Chapter Text
Sound has never been so distant. He’s not sure if it’s due to his undying determination to cling to the very bits of his conscience, or if the absurdity of it all is getting to him. All the red lights flickering and the reproductors blaring don’t seem to mind his inner turmoil.
If you asked Izuku how it got to this, he would have looked you straight in the eyes, blushed, and stuttered out a response along the lines of 'I would like to say I have no idea, but really, it was long coming.' He can’t blame the commission for this one.
His main priority right now is to get out. There is a considerable number of people here who would be able to recognise him, which cannot happen. It would turn his situation from bad to catastrophic. The bonds holding him down were broken by him a few moments ago, and just now he has forced open the cell door, but that surely could not have taken so much out of him. He feels as if he is actively being swallowed up by the water surrounding this place. It seems his muscles suffered more than he expected, but then again, he had never been forced to sit still for so long.
He’s not even sure what feels more surreal to him. The fact that he’s in Tartarus, not as a visitor, but a prisoner, or the fact that said indestructible, indomitable prison is not as invincible as everyone but the darkest parts of society hoped for it to be. Getting sentenced to Tartarus was a death sentence, maybe not in the literal sense, but being stuck in one small cell for the rest of your life, while your resolve and humanity drains away, might as well be the murder of the human mind.
Thankfully, even though he was sent to Tartarus, he was a special case. The commission hadn’t dealt him the metaphorical death card; heck, he was a hero in training! All of this was supposed to be temporary. Just a precaution while UA and All Might were doing their damn best to work things out. He’s sure. He’s positive, actually!
It didn’t make the last week any less lonely.
The sounds were gradually getting quieter. Damn it. He needs to get as far away right now as he can get, at least. Just one leg in front of the other, Izuku.
He can feel the rough cement under his hand, which is placed on the wall to his right as support. If it weren’t for that, he’s sure he would be crawling right now. He’s not giving up that easily.
All Might and Nedzu had tried to visit as much as they could. While this is not a privilege the villains locked up in here got, he wasn’t a villain, nor a criminal! He was a hero through and through, though the Hero Public Safety Commission didn’t know that, and it showed in how they’d handled the situation. But once again, how could they even know that? They for sure didn’t know him personally. The hero in training, developing a power that looks like a second quirk, while there is a traitor in UA working for All for One, going around, is bound to raise a few eyebrows.
That alone does sound suspicious, but it wouldn’t be enough to get him to the predicament he is in now. It worked more like an alert, one that ensured Izuku’s files would be meticulously checked, which is exactly where the bright red flag had emerged. Now, a newly discovered aspect of one’s quirk that looks like a wholly different quirk? Uncommon, but it wouldn’t be the first case. On the other hand, someone 'discovering' an aspect of their quirk, that looks like a whole new power, after said quirk developed not even a year ago at fifteen years of age during the UA exam? Talk about a coincidence.
Izuku really couldn’t blame the commission for this.
The hallways were eerily quiet. Strange, but understandable, it is only expected of Tartarus to have soundproof cells so secure that you wouldn’t even hear an inkling of all the other inmates breaking out of their own cages. Everyone must have escaped this floor already. How were they so quick to destroy the sealed doors? He had already guessed he was stationed in a more special part of Tartarus. The standard uniforms were orange, not the sterile white he has been wearing for a week already. It must indicate a higher-level threat if he were to guess. The uniform, along with the blank white room, must all be a part of a psychological battle of some kind. He had read various articles on this topic a few months ago. By removing all stimulus, the human brain starts to fill in what it lacks, resulting in hallucinations and all other kinds of unnerving stuff. Heck, in the experiments he had read about, the subjects were even given pure white rice, and that’s just cruel. It had been one of the worst torture methods he had looked up during one of his quirk deep dives gone wrong, not to mention it was banned ages ago, even before quirks evolved! So what was it doing in Tartarus? It is not exactly the same as the guards interact with the prisoners, among other things, but it still creeped him out. Thankfully, the hallways in this secluded part of Tartarus aren’t white. Not only would it grind on his psyche, but the trail of dirt and grime he is leaving behind would surely be much more noticeable.
