MHA: Dark Matter (EvilPen)

[ThierryScott]

Born without a Quirk. Abandoned by his hero father. Sold to a lab as a test subject.

Ken's life was never fair. But when his torment awakens a terrifying power—Dark Matter—he escapes. Not to become a hero. Not to save anyone.

He becomes "Ticci Micc": an S‑class villain who can phase through walls, steal Quirks, and erase anyone who threatens his new family.

Heroes fear him. Governments hunt him. And three dangerously obsessed women want a piece of his soul (and his bed)

But when Japan collapses into civil war and a god-like enemy rises, Ken must decide: burn the world down, or become the monster who rules it.

 

[ThierryScott]

I was breathing convulsively. My body was shaking, tears were streaming from my eyes, but I could not break free from my bonds. My eyes darted frantically across the white room and the equipment surrounding me, even though the bright lamp above my head blinded them. The only thing I could do was beg in a sharp, squeaky voice:

"Please don't, please stop, I beg you…"

But they did not stop. They had never stopped before.

For a long time, I did not want to understand when and how everything went wrong. I did not want to, but I understood. From the age of four.

Before that, Dad would often toss me into the air, saying what a cool and awesome hero I would become, just like him, while Mom stood nearby and smiled tenderly. Later, he began to look at me strangely and anxiously, asking if I had done anything unusual. I understood that he wanted to know whether my Quirk had awakened.

My father was a cool hero with a powerful Quirk. I always watched with delight as he teleported from place to place. My mother could enhance her body for a short time, though she did not do it often and ate a lot afterward.

Months passed. My parents started whispering anxiously and taking me to various doctors. At kindergarten, the teachers began to look at me with strange pity. As far as I remember, several people also watched a man in a wheelchair on TV, and my friends talked to me less and less and stopped inviting me to play.

I started ignoring this quite quickly. Stories and videos about heroes helped me, especially All Might, although my father began to speak less about his career. An exciting feeling burned inside me when I read articles about heroes and villains, their battles, and various videos about saving people. And All Might — the hero whose very presence gives hope and accomplishes the impossible.

Dreams of becoming like him appeared in my head less often, but I did not lose hope. My Quirk could awaken later, or in the worst case, I could become a hero's sidekick, like David Shield was for All Might. So I began looking for study materials for support course students at hero academies. But when I found them on the Internet, I understood nothing, and I had to seriously study math, physics, and chemistry just to grasp anything.

Still, my enthusiasm slowly began to fade. The material was dry and boring, nothing like the stories about heroes.

On my fifth birthday, my parents began to look at me with a new emotion in their eyes: disappointment. When I realized this, hopelessness and despair slowly began to consume me. They started paying less attention to me, just like those kindergarten teachers. Dad began arguing with Mom and appeared at home less often. Mom more and more often gave off a foul smell, the same kind that drunk adults had at parties.

And I tried harder not to be seen and read comics, articles about heroes, and tried to understand boring formulas and laws of physics.

It all ended three months before my sixth birthday.

Dad left.

We moved to another apartment, a smaller one. That foul smell from Mom was constant. Strange men began to appear in the house.

At six, I started elementary school. As soon as everyone learned that I had no Quirk, the teachers' gazes held only pity or indifference, and my peers held mockery and contempt. My desire to socialize disappeared.

I was consumed by the desire to understand why I had no Quirk. I did not have the extra joint in my little finger, yet my Quirk was absent, something the doctors could not explain. I decided to go from the opposite direction — not to understand the absence of a Quirk, but the reason for its appearance. That turned out to be even harder.

"To this day, the cause of Quirks remains unknown, but there is a theory that each subsequent generation becomes stronger than the previous one." That is how most articles about the emergence of Quirks through genetics and the accumulation of mutations began, or something like that.

Although nearly two centuries had passed since the appearance of Quirks, due to prolonged chaos and disorder around the world, science had not advanced far, including the study of Quirks.

While pursuing this topic and attending school, I did not abandon the exact sciences and also paid attention to those around me. If nothing changed at school, at home strangers began appearing more often, and Mom told me to stay in my room or, sometimes, to go outside for a walk.

