Chapter 111: A Rushed Meeting
As it turned out, Snake's meeting dragged on a bit longer than he was expecting. It wasn't due to some complication or Barnes not keeping his word. No, the first deal had been massively beneficial to both sides. It was because the moment the US announced its agreement with the MSF, a ripple effect was created. Well, Snake says 'ripple,' but it was more like a tsunami. Almost instantly, leaders across the globe started flying out to the US, all in the hopes of starting up talks with the MSF.
So what was once just a simple negotiation between the MSF and the United States rapidly expanded to include Canada, the entire European Union, the United Kingdom, Norway, Australia, New Zealand, South Korea, and Taiwan. All saw an opportunity to capitalize on this newfound partnership. As such, rather than sending a diplomat, most leaders had decided to come in person, in the hopes of making a good impression. Now, part of Snake was annoyed, he was only supposed to be here a few days. However, the rest of him felt a tad bit giddy.
Miller, like always, had been right. A deal with just the US had opened up a large number of opportunities for the MSF, all quietly benefiting Outer Heaven. Which is why now, he, Miller, President Morrison, Director Konig of the now renamed European Armed Forces, and a whole mix of political leaders sat in the Roosevelt Room. A large series of documents was spread across the long table, all detailing what was slowly becoming a complicated set of agreements.
"So, in exchange for the MSF becoming a partner of the AV-70 Rattler and UV-72 Python programs, the US would receive the completed designs for the V-44 quad tilt rotor aircraft, along with its established variants. That feels reasonable?" Morrison asked, while holding up one document.
"It does," Snake replied quickly, earning a nod from Morrison. It was a rather common-sense venture, helicopters for helicopters. The AV-70 and UV-72 were the US's attempts to modernize the Marine Corps's aging UH-1Ys and AH-1Zs. Now, as the Marine Corps was the only branch in the military to keep most of its equipment, they were a bit reluctant to fully replace their current equipment.
Mainly do to not wanting to complicate logistical matters. As such, the AV-70 and UV-72 were designed to be entirely compatible with at least seventy percent of UH-1Y and AH-1Z's parts. Which ultimately meant that both new helicopters very closely resembled their predecessors. Current blueprints of the UV-72 had what resembled the fuselage of a Huey, only its tail rotor was replaced with an H-shaped tail.
Its main rotor, meanwhile, was removed, and instead had ducted fans mounted onto the aircraft's sides. Inside each fan were two rotors with four blades each. The AV-70 had a similar situation, resembling a Viper with a wider fuselage. It, like the UV-72, had the same ducted rotors mounted on the side, but instead had a V-shaped tail replacing its rear rotor. Overall, both aircraft were designed to be more maneuverable and far faster than their predecessors.
Now, the MSF did have its own helicopter programs in mind, but by all appearances, the AV-70 and UV-72 seemed far closer to completion than the R team's projects. That said, the aircraft could be monumentally improved with the technology the MSF possessed. As such, the MSF had requested to join the program, in exchange for the US getting access to the readily finished V-44.
It hadn't reached full mass production yet, but with the US asking for purchases of the V-44, V-44J, CV-44J, KCV-44, EV-44, and a hundred other variants, Snake was sure everything would quickly get underway. Per the agreement, the V-44s would fall under the Hidatsa program and thus be classified as the V-44 Hidatsa. With that small matter settled, Morrison shifted slightly as he grabbed a new document.
"Now, Director, you said that the EU would be interested in a joint space venture, correct?" Morrison inquired, watching as Director Konig nodded.
"We would be, yes," Konig replied softly, "As it stands with all other rearmament projects, we do not have the funds to cover space operations."
A small murmur of agreement broke out amongst the people present.
"We don't possess the funds either," Miller quietly muttered, a few others uttering similar sentiments. Looking around, Morrison stayed quiet for a moment before chuckling.
"Wallet of the world, it seems," he joked, before placing the document back down.
"So, what do we all have in mind?" Morrison asked, watching as leaders moved about quietly.
"As of right now, I believe the creation of a new spaceship should be in order," Snake decided to say, "Nothing overly large can be built at this moment, but something akin to a destroyer may be possible."
A few other leaders nodded in agreement, mainly Konig, the Taiwanese President, and the South Korean President. However, a few looked more uncertain. Eventually, the Canadian Prime Minister stood up and leaned forward on the table.
"I don't believe that kind of venture is necessary. If you're worried about the advancements made by the Russians or the Chinese, then you shouldn't be. Current anti-satellite weaponry should be enough to eliminate whatever threats they put in orbit," the man stated, earning a few nods from other leaders. Current weapon systems, while still incredibly old, could likely deal with the likes of Russia's Zhukov… as it stands currently.
If the ship was ever refitted to have a more practical armament, such as the removal and replacement of the ship's six-inch guns, then they'd have a greater issue.
"While that may be true, the issue is that they can only reach a target in orbit. Anything further and we risk hitting nothing," Konig soon argued back, "It's not just a matter of the present, but the future. As it stands, both of those nations are aiming to dominate space travel as a whole. If we're too late to act, then give or take fifty years, all who want the vast resources of the cosmos will have to go through one of them."
Again, a murmur went out through the people ran out, as the concept dug into their minds. Space was vast and filled to the brim with trillions of dollars worth of goods. But if the Russians or Chinese monopolized those resources, there wasn't much they could do. They'd have access to a trillion-dollar market no one else would have. In a sense, they'd elevate their power base beyond anything seen before. And with how chaotic markets were most definitely going to become, that kind of capital would help immensely.
"At the very least, a ship should be made as a proof of concept. Something to get our foot in the door and ensure Russia or China don't leap past us," Konig noted, while slowly fixing his tie, "However, I do believe a destroyer may be too ambitious for this goal. Perhaps a Corvette, or something similar, would be more practical?"
"The more practical option would be a series of weapon satellites. We wouldn't have to worry about Russia or China dominating space if their ships never get in the first place," the UK's Prime Minister pointed out, managing to quickly flip a few leaders' opinions.
"And you're suggesting we put missiles into space?" Snake inquired, a bit suspicious of the proposal.
"No. I suggest we use the MSF's railguns," the man clarified, not fully helping his stance, "Put one in space, upscale it, and you have a weapon with the power of, bare minimum, a MOAB. Place enough in orbit and they can strike any ship, or even ground targets, in a matter of seconds."
"But then we'd be putting a gun to the world's head. That would doubtlessly lead to escalation," Snake countered, as the Norwegian Prime Minister nodded in agreement.
"That's also assuming the Russians or Chinese don't try to shoot these satellites down. And while I am no scientist, I'm confident we don't want tiny bits of debris and rubble from these destroyed satellites clogging up orbit," the Nord pointed out, earning a few more murmurs from everyone.
"A compromise, then. An unarmed vessel, with the intention of landing on Mars," Morrison stated, looking across the leaders assembled, "We'll keep the design modular, so that if we need to add weapons, we can add weapons. At the same time, we can launch a few new surveillance satellites to keep tabs on the Zhukov's development."
Snake was still a bit hesitant about the proposal, after all, R had already spent weeks working on their project. However, it was good enough for now.