UA was quick to make things right. He’s so grateful for that, just imagining how it would have ended up if he were still in Aldera makes him shudder. That’s not exactly to say his middle school wouldn’t be willing to stand up for him. The students’ sneers, not being a pleasant memory, would be a substantial understatement. However, the teachers and administration had never really wanted him to hurt. While the pity and bluntness had been unwanted, they had never been used with malicious intent. Teachers had even tried to gently discuss other career options he might have been suited for, trying and failing to make it seem like the reason wasn’t his lack of a quirk. Even the students had been mostly vocal about their inadequate thoughts, only when the topic of Izuku wanting to be a hero despite his quirklessness was brought up. Which, well… considering the nature of his character and his hero notebooks… it isn’t exactly hard for the topic to come up.
But that was then and there; he’s glad that he’s in UA now, instead of Aldera, not because of teachers who believed in his dreams, but due to the indisputable authority UA had amassed over the years. The school got involved, and the whole fiasco was actually getting sorted out. He was supposed to be released in three days. Three.
Now he’s wondering if he even makes it to see the light of day.
Right foot.
A deep inhale.
Left foot.
A deep exhale.
Bringing his head up, he can see the other cells. They seem like a carbon copy of the one he had been held at. All the doors look exceptionally sturdy as well; that’s probably why they don’t really look damaged, but…it appears like there was actually no struggle, as if the doors had been deliberately opened by the prison system itself. Which would mean… the attackers have control of the entire system. And if he was right about who was behind all this—
Right foot.
Left foot.
Right foot.
Breathe, Izuku, just breathe.
Left foot.
The hallways feel never-ending.
Right foot.
He would have expected bodies to lie around after a riot as large as this one, in a prison holding people so vile that they were transported here, in the middle of the ocean, hundreds of meters deep underwater, never to see the light of day ever again.
Left foot.
It makes sense that all the inmates have left already. They weren’t winded at all from having to force open those cells.
Right foot.
Actually, why was he the only one with a cell door that wouldn’t open? At first, he thought it must have been some kind of glitch, that surely he wasn’t the only one…but looking at all the other cells tells a different story. Each and every one of them had been left open with no damage at all. His cell was left sealed on purpose. They wanted him to stay inside.
Objectively, it makes sense. Who would want a UA student running around during a prison breakout? He’s sure now, though, that the ones getting all the inmates out are not just anyone. It must be the cursed League of Villains. Heck, this was probably planned all along by All for One himself. But how did the League even know the exact cell he was held at?
Oh god, he needed to get out.
Left foot.
Right foot.
Breathe, breathe, if you want to get out alive, to Mom and Allmight and all your classmates— no, friends, you can’t keep forgetting to breathe!
Left foot.
Faster Izuku!
Right foot.
Still, that question stands. How did the League pinpoint his exact location? The only one able to do that—
All for One
Left foot.
He was so securely monitored in Tartarus, though—
Doesn’t matter, what does matter right now is that All for one was somehow able to communicate with the League outside, and he is also probably the one in control of the prison system then, since his location was known, most likely thanks to Search, and All for one leaving only his cell locked means he himself is most likely coming and—
Oh no, this is bad. Horrendous, actually.
Left f—
Wait, no, that’s the wro—
Stumbling on your own feet and falling to the ground has never felt so damning.
Damn it, his flailing consciousness, he desperately needed for his brain to work if he ever wanted to get out of these hallways before he—
All for one knows his exact location. In real time. As in, even if he were able to get away from this floor, the only way he would be out of his reach and the immediate threat he poses as of now would be to get out of Tartarus entirely, which he is not getting out of as easily. What should he do, what should he do, what should he do, think Izuku think—
He’s better than this. UA has been preparing him for a high-risk situation such as this one for a year already, a school year anyway, and it’s been drilled into him what he should do. Analyse the situation and continue by taking one step at a time.
Analysing. He loves analysing. Since he is in Tartarus during a breakout, there should be a lot of villains with amazing quirks he could see in action with his very own eyes—
He’s on the ground. He can’t move properly, though it is getting better. In a few minutes, he’ll be able to move properly without as much of a strain. Unfortunately, it’s unlikely he will be at full strength in the following hours. His head hurts. His right arm hurts due to previously using it as support for his shaky body. He’s wheezing a bit. His head hurts too, not to mention his arm—
Breathe, Izuku, and push through the fog—
When did it get so dark?
No.
He’s losing consciousness.
No.
He can’t even see the faintest traces of the red lights flashing now. The alarm roaring is a comfort, though. The irony. The very thing that has started his turmoil of dread is soothing as of now, since that means he is still aware for the time being, until—
He can’t hear it anymore.
