, and a movie was ready. There was just one complication.

"For the love of everything, Kaminari, it's been six hours!" Jiro shouted, watching as Kaminari, Kirishima, Sero, and Akatani remained huddled around the holo table. With the table situated right in front of the couch, those using it were currently blocking the common room's TV.

"We're almost done. All he has to do is surrender," Akatani told her assuringly, while Uraraka quietly sat down next to him.

"Never! I will drown you in battle droids!" Kaminari shouted, with Akatani gaining a determined smirk. Jiro just groaned annoyed, before stepping back. She hadn't been there to watch the beginning of the game, but it was… well it was odd. The game was idiotically large if she had to describe it. Not just in map size, but by the sheer number of mechanics. Quietly Yaoyorozu shuffled next to her, the two quietly watching the other teens battle against each other. The sight quickly earned an intrigued look from Yaoyorozu.

"How is it he can manage an entire digital economy for a single game, but he zones out in every math class?" Yaoyorozu asked, with Jiro snorting.

"Beats me," Jiro replied, finding it honestly a bit funny. She'd always remembered Kaminari struggling to pay attention during class, complaining about every lecture's length. So, it was a bit funny to see him so… enamored with ensuring some galactic stock market played out in his favor.

"Here's hoping they finish up soon," Jiro stated calmly, with Yaoyorozu nodding in agreement. Quietly though, Jiro's eyes flickered between Akatani and Kaminari. Slowly she began to remember all the training exercises they'd gone through… On second thought, perhaps this could go on a little longer. Would be nice for 1A to have a victory against the "unbeatable" TA, Jiro reasoned, before quietly rooting for Kaminari.

Chapter 105: A Costume Demonstration

After what felt like an eternity, classes finally started up again. In Uraraka's honest opinion, they couldn't have started soon enough. Sure, Uraraka liked the peace and quiet the break had brought, but it had begun to drag on somewhat. She was here to become a hero, not sit around lounging about. And with all the stuff going on in the world, Uraraka knew there was a lot of work she'd need to catch up on.

With all of 1A assembled in class, ready for the day, Uraraka's eyes couldn't help but wander. It had been a while since everyone was assembled in one place. And she meant everyone. After the attack, Todoroki's father had shipped him to a private hospital up North. And only now was the teen back on UA grounds. Bakugo was also back with the class, though with the added addition of some odd mechanical brace wrapped around his arm.

Occasionally Uraraka spotted Bakugo glare at the device, as if he hated the thing with every fiber of his being. Why, Uraraka didn't know. Last she heard Recovery Girl had given it to him and ordered him to wear it during lessons. But then again, the brace's design looked oddly familiar. It reminded her of the exoskeleton Akatani always wore, only without the legs, back, and left arm portions.

Regardless, it seemed to help Bakugo a bit, as the teen now managed to hold a pencil for the first time in weeks. Finally, though, there was… Mineta… Honestly, Uraraka didn't know what had happened to the perv. Last she saw him he was unconscious. After that… nothing. She hadn't seen him in the infirmary with Midoriya and Bakugo, or anywhere else on campus. He just showed back up at the dorms with Mr. Aizawa.

But of course, Uraraka didn't entirely care where Mineta had been. Quietly she glared at the midget, watching as Mineta just sat at his desk. Memories of the massacre ran through her mind, with one scene continually popping into her head. Yaoyorozu had to humiliate herself live on television just to survive. All because of Mineta's actions. Though Uraraka couldn't see it, she could tell some of her classmates were just as upset.

Yaoyorozu herself said nothing but continually avoided Mineta like the plague, and Jiro, like Uraraka, glared daggers at Mineta quietly while her ear jacks occasionally stabbed into her desk. Kaminari meanwhile, glanced between all parties confused, and a tad bit worried. Ashido stayed quiet, but it was clear she knew something was wrong, as did Kirishima. Ultimately no one said anything.

When Mr. Aizawa finally walked into the room, he bore the same usual tired expression he always had. Reaching his podium, the teacher glanced over the class quietly.

"Class," he quietly greeted, looking over everyone quietly, "Today is going to be somewhat different than normal."

Intentional or not, the announcement sent a quiet ripple through the class. Nervously Uraraka couldn't help but tap a finger on her desk. Memories of previous classes flashed through her mind, and she quietly dreaded what could be in store.

"By the Principal's request, we're going to be discussing the basics of costume design," Mr. Aizawa told them, and instantly all of Uraraka's dread disappeared. Somewhat surprised, she blinked a few times as the words registered. That… that wasn't as bad as she thought.

"Normally, UA would allow its students to design their costumes however they see fit and bring up critiques throughout the year," Mr. Aizawa began to explain, before turning toward the board behind him. With a piece of chalk, he quickly wrote on the board "Costumes 101", and underlined the words. It did leave Uraraka in thought for a moment.

She still remembered the day she sent in her costume's design. It felt like an eternity ago, but she could still remember it clearly. Sure, the costume was a tad bit snug, but it had everything she requested for it. But there, Uraraka lingered on one of Aizawa's words: critiques. UA had always intended to critique designs. Which… Uraraka probably should have expected. She was a first-year student, with barely any experience. Of course there would be flaws in her costume she hadn't noticed or considered before.

After all, All Might changed his costume a whole bunch of times. Countless other heroes did the same all the time.

