Chapter 129: A Bro-code
Bakugo would never say this aloud, but Kirishima was a tough bastard. The more they hung out, the more this became apparent. In all of their sparring matches, Bakugo found himself being forced to unleash hell to win. He'd blow Kirishima off his feet, crack his skin, and knock the teen out in plenty of fights. Hell, Bakugo would juggle Kirishima in the air like he was playing Devil May Cry.
Ended up creating a move he'd dubbed Dynamite Buzzsaw, where he'd spin around mid air, light up his sweat, and form what looked like a spinning blade of fire and smoke. Managed to cut through Kirishima's skin once. But just as often as Bakugo would win, he would end up letting his ego get in the way repeatedly. He couldn't count the number of times he'd find Kirishima aiming a shotgun at him from point-blank range.
Or the times Kirishima would alternate which side of his body was hardened. That way, when his right side crumbled, he could switch to his left and keep charging forward. It kept all their fights shockingly even, the two being forced to continually find new ways to one-up the other. And Bakugo didn't know what to think of it. Because every time, his mind went back to Akatani's words.
…He wasn't asking for help, he wasn't. Bakugo was the best, that… that was a fact. He was not weak… damn it, his words just wouldn't leave his mind. And yet Akatani's words just… fuck, they made sense. In just a few short weeks of working with Kirishima, he'd developed two entirely new moves. He'd improved his physical strength and thought up new support equipment to boost his capabilities. The best were supposed to stand alone, yet Bakugo had gone leaps and bounds with the… the help of just one person.
…No, he was wrong. Akatani was wrong. Bakugo wasn't looking down on himself; he wasn't. And he wasn't relying on other people's help either. All of this was just… mutual collaborative coincidences. Definitely. But with all that said, for as… impressed as Bakugo was with Kirishima, he could not fathom how the red-haired teen talked him into his latest idea.
"This is fucking stupid," Bakugo grumbled as he followed Kirishima. The two walked through the halls of one of the MSF's campus facilities, occasionally passing soldiers that Kirishima seemed to know.
"Come on, it's a good idea!" Kirishima told him with a wide, excited smile, "Besides, you'll enjoy it, guaranteed!"
Shuffling by a pair of guards, Bakugo shoved his hands into his pockets and grumbled.
"I don't need a gun, Kirishima. I already have two built into me!" Bakugo loudly exclaimed, making Kirishima roll his eyes.
"How impressive," Kirishima replied, making Bakugo scoff. By then, the two had reached the gun range that Kirishima was leading him to. Stepping inside, they were suddenly drowned out by the noise, gunfire echoing through the room.
"Oh fuck you. When am I ever going to need a gun?" Bakugo then asked, the two coming to a stop next to an empty booth. His quirk was leagues more powerful than the majority of guns the MSF fielded. He didn't need some weak, pathetic firearm.
"How about long-range combat? Akatani did beat you with a sniper rifle," Kirishima answered, again making Bakugo grumble. Of course, that memory was still fresh in his mind. He landed on a rooftop searching for the nerd, and then everything went black. It was hard to forget, so Bakugo didn't try to.
"That was before. My quirk's only gotten better since then," Bakugo countered while pulling his hands from his pockets and crossing his arms. The statement made Kirishima raise his brow, a curious expression hitting his face. He glanced to the side, toward a paper target hanging nearby, and had an idea.
"So you could hit this target?" Kirishima asked, the teen soon sending the target out down the range. The line carried it out quickly, as Bakugo watched it leave.
"Of course," Bakugo replied, noticing the target come to a stop. Mentally, he estimated the distance to be about forty-five meters away.
"Prove it," Kirishima replied with a rather smug smile. One that Bakugo did not take lightly.
"You think I'm bluffing?" Bakugo demanded with a growl, "I can hit that target no problem!"