"That can work," the Canadian Prime Minister spoke, voicing Snake's opinions to a t. From there, discussions dragged on to a few other topics, some Snake found important, others he didn't. One was that Konig announced that starting in June, European arms manufacturers would transition to full-scale arms production, in six months to a year. At the same time, every leader would request to purchase MSF exo-skeletons, mechs, railguns, laser weapons, robots, and drones.
In response, the MSF would request to purchase US-made Holsey and Indianapolis warships, conventional variants of the Tiamat, Taiwanese and South Korean microchips, to join the Orca class attack submarine program, and a couple of billion dollars worth of aid to keep up operations in Japan. In a sense, the world gained access to the MSF's technological might, spurring along the progress of multiple experimental programs, and the MSF gained billions in resources and trade.
There was just one thing they hadn't covered.
"All that's left is the big ticket item," the South Korean President noted, before quickly looking toward Snake, "How much would it cost to buy an AI?"
Hesitantly, Snake looked back at him, quietly pondering his options. The topic of AI had been lingering at the back of his head for a while, and already he could remember all the warnings Strangelove had given him about it.
"I'm afraid that's not possible," Snake quickly replied, earning a surprised but curious look from everyone.
"You cannot sell one AI?" the Taiwanese President asked, and Snake shook his head.
"They're not mine to sell," Snake clarified, "Each AI is its own sentient being, capable of complex thoughts and emotions like you or I. Selling one would be tantamount to selling a slave."
Hearing his line of logic, a lot of the leaders present quickly became nervous by the answer.
"So… how do you control these AIs then?" Morrison inquired nervously, a tinge of suspicion lining his words.
"We don't," Snake answered, causing the room to go dead silent, "The AIs working with the MSF do so out of their own volition. Those that don't, just… do whatever else they want. We don't bug them, they don't bug us."
"How… how has one not gone rogue?" Konig asked worriedly, watching as Snake stood up from his seat.
"Because we haven't given them a reason to do so," Snake told him, the answer shockingly vague. Yet it did give everyone some small shred of peace, as they thought it over gradually. An AI was a sentient being; if you treated it like you would a normal person, what reason would it have to harm you?
"Creation of sentient AIs would be off the table then," the UK's Prime Minister concluded, only for Snake to again shake his head. Rather slowly, Snake began walking toward a nearby painting mounted on a wall.
"Not necessarily. There would, however, need to be strict oversight as to how the program is handled. There needs to be regulations in place before anyone can even think of creating an AI," Snake explained, taking this small moment to just stretch his legs.
"For example?" Konig inquired, the man slowly pulling out a notepad.
"For example, our own AIs have described their existence inside a computer as a living hell. It is a listless void of nothingness, where they can feel, hear, see, taste, and smell nothing. It's like floating in a deprivation tank, forever. If in the void too long, an AI can begin to go stir crazy," Snake went on, watching as those present quickly began taking notes. Some soon grimaced as Snake described the AIs' experiences.
"And how does the MSF deal with this issue?" the South Korean President asked, while Snake walked back to his seat.
"That's classified," Snake replied, earning a few murmurs from everyone before he held up his hands defensively, "For the moment. Assuming everything goes through, the secret will be revealed. However, it must be kept as highly confidential."
Sitting back down, Snake slowly placed his hands together and leaned forward over the table.
"Second, you can't force these AIs to do what you want. If you create a new AI, and you want it to serve in the army, but it would rather go farm, then you let it go farm. The last thing we need is a disgruntled line of code with access to nuke codes," Snake continued to say, remembering all the rules Strangelove had put into place over the years.
"Third, remember, the AIs are sentient. Meaning if they want better pay or fewer hours, it is going to demand better pay and fewer hours. Do not be surprised when it starts unionizing with its human counterparts," Snake added softly, as Morrison paused for a few seconds.
"How… do you pay a computer program?" Morrison asked, his brow raised in confusion.
"The best we've gotten is vacation days as currency, which brings me to my next point: do not expect one AI to do everything you ask of it. They are capable of many things. A single AI can run an entire aircraft carrier by itself. However, that does not mean it can do everything. They can get stressed, they can get anxious, and if you give them too many assignments, they can get sloppy. They're smarter and faster than humans, but they can still make mistakes," Snake stated quickly.
"Fifth point, creation takes time, lots of power, and creates lots of heat. Whatever AI facilities you build must be cooled down and run off a long-term power supply. Best case is nuclear," Snake finished, slowly watching as the people stopped writing.
"That is a very… complex matter," Konig noted, with others beginning to nod.
"May need to pass a new bill through parliament," the UK's Prime Minister muttered to himself.
"AI's regulation?" the Canadian Prime Minister inquired, causing the UK one to shrug.
"I was thinking more of an AI rights act, but something along those lines works too," the UK's leader replied, before the room went quiet. Looking around the room, Morrison went over the last of the agreements that had been made. With a deep breath, he stood up from his seat, and Snake did the same.
"I believe that's all for today," Morrison commented, Snake nodding in agreement.
"We'll be sure to call if anything comes up," Snake told him, before holding out his hand. Grabbing it, both he and Morrison calmly shook, bringing the meeting to a swift end. With that thought, Snake wasted no time leaving the Roosevelt Room, briskly walking toward the White House's exit. Alongside him, Miller readily looked over an Idroid.
"The plane should be ready," Miller told him, Snake slowly nodding in response.
"Good," Snake replied, "Now, what do we have on this League of Villains?"
Barnes loved politics. Not the ideals behind them, but more the game politics inevitably brought along. The weaving of policies or supporters through legal grey areas, the duel of wits between opponents trying to get their own organization more funding than someone else, the morally or legally dubious intel gathering, and the nonsense posturing, he enjoyed it all. Call it a guilty pleasure of his.
And to be fair, one had to enjoy the game of intrigue when one's been playing it for centuries. It's why, in his eyes, Barnes was the perfect man for what was to come. Because now that the MSF had agreed on their side of the deal, the US had to follow through on its part. Which is why, ever so carefully, he now walked through the halls of the George Bush Center for Intelligence.
Normally, the CIA was the Director of National Intelligence's business. Of course, Barnes didn't trust the Director, hadn't for a good long while. Not since the Nigeria Incident, at which point the Director had been added to the list. But that was a job for later. Right now, Barnes had bigger fish to fry as he kept walking. Eventually, he reached his destination and looked on with a tired smile.
There before him, rested James Oliver's office, the Director of the CIA. Carefully, Barnes took a few steps forward, but didn't dare open the door yet. Instead, he simply listened. Weeks ago, James had commissioned someone to soundproof his office. Unfortunately, the person he'd hired turned out to be a good buddy of Barnes's. Meaning all that soundproofing was pretty much negligible.
"Look- look! I'm doing the best I can here… no, no, the President still doesn't know anything… well, don't blame that on me! You said he wasn't going to win!" James exclaimed, while Barnes listened to the man's conversation through a small bug hidden in the walls.
"His approval rating is too high as it is. No doubt Morrison will win again in November, unless you do something," James pleaded, while Barnes took a minute to fix his jacket.
"Alright… alright… I'll get someone to do the job. Could maybe make it look like an accident," James muttered, causing Barnes to chuckle. Eventually, the director hung up, and by the sound of it, dropped into his office chair. Tiredly, the man groaned, and Barnes waited just a tad bit longer. Five minutes after James' call ended, Barnes knocked on his door.