Already accustomed to their sometimes loud presence in the apartment and the growing mess, I would lock myself in my room and immerse myself in the world of heroes and villains, dreaming of my Quirk awakening and becoming a hero on par with All Might. No, surpassing him.

One call from the neighbors to the police about the noise from us changed everything. The arrival of the police patrol shocked not only Mom and her guests but also me. After they arrived and inspected the apartment, the matter did not end with just a fine. People began to come and ask me various questions.

I was afraid of the unknown and the adults' new actions, as I had grown accustomed to them bringing nothing good. The court, testimonies from neighbors, school teachers, unknown men, my mother's confused and slightly guilty expression, people taking me away and speaking too sweetly. And their words, "your new home."

An orphanage.

Thus, my seventh birthday passed in an orphanage. I cried for the first week straight. My hope that if my Quirk awakened or if I behaved well and entered a hero academy, everything would go back to how it used to be. Mom would smile as tenderly as before, and Dad, ruffling my hair with a kind smile, would call me his little hero.

That would never happen again. I alone was the last idiot who believed it could ever come back.

The attitude of the people at the orphanage, as if on purpose, was no different from what it had been at school. Except here they decided to show me my place as someone "Quirkless" even sooner.

Still, I spent far less time here than expected.

After a month, the caregivers called me and told me to pack my things. Later, some man with a bushy mustache came up to me and began explaining something about an upcoming building renovation, a lack of space, which was why I would be moved to another place, and so on.

I paid little attention to what he said. What troubled me was that he spoke just as sweetly as the people who had brought me here.

After packing my things, we left the shelter and got into a car. As I sat down, I noticed the man take out and open a small jar. He quickly brought it to my face. I held my breath and tried to jump out of the car, but after a quick blow to my stomach and an inhale, I began to drift into sleep.

 

[ThierryScott]

Chapter 2: Work

[Yoishi Miura's Pov ]

Yoishi Miura did not think much about moral torment while working. Nor did he think about it afterward either. Unlike Doctor Takahashi, whom he assisted, and some of his colleagues, he did not consider his work a "great calling" or an opportunity to help "advance scientific thought forward." No, he felt satisfaction and pride in a job well done, but precisely as a job. He believed that sooner or later someone else could have done this work, so why should he not do it for good money? After all, he had graduated from one of the most prestigious medical universities not to earn a pittance in some rundown position where all the best spots were taken by people with Quirks suited to their fields.

Still, it was not his motivation that attracted Doctor Takahashi. What the doctor liked most about him were three things: attentiveness, pedantry, and the ability to keep his mouth shut. And the last skill was by no means the least important. Three days after graduation, when he was planning which job to take, his former academic advisor contacted him and said he could recommend a good place to work, but for that he needed to speak with an acquaintance of his.

Arriving the next day at the meeting place, a Chinese restaurant called the Blue Dragon in Tokyo, he was led to a private room. An elderly gray-haired man dressed like a typical office clerk was already sitting there. When Miura entered, the man stood up and greeted him.

"Hello. You must be Yoishi Miura? My name is Akayo Takahashi, and our mutual acquaintance, Reiji-san, recommended you as a young man of great promise."

"Hello, Takahashi-san. Yes, Reiji-san called me yesterday and said he had recommended me to you."

"Excellent. I need new workers for my scientific project. I can offer you a position as a laboratory assistant with the possibility of promotion, but for that you will have to sign a non-disclosure agreement. The pay, of course, exceeds the standard by one point five times. As for the topic of the project, which I can disclose before signing the contract. Have you heard about the scientific discovery made three years ago concerning animals?"

"Yes, that topic stirred up all of society back then. The possibility of Quirks appearing in animals is astonishing, though it raises concerns. It is a pity that further study of that animal is impossible, since according to reports it gained a mind comparable to a human's. Is the project related to that? To animal Quirks?"

For the first time during the entire conversation, as Miura noticed, the man's face changed slightly. Until then he had sat with a kind smile, carefully examining him. Now the smile became slightly ironic, and his eyes took on an expression as if he had just heard a joke only he understood.

