Chapter 68: The Gathering of Heroes
The night was a blur of frantic energy and cold, hard data. In the glowing, high-tech command center of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, the investigation proceeded at a blistering pace. On a massive, holographic map of the Kanto region, a single, pulsing red dot, representing the tracker in Rock Lee's school bag, moved with an unsettling, erratic pattern across a web of highways and side roads.
"They're moving, but they're not taking a direct route," Detective Tsukauchi said, his voice a low, grim rumble that cut through the hum of the servers. "They're trying to throw off anyone who might be following."
But they were not just following a dot. Working tirelessly through the night, teams of analysts cross-referenced the data from the tracker with the known associates of the two low-level villains they had identified. A name emerged, linked to an underground smuggling ring known for its operations along the coast.
Then, the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. An urgent intelligence report flashed on the main screen: a confirmed sighting. A large, unmarked refrigerator truck—the perfect vehicle for hiding a living person from thermal scans—was spotted on a coastal highway, flanked by two black sedans. Its destination: a deserted, decommissioned shipping port near the national border.
Tsukauchi looked at the clock on the wall. "They'll reach the port in a matter of hours," he announced to the grim-faced heroes and officers in the room. "We have our location, and our time is running out."
An emergency briefing was called immediately. In a large, dark, and cold conference room deep within a hero agency headquarters, the best of the best had been assembled. The atmosphere was heavy with a grim seriousness. Principal Nezu and a stone-faced Aizawa represented U.A. The famed hero Best Jeanist stood with his usual calm, precise posture, a stark contrast to the urgency of the situation.
Detective Tsukauchi stood before a large holographic map, displaying the truck's projected route. "The plan is to intercept the convoy here," he said, pointing to a secluded stretch of highway. "We have a private, high-speed VTOL jet on standby. We move now."
Outside the heavy doors of the briefing room, a skeletal figure stood in the shadows. Toshinori Yagi's hero costume, the brilliant red, white, and blue, hung loosely on his frail frame. He looked at his own thin, bony hands. He saw Lee's earnest, smiling face, a face full of endless effort and unshakable kindness. He remembered the promise he had made to the boy, the promise to always be behind him. He clenched his fists, a look of immense, sorrowful resolve on his face. He would not fail him.
He took a deep breath, and with a great, billowing cloud of steam, the frail man was gone, replaced by the towering, muscular form of All Might. The doors slid open automatically, and he took a single, heavy step into the room.
The briefing stopped. Every head in the room, every legendary Pro Hero, turned to look at him. He stood there, the Symbol of Peace in his full, magnificent glory, his presence so immense it seemed to suck the very air from the room.
His voice, when he spoke, was a deep, resonant boom that vibrated with authority and absolute responsibility. "This student was put in danger because of the attention the festival brought him. As the Symbol of Peace and as a teacher at U.A., this is my responsibility." He met Nezu's gaze, then Tsukauchi's. "And more importantly, it is about the promise I made to protect him. I will be participating in this mission."
Nezu nodded, a look of relief on his face. Best Jeanist, ever the professional, gave a slight bow. "It is good to have you with us, All Might. Your strength will be a decisive factor."
"You will be a great help, All Might. Thank you for coming," Tsukauchi said, a new wave of confidence in his voice. All Might simply gave a firm, determined nod.
Just then, the doors slid open once more. A woman strode in, her movements sharp and precise. It was Sora Aokawa. Her face was as cold and hard as sculpted ice. Her severe black suit was immaculate, and her jet-black hair was tied back tightly, but it was her eyes that silenced the room. Her brilliant blue eyes were not just angry; they were burning with a hateful, ancient fire. The sound of her heels clicking on the polished floor was the only sound.
"And who are you, ma'am?" Tsukauchi asked, surprised by the intrusion.
All Might's own smile faltered for a fraction of a second, a flicker of shock in his eyes as he recognized her, remembering the promise he had made to her in the infirmary.
"I summoned her," Nezu said calmly. "She may have vital information."
All eyes turned to Sora. She stood before the assembly of heroes, unafraid and unbowed, her gaze sweeping over them with a cold dismissiveness before landing on the holographic map.
"I know why he was kidnapped," she said, her voice a blade of ice. "I was warned that this day might come." She looked at them, her expression filled with a resentful fury. "'The Heir to the Eight Gates.' That is what Lee is to them. Just an heir, nothing more, to a forgotten, ancient style." She scoffed, a sound of pure contempt. "These are not common villains. They follow an old, parasitic organization obsessed with stealing the abilities and techniques of others. They have come to take what they believe is theirs."
A look of bitter, personal hatred flashed in her eyes. "After they failed to take the Eight Gates from me years ago, they have now resorted to this cheap, cowardly trick… using him."
The reveal landed with the force of a physical blow. The room was filled with a stunned silence, her words leaving behind a dozen new, terrifying questions.
The final, jarring cut of the chapter was to a world of absolute darkness.
Slowly, painfully, consciousness returned to Rock Lee. The first sensation was a dull, throbbing pain in the back of his head. The second was the low, constant rumble of an engine vibrating through his entire body. The third was the biting cold of metal against his skin.
He opened his eyes.
His vision was a blurry, swimming haze. He could make out nothing but dark, metallic walls, slick with condensation. He was in the back of a truck. He tried to move, and a surge of pure, cold panic shot through him. He couldn't. He was bound tightly to a cold, metal seat, thick iron ropes digging into his wrists, his ankles, and his chest. A thick cloth gag was tied tightly over his mouth, held in place by a wrap of heavy-duty tape. He was completely, utterly helpless.
His mind, finally clearing, raced in a frantic, terrifying loop. The alley… the two men… the gas…
He looked around the dark, empty space, his heart pounding in his chest.
What… What is happening? Where am I?!
Outside, unseen by the terrified boy, the large refrigerator truck thundered down a dark, empty highway. It was flanked by two sleek, black cars, a silent, deadly convoy moving through the dead of night. In the far distance, under the cold light of the moon, the vast, dark expanse of the sea was just barely visible.
~~~~
~ For More Chapters;
Patr eon. com/salamandar
Help me write more just with your power stones^^