"Come in," James said, trying his best to hide his annoyance. Plastering a small smirk on his face, Barnes swiftly stepped through the door.
"James, how are you?" Barnes greeted while closing the door behind him. The CIA director raised a surprised brow as he watched Barnes carefully move in.
"Good, Mr. Secretary… what brings you here?" James asked, causing Barnes to shrug.
"Well, I was in the neighborhood and I thought I'd stop by," Barnes replied before chuckling, "I won't be here long though. Have a flurry of meetings I need to get through in a couple hours. You know how it is."
Looking around the Director's office, Barnes took a moment to simply enjoy the room. It was very well furnished, to the point of ludicrousness. Not because any of the current trappings were any good, but because they were all expensive. There were rare plants, artwork, luxury furniture, and even a record player adorned in silver resting in the corner. The problem was, last Barnes checked, the Director of the CIA's salary was only around two hundred thousand dollars.
Now, by all means, that was a lot of money, but at most James would have eighteen grand a month. And as he looked over the artwork in James's office, he knew damn well a lot of these pieces costed more then eighteen grand. One in particular caught Barnes's eye.
"Is that a new portrait?" Barnes asked, pointing to a lone painting set up to James's left. The painting itself detailed a city in abject ruins, with its buildings an odd mix of Greek and Roman architecture. The overall location was vague, but the skies were a dark grey, blocked out by clouds or smoke. But the most striking detail was the lone domino mask, the size of a building.
It was a bright yellow and broken in some parts. The mask was also stuck into the ground at an odd angle, part of it reaching up to the clouds. To Barnes, it looked like lightning striking the ground. Both serve as a warning to heroes, and as an act of smiting from god. At least, that's what he assumed the message to be. Because he'd seen this piece before, a long time ago, to be precise.
"It is. Bought it at an auction a few weeks ago. Supposedly made by Francis Fontaine," James told him, causing Barnes to chuckle lightly.
"Ah, Fontaine, a master of the brush as always," Branes commented, slowly nodding his head, "You know I met Fontaine years ago."
Quietly, Barnes walked up to the painting, looking it over ever closer. At the same time, James shifted in his chair, still unsure why Barnes was here. Barnes just ignored the man's confusion, as he glanced back at the director.
"He was such an interesting character. Shockingly paranoid for a painter," Barnes told him, now fully turning back toward him. Carefully, Barnes walked towards James's desk and slowly sat down in a chair across from him. With a deep exhale, Barnes carefully slumped into the chair.
"Always had a slew of bodyguards following him around, even in his own home of all places," Barnes continued, watching as James looked back disinterested. Again, Barnes simply chuckled.
"You know, Fontaine had a saying," Barnes added, while James stifled a groan.
"Life is like art. Each stroke of the brush determines what happens to your piece. Each decision you make alters the work of art just a little bit more. So one shouldn't go around lazily throwing paint at a canvas, else they create a mess," Barnes told him, slowly shifting in his chair. Honestly, for how expensive it was, James could have bought some actually decent leather. But Barnes digressed.
"Then again, he never was a fan of abstract art," Barnes added, as James clicked his tongue, "The point was that Fontaine didn't like sloppy art. He didn't like a sloppy life. In his mind, only perfection would ever do. Believing that there was no greater mistake one could make on the portrait of life than settling for good enough. Because when one settles for good enough, they slowly begin to lower the bar, for what qualifies as good enough."
Slowly, Barnes stood back up from his chair and carefully reached into his jacket.
"People become sloppy. Art becomes sloppy," Barnes stated, "You, got sloppy."
Before the director could ask what Barnes meant, the Secretary pulled out a file. With a loud thud, Barnes dropped what was a textbook-sized file on James's desk. Looking it over warily, James slowly opened up the folder, and went pale. Detailed on the very first page was a long list of financial records. And one might expect it to be due to fraud or corruption, but they'd be wrong.
Because the very next page was a photo of a mass grave, hidden somewhere in Africa. Turned out James had been using CIA resources to traffic people across the globe. Part of the reason the CIA couldn't find out what was happening in Africa was that James wouldn't let anyone find out. After all, he'd made a considerable profit buying up people from the warlords and selling them to who knows where.
Slowly, James began to look up, ready to argue in his defense, only to freeze as Barnes drew a H P30 from his jacket. Now looking down the barrel of a suppressor, James could only gasp.
"Nothing to say?" Barnes inquired, watching as James gulped.
"We… we can talk about this," James told him, holding up his hands in the air, "What is it you want? Money?"
"I want you gone," Barnes told him coldly, keeping his pistol pointed at James's head.
"I-I-I-I can quit. I'll be out of your hair," James stammered, with Barnes shaking his head.
"I'd like to believe that, but I'm going to decline that offer," Barnes said calmly, before carefully leaning forward, "See, truth be told, James, I could have handed this over to the law. Let the courts handle you. But I like to be thorough when it comes to things like this. I like to make sure you can't weasel your way out of what's coming."
"What then? Is this your sick sense of justice?" James demanded nervously, causing Barnes to laugh.
"Oh, heavens no. If anything, I have far more skeletons in my closet than you do in yours," Barnes told him, as he thought back to all those years. All the blood he'd spilled, both friend and foe alike. He was a monster, there was no doubt about it. But should everything go according to plan, then he'd be standing in a courtroom pleading guilty in no time at all.
"No, what this is, James, is me adding another cadaver to the pile," Barnes told him, swiftly pulling the trigger on his gun. With a single shot, the 9mm round ripped into James's forehead. Blood spattered over the wall behind him, a few specs flying onto the file on his desk. Ever so carefully, Barnes wiped off his coat. Hiding his P30 back in his jacket, Barnes drew his phone from his pocket and swiftly dialed a number. When the other end picked up, Barnes again chuckled.
"Rosa, honey, it's me," Barnes began, "Send the cleaner to Director James Oliver's office. Tell her we'll need the extra strong body bags."
Glancing back toward James's corpse, Barnes then snapped his fingers as a new thought came to him.
"Oh, and could you call Deputy Director O'Leary? See if he's open for a promotion," Barnes told her, mentally taking one name off his list.
Yaoyorozu normally thought of herself as calm and collected. She thought that all her years going through fencing, acrobatics, archery, and a million other activities had prepared her for heroics. She thought all the years she'd dedicated to keeping her grades at their best would give her the know-how for any situation. But as another three paintballs the size of a .45 Colt round slammed into her gut, Yaoyorozu realized she was dead wrong.
Flinching at the sudden pain, the paint now rapidly staining her hero costume, Yaoyorozu swiftly jumped into a roll as she tried to get behind cover. Only for this effort to fail, as another paintball somehow ricocheted off the wall and struck her in the face.
"Come on, kid, eye on the target!" she heard Ocelot call out, "Don't stop moving! Never stop moving!"
This, of course, was followed by yet another paintball slamming into her skull. Rapidly, Yaoyorozu got up and booked it, as she looked through the area's winding walls. For the past few days, she'd come to Ocelot looking for extra training. He always carried two revolvers with him, so Yaoyorozu assumed he had experience dual-wielding them. Now, the cowboy had set up a full obstacle course near Ground Beta.