"Yes, we will study Quirks and the possibility of their manifestation in various 'animals.' Although the occurrence of Quirks in animals is incredibly rare, judging from the data we managed to obtain from those studies, we have ways to increase the likelihood of Quirk manifestation. You are probably wondering what all this is for? It mainly concerns the phenomenon of Quirks themselves. Two centuries have passed since their appearance, and no one can yet give a precise explanation of their origins or a clear definition. About eighty percent of people have Quirks, yet we know depressingly little about them. We cannot even understand why those who have the extra joint in their little finger do not develop a Quirk. Research on 'animals' with Quirks could help advance our understanding of the nature of Quirks themselves. And I very much hope that you, Yoishi-san, will contribute to our cause."

The conversation itself continued for another thirty minutes, during which they discussed the terms of the employment contract and the possible work schedule. Yoishi himself was surprised and pleased to land such a profitable job.

The following week after signing the contract, he was taken to the laboratory complex. The first day was mostly devoted to familiarizing himself with his duties and the workplace. The complex itself is located in one of Tokyo's special districts, surrounded by a concrete wall with a security checkpoint, and the building looks like an unremarkable concrete box. However, the interior could surprise a casual visitor with its brightness and sterile cleanliness, divided by steel bulkheads, and someone more familiar with science would notice the advanced measuring and computing equipment.

After completing his orientation, Miura received a first-level access pass out of a possible three and was registered in the local database.

Over the next six months of work, Yoishi mainly observed the animals provided, recorded data from measuring instruments, performed calculations, and organized the information. Since the appearance of Quirks, doctors had to study fields of zoology that were previously mostly in demand only in veterinary medicine, because many Quirk users have bodies with signs and properties of animals. Therefore, Miura did not feel lost in this field, even though he had initially planned to work primarily with people.

He became very interested in the drugs that changed animal bodies sometimes to absurd and grotesque degrees, though he wisely refrained from asking questions about them. He did not meet Doctor Takahashi very often. On those occasions, the doctor mostly talked about medical ethics, the importance of research, the history of the first attempts to study Quirks. At some point, as if he had decided something for himself, he was offered the position of Akayo-san's personal assistant and introduced to a man whose face was hidden behind a medical mask.

"Yoishi-kun, I want to introduce you to the owner of a truly unique and incredibly useful Quirk for our affairs. Unfortunately, I cannot tell you his name, but you can call him 'Notary.' His Quirk is called 'Contract'…"

As it turned out, his Quirk amusingly resembled the "Unbreakable Vow," an unbreakable oath from the Harry Potter novels, which were popular even in the era before Quirks. The Quirk only works once per person. The condition that the target agrees to must not contradict their personal principles, exceed a certain volume, or be too complex to understand. After shaking hands with "Notary" and agreeing to "comply with the terms of the non-disclosure agreement," the Quirk activated, and Miura took note of the impossibility of ever forcing himself to reveal any information about his work.

Miura agreed to such suspicious conditions because he believed that when an opportunity appears before you, you must seize it, and only those who take risks can achieve more.

However, after learning what was being studied at the next access level, Yoishi began to worry about the serious potential problems for him. Big money and the chance to advance science were fine, but not when you fear the appearance of some hero or, God forbid, All Might, and your research subjects and test subjects are people, especially children.

[End Pov]

The young black-haired man sighed sadly and finished his simple breakfast, prepared hastily. After quickly dressing and getting into his recently purchased car, he drove to work. He could not be late today, because a new batch of material was arriving soon.

 

[ThierryScott]

Chapter 3: Sleep

Waking up was hard. My whole body was numb, and there was an unfamiliar weight on my neck. As my eyes pried themselves open, I saw an unfamiliar white ceiling with light fixtures and an inconspicuous camera in the corner. Touching the object on my neck and identifying it as a collar, I began to examine my apparent new place of residence more carefully. I hoped it would not be for long. Still, there was not much to see.

The well-lit white room, five by five meters and three meters high, contained a bed, a door leading to a toilet with a sink, and a transparent wall with a door that offered a "wonderful" view of an unremarkable light concrete wall across the way. Trying to distract myself from dark thoughts by examining my surroundings did not help much.