His chest is so tight, his head is killing him. There’s a loud sound in the distance. What is that? It almost sounds like a horn, but it just keeps on repeating and repeating and repeating and repeating— Is he at some kind of festival? He should probably look around. Right, locate yourself, Izuku.
His eyes flutter, but they just don’t want to stay open. He can catch glimpses of his surroundings. It seems like there is a greyish wall covered in soot in front of him… actually… that’s not a wall, that’s the ceiling. But that would mean— he’s lying down, on the ground, but… how did he even—
Blaring alarm, neon flashing lights, a quick use of his arms, and then—
Tartarus, filthy, empty hallway—
Oh
Oh
His eyes had no problem keeping open now, shooting up into a sitting position, wheezing breaths were all that left his heaving lungs. His head tilted a few angles down to take a proper look at his calloused hands, then the ground, the walls, the ceiling—
He had fainted, or more precisely, his body had been so torn that Izuku lost his consciousness. That’s not good at all. How long was he out for? Time was so precious in his current circumstances. If he was out of it for even a couple of minutes…seconds, he must have been unconscious for a couple of seconds. The human body does not faint for long, unless it has sustained considerable brain damage, and well… He feels fine where his brain is concerned.
Izuku picked himself up swiftly with a small amount of effort, or at least when compared to his previous attempts to keep upright not even a minute ago, it was much more facile, absolutely baffling him. Were a few seconds of swallowing darkness all it took? He didn’t hesitate for a second longer and bolted down the long and spacious hallway.
Everything around him felt so huge. The high ceiling wasn’t helping with the feeling; it only made him even more distressed, like an ant or mouse desperately clawing to the feeble hope of escape. Which is unfeasible as long as Search is active and in use, and he has an inkling that All for One would not be so forthcoming about giving it away as of now. Or more certainly never. Izuku would definitely be upset to ever part with a quirk like Search, so many wonderful uses, the intricate workings of th—
His rapid footsteps echo in the winding hallway. His breaths are heavy, and now that he can properly focus on his surroundings, he is able to both feel and smell the lingering smoke. It makes intaking oxygen into his lungs all the more of a gruelling task, resulting in him trying to take even deeper breaths. He was not aware that it’d been even possible.
Think. What does he know about said quirk? He had been given the incredible opportunity to see it in action during the not-so-incredible summer camp. Ragdoll was eager to answer all of his questions, so happy, and that shining smile… It’s obvious the loss of her power has been taking a toll on her far greater than she lets on. It is more than a tool to its user. One’s quirk is such an integral part of them that it contains an imprint of the user’s personality; heck, even more than a mere imprint, it’s like a clone of the owner themselves. One for All has made sure Izuku knew that, so seeing her empty eyes when he had visited Kota… it was almost comparable to the limp, naked, pale body of hers at Kamino.
Just thinking about that makes his blood boil.
Control your heart; you only need to control your heart. The fifth user had made a valid point regarding his anger management. The thing is, he’d just never had to deal with an issue like that. He’s not the type to hold a grudge or to even get truly furious easily. The ten years of scornful looks, sharp words, and painful fists had been a testament to that. The times when he’d actually been really angry in his younger years had been whenever someone else had been made fun of and picked on. He hadn’t even hesitated whenever fists had started to fly.
Turns out, on the battlefield it’s much worse, as the worst case scenario aren’t just a few bruises and a bloodied nose. Izuku rages for others, and if that anger isn’t maintained properly, it can be extremely detrimental. He has to learn how to direct his anger while keeping a cool head, sensibly. It can be a powerful tool, adding to his boundless determination and will.
So use it.
He can see the large, closed, reinforced door at the end of the hallway properly now. It seems to be closed, but considering the number of empty cells on this floor and the lack of broken-down walls, all the prisoners must’ve stormed through there.
Firstly, he needs to know how Search finds its targets. What counts as him? What is it that Search finds? Is it the brain? Maybe the quirk? No… Ragdoll can find quirkless individuals, too… or had been able to. Could it be the brain, then? It is where our consciousness technically lies, but… that wouldn’t really make sense when other factors are taken into consideration. Search not only pinpoints the target’s location, but it also grants the user basic weaknesses of the mark as well. Such as any possible broken bones or injuries a person has sustained. While one could argue that’s because the brain realises the body’s condition, meaning Search locking onto said brain could give it a glimpse of the aforementioned damage, it wouldn’t hold up the moment he adds what Ragdoll had briefly recounted to him to lighten the mood when he was visiting Kota a month ago. Apparently, it wasn’t uncommon for civilians to be shocked at all the different wounds they themselves were not aware of, even ones that seemed obvious to everyone else. Meaning Search has to focus on the whole body… unless the brain is mindful of the state of every part of its body, even unconsciously, and Search is somehow able to track that.