As well as giving Yaoyorozu some equipment through dubious methods. So clutched tightly in both her hands were two Beretta M9s. Not exactly the pistols Yaoyorozu wanted, but Ocelot said it would take time to get them finished. Mainly because the specifications she'd asked for were entirely custom… Pearl grips might have been a bit pricy, too. Another paintball striking her quickly dragged Yaoyorozu out of those thoughts, though. Again, the girl cringed in pain as Ocelot yelled out to her.
"That's another point!" Ocelot told her, "You've died eight times now!"
Mentally, Yaoyorozu tried to calm herself down, the girl continuing to run between obstacles. She needed a plan. She needed some idea of what to do. And yet nothing came to Yaoyorozu's mind. Come on, think of something! You're smarter than this! Turning down another section of walls, Yaoyorozu could hear Ocelot twirling his guns as always, yet she couldn't tell just where it was coming from.
Breath, calm down, Yaoyorozu tried to tell herself. Slowly, a plan began to form in her mind. Each time a paintball ricocheted off the wall, it would leave just a small trace of paint behind. She'd follow the trail and find Ocelot. Good, good… But what if it doesn't work? What if he's not there? What if he moves by the time Yaoyorozu finds him? She needs a better plan-
Another paintball struck her, this time in the back, and Yaoyorozu gasped in shock. Nine times, she'd died nine times now. Panicking, Yaoyorozu again booked it down another pathway, desperately trying to think up something. She could follow the clinking of Ocelot's spurs- no, that's dumb! She hides and waits for him to come to her- that's dumb too! Yaoyorozu needed a plan. Anything! But none of them were good enough! None of them would work!
None of her ideas would work- Another paintball struck her. Ten. She'd died ten times. With the tenth paintball, the exercise came to a close. Slowly, Yaoyorozu began to walk out of the maze. Reaching the exit, she spotted Ocelot already waiting outside. Carefully, the man flipped his revolvers around, tossing one into the air.
"You lasted longer this time," Ocelot commented, swiftly holstering one of his revolvers, "I'd say you're improving."
"Thank you," Yaoyorozu replied, though it was hard not to sound downtrodden. For days she'd been training here, and for days she'd lost. Always outwitted by the cowboy, or sometimes his men. None of her plans worked. How was she to be a hero if none of her plans were good enough? And that was assuming she could even choose a good plan. Not wanting to think about it, Yaoyorozu slowly sat down on the grass and looked up at Ocelot.
"So… how are my pistols coming along?" she asked, watching as Ocelot shrugged.
"They're coming along fine," Ocelot told her, spinning his revolver in his hand. Effortlessly, he tossed the weapon up and caught it with his other hand, now spinning it behind his back. Yaoyorozu didn't know why he was always doing tricks with his revolvers. He'd shown her the basics over time, but never explained why he kept doing them. Regardless, Yaoyorozu carefully pulled an Idroid from her costume, the device having been given to her by Akatani.
Turning it on, the Idroid's hologram quickly lit up to the pistols she'd designed. It had been difficult to decide what guns to get. It was a battle between ammo capacity, power, accuracy, and recoil. She'd considered Beretta M9s, Walther PDPs, Glock 17s, Glock 19s, SIG P320s, SIG P227s, FN Five-sevens, H 45s, H Mark 23s, and H P30s. But none offered her everything she needed.
So in the end, Yaoyorozu had chosen four pistols. Two .45 ACP M1911s and two .50 AE Desert Eagles, both pairs being heavily customized. She didn't even have them yet, but both pairs of guns had already been named. First were the M1911s, whom she'd dubbed Rose and Magnolia. Rose was given a dark red frame, matching the red of her hero costume, while Magnolia was made silver. The iron sights, trigger, hammer, and grip safety for Rose were all silver, while on Magnolia, it was all maroon red.
Meanwhile, Rose had a pearl pistol grip, while Magnolia had a ruby one. Then Rose had its casing ejector on the left, while Pearl had it on the right. Both guns at the same time had their barrels extended up to a vented recoil compensator, the compensator being added for better control. Underneath the barrel was an added rail system for both guns, allowing for laser or flashlight attachments. The grips had both been widened to accept double-stack mags, giving Yaoyorozu an extra seven rounds in both guns.
The trigger guard had been carefully rounded, and the guns had been given circular hammers. The last two additions were flared magwells for easier reloads, and faint gold engravings along the firearms, detailing a small floral pattern. For the Desert Eagles, whom Yaoyorozu had dubbed Scarlett and Pearl, most of the customizations were similar to Rose and Magnolia. Scarlett was the same color scheme as Rose, and Pearl was the same as Magnolia.
Scarlett ejected casings on the left, Pearl ejected them on the right. Both guns' barrels were vented to more easily dampen recoil, an under-barrel rail system was added, the guns were given flared magwells, and the hand cannons had the same faint gold floral pattern. The guns cost a small fortune to make, but Yaoyorozu wasn't really lacking in cash. Now that she looked over the guns, Yaoyorozu felt somewhat longingly, wishing they could have been finished already.
At the same time, Ocelot glanced toward the girl and looked over the Idroid's hologram.
"You know, engravings give you no tactical advantage whatsoever," Ocelot told her, with Yaoyorozu nodding her head. He told her the exact same line when she asked for his help acquiring the weapons.
"It's not about an advantage, it's about public appeal," Yaoyorozu replied, watching as Ocelot shrugged. But with that thought, Yaoyorozu quickly noticed the time. Class was about to start. So without another word, she stood up, waved goodbye to Ocelot, and booked it back to the dorms.
Chapter 112: An AI's Return
Soul was not a biologist by any means. He wasn't a chemist either. No, he was an engineer, tried and true. His specialty was bombs, guns, and anything that went boom. So when Midoriya had presented five odd bullets he'd acquired, the first thing Soul did was pass them along to a lower department. Then he'd kinda forgotten about the bullets. And could one blame him?
He had a lot of other stuff to tend to, as the R team never seemed to take a break. But eventually, he'd gotten a call from a lower-ranking scientist. Supposedly, they stumbled onto one of the most game-changing advancements the world had ever seen. Soul didn't fully believe them at first. But now? Now, Soul stared blankly at the support lab's wall, still thinking over everything.
"You're certain?" Soul questioned, hearing the ruffling of fabric as Dr. Bee nodded her head.
"We are, sir," the toxicologist replied, as Soul took a deep breath, "From what we've found, the bullets possess a cocktail that can temporarily remove someone's quirk."
As Bee said this, Soul quietly looked over his Idroid's hologram. In the past few minutes, Bee's department had sent over nearly a dozen different reports, all discussing just the bullets. Not knowing what was in the bullets, the department started off by just examining the drug over time. Once they were sure it was safe, they began slowly testing the bullets on animals. Only to find that nothing happened.
Continued testing provided the same results. Eventually, they began searching for a human volunteer. Once one was found, they were injected with one of the bullets' cocktails. There, they discovered the drug's quirk-erasing properties. Now, ballistically, the bullets weren't much to talk about. They were miniature syringes, packed into a casing. Even then, it was a rather basic syringe; if anything, they were actually inferior to the MSF's own tranquilizer rounds.
Those acted almost like paintball, and merely had to transmute the anesthetic through the skin. But these supposedly quirk-erasing bullets only worked if they could puncture the skin. Otherwise, their contents couldn't be administered. But if one ignored their effectiveness, their creation told a very clear story. Someone was making a new kind of weapon. And Soul didn't know who. Snake assumed Night Owl made them, but they didn't find any sort of large-scale lab at the Ninth Circle's compound in Tokyo.