Kirishima then stepped to the side, letting Bakugo get into position. Quickly, the teen checked over his repaired brace, ensuring everything was working perfectly. Once he knew it wouldn't break on him, he aimed his hands forward. However, he wasn't going to release a normal explosion. If Bakugo did, he'd likely blow down the booths next to him. Instead, he aimed to try a more precise move.
Forming a C shape with his left hand, he held it over the palm of his right hand. With a deep breath, he concentrated his sweat in a small, focused area.
"Watch!" he then shouted, feeling the heat on his palm rise, "AP Shot!"
A wave of force and fire shot forward, slamming into the target. The explosion tore it to shreds, leaving Kirishima slightly wide-eyed. Now it was Bakugo's turn to look back smugly.
"...Ok, that was manly as hell," Kirishima told him with a slight chuckle.
"I always am," Bakugo arrogantly replied, before again crossing his arms, "All I need is more training, and I'll hit even further distances."
For a moment, Bakugo believed that would be the end of things. He'd just shown Kirishima he doesn't need a gun, case closed. Yet Kirishima didn't seem ready to give things up. Rather than leave the gun range, he walked toward a large locker that… oddly enough had his name on it. He punched in the locker's code and quickly opened it up, while still thinking to himself.
"Ok…" Kirishima muttered, before his face lit up with an idea, "Wait, I know why you should get a gun!"
"And why's that?" Bakugo asked, while trying to get a look inside the locker. It was rather difficult to do, though, as Kirishima's body blocked his view.
"Because of Mr. Aizawa," Kirishima bluntly replied, making Bakugo pause.
"...What about him?" Bakugo asked, while mentally thinking of his teacher. Of course, he immediately felt it once the words left his mouth. It was a very dumb question, and he realized it only a second too late. Before he could so much as correct himself, Kirishima spoke up.
"Come on, man, his quirk!" Kirishima told him with a grin, "You think he's the only guy out in the world with some quirk-dampening power? What if you run into somebody who shuts your quirk down?"
"...Shit," Bakugo muttered, the thought making logical sense. It would be naive to believe Mr. Aizawa was the only one with such a quirk. And actually, the more he thought about it, the more other possibilities came up. The MSF had started showing off military tech that the rest of the world didn't have. They kept pulling new stuff out of thin air so often that Bakugo had to wonder, did they have a quirk jammer? It sounded illogical; no one in the world had quirk jammers, they were only ever a theory. No quirk-suppressing tech had ever been made before.
But who's to say that wouldn't change? A lot of money was being redirected toward the militaries of the world, and a quirk jammer would be right up their alley. That was, of course, assuming the MSF didn't have one already.
"Alright, alright," Bakugo conceded, grumbling and walking toward Kirishima, "Fucking ridiculous."
Only then did the red-haired teen move and allow Bakugo to see inside the locker. There were quite a few guns jammed inside it, likely ones that Kirishima preferred to use. There was a Benelli M4, a Mossberg 590, a Remington 870, a Hunt Group MH12, an AA-12, a FN Minimi Mk 3, an H MG4, a FN Minimi Mk 48, an M7A1, a FN Scar-H, a Howa Type 20, a .44 magnum Colt Anaconda, a Mark XIX Desert Eagle, a SIG P227, and a tactical FN 545. Looking over the guns, Bakugo had only one thought in his mind.
"How exactly are you getting this stuff? I thought the MSF had all their gear under watch," Bakugo commented, with Kirishima nodding next to him.
"They do. But after coming by so often, I kinda just earned their trust," Kirishima explained, "They know I'm not going to blow mine or anybody's head off with these things."
That did make some sense; they let Akatani have firearms after all. And at the same time, it wasn't like the MSF had given Kirishima the firearms to begin with. He had a locker, yes, but it was a locker situated inside an MSF facility, surrounded by MSF personnel, with locks that the MSF likely installed themselves. The locker was a stash that Kirishima could grab from, but ultimately was the property of the MSF. Should they want to, they could likely just confiscate them.