"However, with the Massacre, and the… quantity of heroes killed in action due to costume choices, the Principal has decided to create a dedicated class," Mr. Aizawa continued, seemingly hesitant to bring up bad memories, "Both to demonstrate possible dangers you may encounter in the field and how your current attire will handle against them."

The Massacre, Uraraka thought to herself. She didn't want to think about it, but Mr. Aizawa had brought up a good point. The idea of changing up her costume a little had been around ever since the Massacre. Mainly spurred on by the bloodshed, and ideas she and Akatani had come up with. It just… it all lingered in her mind. All the deaths that happened. She didn't want to join the dead, not any time soon.

Eventually, Uraraka spotted Yaoyorozu hesitantly raising her hand. Curiously Uraraka watched, waiting to see what would happen, as the recent memory of Mr. Aizawa ran through her head.

"Yaoyorozu," the teacher calmly called out, with the girl in question dropping her arm. Surprise covered Uraraka's face in seconds. Back at the dorms, she thought it was just a fluke. A one-time thing for Mr. Aizawa. But… he was answering their questions, scratch that, he was letting them ask questions. Why, Uraraka couldn't help but wonder.

"What… What specific dangers?" Yaoyorozu cautiously asked, with Mr. Aizawa hmming to himself.

"You'll see when you get outside," he told her, before going quiet. The teacher looked over the class, an unheard argument seeming to go on in his head. The strangeness of it all made Uraraka worried that Yaoyorozu had done something wrong, or that Mr. Aizawa was planning something. Eventually, he opened his mouth again, and muttered, "Mainly firearms."

Seeing an opportunity, Kirishima slowly began raising his hand.

"Kirishima," Mr. Aizawa called out, with Kirishima looking back surprised.

"...Costume changes are covered by the school… right?" Kirishima hesitantly asked, and Mr. Aizawa tiredly nodded.

"As per school guidelines, yes," Mr. Aizawa replied, with Uraraka mentally grumbling. She hadn't known that. None of the class did. School guidelines were covered during orientation on the first day of school. Something Mr. Aizwa had clearly forgotten about. Would have been helpful to know, she mentally remarked. Of course, Kirishima's question spawned a few more from the class, as Aoyoma quickly raised his hand high.

"Are costume changes required?" the French teen asked, a little worried he'd have to make drastic changes to his costume. Mr. Aizawa tiredly sighed in response before telling him "No, but I'd strongly encourage it."

"Will this course be graded?" Iida soon asked, with Mr. Aizawa shaking his head.

"No. None of what you see today will be for any kind of grade," Mr. Aizawa answered, as student after student began bringing up questions. It took a few minutes, but eventually, no one had anything left to ask. With a final glance over the class, Mr. Aizawa stifled a yawn and walked toward the door.

"Now, follow me," Mr. Aizawa tiredly ordered, and Uraraka quickly scrambled out of her seat. Walking forward she and her classmates followed him out the door. Quietly they all moved through UA's halls, soon exiting the building entirely. Now outside, Mr. Aizawa continued to lead them forward, until Uraraka began to spot an open field. To her surprise, two people stood in the middle of it surrounded by weapons.

And not just any weapons, no. There were machine guns, RPGs, sniper rifles, grenade launchers, autocannons, and a self-propelled howitzer. It left Uraraka somewhat shocked that the MSF had dedicated this much firepower to one class session. It confused her for a moment until she glanced at Akatani. The teen, for his part, looked oddly excited. In fact, he looked too excited. From there, it took mere seconds to realize just who the two people in the field were.

"[You sure this isn't a tad bit overkill?]" Commander Miller asked concerned, the blonde man glancing over at Snake, "[I mean… that's a twenty millimeter round! Not even our strongest body armor is surviving this thing.]"

"[Nezu said to display everything]" Snake replied, the mercenary taking a moment to light a cigar. Miller just looked at him dumbstruck, before he turned toward the SPG sitting near them.

"[...Is that why there's an M109 over there?]" Miller asked, with Snake quietly nodding. By then both men had noticed the class walking toward them. Coming to a stop, 1A looked around curiously, while Akatani and Aizawa stood next to Snake and Miller. After a few seconds, Mr. Aizawa cleared his throat and regained the class's attention.

"For today's lesson, Snake here has decided to donate some of the MSF's equipment temporarily," Mr. Aizawa explained, with Uraraka nodding slowly. The teacher glanced back at the mercenaries then, before his eyes fell on the SPG.

"...I think the howitzer was overkill," he muttered, with Miller nodding with him.

"Exactly what I was thinking," Miller commented, while Snake simply rolled his eyes.

"No matter," Snake grumbled, before taking a step forward, "Now, today's lesson is rather simple."

With a brief puff from his cigar, Snake stepped toward a nearby table and hoisted up an odd gel-like torso. It was mostly clear, allowing Uraraka to spot what appeared to be organs inside of it. Along with small bits that seemed to represent bones, and a red liquid that was definitely supposed to be blood.

"This," Snake began, motioning toward the torso, "Is a ballistics test dummy. It is designed to represent the human body as closely as possible. This allows us to accurately record the effects of something like a bullet wound, without shooting an actual person."

Setting the dummy back down, Snake took another puff from his cigar. At the same time, Uraraka began looking over the field again. Slowly but surely, she spotted at least nineteen different test dummies placed nearby. What stuck out to her though, was the test dummy dressed in her hero costume. She could recognize the color scheme from a mile away… that may be a problem, Uraraka thought to herself.

The more she looked at the dummy, the more her costume seemed to stick out like a sore thumb. A murmur broke out between her classmates then, as some of her classmates began noticing the dummies as well.