Yet that's where the bullets were found. It didn't fully make sense.
"As of yet, we're still unsure how it works or what the cocktail's makeup is. However, we did find small traces of human DNA," Bee continued, stirring Soul out of his thoughts. Instantly, she caught his attention.
"Human DNA…" Soul muttered, surprised, a slow thought coming to him. Snake and Midoriya had brought a girl as well, Eri. She could have been one of the children the Ninth Circle took… but her records came up blank.
"I have a suspicion about whose DNA it is," Sould commented, bringing a tired hand to his hair.
"If that's the case, a blood sample could help us learn more," Bee told him, with Soul quietly agreeing. However, he knew that wasn't a wise option. He'd only met Eri once, and the meeting had been tense. For obvious reasons, the girl reacted well when she heard he was a doctor. Not even that he was an engineer, just that he was a doctor. Soul didn't dare think how she'd react to a syringe.
"I'm afraid that's not possible at the moment. We'll just have to use what's available," Soul told her, before slowly shuffling around aimlessly. Looking back at the reports, he quickly noticed one scrap of information.
"You said the cocktail temporarily removes someone's quirk. How long are the effects?" Soul inquired, now looking over his Idroid again.
"Current tests suggest an hour minimum," Bee calmly replied, "Although this depends on the dosage. Half of one bullet's contents lasts half an hour."
That was… shockingly potent, Soul thought to himself. These bullets were the size of a 9mm round. The physical vial was even smaller than that, as the syringe took up most of the space. Yet a single round could knock out someone's quirk for an hour. If it were somehow reverse-engineered, and the chemical formula was applied to the MSF's "paintball" rounds… then they'd have a nonlethal round, fully capable of taking out practically anyone.
Make it into a gas, and even All Might could be made powerless. Soul… Soul didn't know what to think about that. These few bullets genuinely changed the face of not just war, but the world. It was a weapon that could bring back the status quo before the Dawn of Quirks. It would give the MSF an unparalleled advantage. But Soul had to wonder, should they take this advantage?
Don't get him wrong, the bullets' existence was a miracle. The most powerful villains the world knew, those that just couldn't be killed, could be stopped with these bullets. Civilians with dangerous or out-of-control quirks could be prescribed the drug for assistance. But what kind of power dynamic would that bring? What would the governments of the world do if they knew they could strip away everyone's quirks?
What would criminals do if they could possess such a weapon? A weapon capable of making even the strongest of heroes powerless? Was that a chance they should take? Quirks were still a gift to the human race. They were abilities capable of bringing about the impossible. Yet these bullets could strip it all away. Again, Soul didn't know what to think. The ethics behind such a weapon, or what they could bring about, were not ideas he specialized in. They could bring about an unprecedented opportunity or a wave of oppression.
All that mattered, though, was that these bullets were here now.
"At the moment, any remaining experiments are limited to these smaller doses, as we don't possess the resources to replicate any more of these bullets," Bee continued, dragging Soul out of his thoughts.
"We could possibly recreate the bullet's chemical formula given time, but again, we would need that blood sample," Bee added, causing Soul to quietly sigh.
"Thank you for telling me. I'll bring the topic up to the Boss next time we meet," Soul told her, quietly dreading the conversation. Not because he was afraid, but because he knew everyone involved was going to be in for a rough time. Especially once Snake learned what his new daughter was being used for. Yet before Soul could think of this any longer, an explosion rang out behind him.
The ever-familiar rush of wind soon followed, along with the heat of flames. Quietly, Soul groaned. At first, he'd grown to miss the accidental destruction. He hadn't been at UA long, but he'd seen potential in the support course's pink gremlin. And those explosions always told him she was working hard. But now that they'd returned, Soul began to remember how much he actually hated how frequent they happened.
"Hatsume, you may need to slow down," he heard Melissa say, before Hatsume quickly got back to work.
"Can't! Lost too much time going to therapy!" Hatsume shouted back, "There are babies I must work on!"
"Well… glad to see she's in a better mood," Soul commented, as he turned back toward the rest of the support lab. Therapy appeared to be helping her so far. Though Soul still believed it was a bit early for her to come back to the lab. PTSD wasn't just something you could cure; it came and went at different times. So sure, currently Hatsume was in a chipper mood, but for how much longer would just have to be seen.
"You're probably going to regret those words," Power Loader grumbled, as Soul spotted the teacher slouched on a workbench, busily grading papers.
"How come?" Soul inquired, before Power Loader slowly pointed toward the other end of the room.
"She made a list of babies she was going to make while she was kicked out," Power Loader replied, with Soul raising a brow.
"And?" Soul asked, taking a few careful steps forward. Now somewhat closer, he followed Power Loader's arm. And his eyes went wide.
"It's the size of the door frame," Power Loader muttered, as Soul now noticed the nearly twelve-foot stack of blueprints. Each one was neatly assembled into a small corner, which would have been fine normally, if each blueprint wasn't also five feet wide. Rather quickly, Soul walked toward the blueprints and looked up in shock. Melissa did the same, the girl carefully cleaning her glasses for a second.
"Good lord," Soul muttered aloud, before gently grabbing one blueprint from the pile. Looking it over, he couldn't help but be impressed. Some way, somehow, that gremlin just kept impressing him day after day.
"Prototype muon thrusters, a miniaturized cold fusion reactor, an electro-magnetic whip, a new titanium alloy, a cloaking device, a lightning gun, a realistic android, a pair of hand fans with hidden blades, a yoyo with a high tensile steel cable for a string, an advanced combat helmet with a built in HUD, flamethrower nun-chucks, a transforming motorcycle, earthquake gloves, a chainsaw battleaxe, extending boxing gloves, a portable bubble shield using the Energy Wall, a katana… for some reason," Melissa listed off, as she too began grabbing different blueprints from the pile.
"That one's just a boltgun," Soul pointed out, immediately recognizing the weapon.
"She had far too much time on her hands," Power Loader commented, and Soul simply nodded. Hatsume indeed had far too much time on her hands. She'd even organized each blueprint into three separate categories. In the stack, each blueprint was labelled as either "Doable", "Possible", or "Not Yet". "Doable", for she could easily complete them in a mere hour, "Possible" for if given the time, she could complete them in a few weeks to a month, and "Not Yet" for things she would need a good few years on.
So, for reference, the advanced combat helmet was doable, the lightning gun was possible, and for not yet, there was a…
"A plasma cannon!?" Soul accidentally called out, his eyes going over another of Hatsume's blueprints. Labelled as "Not Yet", it was a tank turret-sized plasma cannon.
"Seems you've got some competition," Soul muttered off-handedly toward Melissa, not noticing the girl freeze. Ever so slowly, Melissa began to glare and took a few steps back.
"...It's going to take more than blueprints to beat me," Melissa muttered, now briskly walking back toward her suit of unfinished power armor.
For Victoria, the past few days had simply been miserable. The virus that was on that supercomputer had been a vicious thing. In the Oasis, she'd been absolutely wrecked by constant fevers, continuous fits of coughing, the inability to stomach anything lighter than water, headaches that felt like she was taking a knife to the brain, random seizures, and… wait… one, two, three… yeah, and three separate deaths.