Not to mention, Kirishima did say he borrowed a shotgun from Akatani. These might also be borrowed from him. Quickly, Kirishima motioned to everything in front of him and gave Bakugo an expectant look.
"What do you want to try first?" Kirishima asked, while Bakugo looked over each weapon somewhat uncaringly. None really caught his interest.
"Hmm," Bakugo muttered in thought. Seeing this lack of curiosity, Kirishima decided to take the initiative.
"I'd recommend shotguns. They're my personal favorites. Just feels so manly firing them," he explained, while grabbing the MH12. It would be good for close combat, Bakugo rationalized, so it fit his fighting style well. But it was also somewhat large and heavy. He needed to remain quick and mobile; that's what kept a hero alive. Seeing Bakugo still had no interest in the weapon, Kirishima put the shotgun back and grabbed his Mk 48.
"Machine guns are also good," Kirishima then commented, before Bakugo began to shake his head. His eyes drifted over the handguns Kirishima had, and Bakugo mentally evaluated each choice.
"A pistol will be fine," Bakugo told him, "Not like I'm gonna use this thing all the time."
This was an emergency weapon, nothing more. If his quirk ever failed him, or the situation made its use untenable, then that's when the gun would come out. Only then. And in that situation, Bakugo doubted he would need more than a pistol. Yet saying "a pistol" was vague.
"Gotta be a bit more specific than that, bro," Kirishima said, causing Bakugo to shrug.
"I don't fucking know," Bakugo muttered, bored. Kirishima didn't have a lot of pistols to begin with. Eventually, the red-haired teen decided for Bakugo and grabbed a pistol.
"How about this one?" Kirishima asked, holding the weapon in front of him.
"What is it?" Bakugo asked in return, looking the pistol over. It was a tan color, and to Bakugo, it looked like any other handgun. Kirishima momentarily paused at the question, the teen trying to remember the exact name.
"Uh… the… FN 545," Kirishima replied cautiously, "Chambered in forty-five ACP, and can hold ten to eighteen rounds depending on the magazine."
Good enough, Bakugo decided. With a huff, he walked back to the booth, Kirishima following closely behind him. Back at the booth, Kirishima slowly handed the pistol to Bakugo and kept a close eye on him.
"So, first things first, the rules of firearm safety-" Kirishima began to explain, before Bakugo interrupted him.
"Yeah, yeah, don't point them at somebody, keep your finger off the trigger, and always assume it's loaded," Bakugo stated tiredly, while doing everything he just said. He kept it pointed down range, his finger was off the trigger, and he ensured there was no magazine. Impatiently, he glanced over at Kirishima and found the other teen looking at him, surprised.
"What!? It's basic fucking knowledge!" Bakugo shouted, "Only a dumbass wouldn't know this shit!"
Was it really that hard to understand for people!? It's a weapon! It's the same logic as not touching people with a knife! It ain't that difficult! Don't point the thing that kills people at people! Simple fucking logic, Bakugo thought tiredly. Shaking his head, exasperated, Kirishima looked over Bakugo's posture. He adjusted a few things, much to the other teen's annoyance, before stepping back.
"Now remember, it's going to have recoil-" Kirishima began to say, as Bakugo again interrupted him.
"No duh," Bakugo replied, "It's nothing compared to my quirk though."
"It is nothing compared to your quirk, yes, but that's the problem. You need a tight grip on the gun, but you can't be prepping yourself for recoil you know isn't there," Kirishima told him with a roll of his eyes. Which… ok fair, Bakugo conceded. Suppose he were treating a firearm like his quirk, even if subconsciously, then he'd more than likely screw up. The pistol wouldn't have nearly as much recoil as one of his explosions. There was also the flip side that Kirishima soon pointed out.
"Underestimate the recoil, and you'll find the barrel staring back at you," Kirishima stated, causing Bakugo to look at him with a raised brow.