"Those of you with keen eyesight may have spotted the dummies already assembled," Snake commented, the mercenary stepping to the side as the rest of the class began to spot them.

"Thanks to Principal Nezu, we've been gifted exact copies of all your hero costumes," Snake explained calmly, "And right now, we're going to display their current flaws."

Taking another puff from his cigar, Snake turned toward Akatani. With a smile, he motioned toward the nearby table.

"Mikumo," Snake ordered, a large smile crossing the teen's face. Rather giddy he rushed toward the table and grabbed an assault rifle. With delicate care, Akatani kept the rifle pointed toward the dummies, and checked over the weapon's chamber. Ensuring it was unloaded, the teen carefully held it out to let everyone see.

"Alright, this is an M4 carbine, chambered in five five six by forty-five millimeter," Akatani explained, his giddiness leaking into his words, "The five five six stands as one of the world's most common rifle cartridges, and has been in use since at least three hundred and twenty years."

Quickly the teen loaded a magazine into the rifle and began looking down range. With a nod Snake began doing the same as well, slowly searching for their first target. Of course, the merc paused for a second as he began counting up the dummies.

"Let's see… are we missing a costume?" Snake asked, with Uraraka becoming confused as well. Looking over the dummies, she still counted nineteen of them. Only with a second glance, she saw one of the dummies had nothing on. It didn't make sense for a second before it clicked for everyone.

"Oh wait no, I see it," Snake muttered, spotting the gloves and boots placed on the dummy's hands and feet. Though Uraraka didn't see it, she could hear Hagakure nervously chuckle. Slowly Snake seemed to shake his head in disapproval the longer he stared at the costume.

"Should I start with that one?" Akatani soon asked, with Snake bringing a hand to his brow.

"Sure, consider it a blank test," Snake told him, before snapping his finger. Wordlessly he pointed to the table, with Uraraka noticing a small box on the ground.

"Ear pro, now," Snake ordered calmly. The moment he said the word, Uraraka could have sworn a gust of wind rushed by her. Turning back she found Jiro with a set of large earmuffs already in hand. Quietly Uraraka grabbed her own pair and watched as Akatani got to work. Wordlessly the teen aimed his rifle at Hagakure's "costume" and fired. One single round shot forward, before colliding with the dummy. Seconds later a plume of dirt was kicked up in the air behind the dummy.

Wordlessly Snake brought up his Idroid and placed it on the nearby table. Its hologram lit up in seconds and displayed the same shot Akatani had just taken. Replaying the entire scene, Uraraka couldn't help but grimace. From this distance, it hadn't seemed that bad. But through the replay, she watched as the bullet tore through the dummy. The gel rippled from the force of the round and bulged when the bullet shot out the other end.

She didn't know if it was exactly what happened to a real person, but it looked painful enough. Eventually, Miller walked out and dragged the Hagakure dummy to the class. Placing it on the table, Uraraka watched as the fake blood dripped onto the grass. With the dummy on the table, Snake carefully drew a knife. With the blade he began poking and prodding at the dummy's wound, causing more blood to leak out.

"Alright, if you look close, you can see the first round has punched down and managed to puncture the dummy's lungs," Snake pointed out, as the class huddled around the dummy, "It then kept going, and shot out the back."

There he turned the dummy around, and with his knife, pointed at the hole in the dummy's back. It was a rather clean shot. The bullet was mostly dead center but skewed off and hit the right lung.

"Were the round even a few inches closer to the left, it would have severed the spinal cord. Leaving the victim either paralyzed or dead," Snake soon explained, with Uraraka quickly noticing Hagakure go quiet. Of course, it somehow didn't stop there.

"Also centered near this area, are the heart and key arteries. Both if hit, would have resulted in death," Snake further explained, with Uraraka noticing Hagakure shrink back at every word. Pausing for a second, Snake then looked up toward the class.

"Who's costume is this?" he inquired, with Hagakure nervously raising her hand.

"...Mine," she hesitantly replied, with Snake staying quiet.

"...That answers a lot of questions," Snake muttered, before sheathing his knife, "But what we can see, is an all-around lack of protection."

Carefully Snake placed his cigar in his mouth to free up his other hand. Slowly he began grabbing the dummy's right leg.

"If anything, with this costume something like a bullet is the least of your worries," Snake added, while Miller helped lift the dummy, "Shrapnel from a grenade or a shell would tear you to shreds. If not them, then bits of rubble or debris out in a disaster area. And these boots, while a drastic improvement over everything else here, are not going to cut it."

That last part left Uraraka a little confused. She could understand practically every other flaw in Hagakure's costume but… the shoes? To Uraraka they seemed to be the only good quality. At the same time though, Akatani grabbed what looked like a piece of wood, with a nail stabbed through the center. Carefully the teen placed it next to Snake, the mercenary still holding the dummy's leg.

"To explain, this is a rusty nail, this is your boot," Snake stated, before slamming the dummy's foot forward. The nail punched straight through, puncturing the boot, the foot's bone, and popping out the other end. On second thought, those are some poor boots, Uraraka mentally commented. Practically everyone cringed at the sight, the mental image of their own foot taking the dummy's place.

"Now due to the quality of this footwear, you're out of action and risking tetanus," Snake told everyone, not really addressing a specific person, "If you want to keep yourself safe out there, then you're going to need the proper equipment."