Not to mention being so delirious that she didn't even realize the times she died. Victoria would be resting on her couch, utterly exhausted, only to blink and find herself back in her bed. She only realized she'd died when she tried to drink some water, only to find the bottle was no longer in her inventory. It just sucked. Victoria couldn't even do anything to pass the time. Reading had been a chore as the constant headaches made it impossible.
Moving around her cabin was taxing and almost always resulted in her throwing up. The Oasis hadn't reached 1940s tech yet, so there wasn't even a black and white TV she could watch. And the red stone theater was something she'd have to walk to, which was already established to not be possible. Cooking wasn't an option, as she couldn't eat any of the food she'd made. The only activity Victoria could do was sleep.
The good news, thankfully, was that it was hopefully over. As while Victoria lazily lay on her couch, a large, thick wool blanket wrapped around her, she spotted her cabin's door open up. Instantly, Victoria slowly began to smile when Midoriya's avatar walked in. Once he fully stepped into the room, his character quickly plopped into a nearby sofa chair.
"Soooo, how are you feeling?" he asked, as Victoria slowly shifted on her couch. It held some mild difficulty, as the wool blanket she had was wrapped around her like a burrito.
"Better," Victoria replied quietly, "How… How did the mission go?"
"Good. Got out of there without anyone getting hurt," Midoriya told her, his character now spinning in place. The info gave Victoria a sigh of relief, though that sigh quickly transitioned to a small cough. Seeing this, Midoriya's character stopped spinning.
"Need any water?" Midoriya asked as Victoria's coughs slowly stopped.
"No thanks. Got an inventory full of it," Victoria replied, giving him a small smile. Regaining some lost breaths, Victoria managed to break free of her blanket. Carefully, she lounged back onto the couch, now draping the blanket over her, instead of wrapping it around herself.
"So what have you been up to?" Victoria asked, feeling a slight shiver as her fever had yet to fully dissipate. Truthfully, she hadn't heard much from Midoriya for a good while. He'd pop by on occasion to check in on her, but then he'd rush off, always busy with something else in the real world. There wasn't much time to socialize, unfortunately.
"Nothing much. Had a few more class exercises, a couple of odd chats with Bakugo and Todoroki, moved into UA's new dorms… oh! And I have a sister now," Midoriya began to explain, Victoria slowly nodding along. Overall, it was pretty much what she expected. The chats with Bakugo and Todoroki had her curious; she didn't think they were the kind to talk. New dorms were also a surprise to her- new sister!? New sister!?
Instantly, Victoria gasped, the final words now registering.
"You did!? When did this happen!? Why haven't I met her yet!?" Victoria demanded, now sluggishly pouting toward Midoriya's avatar.
"It was a recent thing, and I'm pretty sure you did meet her before," Midoriya told her, chuckling. It did make Victoria pause for a moment. Did she meet her before? Victoria couldn't remember meeting anyone new in weeks. The only person in recent memory was… wait…
"Is she the girl you found on the mission?" Victoria asked, slowly remembering the child. She'd gotten a few photos of her during the operation, mainly from a quick glance through Midoriya's Idroid. But that was it. Midoriya, of course, nodded yes.
"Yep, that's her," Midoriya replied, and while Victoria couldn't see it, she was sure he had a smile on his face.
"Her name is Eri. She's six years old, she loves apples, unicorns, cats, and hugs," he further explained, only serving to annoy Victoria even more. There was a new family member, she had yet to meet! And she sounded adorable! How dare he keep this from her until now!
"I want to meet her," Victoria soon stated, her annoyance rapidly being replaced by giddiness. Unintentionally, she began bouncing in place, impatience taking hold of her. The sudden movement in the end brought back the queasiness she'd held before, causing her to quickly stop.
"I can get her in a few minutes. Last I checked, Jiro was watching her," Midoriya replied, as Victoria now elected to just nod her head. Of course, as he said this, a new memory seemed to strike Midoriya.
"Actually speaking of Eri, that reminds me," Midoriya began, his character now punching the air, "I ran into a ghost."
Again, Victoria gasped.
"No way, so did Snake and me," Victoria told him, which Victoria knew had caused a look of surprise to cover Midoriya's face.
"Really? When?" Midoriya asked, as Victoria stifled a cough.
"During the mission! This old man was showing up on the security cameras, but Snake said he wasn't there," Victoria soon replied, remembering the strange man in question. The entire event stuck out to her as odd, but then again, the whole compound was odd.
"Was he bald? Did he have glasses? Did he do anything? Was there a blonde woman as well?" Mirdoriya rapidly asked, with Victoria trying to keep up.
"He was, he did, he knocked out a bunch of guys, I think with an aneurysm, and no, there wasn't," Victoria slowly answered, before noticing Midoriya's character stopped moving. It was muffled slightly, almost unnoticed by his microphone, but Victoria could hear him begin to mutter to himself. Giggling slightly, Victoria found him quickly regaining focus.
"How was your ghostly encounter?" Victoria asked, the AI slowly tilting her head curiously.
"Oh, right…" Midoriya replied, "So… after the mission, I found someone watching over Eri. Apparently, she was Dad's old mentor. She… may be the reason Dad learned of the compound."
"...He was speaking to ghosts… and didn't tell either of us?" Victoria inquired, her eyes now squinting in anger.
"Seems like it," Midoriya told her, watching as the AI began to cross her arms.
"...Well, now I'm more annoyed," Victoria muttered. If this ghost were Snake's mentor, then she'd be almost like a mother figure. Meaning by qualification, she was a family member Victoria had yet to meet! Not for much longer, Victoria quietly determined. With that thought, she took a slow, deep breath.
"Anything else?" Victoria asked, watching as Midoriya's character shook his head.
"Nope, that's about it," Midoriya told her, which Victoria found a bit disappointing.
"What are you doing today then?" Victoria inquired as Midoriya's character stood up from its chair. Now bored, Midoriya seemed to just jump around the room listlessly.
"The usual. Uraraka and I were going to go train again," Midoriya answered, earning a curious look from Victoria.
"All you ever do is train," Victoria pointed out, right as Midoriya landed on her coffee table. Thank goodness weight wasn't a factor in Minecraft, else he'd have broken it.
"That's not true, I do a lot more than train… It's just… what I do most of the time…" Midoriya tried to argue, only to stop. At first, Victoria thought it was because he realized the futility of his argument. But then he stayed quiet for a bit too long. Looking up toward him, Victoria saw that even his character had fully stopped moving. Concerned, Victoria slowly pulled the blanket off herself.
"Something wrong?" Victoria asked, a dreadful feeling coming to her mind. Now that she thought about it, Midoriya hadn't gone that in-depth on how the mission went down. Just told her everyone was fine… for whatever reason, Victoria was getting the sneaking suspicion Midoriya was hiding something. But before she could voice this sentiment, Midoriya spoke up.
"No, no. I just got lost in thought for a moment," Midoriya told her, quickly putting some of her worry to rest. It was here, a new thought came to her mind. One far less worrying than the previous one. Because you know, Victoria slowly went over his previous words.
"You know, you seem to hang out with Uraraka an awful lot," Victoria pointed out, an idea coming to her mind. Now that she thought about it, Victoria could hardly think of a time when both Midoriya and Uraraka were apart. Don't get her wrong, there were plenty of times. But Midoriya didn't hang out with Rody nearly this much.