"I'm serious. After I started using firearms, I decided to do some research. You would not believe how many videos there are on the internet of somebody firing a gun, and that same gun spinning backwards and aiming at their face. While their finger is still on the trigger," Kirishima explained, before deciding to show Bakugo an example. He pulled out his phone and opened up to a lone video. Kirishima didn't need to show more than the thumbnail.
The first thing Bakugo saw was a dude holding a revolver with his wrists bent so far back that the gun was practically aiming over his forehead. For a second, Bakugo just stared at it.
"I could tank the bullet," Bakugo stated confidently, making Kirishima laugh.
"Dude, no, you could not," Kirishima replied, while putting his phone away.
"I survive my explosions all the time, shitty hair," Bakugo argued, with Kirishima then shaking his head.
"Because your body is built like an EOD suit!" Kirishima exclaimed. Like it or not, EOD suits did not make someone an unstoppable juggernaut. They were designed to handle shrapnel wounds and the overpressure of an explosion. It wasn't made to tank gunfire, and neither was Bakugo. Still, the explosive teen shook his head, annoyed. At the same time, he aimed his pistol down range and tried to line up his shot with the target.
Which took a bit longer than Bakugo liked. With his quirk, he never really had to aim before. The blasts were always so large that it was a guarantee he'd at least hit something, even if he missed. Now, though, he was trying to line up ironsights that he'd never needed before. Taking an awfully long time, Bakugo could practically sense Kirishima's confused glance.
"Are you going to fire?" Kirishima asked, making Bakugo grumble.
"Give me a second," Bakugo replied, annoyed. Assuming he had everything lined up, Bakugo then fired. The bullet soared forward and cut through the target, right where the left shoulder would be. Still having more rounds, Bakugo continued to fire. Tearing up the target, he stopped when his gun clicked. Moments later, Kirishima pulled the target back, letting Bakugo see his handiwork.
"Ha! I'd like to see Akatani beat this," he arrogantly laughed, while Kirishima pulled the target down. Having fired ten rounds, Bakugo found three hit the chest, two hit the shoulders, another two hit the head, and three didn't hit anything. To him, it looked good; he'd hit the body seven times. To Kirishima, it… It could have been better. Bakugo had accuracy, but his precision was terrible.
He'd only hit the same general area three times. Every other round had spread out to some other part of the body. Were they hits? Yes. But a bullet to the shoulder wasn't the same as a bullet to the heart. Not to mention a shot even a centimeter off could be the difference between a miss and a kill. Bakugo definitely needs more practice, Kirishima thought to himself.
"Pretty sure he has," Kirishima told him confidently, making Bakugo's eyes snap toward him. The explosive teen glared at him for a moment before uttering a tch.
"Ready another target," Bakugo ordered, Kirishima swiftly complying with a smug grin. After he sent out another target, Kirishima stepped back, letting Bakugo aim again. As he did so, Bakugo quietly fumed. Firing again, Bakugo emptied his mag into the target. When Kirishima pulled it back, he saw two hits on the chest, three on the stomach, one on the right arm, and four just hitting the paper.
Angrily, Bakugo had another target sent out. And then another three targets soon after. Each time he adjusted his grip, his aim, his stance, and his position, little by little. He only stopped when he heard Kirishima start shooting something in a booth next to him. It was a loud, clunky, and simply brutal noise, as Kirishima fired some heavy automatic weapon. Peaking around the corner, he found Kirishima firing an oddly curved weapon with a circular drum magazine.
At the same time, a large tan rifle leaned against the booth's wall, sitting next to Kirishima.
"What are those?" Bakugo asked suspiciously, right as Kirishima stopped firing. Smoke floated from the gun's barrel, and Kirishima shook with excitement.
"The AA-12 automatic combat shotgun, and the FN Scar-H," Kirishima replied, and soon laughed as he removed the mag from his AA-12, "I love this thing."
Glancing back at Bakugo, Kirishima held the AA-12 out for him with a smile.
"Want to try?" Kirishima asked, making Bakugo snort.