Judging by the fact that the people from the orphanage handed me over to these people, they either skillfully deceived the administration or have good connections and arranged everything in advance. In the first case, my disappearance might be discovered in a few days, and the police would be called in to search for me. In the second case, no one would look for me. I have no friends or good acquaintances. And who cares about or needs a seven-year-old Quirkless orphan named Ken Kayoshi, with both parents still alive?

Of course, there is still hope that heroes might appear who could take an interest in child abductors, but that would only happen when they find out these abductors exist and where they are.

Damn.

Maybe I do have a Quirk after all, and its name is "Misfortune," judging by the turns my life has taken. Dad left, Mom stopped paying attention to me, and then I was taken away from her altogether. No sooner had I come to terms with that in the orphanage than I was kidnapped.

Drip.

I, I, I do not know what to do. I have nothing. What do they even want with me? They are not going to run experiments on me like those third-rate villains from old comics, are they?

Drip.

Why is this happening? Because I am Quirkless? If I had a strong Quirk, I would be with Mom and Dad, watching videos of All Might, thinking about how I would get into the hero course, maybe even U.A. Academy itself?

Drip.

I looked at the transparent wall and in the unclear reflection saw a skinny boy with disheveled black hair and streams of tears — myself. Weak, small, worthless. This sight startled me and stirred anger. At myself, my weakness, at these people who kidnapped me.

The sound of footsteps interrupted my angry thoughts. I quickly wiped away my tears and began to wait. Soon, two men in white coats wheeled a gurney past my cell, carrying a boy tightly strapped down with unusual belts. Something about him struck me as odd. But more of my attention was drawn to the man who stopped near my cell, holding a tablet. Dressed in a medical coat and mask, the brown-haired man created the image of the most ordinary, stereotypical doctor, the kind you would forget within a minute of seeing him in a hospital. But his evaluating, cold gaze made me uneasy.

"So, test subject number twenty three, Ken Kayoshi. Let me inform you that for the entire time you are here, you will be an object of research and must obey us. I have been assigned to monitor your condition and conduct interviews about your well being…"

He spoke in a monotonous, bored voice, as if performing a tiresome but necessary duty.

"…you must answer questions clearly and honestly. Some experiments require you to remain conscious. One is scheduled for tomorrow morning. If you disobey orders, act unruly, stay silent, ask unnecessary questions, you will be punished. Here is an example of punishment."

During his speech, he took out a "remote control" and pressed a button. From the sudden shock of electricity and pain, I fell to the floor. With bulging eyes and convulsions throughout my body, I tried to breathe. The disappearance of the pain and current gave me the chance to exhale in relief and breathe heavily.

"Address me as Doctor-san. I will come to you before and after each experiment for questioning. That is all. Prepare yourself and be an obedient boy."

After he left, I still lay there breathing heavily, staring at the spot where that "Doctor-san" had stood. My mind was blank. Only five minutes later did I realize what had seemed strange about that boy. When they were wheeling him, his head with open eyes was turned toward me. There were no thoughts or emotions in his eyes, not even pain. They were like glass.

Minutes, hours, days, weeks — all of it blended into one unending stream of experiments, interviews, pain, fear, reproaches at my own weakness, and despair. With each experiment, injection, operation, and meal they gave me, I felt my body subtly change.

The first few days after the experiments, I felt nothing except a slight malaise. The man in the white coat asked me questions about how I felt in my limbs, during movement, any unusual sensations, headaches. I hoped and waited for a chance to escape or for heroes to come. I tried to ask questions about this place, but got silence or punishment. For experiments, I was put to sleep and woke up either strapped tightly to an operating table or immediately after the operation.

I suppressed the panic by devising escape plans, thinking about who had kidnapped me, recalling school lessons, heroes and their Quirks. About who that boy was, and whether anyone would look for him.

But gradually I felt worse. After operations, the pain in my body lingered longer. I began to feel nauseous, my thoughts became drowsy, and I felt cold. I told the man with the cold gaze about this and asked what was happening to me. He only recorded my words and asked more questions. His gaze remained as cold as on our first meeting. Hatred for him began to grow inside me.