Wordlessly Miller and Akatani began carrying the ballistics dummy back out to the field, while Snake walked back to the table. There he grabbed a boot from under the table.

"High heels, designer boots, sneakers, and frog-toed flippers are not going to cut it," Snake added, carrying the boot toward the rusty nail still near them, "What you need is a shoe with a thick sole."

As if to demonstrate, Snake again slammed the shoe onto the nail. Only this time, as he held it back up, there was no puncture. The nail had been bent somewhat, and there was a noticeable divet in the boot, but there was no puncture. Tossing the boot aside, Snake found Miller and Akatani now walking back. When they arrived, Akatani grabbed a new gun from the table, and Snake sighed.

"Which brings us to the rest of these costumes," Snake commented, with Uraraka turning toward the field. Without a word, Akatani opened fire. For an hour, Snake went over every one of 1A's costumes. And to Uraraka, the results hadn't been pretty. Aside from Hagakure's dummy, Yaoyorozu's, Ashido's, Asui's, Kirishima's, Kaminari's, Jiro's… ok basically everyone except Iida's, Bakugo's, and Aoyoama's had been torn to shreds.

And even then, Iida's armor had lasted only three shots from Akatani's M4, Bakugo's had lasted one, and Aoyama's lasted two. Over time Akatani had begun switching up weapons, going to higher calibers little by little. He went from 5.56 to 7.62, and the differences were immediately present to everyone. The entry and exit wounds were far larger on every dummy Akatani shot. From 7.62 they moved on to even higher calibers, reaching .50 BMG rounds.

Said rounds ended up punching holes through everything. Though Uraraka believed it a tad bit unnecessary. During the demonstration, Akatani had called the bullet an anti-everything round. So… she didn't believe the MSF had body armor strong enough to withstand it. If anything this was probably just Akatani having some fun. This couldn't have been more clear after he fired both an Anzio 20mm rifle and the M109 SPG. Needless to say, whatever dummies were left had been torn to shreds.

However, the M109 did allow them to witness some oddly gruesome shrapnel damage. With it all wrapped up Snake looked the class over quietly, with a long set of notes in his hands.

"Jiro and Kaminari, your costumes are plain civilian wear," Snake commented, with Uraraka noticing the two teens chuckle nervously, "A t-shirt and a leather jacket won't cut it in this line of work. I know heroics are all about style, so I won't recommend full-blown plate carriers, but at the very least wear a ballistic vest underneath and change your shoes. I'll say this again, sneakers are not going to cut it."

Style, Uraraka mentally muttered. Right now she could tell style was on no one's mind. Not after that display.

"Kirishima, your quirk may make your skin stronger than steel, but you won't always have time to react," Snake stated moving on to the red-haired teen, "It only takes a second for someone to kill you, or for even the smallest amount of rubble to hurt you."

Quietly Kirishima grimaced at the thought and slowly nodded in agreement. There Snake's glance shifted to Iida.

"Iida, while your costume has fared better, its armor is akin to hardened plastic," Snake pointed out, "I assume this is to keep everything light for your speed. In which case I'd suggest abandoning parts you don't need. It should save up weight for areas you desperately need to protect. You can live without an arm, you can't live with a piece of lead flying through your heart."

Quickly he ran through everyone else's costumes. Hagakure's and Yaoyorozu's had too little cloth for the weather and sheer protection in general. Uraraka's, Asui's, and Ashido's were skin tight with nothing of concrete use, along with Uraraka's high-heels needing to go. Shoji, Koda, Sero, Mineta, and Sato had a similar issue, all their costumes lacked any form of protection. Aoyoma's was more decorative and flashy, and the cape would get in the way far too easily.

Ojiro's karate gi, while more practical than everyone else's costumes, was still found lacking. Todoroki's… oh Todoroki's was one of the worst. Half his side was covered in ice which made movement difficult, while the other half was more akin to a white dress shirt and khaki pants. And then there was Bakugo's. Shockingly, Snake didn't have much to say about it. The boots had thick soles, along with knee guards, so his legs were overall safe.

Aside from the orange on Bakugo's costume, it was a dark mesh of blacks and greens. The biggest flaw ended up being the same flaw everyone else had, not enough protection. With that wrapped up, Snake took another puff from his still-lit cigar and turned toward the class.

"Any questions?" he asked calmly, his eye surveying everyone quietly. No one said a word yet, as the entire lesson seeped into their minds. Uraraka knew her costume would need changes, but where to start was the issue. Ideas she had with Akatani ran through her mind rapidly. However, most of these ideas relied on one small thing.

"...Would it be possible to… borrow… an exo? Or some kind of other equipment?" Uraraka asked, watching as Snake's eye fell on her. It had always been something she and Akatani discussed. The possibility of her getting, not even an exo, but just a basic grappling hook had been tempting. Of course, Uraraka could never bring herself to let Akatani give her one for free. It had cost the MSF money to make, so she didn't want them to just waste it on her.

Quietly Snake thought over her question while taking another puff on his cigar.

"It may be better to consult UA's support course…" Snake began, before slowly trailing off. His eye traced over the crowd, before stopping on Akatani. Who, as Uraraka expected, was busy nodding his head slowly with a smile on his face. It was unheard, but Uraraka could feel the conversation going on between the two. As Snake squinted his eye and Akatani smiled wider. With a quiet sigh, Snake then turned toward Miller. The commander brought a hand to his brow and just shrugged.