"Sure," Bakugo replied, grabbing the firearm carefully. From what he saw of the weapon, it had some serious kick to it. And if there was one thing Bakugo liked, it was firepower. Swiftly, Kirishima passed him a fresh drum mag and helped Bakugo reload the weapon. With a deep breath, Bakugo aimed the weapon down range, at a new, fresh target. And in an instant, his finger was on the trigger.
The recoil from the weapon was immediate, kicking back with a force that shocked Bakugo. Keeping control of the weapon, though, Bakugo continued firing, a small grin forming on his face. The faint smell of burning gunpowder and smoke reminded him of his quirk, and he couldn't help but enjoy the kick of the weapon. Meanwhile, the target ahead of him was torn to shreds. When the shotgun finally clicked empty, Bakugo chuckled in surprise.
"Ho, ho, ho! Ok, I see the appeal," Bakugo commented, while Kirishima excitedly nodded behind him.
"Right?!" Kirishima exclaimed with a laugh. Sure, it wasn't exactly like Bakugo's quirk. It didn't have nearly the same power or the same utility. But damn it, Bakugo could understand why Kirishima kept coming here. He doubted he'd be a frequent firearm enthusiast, but he could at the very least understand the appeal.
"It's better with Dragon's Breath shells too," Kirishima told him, which… damn it, the name alone gained Bakugo's interest. Dragon's Breath shells. It screamed fire, and it had Bakugo far more interested than before. If his assumptions were right, then it would be like using a weaker version of his quirk. However, as intrigued as Bakugo was, there was still the Scar he had yet to try. Setting the shotgun aside, Bakugo grabbed the rifle carefully.
Inspecting everything thoroughly, Bakugo soon aimed the weapon down range. Within seconds, he began firing again. He held down the trigger, lighting up another fresh target. When the rifle clicked empty, Bakugo stopped, and with Kirishima's help, took a minute to reload. Once he was good to go again, Bakugo switched to semi-auto and fired again. He emptied his rifle again and watched smoke drift from the gun's barrel. Looking the weapon over, Bakugo held a small, faint smile.
"The AA-12's nice, but I think I like this one better," Bakugo commented. The AA-12 had been fun to shoot; it had a lot of power behind it. But the Scar felt more precise. It had a kick Bakugo liked, yet there was an odd efficiency behind it.
"Think you'd use one?" Kirishima asked, a curious expression on his face.
"Hmm… as my emergency gun, no. It's too much weight," Bakugo replied, feeling the weight of the Scar in his hands. It had to be eight pounds, bare minimum. In the world of heroics, mobility and speed were king. Bakugo couldn't afford to lug around an eight-pound gun. Not when he would already have loads of other equipment, ammunition for that gun, and body armor weighing him down. Bakugo was only looking for a weapon he could use in case of emergencies. Lugging around a Scar-H and all its ammo on the off chance he may need it just wasn't practical. A pistol could fulfill that role much better. Of course, Kirishima had a solution.
"Could always get an exo," Kirishima reasoned, making Bakugo ponder the idea. His gut reaction was to shut the idea down. But… it was pretty much just support gear. It was no different than his grenadier bracers. And besides…
"...I am already using a fourth of one," Bakugo muttered to himself, his eyes looking down at his right arm. There, the brace he wore moved with his arm, Bakugo rolling his shoulder carefully. He hated being dependent on this thing, yet it was just support equipment… relying on support equipment didn't make him weak; he was just utilizing his quirk and his skills to their fullest potential. Still, Bakugo would have to think it over.
Slowly, Bakugo set the Scar-H back down. Somewhat curious about the other weapons Kirishima had with him, he began walking toward the locker. Kirishima, meanwhile, grabbed the Scar for himself and took position in his booth again. Yet before Kirishima could fire, and before Bakugo could reach the locker, the room's noise was drowned out by a loud buzzing. Though calling the noise buzzing didn't seem right.