Because of the uncertainty, terror paralyzed my thoughts, and my insides felt frozen. My screams, curses, demands, pleas only shook the air uselessly. Time dragged on. I no longer believed the heroes would come, and even if they did, it would be too late. I, I want to escape from here. Back to Mom and Dad, to make everything go back to how it was and how it should be. My thoughts became tangled and repetitive, and the experiments and monotony of the cell only made things worse.

Several days passed. Or not? I do not know how long I sleep after experiments, and there is no calendar or clock in my cell. Sometimes the man with the cold gaze would mention the time, but it seemed he was mostly reminding himself out loud.

I am tired of being afraid. I just lay on the bed and stared blankly upward. How I want to fall asleep and wake up at home. For all this to be just a nightmare, not reality. It was disgusting to look at my own body, which had begun to break out in sores. They itched terribly, but the man with the cold gaze ordered me not to touch them. After two "punishments" when I could not stand it, I learned better to ignore them.

Several more days, weeks, or months passed? It does not matter. Today I had a good dream. Maybe I should finish it? Yes. That is better than thinking again, worrying, and waiting for the man with the cold eyes. Better to sleep and forget everything for a short while.

 

[ThierryScott]

Chapter 4: Hunger

[Yoishi Miura's Pov ]

The research was not going very successfully, in Miura's opinion. Although some new data were quite interesting and could be useful in other studies, the ultimate goal of this research was still far off and required new resources.

In fact, when he was informed upon receiving second level access about the samples and the purpose of the research, Miura's first reactions were fear and quiet panic, though he carefully hid this behind an expressionless face. Then came thinking through the situation, possible prospects, and ways to get out of this affair. That the test subjects would be people worried him more because of the potential risks to his freedom and health from both hero society and his employers. Yoishi understood that in such matters, witnesses were not usually left alive, and the "contract" on him was not a guarantee of safety. Quirks varied, and the chance of bypassing the "contract" was by no means zero. But in any case, there was risk, and judging by the resources allocated to this research and the equipment available to far from all citizens, government people were involved. He hoped that useful and promising employees would not be disposed of.

The project's goal itself was to enhance people's physical properties and also to test the possibility of altering a Quirk for that enhancement. As it turned out, such research had already been conducted elsewhere, but the resulting specimens were either incapable of independent thought or excessively aggressive. To solve this problem, a proposal was made to prepare bodies for such sharp enhancement and to attempt to alter the subject's Quirk for this purpose. If earlier Miura would not have believed this possible, since the phenomenon of Quirks was depressingly understudied, after conversations with Takahashi and other researchers, as well as access to some of David Shield's research, he was no longer so categorical.

What Shield created, judging by the scant information about the "Quirk Amplifier," could have changed a great deal. The very possibility of enhancing a person's Quirk to a level exceeding that of professional heroes would dramatically shift the balance of power in the world. Therefore, it was unsurprising that the project was shut down and classified. Fortunately, Miura's superiors managed to obtain some data.

His further thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an alarm.

"Code three. Code three. All personnel must remain in the nearest rooms with locking systems."

The code itself meant that one of the test subjects had escaped from their cell. The nearest room to where Yoishi was processing analysis results was the observation room, as well as the location of the terminal controlling all systems on the first and second access levels, which included the aboveground floors and three underground floors. Quickly running into the not yet locked room, he wanted to ask who had escaped, but froze in fascination.

The room itself had several workstations with computers, but at that moment all the scientists and lab assistants were silently watching the main monitor, which showed an enlarged image of the corridor near the test subject cells.

In the middle of the corridor hung two figures. A lab assistant, dressed in work uniform with a mask on his face, kicked desperately in the hands of a dark creature that firmly held him by the head. The creature's entire silhouette was covered in a substance that emanated from it like steam and disappeared into the air. It was dark with small violet iridescences, making it impossible to discern its appearance. But at that moment, the most attention was drawn to the colorful streams of energy that left the increasingly feebly kicking figure of the lab assistant and entered the creature. This process mesmerized with its otherworldly beauty and subconsciously evoked quiet horror.

Miura snapped out of it at the moment when the body fell with a dull thud, and the small silhouette of the creature that had lowered itself to the floor headed for the door blocked by steel shutters.