He has to go with the theory of the whole body, though; he doesn’t have a choice. That option is the only one that gives him an out, and hoping is the only thing he can do at this point. The memory of Ragdoll revealing that now, with no quirk, she doesn’t feel so immensely overwhelmed with all the information of varying importance, is what keeps him grounded, as he searches for an object decently sharp to draw blood, but not as awfully filthy that he’s at the brink of developing an infection before he even manages to clean the self-inflicted gash.
It makes sense. Thinking back on it, from all the footage of the Wild, Wild Pussycats he’d seen, it was clear that the more ugly and bloody the scene, the more dizzy Ragdoll seemed. He’d chalked it up to normal body reactions caused by working at a site so brutal, even after so many years of experience, but he must’ve been wrong. It would be plausible for it to actually be quirk overload. If Search registers all the parts of the body, it must also track the enormous amount of all the different blood flecks. Displaying the target at multiple places at once. The heroine must’ve found ways around it, presumably concluding that if the blob is moving, it must be the true body of the victim. Though she’d been able to correctly locate even the motionless unconscious civilians, meaning she’d trained hard with the quirk for her to find them, after Search had informed her of their passed-out state.
He can use that. For a new user, regardless of intelligence, it should take some time to grasp. He’s not naive enough to think All for One isn’t in some way aware of that, but he could use it to stunt his progress on locating him, giving him at least enough time to get a considerable amount away. The demon king himself at Kamino had given his reasoning for not stealing Best Jeanist’s quirk. ‘A quirk powerful due to the intricate skills and hard work of the user.’ Izuku knows All for One himself would definitely be able to grasp a quirk like that if he’d wanted to, but it wouldn’t be immediate. Meaning that at least not every quirk he steals gives him all the skill tools of the previous owner.
He reaches the end of the hallway, his body faltering a bit. He must’ve been on some kind of high when he was running, as he suddenly feels the weight of everything settling down on him. He is not sure if he could match the speed he’s just shown again. Meaning he has to be tricky about how he’s going to do this.
Now, All for One did have Search for months at this point, but still, he was stuck in a cell for all that time. Sure, he could’ve been using it for every second of the day, but beyond just spectating different moving blobs of colour, he wasn’t able to properly work with it.
Izuku doesn’t waste time standing idly in front of the door, and instead immediately reels back, crouching with his arms bent at the elbows as a means of protection, in addition to a helpful tool in gathering more force. A bead of cold sweat slides past his eye just as Izuku angles himself so his right side is facing the exit.
He will have to make use of his whole body if he wants to move those thick walls. If he were at his usual level of strength, he would have hardly struggled. After all, wielding One for All takes immense prowess; alas, his fatigued body was still unable to reach that level at the moment. It bugs him, though. He knows muscle atrophy is real and that the reduction in muscle mass can start happening in the first few days of immobility, but it’s been barely a week. He wasn’t aware it could progress so fast.
No matter. Inhaling deeply, Izuku can taste his salty, mucky sweat on his taste buds. Exhaling out into the air that still lingers with smoke, he rushes with his angled body at the door. A gust of wind lifting his murky hair, a squeak of his Tartarus-issued boots on the floor, a crack—
He knew it was open! First step achieved—
A shooting pain in his right shoulder.
Damn it, that crack didn’t come from the door, did it? He could only hope he didn’t severely fracture or damage anything; that’s the last thing he needs right now. It seems it’s an inward-opening door, then. What a way to find out.
Placing his grim-covered hands on the door, he starts roaming around the grey-ish surface. There’s a faint ache in his right shoulder, but it appears to be fading, thankfully. He isn’t able to reach the top due to his stature, but he doesn’t have to. He only needs to find some kind of nook, a bump, any kind of inconsistency he’d be able to take advantage of. His left hand catches onto a tiny raised bit of the cement right at the edge, in line with his waist, and his breath hitches. Grounding his feet in the ground, the next thing he knows, he is pulling.