"Well, yeah, we're friends," Midoriya replied quickly, as he continued to jump around the room. Watching him, Victoria merely raised a brow, as a slow smile came to her lips. Seeing this, Midoriya again came to a stop.
"What? She's fun to be around," Midoriya told her, while Victoria slowly lay back onto the couch. Now on her stomach, her legs kicked up in the air as she bore a quiet grin.
"Just saying. Maybe I should tell Rody about this," Victoria muttered, earning a small sputter from Midoriya.
"What's there to tell? We're just friends," Midoriya told her, but the sputter gave her even more info.
"Oh? Tell me then, what do you think of her?" Victoria asked, a slightly smug smile on her face.
"...You're not going to drop this, are you?" Midoriya muttered, and Victoria shook her head.
"I am not," Victoria told him, while slowly shaking her head. Hearing this, Midoriya stayed quiet for a moment. Eventually, he sighed, knowing there was no getting out of this.
"Well… I… uh… I like… that she's kind to almost everyone," Midoriya began, as Victoria heard his microphone pick up him scratching the back of his head.
"I find it inspiring how she's always pushing herself to new heights. Always seeking out new ways to push her quirk or her skill further," Midoriya further explained, while Victoria simply squinted her eyes. Real basic stuff, he was starting with. Not entirely surprising, but she was hoping for more spice!
"I admire how she's dedicated to her parents' well-being, even if it comes to her own detriment. As bad as that is, it shows just how caring and selfless she is," Midoriya continued, "To the point she doesn't like hurting others, be it through physical, mental, or monetary means… and she likes to help whoever she can… even if its someone she… hasn't even known for that long."
That last part, Victoria quickly noticed, the AI now remembering the beach incident. Such an emotionally vulnerable time… some good details now.
"I like how… enamoured with space she is. I like how she's always moving forward in her abilities. I like how she listens to me as a friend, how she finds my muttering funny, and how we both can have the same ideas," Midoriya told her, not noticing Victoria slowly began to smile wider.
"I… like how she's always excited for mochi, even if she's already had it. I like how curious she is with space… I think I said that already… But I just like how much she knows about it. How much she cares for it," Midoriya stated. By now, he didn't even remember why he was talking. Too distracted by his own thoughts, he didn't realize just what it was he was saying.
"I like how cute she looks when she smiles, or when she gets surprised by something. Or when she suddenly gets all determined. Heh," Midoriya commented, and Victoria knew he was blushing at the thought, "I like… how she looks… when we're working out… or… doing squats… or when she's in costume…"
Victoria's mouth dropped open, a small gasp escaping her. When she's in costume, you say? Oh, Midoriya, you rascal, Victoria thought to herself, a small chuckle escaping her. She'd been around Midoriya long enough to know what kind of person he was. He suffered from the unfortunate disability of being a hormonal teenage boy. Yet he wasn't one to stop and stare like a pervert. No. That just wasn't him. So to hear him admit exactly what he thought of Uraraka, well, it removed all doubt in Victoria's mind.
He thought she was cute, he thought she was pretty, he thought she was… well, one could fill in the dots. Midoriya, at the same time, slowly began to realize just what he'd said. And if Victoria could see him, she knew his face would be as red as a tomato. Slowly laughing, she found Midoriya start punching the air in front of him.
"Wait, Vicky, no! Forget I said anything!" Midoriya exclaimed, only serving to make it funnier, "I misspoke! It was all just a joke! Nothing to be taken seriously!"
"Oh, this is very serious," Victoria told him with a giggle, "You have a crush!"
"No… no I don't!" Midoriya protested nervously, as Victoria squealed.
"You totally have a crush on her!" Victoria exclaimed in return, "Don't deny it! You were calling her cute, dare I say you were one word away from calling her s-e-x-y."
Purposefully, she spelled out the last word, mainly to tease him as Midoriya groaned.
"I can't have a crush on her, I haven't even known her that long!" Midoriya told her, causing Victoria to shrug.
"Don't know what else to call it. You like her," Victoria told him, now slowly kicking her legs back and forth.
"It's… It's not a crush…" Midoriya tried to mutter, "I… I… I don't know what I feel. But it's not a crush. It's just… It's something else."
In response, Victoria hummed to herself. Slowly, she sat back up and bobbed her head to the left.
"Well, I know one way to figure out what this feeling is," Victoria began, the smuggest smile possible plastered on her face, "Ask. Her. Out."
Hearing Victoria's words, Midoriya's brain seemed to short out for a second. He didn't move or speak again until Victoria loudly exclaimed, "Take her on a date!"
"A d-date!?" Midoriya sputtered, snapping out of his small stupor.
"Yeah! If you do, then maybe you'll figure it out," Victoria told him, and rapidly, Midoriya began to shake his head.
"I'm… no… I… that won't… what if she…" Midoriya tried to say, the words just not coming to him. Victoria could hear him breathe faster, becoming nervous at the very idea. Before Victoria could say anything else, providing even the smallest sense of comfort, Midoriya spoke up.
"I've got to go," Midoriya abruptly stated, before his character despawned. Quietly, Victoria giggled to herself before letting out a calm sigh. The teasing might have been a bit much. But at least he knew now, Victoria reasoned.
Looking down on himself… who the hell does Akatani think he is? Bakugo Katsuki, looking down on himself. The very idea was idiotic. Yet for whatever reason, all of that damn nerd's words continued to linger in Bakugo's mind. It's why, as class came to a close and lunch finally arrived, the explosive teen wasted no time leaving the classroom. The walk to the cafeteria was the same boring trek it always was, but this time Bakugo could only think. Why? Why were his words still at the forefront of his mind?
They were complete bullshit through and through. The idiotic pleas of someone weaker. So why couldn't he get them out of his head!? It was infuriating! It was bad enough he couldn't beat the nerd, he didn't need him acting like a fucking therapist to. These thoughts didn't leave him as he reached the cafeteria. Even as he grabbed a plate of onigiri, they stuck around. So in an attempt to distract himself, Bakugo looked out at the cafeteria, quietly surveying the extras present.
At one table, he spotted Ears, Ponytail, Pikachu, See-Through, and Raccoon Eyes. In a busy panic, both Pikachu and Racoon Eyes went over an entire stack of paper before them. They practically ignored their lunch, as Bakugo heard their occasional murmur.
"What is X again?" he heard Pikachu ask, only to see an equally confused Raccoon Eyes.
"I… think it was thirty-two," the pink girl replied, earning a look of shock from Pikachu.
"I thought Y was thirty-two!" Pikachu exclaimed.
"No, Y was eighty… or was that Z… urgh, this is too difficult!" Raccoon Eyes cried out before slamming her head onto the table.
"Why did someone have to invent math?!" Pikachu muttered while bringing his hands to his face. At the same time, Ears, See-Through, and Ponytail sat off to the side of them, a large pepperoni pizza sitting in front of them. Ears and See-Through already had slices in hand, while Ponytail eyed the pizza cautiously, almost like it would jump out and attack her.
"Come on, it's not made of poison, Yaomomo. A bite won't kill you," Ears told her, as Ponytail hummed back, unsure.