"...I'll see what I can do," Snake eventually told her, with Uraraka hearing a small "Yes" from Akatani. Snake's decision, though, opened the floodgates. As seconds later Kirishima stepped forward.

"If she's getting one, could I get one?" Kirishima asked, with Sero quickly voicing a similar sentiment.

"My quirk kinda makes designing a costume difficult, do you guys have anything that could help?" Hagakure asked at the same time, her invisible hand held up high. A few feet away Yaoyorozu nodded her head in agreement.

"Mine as well. My quirk tends to tear apart clothing when I create things. Does the MSF have anything that can circumvent this?" Yaoyorozu inquired while creating a nesting doll as a demonstration.

"Does it just have to be costumes? Or do you have support equipment we could get? Cause I know Akatani's real good with those grappling hooks," Kaminari pointed out, with Snake slowly stepping backward, now seeing his mistake.

Cài Mei absolutely loathed her job. Why you may ask? Simple, she was the Chairwoman of the Gù-Hǎo Democratic Party. The second most popular party in China. And right now, the elderly Chinese woman was busy trying to clean up the CCP's mess. See, all of China's current issues, were nothing new. Years before the age of quirks, the CCP had been falling into disrepair, suffering from the exact same issues they suffered from today.

Poor food quality, poor construction quality, poor workers' rights, poor civil rights, poor everything. It all bubbled under the surface for years. Up, until the dawn of quirks. With the global economy effectively shutting down, the country was plunged into complete economic ruin. The CCP instituted a brutal crackdown across the country, but in the end, it wasn't enough. In 2063 a rogue element in the PLA attempted to launch a coup.

It failed, but the perpetrators were never captured. Instead, they fled south and embroiled China in a civil war. It was forty years long, it was bloody, and overall it was complicated. And while the CCP had eventually won, it was by the sheer skin of its teeth. In the Treaty of Hanon, the CCP was forced to give out concessions on an unheard-of scale. They were forced to institute stricter regulations on companies, open up freer elections, decouple the media from their control, and allow the creation of new political parties free of the CCP's influence.

Which led to the creation of the GHDP. For a time, things began to improve after the war. The CCP inevitably fractured, dividing itself into a dozen different factions all vying for control. It was technically the country's largest party, and technically in control, but it didn't have nearly the influence it did before. With that fracturing CCP, the GHDP managed to push through anti-corruption measures and began cleaning the government out.

The Chinese Environmentalists Party meanwhile got better food and environmental regulations passed. Hell, the country grew closer to the US and began mending relations with Taiwan. For decades things had been improving. That was until General Secretary Qín took power in 2170. He was an ultimately unremarkable politician all things considered. However, that was all a ruse.

Through him, the CCP began to reunify. CCP-aligned media painted Qín as a charismatic and caring leader, fighting against a supposedly corrupt establishment. For years they construed the data surrounding public documents and officials, bending it every which way to fit Qín's narrative. Bot farms flooded Chinese websites with CCP talking points, covering nearly every corner of the internet. But the definitive action the CCP took was bringing heroes to China.

Being the first allowed the CCP to place its supporters in key roles in the new industry. And with the attention heroics had from the youth, it meant the CCP had gotten a stranglehold on the country's youth. So, for the first time in nearly fifty years, the CCP gained seats in the National People's Congress. Little by little they took back power. Little by little they undid all the work the GHDP had made and painted it like a good thing. Now, Cài sat in the Great Auditorium listening to her cohorts bicker with CCP stooges.

"The builders of the school were known GHDP donors! You blame us for the school's collapse, yet it had nothing to do with us!" one politician screeched with another scoffing.

"That's a bald-faced lie!" a GHDP representative yelled back, "The owners have been vocal CCP supporters for decades now! There are clips of them praising General Secretary Li since his inauguration!"

"Would you care to produce these videos? Because I'm more than willing to provide my own evidence to the contrary!" a CCP representative countered, all the while Cài began wishing the noise would end.

"Everyone, what has become crystal clear to me, is that current industry regulations are not enough! Were it not for the removal of the Safe and Effective Construction Bill's repeal, none of this would have ever happened!" a second GHDP representative would yell, only for a CCP rep to yell over him.

"That bill was an ineffective farce, made so the GHDP could grab power and swindle the Chinese people out of their liberties!" the CCP representative loudly argued, before someone began calling the room to order. To Cài, that's all these meetings ever tended to be. Endless bickering as the GHDP and its allied parties tried to hold the CCP back. As for everything already said, by the bickering representatives, it was all lies. The construction company did not donate to the GHDP, the company's owners did nothing but praise Li for years, and the SECB bill was not a move to grab power.

But though it was the truth, it didn't fully matter. All over social media the CCP's bots and CCP media spread the same lies. Needless to say, the session came to a close, with nothing having been accomplished. Walking out of the Great Auditorium, Cài couldn't help but tiredly rub her brow with a wrinkled hand. All she wanted to do right now was drink some tea and take a well-deserved nap.

Unfortunately, the world seemed to have other plans.

"Chairwoman!" a male voice called out. With a tired glance, Cài looked over her shoulder and spotted her assistant Cháng rushing toward her. Being a rather short woman, Cài had to look up at her assistant, whose young face was now hidden behind a stack of papers and tablets.

"Cháng," she quietly greeted, her old voice rasping each word, "Changes to the schedule again?"

"No Ma'am," Cháng replied, the man struggling to balance everything he carried, "However, I thought you should see this."