"Whoa!" Bakugo couldn't help but call out, the noise putting him on alert. It had come so suddenly and without any semblance of a warning. Gunfire echoed from one of the booths, with Bakugo only hearing a long brrt. Looking over, he saw the booth was on the complete other side of the room. Confused and shocked, Bakugo squinted as he tried to see who was shooting. Quickly, Kirishima joined him, standing next to Bakugo as the two looked forward.
It was difficult to fully see, but eventually, Bakugo spotted an unmistakable silhouette come into view.
"Is that Ponytail?" Bakugo questioned, his brow quickly shooting up in shock. She'd only been visible for a second, most of her body being covered by the booth's wall. But she had stepped or leaned back into view just a tiny bit before disappearing. Hearing this, Kirishima's posture became rigid and tense.
"Oh uh, probably not. Likely just someone else," Kirishima tried to reason. Bakugo only squinted his eyes and shook his head. Just then Ponytail popped into view again, confirming Bakugo's suspicions.
"No, no, that's her," Bakugo stated, now walking forward to get a better glimpse. And once she was in view, it was a sight to behold. She stood in her booth, holding a modified M134 minigun like a chainsaw. A long ammo link was popping out of her arm and feeding into the gun as she fired. And the entire time Ponytail had a smile as wide as All Might's. For a solid minute, she did nothing but fire thousands of rounds down range, like she was the protagonist of an action movie.
"Holy shit," Bakugo muttered to himself. The entire sight was surprising to him. Even more so, as she didn't have an exoskeleton helping her. She was just lugging the weapon around with her own two hands. He didn't remember her being that strong before. Eventually Ponytail got bored and set the minigun aside. And Bakugo assumed that was the end of things. Instead, Yaoyorozu grabbed a pair of Desert Eagles from the table and began firing down range akimbo style.
Now, let it be known that Bakugo would never admit this out loud… but it was kinda hot. However, her sudden appearance gave Bakugo a few questions. Questions he didn't like.
"...How often has she been coming here?" Bakugo asked suspiciously. He remembered Kirishima telling him how he and Ponytail had come by here before. He told Bakugo about their experience with miniguns. But he never said that Ponytail was a frequent visitor.
"I don't know-" Kirishima began to say, nervously lying through his teeth. Yet Bakugo knew he was lying.
"Bullshit," Bakugo stated, annoyed, as he eyed the other suspiciously, "How long?"
Kirishima attempted to stay quiet, but he could feel Bakugo's eyes drilling into him.
"A while. I don't remember the exact day she started coming here frequently," Kirishima hesitantly explained, before dragging Bakugo away to their booth, "She wanted it to be a surprise, so don't tell anyone!"
"A surprise for what?" Bakugo asked, confused. The Sports Festival had come and gone, and by Kirishima's own words, Ponytail hadn't started coming here until after that mess had happened. Final exams kept getting pushed back, and were more than likely canceled. So… why keep this a secret? There didn't seem to be a reason in Bakugo's mind.
"Originally, final exams. Now it's just… well, our next big exercise, I guess," Kirishima told him cautiously. The answer made some small sense. Ponytail was keeping her cards close to her chest, not letting the others know what her true capabilities were until they were needed. It was smart. She'd be able to win more exercises if her opponents knew less about her.
"Genuinely, dude, don't tell anyone. I'm not about to break the brocode," Kirishima then warned, the teen quickly crossing his arms together. He looked at Bakugo with a serious expression, making Bakugo scoff. But then he processed the rest of Kirishima's words and raised a brow. The… brocode…
"Hey, I know that look. Everyone's a bro in my brocode," Kirishima explained, Bakugo then rolling his eyes.
"Fine," Bakugo stated gruffly, satisfying Kirishima's worries. Bakugo would keep Ponytail's secret. Not like he was going to start telling everybody in the first place. No, this info helped him just as much as it helped Ponytail. After all, Bakugo thought to himself, this is just another card in my deck.