As he’d expected, the exit had been left unlocked. The last thing keeping him away from finally escaping this damn section of the prison was the unsteady handle he had on the concrete. His nails are scraping along the surface, and cracks have begun to form on their sides as a result of all the pressure he’s putting on them. Not even using both of his hands was enough. He just needs to get a good grip—
A click, a screech, and those thick walls of the door are finally moving towards him. His fingers are a bit bloodied at the tips, flakes of skin lingering. While normally he’d curse under his breath, the only actual response his head could conjure up at this point is ‘not enough’. He musters all the power left in his throbbing muscles amidst ragged breaths, further widening the gap between the large cell door until it’s big enough for his body to fit through.
Now, Izuku has to acknowledge that even if he had been in tip-top form, with his base prowess alone, he would break a sweat. Not unless he used One for All… which is where the elephant in the room cropped up. He’d tried not to ponder it too much after he’d failed to use it in aid of breaking down his own cell door, knowing damn well it could not be ignored for long. He’s been utterly pumped with adrenaline, so zeroed in on only the next step of survival he should take at that time. Not that his whole bodily system wasn’t still flowing full of that chemical, but the panic had receded enough for him to properly think about different pressing matters, like, for example, where the heck is One for All?
He knows it’s not gone. The feeling of One for All thruming under his pale skin is there, yet muted. However, it seems better now. The first attempts to activate his quirk were met with genuine terror, as he had sincerely not been able to grasp a single thread of the ability. The thick fog separating the dread-filled him and One for All has been steadily dissipating, as though in parallel with his fading muscle weakness. He still can’t dip into the deep well that he knows the quirk is; nevertheless, he’s sure it won’t be long before he’s sprinting down the cyan-illuminated hallways.
Focus, Izuku. Just because you can concentrate properly now doesn’t mean you should use it for your self-indulgent tangents and muttering.
The gap he’d made for himself is perfect, and he has no problem fitting through. Reaching the other side, the deafening sirens and flashing red lights are just as prominent. His eyes look around the place he’s found himself in, or rather, another hallway. An extraordinarily thrashed, redly illuminated, otherwise dark hallway. It makes sense, in regard. The corridor he’d just been in wasn’t completely battered and in disarray, because there wasn’t what to destroy. Only a vacant hallway. Not to mention all the inmates must have been eager to leave their cells as soon as possible, in addition to the League most definitely urging everyone to get out first before attacking one another, to cause as much chaos and trouble to the guards. Resulting in the hindrance of the staff, while the members of the League, and whoever else was involved, had gotten a considerable portion off their plate. The same desolate space waiting to be filled with more delicate tasks.
Great. Just incredible, considering he himself is most definitely such a delicate task. He’d hardly put it past All for One to initiate an encounter during a spectacular opportunity like the one he has found himself in. His cell door being locked was just the nail in the coffin, confirming all his worst fears.
Not his worst fears. Izuku corrects himself. Mom, All Might and all his friends are safe, far, far away.
Oh god, they were alright, weren’t they? A Tartarus break-out on this scale would not have been possible without a preposterous incident happening outside the walls, don’t tell him they—
A glint of a sharp metal.
His whole body stiffened, eyes snapping to the floor. On his right, he could see the remains of what was some kind of machinery. Now that he thought about it, it was not the only one; the entire hallway seemed to be littered with such broken pieces. Before, he could see just useless debris; now, he can’t help the spike of curiosity crying for an investigation.
What was this place? If it were right outside the corridor for the highly dangerous individuals, and god didn’t that hurt, then it must have been for a reason. What was its use? Was the purpose of the machines to help contain the prisoners? Or study them? Their quirks? Could it possibly scan brain activity? If so, did they compare that to the quirk use? He had read various research studies on the correlation of the brain and the different ways it reacts depending on the type of quirk and other complex—
Sharp metal, Izuku.
Crouching beside the scraps, he can see the fragment properly, and upon closer inspection, the sleek shine it still has. Brushing his hand over the piece of metal, an almost triangular shape, but far too long and round to be called that, he can feel the slight roughness. Picking it up, he brings it to his eyes and shifts it in his right hand.
No rust.
Izuku doesn’t hesitate.
The pain is quick, the slash brief, the blood dripping. He needs a considerable amount of blood for it to possibly work, but at the same time, he cannot incapacitate himself. Thus, his place of choice. The palm.