The next ten minutes turned into a nightmare for the research complex staff. The creature, or as Miura had already figured out, test subject number twenty three, passed through objects and killed with a touch, with the interval for this absorption process becoming shorter and shorter. Bullets from the arriving security passed right through its body, and the security chief did not even have time to use his Quirk before the creature was quickly beside him and grabbed him by the throat.

But at the moment when the creature, having killed everyone on the second underground floor, headed to the next one, the strange substance emanating from it began to intermittently release, to the point that some parts of its body were visible. It began to shake and quickly turn its head. It took several steps toward the wall and disappeared into it in the familiar way, only without reappearing elsewhere. At that moment, Miura was sincerely glad that he had not been on that floor at that exact time.

[Yoishi Miura's Pov End ]

*

*

*

I had not been able to sleep well for a long time, not since Dad left. The best I could manage was to pass out without dreams, because they were always troubled. It was sad, because I remembered having good, peaceful dreams in the past. I had no good dreams right up until today.

Though it did not start very well, because at first I felt a powerful hunger. It was driving me mad, until I sensed something very tasty and appetizing. The whole world seemed to me like various shades of black and obstacles, but for me there were no obstacles, as I later understood. But that did not bother me, because I could see that tasty, appetizing, bright cluster in the shape of a person.

I grabbed him, but I did not immediately figure out how to eat him properly. I stretched out the process of eating him for as long as possible, enjoying the indescribable feeling of satiety and the unusual taste. After finishing my meal, I felt a slight sadness, until I realized that there were several of these clusters, but they were not all in one place. Then I finally understood — they were playing hide and seek. And I was "it." But they probably did not know that I could see them. Though that did not matter. I had not played hide and seek in a long time. It was fun. It was like unwrapping a gift, passing through obstacles to reach them, and a tasty treat awaited me, almost always with a different flavor.

I did come across clusters that thought they were "it," but I quickly showed them that there was only one "it" here, and it was not them. One of them was especially good, standing out with the brightness of his light against the others. I could not resist grabbing him first. After that, I decided to finish with the nearest clusters and head for the ones that were higher up.

Walking through the black corridor with different shades of darkness, I enjoyed this feeling of satiety. How wonderful it was, the main thing was not to remember that this was a dream and that my real body was lying in my cell with those disgusting sterile white walls, just like in this corri…dor. The walls had imperceptibly changed from black to that disgusting color. The sounds of an alarm began to reach my ears. This was returning to my usual nightmare. Soon I would be strapped to an operating table again.

No, no, no, no.

This is my dream. I do not want it to end like that. I will simply leave here. Yes, yes, yes, yes. This is my dream. I can do whatever I want, so I will pass through this wall, and they will not find me. Hahahahaha.

I walked through the darkness. Sometimes I felt like I was moving through some kind of pipes. I did not know how much time had passed or where I was even going. But I began to feel tired for some reason. So I decided to head upward. Soon I found myself in an alley near a pile of garbage, but that did not bother me. All the feelings in my body told me that this was not a dream. All my attention was focused on one thing — the sky. The night, cloudless sky with stars barely visible due to the city lights. At that moment, it was more beautiful than ever and filled me with a feeling of freedom.

 

[ThierryScott]

Chapter: 5 Alleys

I just wanted to stand there, looking at the sky, thinking about nothing, and breathing this dirty, smog filled air. But I had to move. I needed a place to hide, new clothes, and food.

Over the next several hours, I had to hide, search for the right stores and warehouses, and frantically learn and use my unexpectedly awakened Quirk. Moving quickly through the alleys, I tried to sense my Quirk more clearly. I tried to bring back that feeling of the surrounding space and of what had been emanating from me during that state. And there was a result, pitiful compared to before, but there was one.

That substance, it was inside me, flowing through my limbs, but it could not leave my body. When I tried to pass through a stone wall, the substance began to pulse at a certain rhythm inside my body. It was interesting, but I had no time for further experiments. It worked, and that was fine. Most importantly, it allowed me to break into a closed children's clothing store. I looked unsightly at the time, in stained white clothes issued by those medics, and with my head wrapped in some strange rag in case there were cameras. There I changed clothes and took a cleaner rag. The food store went similarly.