Ever so carefully he pulled a tablet off the top of the stack and passed it to Cài. Turning it on, the chairwoman found a news report already loaded up. Yesterday's protests were brutally put down, against the entirety of the GHDP's wishes. Twenty had been killed, while another sixty were arrested for "disturbing the peace". Of course, the CCP didn't want to admit to its supporters they'd attacked civilians.

So instead, they went with tactic two.

"Of course he blames Japan," Cài muttered, annoyed, reading the report's outlandish title. "Ninth Circle Found In China: Cult Attempts Coup." Cài didn't believe it for a second. Because an hour ago the title had been "CIA Sponsored Terrorists StormZhongnanhai!". Two hours before that it was "Indian Radicals Launch Assault on Zhongnanhai!" It was idiotic toCài. But before anyone could even call the CCP on its bullshit, their media pundits would switch to the next story, their bots would flood the media, and any traces of their previous lies would be hidden by a storm of new ones.

In this case, it wasn't hard to see why Li blamed Japan. For the common man, it was normal political positioning. Blame someone else to cover their own faults. But Cài knew better. For years, Li and his predecessors had gone on about the failures and shame the old CCP members had acquired. Through failures to surpass the US, failures to secure Taiwan, failures to secure the Indian border territories, and failures to win the civil war, they created a single political goal. That they would achieve what their ancestors could not reinstate the CCP's dominion over the country, and bring China to a new golden age.

Nothing but nonsense authoritarian rhetoric. But it was that rhetoric, that was screwing over what ties the GHDP had built around the world. It was that rhetoric that the CCP was using to drag China back to Russia. Chairwoman Cài would have none of it, while Cháng slowly held out a piece of paper.

"That isn't all," Cháng told her tiredly, struggling to keep himself upright, "There are talks amongst some CCP representatives. They're hoping to put forth a military spending bill."

Quietly Cài grabbed the paper and looked it over quietly. Her eyes slowly widened the moment they saw the bill. Seventy-two billion yuan would be diverted from several GHDP public services, toward the purchase of military hardware. Likely to match the rest of the world's actions. Which Cài doubtlessly believed would be Li's excuse.

"I assume there's a catch," Cài muttered, not noticing Cháng's careful nod.

"I haven't gotten all the details, but along with seventy-two billion yuan, they want to start vetting the military for… dissidents," Cháng explained, with Cài groaning annoyed. This should have been expected eventually. At least a third of the PLA were GHDP supporters. It was because of them the GHDP hadn't been rounded up and purged years ago, lest the CCP find itself at arms again.

"Anyone specifically?" Cài asked, a few key generals coming to her mind. She'd have to make a lot of calls after this.

"Can't say," Cháng replied quickly, "They've worded it so vaguely anyone can fall into their definition."

Cài simply grumbled in response. General Secretary Li was clearly up to something. She'd have been a fool not to have noticed it. The problem was, what would his next move be?

Huddled around the dimly lit conference room, Re-Destro couldn't help but look around grimly. The past few weeks had been… rough, to say the least. With the Musutafu Massacre, several of their MLA-aligned heroes had been killed in action. As well as a hundred of their lower-ranking members. But of course, that wasn't all.

"Hmm, stock prices seem to be stabilizing again," Skeptic muttered anxiously, while hunched over a small laptop. The man had spent the last three days straight going over the market, trying to ensure everything went smoothly. Originally Detnerat had a stock price of around a thousand dollars a stock. After the massacre, they dropped to six hundred dollars. In the span of a few weeks, their stock price had dropped by four hundred dollars.

It wasn't just Detnerat that had suffered either. No, the entire global economy had been hit by the massacre. Both Shoowaysha Publishing and Feel Good Inc.'s stock prices dropped as well. The entire MLA had lost millions in just a few weeks.

"What kind of a mess have we found ourselves in," Trumpet muttered tiredly, the politician slumped into his office chair. Tiredly Trumpet looked toward Re-Destro, visible bags hanging under his eyes. Like Skeptic, he too had been busy, only for an entirely different reason. Being the head of the Hearts and Minds party, Trumpet had been busy trying to rally support in the aftermath of the massacre.

Which… Well, herding cats would have been easier. Weeks had been spent going through meeting, after meeting, after meeting, with nothing truly getting done.

"This is unfortunate, yes, however, I'm confident we will recover in time," Re-Destro commented, with Trumpet slowly sitting back up in his seat. At the same time the Grand Commander turned toward Skeptic, the man still hunched over his computer.

"I trust you've found something on this… cult?" Re-Destro inquired, with Skeptic chuckling to himself.

"As if it was ever a challenge," Skeptic replied arrogantly, while tapping something onto his keyboard, "Through a mixture of government and underground sources, I've discovered a mountain of information."

Flipping his computer around, he gave Re-Destro a clear look at a small file he'd assembled. Of course, it was small by Skeptic's standards. In reality the file had over a thousand pages of information. The table of contents alone was forty pages.

"This cult has existed for a decade or two and was thought dead by the HPSC," Skeptic explained calmly, scrolling through parts of the file, "However, over the past few years they found an unnamed backer. One who's been building their organization back up."

Slowly Re-Destro began to nod, watching as the computer continued to scroll. It showed prominent cultists the authorities had killed or captured, a list of vehicles they'd used during the massacre, a list of their ongoing or previous attacks, and even a list of known meta-abilities their cultists had used. However, for once Re-Destro had found a problem with Skeptic's work.