Although he would rather have a painless hand ready for defence or for holding something, ideally a weapon, this was the best option he could think of on the spot. The next step was the choice of traces he would leave behind. The objective was to stall. He knows he could not keep it up forever. All for One was no fool; nevertheless, he couldn’t help but cling to the fickle hope that it would be enough to keep him out of the immediate danger. Sure, he is in an active riot consisting of the most dangerous and volatile people, while the building is most likely literally on fire, but in his not-so-humble opinion, it did not hold a candle to just a quick brush with the king of the underworld, who just happened to have him at the top of his hit list. Not to mention, he is actively trying to find and neutralise Izuku, if the locked cell was any indication…haha.
At that thought, he visibly flinched. What did that man want? His quirk, sure, yet he could not shake the icy sensation crawling along his back. The measures taken as of now only seemed to be a means to contaminate him, not take him out, though he wouldn’t put it past him to want to inflict the pain and suffering with his own hands. Typical.
He needed to hurry; time was ticking, and the blood started to pour significantly. There appeared to be a circle of the liquid pooling under his hand already. Damn it, Izuku, you can’t keep getting lost in thought like this, no matter how demanding it may be, or how challenging it is for his mind to push through the muddy air to clarity.
Swiftly manoeuvring his right hand to catch on his left sleeve, he yanks. He needs to stop the bleeding for now. All for One may be blind, but he very obviously doesn’t have to deal with the obstacles a disabled person has to face in their ordinary lives. Still, he is fairly sure he can’t actually see; most likely, it is a combination of quirks working in tandem, but what kind? Infra-red? It would make the most sense. There could also very well be a sound-based quirk, vibrations? Those, in addition to other quirks, could not only make up for his lack of three main senses but far surpass them, which, when he thought about it, was not so surprising. Of course, the man would have access to such astonishing abilities; Izuku could only dream of trying out those powers, an ability to register the temperature of the world arou—
The torn sleeve is quickly tied around his palm. He intends to leave small pools of blood in certain places, but not an actual trail leading the way right to him, not to mention losing any more blood than necessary is a hazardous risk he will not be taking, especially considering the state he is in.
Now he has hopefully found a way to halt the progress regarding his whereabouts, leaving him with precious time to figure out how to actually escape. The geographical matter is a whole other can of worms; he was too anxious to properly open it yet.
Even if he successfully stalls All for One, he is pretty much on a stranded island. Sure, there is a bridge leading to Tartarus, but by the time he gets there, it’ll be flooded with vile villains, not to mention him running the risk of someone recognising him, that would be a problem. Unfortunately, he can not get out without navigating through the horde of villains, so he needs to do this discreetly.
Taking note of the gloomy hallway illuminated only by the flashing red lights, he heads the same way the wreckage seems to be going; it’s most likely the way out. Just as he was about to throw away the metal he injured himself with, he stopped, for some reason, he still couldn’t use One for All, better to have some kind of weapon on him. He may be in Tartarus, a prison apprehending the people with the most dangerous quirks, but based on how he couldn’t use his, they must be containing the villains with some kind of drug. He had never heard of a chemical successfully suppressing a quirk, and now he finds out that the prison privately possessed one? He guesses it is quite consoling that the criminals are so securely monitored, but the fact that he himself was under the same stuff… He thought they knew that his imprisonment here was just a precaution and that he wasn’t an actual criminal? And UA reassured him he would not be treated as such.
Shaking his head in hopes of stopping those unwanted thoughts, he tightens his hold on the weapon. Getting to the bridge is futile, even if there were no villains in sight. He’s positive that the infrastructure is built with all the possibilities in mind; thus, the decision was made to construct that as the only entrance. It has the capability to be effortlessly brought down if the right mechanics had been installed, which they probably were. Getting to the bridge is a dead end, then.
In that case, he needs to notify the outside. Chances are, they aren’t even in the know of what is happening; the League must have somehow interfered with the communication with the law enforcement on the other side. The alternative, much more dreadful option is that they do know and just are unable to do anything. But what could have happened to immobilise the task force so thoroughly? He wholly hoped all his friends were alright. And his Mom, oh how he couldn’t wait to feel her embrace. And All Might—
All Might!