Finding a place to sleep was more problematic. I managed to find an empty warehouse with some tools, but I did not want to sleep on a bare concrete floor. I had to search for a nearby empty apartment, from which I could take a blanket and a quilt for my makeshift bed.

Settling in and quickly eating the stolen food, I lay down to sleep. Or rather, I tried to, because I started shaking with chills. The fear that they would find me and lock me back in my cell drove me forward and gave me strength all that time, but once I relaxed, exhaustion and confusion overwhelmed me.

Thoughts raced feverishly through my head, and it seemed that with a little more, steam would start coming out of it. I was full of doubt, analyzing and criticizing my actions, and thinking about what I wanted and what I was capable of. My first desire after escaping was to find the nearest hero or police station and tell them everything. Then a question appeared in my head: "What next?"

Well, I would tell them that I had escaped from some laboratory where they experimented on children. I would describe the appearance of that mustachioed kidnapper. Unfortunately, all the staff in the lab I had seen were wearing medical masks and identical coats. They would shake their heads, express their regret, and assure me they would find the kidnappers. Then they would send me to an orphanage, and a couple of weeks later, an orphan with an interesting Quirk would disappear. It was hard to believe in the law when I was kidnapped practically from the doorstep of an orphanage. So this organization had connections. I needed to hide from them, gather my strength, and kill them. I hated them as much as I feared them. I should have killed (absorbed) them all in that state. They were a threat (so tasty).

Stop.

Staring at my hands, I tried to stop the shaking. They were my kidnappers, so I did not feel sorry for them. But the main thing was that I had killed, and I had enjoyed it. As soon as my Quirk awakened, my first action was to grab the nearest person and absorb his life, savoring the whole process. A great start to a villain's career. Yes, I know that heroes can kill villains in extreme cases, though society condemns it. But they do not enjoy it. And excuses like "I was not myself" would not work — that is just self deception. It seems that with or without a Quirk, I could never become a hero. No one needs a hero who enjoys killing.

Well, to hell with that. No one saved me. I saved myself. I can only rely on myself and my own strength. And if to achieve my goals I need to become a villain, then I will become one.

***

In a deserted warehouse on the edge of the city, a boy wrapped in a blanket made himself comfortable and closed his eyes, hoping to lose himself in sleep, if only for a short while.

---

Four years later.

*
*
*
*

Night began to fall over the districts of Japan's capital, Tokyo. While for ordinary citizens this meant the long awaited end of the workday and the imminent return home, for entertainment establishments and people with criminal records, it was only the beginning of their "work shift." Perhaps the current state of the criminal world could not compare in influence and size to what it had been before the appearance of All Might, but as long as there was profit, it would continue to exist, luring both new "workers" and victims into its web.

A group of five young people walked laughing down one of the empty alleys. The leader, judging by the fawning behavior, was a blond dressed in a leather jacket and blue jeans, who at that moment was telling a funny story from his latest drinking binge. That was until one of his listeners, with scaly hands, noticed a child standing in the middle of the alley.

"Hey, brat, you lost or something? I think it's time for you to go running to your mommy. So get lost while we're still being nice."

Stopping, the guys looked with interest and mockery at the kid, expecting him to run away in fright. However, ignoring the scaly guy, the boy in a hoodie looked intently at the blond and, after a second, said:

"You are the villain 'Dissolver' Yakushi, right?"

These words made Yakushi and the others frown. At every robbery, he carefully disguised himself, and his Quirk, which allowed him to dissolve non living objects, was carefully hidden in everyday life. He even managed, with some outside help, to change its description in the state database. So being recognized by some unknown child was an unpleasant surprise.

"Guys, grab the kid. He knows too much. And you, boy, do not resist. Uncles need to have a thorough talk with you."

Yakushi said, looking with a cold gaze into the boy's red eyes and feeling a strange unease. When the henchman next to him, with bony eyebrows, headed toward the kid, he quickly looked back, fearing an ambush. But the sound of a falling body quickly brought his attention back, and the sight of a knife handle protruding from the henchman's eye socket made him jump back and reach for the pistol under his arm.