"That's well and good, but I need something more concrete," Re-Destro told him. All this information and there wasn't a single figure on current numbers. There were no current cult leaders, just captured or killed ones. With an annoyed glance, that Skeptic quickly hid once he remembered it was the Grand Commander he was addressing, he scrolled to the bottom of the file.

"...So far estimates suggest the cult has numbers rivaling ours," Skeptic hesitantly began, "With how willing they are to throw away men, I dare say they could even outnumber us."

Aside from that small tidbit, there was nothing else. It was somewhat disappointing, both to Re-Destro and Skeptic. For the Grand Commander, he couldn't make good decisions without all the data. And for Skeptic, he didn't like the lack of information. In the great cat-and-mouse game of cyber security, he'd only ever lost once. There was no system he couldn't hack, and no security he couldn't improve. But here, his hacking was doing nothing. He was missing pieces to an utterly ludicrous puzzle. And he didn't know what possibility was worse. That the data just wasn't there and he was searching for something that didn't exist, or that someone was outfoxing him.

It instantly reminded him of that damn cat meme, and he shut the memory out of his head. With a sigh, Re-Destro sat back in his seat.

"Then it seems for now, we must focus on consolidating our resources," Re-Destro decided, "Let the cult bleed itself dry while we hide away."

The last thing the MLA needed was to get entrenched in a conflict. While confident that they would come out victorious in the end, Re-Destro knew the MLA would suffer losses they couldn't afford. That would delay the liberation, and if it got bad enough, could possibly end the movement altogether. To him, that was unacceptable.

"I want everyone to be called back to Deika City," Re-Destro reluctantly ordered, with both Skeptic and Trumpet looking at him shocked, "We don't need any more unnecessary losses, so no one leaves until this cult has been dealt with."

The conference room went quiet for a second, with only the sound of breathing being heard. Trumpet eventually cleared his throat, and nervously eyed Re-Destro.

"I don't mean to doubt you Grand Commander, but are we sure this is the best course of action?" Trumpet inquired, with Re-Destro slowly nodding.

"I am," Re-Destro replied, with Trumpet quietly gulping. He didn't dare speak out though. His doubts were quietly squashed and ignored as loyalty won out in the end. Re-Destro had a plan, what he needed was faith. Wordlessly Re-Destro turned back toward Skeptic, with his hands placed together.

"Now, what of the MSF?" Re-Destro inquired before he watched Skeptic freeze.

"I am… still working on that front," Skeptic replied, a mix of anger and annoyance clear in his tone.

"Oh?" Re-Destro pressured, with Skeptic glancing down at his computer.

"Their cyber security has been… difficult," Skeptic answered, giving no further explanation. Though he didn't have to. The media had been abuzz about the MSF's supposed technological advancements. The most prevalent of which, was their sentient AIs. Now Re-Destro didn't doubt Skeptic's abilities, but… well, these were AIs he was talking about. The Grand Commander doubted Skeptic would ever break through the MSF's systems.

It's why Curious was out investigating in the field. Because as far as Re-Destro was concerned, the Ninth Circle was a secondary threat. The MSF was simply a wild card. They didn't obey the whims of the oppressors, but they didn't fight on the side of the villains. Whether they would support the MLA when the time of liberation comes, was entirely up in the air. In some cases, the MSF even challenged existing MLA beliefs. For Re-Destro wanted total meta-ability liberation. The ability to let anyone and everyone use their quick however they see fit.

Yet through the massacre, the MSF and the cult made meta-abilities seem like cheap gimmicks. The vast majority of their forces had used meta-abilities in the fighting, but all anyone focused on was the artillery and the tanks. What would the point of liberation be, if their meta-abilities ultimately didn't matter? The idea was absurd to even think about. To think technology could ever surpass the dominance of a quirk, was tantamount to idiocy.

The next phase of human evolution couldn't be compared to soulless circuits and wires. Yet it was being compared. There was also the same issue the MSF shared with the Ninth Circle. Should a fight break out between the MLA and the MSF, Re-Destro was confident they could win, but they'd again suffer devastating losses. Possibly ending the liberation. Right now, the MSF could either be a great ally or an annoying adversary.

The ring of a phone broke Re-Destro out of his thoughts, the sound emanating from Trumpet's pocket. Pulling the phone out, Trumpet grimaced.

"My apologies, Grand Commander," Trumpet told him, with Re-Destro waving it off.

"It's fine," Re-Destro replied, his hands moving to cover his mouth, "I trust it is important business?"

Trumpet simply nodded in response, before answering the call. He made sure to keep it quiet, not wanting to disturb the rest of the meeting. But of course, that didn't fully matter.

"Hello? Woah, slow down… now!? What do you mean now!? I'm in a meeting- yes with the Grand Commander… I'll-I'll tell him," Trumpet murmured, slowly piquing Re-Destro's interest. Rather quickly Trumpet hung up the phone and stood up from his seat.

"Has something come up?" Re-Destro asked, with Trumpet rapidly nodding. The politician was practically rushing out the door as quickly as possible. But he still took a moment to address the Grand Commander with respect.

"Parliament's just called an emergency session," Trumpet replied, the words leaving his mouth far too slowly for his liking, "They're holding a vote of no confidence for the Prime Minister."

The news left Re-Destro quiet for a second, his eyes going wide.

"Go," Re-Destro ordered, and Trumpet nearly booked it out of the room.