Even if, for some reason, a lot of the heroes are unavailable, All Might is not on the front lines anymore. He should be able to contact and inform him of the situation, and then, thanks to his extensive connections, he can assemble a team ready to rescue him and mitigate the chaos. If so many of the Tartarus villains were to get on the street, it would be a nationwide catastrophe. Which is definitely something All for One is aiming for, a perfect cover for his escape. To stretch out the heroes on his tail like that, there wouldn’t be enough to properly search for him and the League.
Contacting either the law enforcement or ideally All Might, it is then. It won’t be so simple, though. Getting a hold of a device able to communicate with people outside of Tartarus in a place meant to be isolated is challenging, not to mention his ticking clock.
He staggers. Right, his ticking clock. Laying his choice of weapon on the chilly floor. He untangles the ripped sleeve tied around his left palm, looking at the wound. He’d been wandering around for a bit now, and with each step, he could hear the sounds of people fighting louder and louder. The bleeding has considerably slowed, a small setback, as he flexes and closes his hand, hindering the healing process and fully reopening the gash. Gripping the back of his wounded hand with his right, he orients his arms so they’re facing the floor. The flow of blood increases as he squeezes. Time for another spot.
He has almost reached the other inmates of the prison, which, after more consideration, was the perfect opportunity. If he wants to flawlessly stall Search in correctly finding him, he can’t just create more and more stagnant possible targets. With just one moving, it would be fairly obvious who the real Midoriya Izuku is. Hence, the next step of the plan. Getting his blood on as many people as he can.
Coming in contact with enough individuals definitely won’t be an issue. He is aiming for a place of communication afterall. Given the number of prison blueprints he has seen, he knows he needs to get to the headquarters; they for certain will have something with the ability to contact the outside. The headquarters are undeniably situated near the exit, or even are a part of the exit. So the very top of the building is his destination. And him knowing this is completely a result of the hero training and most certainly not due to him researching so much to win a particularly heated debate about the ways a prison makes sure no breaches in security are happening on a forum called The Incog with a person who, he has realised after stalking other websites, forums and his followings, was undoubtedly a villain, or atleast a criminal. Then again, it may have been the dark web, so go figure.
The throbbing pain flaring up from his hand draws him out of his trance. Following the repeated wrapping of the hand with the torn sleeve, he bends for the sharp fragment, and continues with his path, and could those damn reproducters and lights just shut up?
At least it’s not completely silent. The past week has been so still, he felt his very core weathering bit by bit. Turning right, he halts. He can see the door from which the sound of brawling is coming. He’s almost there.
One step.
Two steps.
Five steps.
His mouth is completely dry, his face paper white, his skin mucky from all the sweating, his feet nearing the entrance. Through the red flashes of light, he can make out that the door is slightly ajar.
He knows that the fighting is getting louder and louder, but he can’t hear through his roaring heartbeat. Do not bring attention to yourself, do not bring attention to yourself, just lay low.
The entry is right in front of him now, and he wavers. On the other side, crashes, grunting, screaming, and people crying out for help can be heard. His instincts flare up, but he stops himself. Not in here. He can not afford to be slowed down; the consequences would be fatal, literally. Not to mention, anyone seen fraternising with him by the League, or worse yet, All for One, is dead meat, fated to meet an end so brutal even the darkest pits of hell will seem like a paradise made in heaven in comparison.
Full of dread, he takes hold of the entryway. His grip is so tense that he’s astonished the structure is not breaking. He needs to blend in, be one with the crowd, the chaos—
Steading himself, he slowly pushes with his hand to widen the narrow gap, and is met with an area so vast it stretches farther than any of the UA gym halls.
The walls are filthy from all the smoke produced by the fire, so high the ceiling may just as well not be there. This place must have been the cafeteria, if the destroyed tables and chairs that were littered throughout this place were any indication. But even through the flaring lights, it was undeniable what was happening.
There’s a massive riot taking place, in which he can see so many villains, a majority of whom were imprisoned so long ago he wasn’t aware of their existence, and other A-tier and S-tier individuals he most certainly did know. Those who have been so malevolent that the news had to redact and blur nearly all the crime scene photos, those who were thought to be uncatchable, those who would not hesitate to slit a throat if it meant getting a good laugh.
Letting his eyes wander the room, he can see mainly orange uniforms. There are villains whose names he doesn’t remember, and other ones, like Ghosthand or Notrack, that he can make out with little to no difficulty. It’s a complete free-for-all, plates flying, quirks clashing, and concrete crumbling.