"To those just now joining in, we have three top stories today," a news anchor stated, while Endeavor wrote away at his desk, "The Ninth Circle launched another series of raids last night, this time against American Marines stationed in Musutafu. At least a dozen men have been killed, and another twenty were injured-"
The rest of the info was drowned out by Endeavor's mind. Not intentionally, mind you. Death was a tragedy he despised. But in recent days, it has happened so much that the brain more or less registered it as worthless info. It was a common occurrence, one he'd grown more accustomed to. Instead, his thoughts were… drowned out by something else. Endeavor had the news playing on his computer for some background noise.
It was something to distract him while he signed some documents in his office. Yet… it did nothing. Endeavor struggled to write his own signature on a patrol request form. The pen in his hand was on the edge of snapping in half, Endavor's grip being tight enough to crack and melt the plastic. When it finally broke, the ink inside evaporated from his quirk. With a grumble, Endeavor stood up and walked away from his desk.
Turning to his right, he saw the large photo of himself hanging on the wall. Before it was a symbol of pride, now it… Well… Endeavor could only glare at the photo. Truthfully, Endeavor was angry. Angry at the cult, at the League, at Shoto, at All Might, but he was angry at himself most of all. When All Might's true form was unveiled to the world, and the Symbol of Peace gave his grand speech in Tokyo, Endeavor had his eyes opened.
Even at All Might's weakest, Endeavor never came close to reaching his heights. The man was a glorified skeleton, and yet he was still active and fighting. But… All Might's time was waning. The Symbol of Peace himself had said this. Soon, he would lose the last of his strength, and he would retire. And the moment that happens, Endeavor would become the new number one hero.
It was a bittersweet realization. One that was far more bitter than it was sweet. Because after all this work, after all this effort, after Touya's death, and after all the pain he'd put Shoto through… what the hell was any of this for? He'd dedicated everything to the number one spot, and in likely a few short months, it would be given to him. Not because of his achievements, not because of the work he put in to surpassing All Might. But because the hero just retired.
There was no grand accomplishment at all. They were giving him the number one spot, like it was a participation trophy. Tiredly, Endeavor brought a hand to his brow, the man grumbling to himself. What was any of this even for? The title wasn't earned, and yet soon it would be his. Soon, he would be replacing the Symbol of Peace. All while the nation was in the middle of its greatest crisis since the Dawn of Quirks.
With a sigh, Endeavor began to walk back to his desk. Only for the door to his office to open up. Turning toward it, he found Burnin sticking her head through the door.
"Boss, got a call for you," Burnin explained, causing Endeavor to groan quietly. Sitting back down, he clasped his hands together and leaned onto his desk.
"Who?" he questioned, tiredly.
"Mirko," Burnin replied. The answer made Endeavor pause momentarily. Surprised, he looked at Burnin for confirmation. She simply nodded, agreeing with his confusion. Mirko had never called the Endeavor Agency before. In fact, Endeavor was pretty sure he'd never worked with the rabbit heroine before. Mirko was always a solo actor, preferring to handle things herself rather than with others. So why in the world was she calling him?
"Put her through," Endeavor tiredly ordered, Burnin swiftly stepping out of his office. The door shut behind her, leaving Endeavor alone with his computer. The machine still played the news at too loud a volume. Not needing the distraction anymore, Endeavor turned the volume down.
"The League of Villains also struck yesterday, this time at the Port of Kobe. Following their usual MO, they robbed the CS Dawn, an Australian cargo ship bringing in vital food aid to the country-" the news anchor explained, his voice getting quieter by the second. Eventually, the phone on his desk began to ring. Picking it up, Endeavor took a quick breath.
"This is Endeavor," he stated calmly, before he heard Mirko groan on the other end.
"About time, I've been on hold for an hour!" Mirko exclaimed, causing Endeavor to frown at the door.
"You could have contacted me on HeroNet if you were so impatient," Endeavor replied, the hero questioning Mirko's decisions. A single message on HeroNet would have reached him instantly. Instead, she went out of her way to go through his agency's hotline. It was entirely unnecessary. Or so Endeavor thought.