Looking over her small store, Abby couldn't help but grow nervous. Her little business had been open for nearly a century, passed on by her parents and grandparents. And for years, she had little issue running the place. But that was then, and right now her checkout counter was surrounded by at least a hundred angry customers. What sucked, was they were all people she knew.

Abby didn't live in a big city. Instead, her shop was situated in the English countryside, in a small remote town. So she'd run into the same customers day after day.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Mr. Grayson exclaimed, the town's doctor looking over an empty shelf stripped of its goods.

"How are you out of sugar!?" Mrs. Weatherby demanded, the woman fighting over the last bag with her next-door neighbor Oliver.

"You're charging me twenty pounds for a bottle of olive oil!?" James, the town's sole lawyer yelled, holding said bottle aloft for everyone to see.

"I know, everyone! I'm sorry!" Abby called out, her hands held out defensively as they stayed crowded around her, "Stock has been running low for the past few days! More will be arriving tomorrow!"

Of course, Abby didn't fully believe that. After the Musutafu Massacre, confidence in the world's heroes and global security had rapidly dropped. The attack was on the other side of the world, sure. But the moment they started shooting and sinking commercial ships, a lot of companies quickly became hesitant to start sending out goods. No one wanted to risk death over ensuring the UK had its tea imports.

Which left Abby in her current situation. Half of her store was currently out of stock. She still had bread, potatoes, and whatnot, so no one would starve. But she was out of sugar, tea, coffee, bananas, chocolate, cooking oils, cheese, beef, chicken, milk, watermelon, and nearly a dozen other items. With confidence in global security hopefully stabilizing, imports should start coming in again, but Abby wasn't sure that would happen.

That cult in Japan still hadn't been dealt with, the Russians were doing some shady stuff, and China was beginning to blame it for supposed black ops. It all seemed… it did nothing but cause Abby to worry. The world seemed ready to snap at any moment, and once again imports would come to a halt. She didn't dare say this out loud, not when her own neighbors continued to yell about the next item they found.

Abby couldn't help but shrink back at the sight. Yet before Gregory, the school's principal, could yell about the price of beans, an older shrewd voice yelled over him.

"Enough of this!" the voice called out, his accent thick and raspy, "Calm down all of you!"

It caused everyone in the shop to go silent before the clinking of metal echoed through the building. There Abby spotted the town's hero, Arthur, walking about. The man was damn near ancient, his hair a stark white and his face wrinkled beyond belief. Scars lined his chin, and his right eye had been replaced with a fake. But standing in his hero costume, an old 16th-century set of knight's armor, one wouldn't see his age. They'd see his disappointment.

"Unbelievable, the lot of you!" Arthur lambasted, with Abby watching as the crowd shrunk back, "You run out of tea for one day, and start tearing old Abigail a new one!"

Slowly Arthur began walking around the store, his eyes never leaving the crowd. To everyone, it felt like he was boring a hole straight through them. Tiredly the old man grumbled and rubbed his brow carefully.

"She's run this store for years now and has gone above and beyond for this community," Arthur went on, trying his best to keep his tone calm, "After all, it was Abigail who commissioned your wedding cake, Mrs. Clarkson. It was Abigail who watched your kids when you went on holiday Archie. And it was Abigail who helped push your car to the mechanic Samuel."

Each name Arthur called out, soon shrank back, before regret seemed to take hold for all of them. It earned a groan from Arthur, the old knight removing his hand from his brow.

"So don't complain when things out of her control go wrong. We all know she'd fix this if she could," Arthur went on, his arms slowly crossing together, "We've all been neighbors for years now. All our children go to the same schools. We all walk the same roads day after day and celebrate the same birthdays and holidays. We're a community, so act like it."

There, the store was left quiet. Bashfully a few customers began to leave. Others walked toward the checkout counter, paid for their items, and left with regret clear on their faces. One by one the store emptied out, until only Arthur and Abby were left. Tiredly the old knight grabbed a single apple from a nearby bin.

"I'm sorry about them," Arthur told her, while Abby waved him off.

"Don't be. It wasn't your doing," Abby replied before Arthur handed her some money. Quietly Abby grabbed it and put it in the register. Leaning against the counter, Arthur took a small bite from the apple, the crunch being loud and crisp.

"So how are classes? Still trying to get your degree?" Arthur asked, with Abby smiling softly. It was often for Arthur to just stick around on occasion. All across town, he'd check up on people, just to see how they were doing. It was nice. He was like the entire town's own personal grandpa.

"They're ok," Abby replied, remembering the night classes she'd signed up for, "Got me up later than I like, but I'm doing well."

The store was still her number one priority, but oftentimes the town's school needed substitutes. Abby was normally the first to volunteer but believed her skills were lacking. So she'd taken up online classes to refresh herself on the material.

"Ah, that's good to hear," Arthur replied, before taking another bite out of his apple.

"What about you? Find a replacement yet?" Abby asked, watching as Arthur slowly became somber.

"Afraid not. Still searching on that front," Arthur answered tiredly. For years the hero had been searching for someone to replace him. A successor to watch over the town when he finally retired. It had been… well, nearly impossible. No hero wanted to watch over some bumpkin country town. Not when the likes of London brought far more fans and a lot more money. It was a sad truth to Arthur.

"Well, I'll be off," Arthur told her, the hero slowly walking toward the door, "Another grand quest awaits me!"

With a wave Arthur began to step out the door, a chuckle at his lips.

"I'll warn you of any dragons," Abby joked, with Arthur laughing loudly. Soon he was gone, leaving Abby in her now-empty store.