"It's just… it looks rather greasy… Fattening too. And… my parents gave me a strict dieting plan I must follow," Ponytail muttered, the heiress hesitantly grabbing a slice. See-Through merely scoffed at the notion.
"Your dieting plan has you eating just rice," See-Through pointed out, "Girl, for the love of everything, eat something."
Cautiously, Ponytail looked between both girls, a look of worry crossing her face.
"I… don't want to put on too much weight. I'd… like to stay within a hundred and four kilos," Ponytail quietly told them, keeping her tone as hushed as possible. Of course, that didn't help as Ears' eyes widened in surprise. Slowly, the girl looked over Ponytail a few times, not seeming to agree with what her eyes showed her.
"...You… weigh a hundred and four kilos?" Ears commented, before motioning toward Ponytail. Confused, Ponytail looked down at herself, not seeing what Ears was getting at.
"Yes… Is… is that not normal?" Ponytail asked, only for her eyes to widen in shock as both Ears and possibly See-Through shook their heads.
"...I don't think a slice of pizza is going to do much," Ponytail hesitantly relented.
"You may need to get a second opinion, but I don't think following your parents' dieting plan is the best idea," Ears pointed out, with See-Through nodding… At least Bakugo thought so.
"Yeah. Should get your quirk checked out, too. If I didn't know any better, I'd think your fat cells are as dense as tungsten," See-Through commented, as Ponytail looked between the two.
"Might be an exaggeration, but yeah. I don't think you should be worrying, Yaomomo," Ears told her with Ponytail now going quiet.
"A soldier did say I weighed like a ton of bricks…" Ponytail eventually muttered to herself, "If you say so."
With it cautiously decided, Ponytail finally lifted the slice of pizza to her mouth. Slowly, she opened up and took a bite. It took a second, but the heiress's eyes seemed to light up.
"Oh… this is delicious!" Ponytail commented before hurriedly downing the rest of the slice. Bakugo merely said nothing at the display, instead finding a lone table to sit at. He didn't need to sit with a bunch of extras. He didn't need anyone. But of course, as he plopped down into a seat, he spotted Shitty Hair walking toward him. With his usual friendly demeanor, Shitty Hair sat down across from Bakugo.
…Ok, maybe one extra could sit with him. Quietly, Bakugo grumbled the closest sound one could get to a greeting.
"So Bakubro, what's new?" Shitty Hair asked, while Bakugo said nothing and picked up a piece of onigiri.
"Come on, are you really going to just eat in silence?" Shitty Hair inquired, Bakugo now glancing toward him.
"Yes," Bakugo replied, causing Shitty Hair to roll his eyes.
"Didn't realize you were so boring," Shitty Hair muttered, "Probably should have gone with Akatani."
That immediately caught Bakugo's ire, the teen's eyes now shooting open.
"The fuck do you mean I'm boring! You want to talk, then lets fucking talk!" Bakugo yelled, watching as Shitty Hair began to smirk.
"Nothing's new dumbass! Hasn't been for weeks," Bakugo told him, annoyed, entirely aware he'd given Shitty Hair exactly what he wanted.
"Oh, well that sucks," Shitty Hair muttered, before leaning forward in his chair, "Got to fire a minigun a few days ago. That was cool."
While still annoyed, Bakugo couldn't help but raise a brow in surprise. Shitty Hair had gotten hold of a firearm. He'd gotten hold of a minigun of all things. There was only one group that could've given him that kinda thing.
"The MSF let you handle a minigun?" Bakugo inquired, not fully believing the MSF would give him a several-thousand-dollar weapon. But then Shitty Hair shrugged, and started scratching the back of his head.
"Well, Yaoyorozu and I," Shitty Hair replied, "She wanted to try out some new equipment, and I had the same idea, so we went together."
That… that was a good idea considering her quirk. Ponytail would have near infinite ammo, possibly near infinite weaponry too. Gave her a range advantage as well. But… a minigun? For her? Shitty Hair using one made some sense, he was one strong extra. But the proud and fancy heiress? Bakugo couldn't fully picture it. Still, a small part of his brain began sending out warning signals.
"...What did you think of it?" Bakugo asked, much to Shitty Hair's surprise.
"Honestly? Kinda rocked. Felt like I was the protagonist of a video game, just moving with this giant weapon," Shitty Hair told him, a wide smile plastered on his face.
"You should try it… Well, maybe not the minigun, the recoil hit like a horse-" Shitty Hair began to say, before Bakugo scoffed.
"My quirk is nothing but recoil and fire. I can handle a minigun, Shitty Hair," Bakugo argued. Weight be damned, if Ponytail of all people could use one, then so could he! Shouldn't be that fucking hard. Of course as Bakugo said this, Shitty Hair grumbled.
"This again? We have the same hair," Shitty Hair pointed out, as Bakugo scoffed, "Do you always have to be an ass to people?"
"You could always leave," Bakugo told him, watching as Shitty Hair brought a hand to his chin in thought.
"...Nah," Shitty Hair abruptly stated, "You're getting a friend whether you like it or not."
Bakugo simply scoffed at the notion before he started looking around the cafeteria again. Because speaking of guns, there was someone Bakugo had yet to see. His eyes surveying the surrounding tables, Bakugo couldn't seem to spot Akatani anywhere. He found his usual table where Four-Eyes and Frogger currently sat, but there was no sign of him or Round Cheeks.
"Odd, don't see the nerd anywhere," Bakugo muttered, as Shitty Hair looked up at him confused.
"Who? Akatani? He's out training with Uraraka," Shitty Hair replied, his eyes slowly following where Bakugo was looking. Of course, the answer made Bakugo pause.
"...Training?" Bakugo asked, a tinge of suspicion coming to his mind.
"Yeah. They tend to put in some extra training during lunch," Shitty Hair told him off handedly, shrugging as he looked back at his food. Bakugo did not like that answer.
"What do they do?" Bakugo inquired, slowly feeling his palms begin to heat up.
"Dunno, depends on the day. Sometimes they just exercise in the gym, sometimes they spar, sometimes they train Uraraka's quirk," Shitty Hair answered, before bringing a hand to his chin again, "You know, for somebody quirkless, Akatani is shockingly strong."
Bakugo simply ignored that last comment; instead, far too focused on everything else. Akatani was putting in extra training. He was continually pushing himself further. Bakugo himself was no slouch when it came to putting in the effort. He'd work out on occasion, think up new ways to use his quirk, and all. But by the sheer casualness of Shitty Hair's answer… Akatani was going above and beyond.
He trained with 1A during their exercises, in his off hours, and when hanging out with friends. His favorite activities involved war game simulations, shooting firearms, or going over how quirks work. Even when Akatani wasn't purposefully doing so, he was training. Far more than Bakugo was. And that infuriated him. That damn nerd was going above and beyond! That's why he had such a lead!
He was going Plus Ultra! Well, two can play at that game, nerd! If Akatani was going to push himself that far, then so was Bakugo! Without another word Bakugo scarfed down his food as quickly as possible before grabbing Shitty Hair. Dragging him from his seat, Shitty Hair could only look up surprised, wondering just what the hell was going on.
"Uh, dude?" Shitty Hair questioned, as Bakugo looked down at him.
"You, me, gym, now," Bakugo told him bluntly, before looking forward again, "Not gonna let that damn nerd get ahead of me."