"Nah. Got important stuff I need to talk about," Mirko told him, making Endeavor groan.
"Why are you calling?" Endeavor demanded tiredly, his free hand going to his brow.
"Found some info on the cult I thought I'd share," Mirko replied, instantly changing Endeavor's mood. His eyes shot open, and his free hand darted away from his face. Rapidly, he grabbed a fresh piece of paper from his desk, along with a new pen.
"What information?" Endeavor asked curiously. At the same time, he heard something crash on Mirko's side. It caught Endeavor off guard for a moment, and he could have sworn he heard gunfire. Was… was she in a fight? Oh, who was he kidding? Endeavor knew Mirko's reputation. Of course, she was in a fight.
"They've apparently got someone helping them out. Some kind of backer by the name Night Owl," Mirko explained, seemingly uncaring of the chaos around her. More gunfire echoed through the microphone, along with a muffled "My leg!" from some unseen person. Endeavor decided not to question this. Instead, his attention was directed toward her info. Because it made sense in the long run. Villain organizations don't just spring up from nowhere. And the Ninth Circle was a supposedly dead group.
The only way they could have risen from the ashes was with help. And this Night Owl figure was responsible. Night Owl, Endeavor thought to himself, it was obviously a codename. They had to be someone prominent if they were able to fund and arm the Ninth Circle. But that wasn't much to work with.
"How did you learn of this?" Endeavor inquired, Mirko then panting into the mic. A second later, and Endeavor heard the familiar sound of bones breaking.
"Overheard some HPSC guy talking about him," Mirko replied, before laughing as more gunfire was heard, "Supposedly this Night Owl character's gone off the grid."
That gave Endeavor some hesitation. Mirko's info… was from the commission? No, scratch that, the commission knew, and hadn't told anyone? Endeavor knew they were a secretive, paranoid, and rather unseemly organization, but… they knew the cult had a backer?
"Who exactly said this?" Endeavor asked, right as Mirko seemingly dodged more gunfire. At least he assumed so. All he had was a mental picture, made from all the gunshots, panting, and bones breaking he heard.
"Dunno. Some… cowboy looking guy," Mirko replied before swearing to herself, "Blonde, carries around revolvers, has spurs clicking every time he walks."
That… sounded familiar. He remembered Shoto describing a similar HPSC agent at UA. Ocelot… that's what his name was, right? Endeavor tried to remember if he'd ever run into the man before. He couldn't recall a time, though. It was here that a new question came to his mind. Mainly on the elephant in the room.
"Why are you telling me this?" Endeavor questioned. Why was Mirko telling him any of this?
"Because I'm not the investigative type," Mirko explained, "Tried sending a message to All Might's agency, but number one ain't exactly answering."
"And so you then defaulted to me, as the number two hero," Endeavor muttered, bringing a hand to his brow again.
"Dead on," Mirko confirmed, making Endeavor grumble. Of course, it had nothing to do with his agency having more accomplished cases than the rest of the country. Of course, it had nothing to do with his agency's close relationship with active duty detectives and investigative heroes. Of course, it was all because All Might wouldn't pick up the phone. By then, the call had abruptly ended. And Endeavor was unsure if it was because Mirko had hung up or if someone had managed to shoot her phone.
Either possibility was applicable. All the call left Endeavor with, was more questions. But it was at least something. Standing up from his desk, Endeavor decided it was time to get some fresh air. Leaving his office, he spotted Burnin busy talking with Kido and Onima.
"Burnin," he called out. Her gaze turned toward him quickly, along with his other side kicks.
"Yeah, boss?" Burnin asked, while Endeavor walked towards her. Once he was close enough, he handed her the paper he'd been writing Mirko's info on.
"Have our analysts start going over old case files. Domestic and international. See if the codename Night Owl appears in any of them," Endeavor told her, before turning and walking away. Nearing the exit to his agency, he cracked his knuckles. Perhaps they could find this Night Owl villain before things got any worse.