Oh, all the different flavours of quirks are right here. The most apparent being mutant quirks, so many variations. Is that a type of fish? They seem to have fins, yet have no trouble intaking oxygen via air. Normally, just on the account of a person having a water-type quirk, he would not assume the need for water to breathe, as a fish-like person on land is not an uncommon occurrence. The element that caught his eye would be the gills on the side of the person’s neck. Then again, they display no signs of struggle whilst chasing a—
He could have sworn he saw the air shift as that person wade off the fish-type quirk person. Possible air manipulation? There are various other possibilities, maybe sound manipulation? Or a quirk much more intricate? Perhaps an ability to shift the percentage ratio of the air composition? That would be highly powerful—
Izuku steps in and immediately ducks down, a glass flying over his head. Turning, he readies into a fighting stance, baffled that someone recognised him so early, though he is soon flooded with relief as he finds out the glass was just a byproduct of a heated fight next to him, not a targeted offence.
There are a few guards in disarray at the end of the cafeteria, but their feeble defences are pitiful. He stiffens; his mind is screaming at him to help, but they seem to be successfully escaping through a back door, so he lets out the bated breath.
Carefully, he hunches over and starts running through the chaos, blending in. Making sure to keep his head down, he jumps over the scattered chairs and all other kinds of trash. His head is spinning a bit, the taste of bile no longer dismissible, and everything is twisting; just flashes of orange, red, and yellow. And the muscle atrophy appears to still be a problem, as well as his inability to reach his quirk. He thought at this point he would no longer have issues accessing it, damn it.
The smell of iron is powerful; he makes sure to properly weave through all the obstacles in his way, one foot in front of the other, yet—
He stumbles and crashes into something hard.
“What the fuck you think you doin’, huh!” a gravely scream sounds. It must be the person he’d bumped into. Shit.
Bringing his eyes up, a pair of purple irises meet his own, shining under the light. The snickering face is littered with scales with varying shades of violet, black straight hair reaching just below the ears. His breath is heaving, his shoulders are slightly shaking, and his fists are tightly curled. The smeared blood all over his face and orange uniform leaves no debate about what has gotten him so winded; the man can be no younger than forty.
He has arguably a lizard-based quirk, due to the scales, but something feels off. The rest of the man’s stature doesn—
Izuku.
“Sorry! It won’t happen again!” He swiftly picks himself up and tries to turn left, yet stills as he notices the stranger’s face scrunch up after properly taking Izuku in. Has he recognised him? The man may be a new addition to the prison and could have seen Izuku during the UA sports festival. It’s plausible. He just hopes All for One isn’t going around, asking people to alert him the second they catch a glimpse of a green-haired kid, wandering the halls…
Oh no, there most definitely are people tasked with alarming and bringing him specifically to All for One in here.
“Why the hell is a kid in a white uniform?” The man mutters, looking at him as if he were a particularly difficult piece of a puzzle. The tension in Izuku’s shoulders uncoils a bit, and the next thing he knows, he is bolting out of there. Disappearing into the swarm of orange, he doesn’t notice the villain’s purple eyes follow him.
Now is the time.
He grips the white sleeve wrapped around his left palm as he runs—
And staggers to the floor as someone collides into him.
“Oh, you’re dead!” A piercing scream follows. His head snaps toward the yell, and he is met with someone’s back as they ram into a different villain.
He can’t help but be paranoid. Every voice, every angry pair of eyes, chilling him to the ground. What if his next encounter, he is recognised? It is very clear to him that the chaos unfurling all around him is the perfect cover, yet the sweat running down his face right into his eyes cannot be stopped.
Putting his hands on the floor, he can feel the ashes. His left palm stings from all the grim and filth it has just come into contact with. The sleeve, where is his sleeve? Izuku scrambles and tries to feel for the cloth, but he can not search as people pound their feet in their hasty need to run around. It’s futile and— where did his weapon go? He swears he— Trying to get to his feet, he staggers forward, but keeps on moving; the slash had reopened once again and started heavily dripping. His only consolation is that, like this, he will be able to quickly smear his blood on others, though now he needs to bump into people.
Steeling his nerves, Izuku brings his eyes up to ready himself to smash into someone—
No.
—and spots one of the people he had been hoping with his entire soul to avoid—
He is the most unlucky person alive.
—standing in the middle of a little clearing, whispers and crying from all sides, whilst he is laughing like a maniac with the fire roaring—
Muscular.