At that moment, the three other guys who had hesitated for an instant rushed at the red eyed boy. The first to strike from the right was the guy with scales on his hands, but the boy smoothly dodged to the left side, ducked under his arm, and with a sharp motion cut the axillary vein with a knife in his hand. One of the remaining two attacked with a knife in his hand, while the other clasped his palms together in a prayerful gesture.

The knife wielder stared in shock as his opponent's hand, harmlessly passing through the knife, grabbed and yanked his leading hand aside. Then he convulsively clutched his cut throat. The remaining man, no longer paying attention to his whimpering comrade with blood flowing from his armpit, spread his arms toward the boy who had suddenly become deadly. A cone shaped stream of fire engulfed one side of the alley. The screech of the burning man died almost immediately.

The fire Quirk user breathed convulsively, ready to confirm the enemy's death or finish him off. The sudden sound of a falling body made him spin around sharply. Yakushi, who had been waiting for an opportunity to shoot, lay unconscious, and the short silhouette was already aiming a pistol at him. Trying to quickly clasp his palms together, the boy cried out as he clutched his shot wrist.

The boy approaching him suddenly spoke.

"That was close. I did not expect your Quirk to be that strong. Judging by your past condition, you can launch at most two attacks of that power. But it does not matter. Your name is Denki, right? What I am about to do, you will not like. If you were not a thug, none of this would have happened. But History doesn't allow for 'what ifs'."

The red eyed boy spoke and grabbed him by the throat. Denki, who wanted to push him away, felt weakness and cold wash over his entire body. He stared in fear at the bright, colorful streams of energy, like rivers of paint, entering this… this monster. The last thing Denki saw before his vision was swallowed by darkness were the crimson, indifferent eyes.

 

[ThedudeManBro]

...huh. Hey @TikkyMikk , I found your alter. Go figure.

 

[TikkyMikk]

...huh. Hey @TikkyMikk , I found your alter. Go figure.

Click to shrink...

Lmao I was so confused until I read Summary hahaha

 

[ThierryScott]

Chapter 6: Daily Life

I looked with disgust at the body of the man I had just killed after interrogating him. Yakushi. That idiot, despite being careful about his disguise, had been acting too arrogantly over the past couple of months. Not only did he and his gang of imbeciles rob practically the same district over and over, they had also killed several ordinary people. When a robbery has no casualties, it usually only attracts the attention of heroes who care about publicity and money. In other words, the weaklings and the trash of the hero industry. But when people die, more serious players can show up, like Nighteye or Eraserhead. And in really unpleasant cases, vigilantes might appear.

Vigilantes are a problem. Not only are they experienced fighters, since the very fact that they hunt villains while hiding from the police and heroes proves their strength, but they also are not afraid to get their hands dirty. And some of them are not right in the head. I once saw Stain from a distance when he was killing another drug dealer. I never wanted to see him again.

Enough.

I have been getting lost in my thoughts too often lately. I must have picked up the habit from an acquaintance. The main thing is not to start muttering.

After glancing around the empty alley and listening carefully, I confirmed there were no witnesses. I grabbed my hidden backpack. It almost got burned by that Denki. I changed into spare clothes and stuffed the bloodied ones into the backpack. I checked the area one more time and headed to where this group of imbeciles had stashed their money. At least there was some use from them. Double profit, really. The local "businessman" who paid me to get rid of these noisy guys did not want to attract the attention of the authorities or heroes to this district.

It was a shame there were not more idiots like them. I could have made more money, and more importantly, I could have strengthened my Quirk and uncovered more of its potential.

I pulled my hood tighter over my head and quickened my pace, walking along streets with few passersby. In the first months after gaining my freedom, I got tired of the constant questions from kind hearted strangers and police officers: "Why are you out so late, little guy?" and "Where are your parents, boy?" I had to improvise, make up all sorts of lies, like claiming I had a Quirk called "Eternal Youth." In extreme cases, I simply ran away.

Back then, I frequently changed where I slept because many people wanted to catch the thief who could walk through walls. It was during that period that I killed a man for the first time after my escape. Believing I was untouchable, I decided to steal money right from under the noses of some villains. One of them managed to grab my hand.

As far as I understand, my Quirk allows me to create and manipulate a substance that exists inside my body since my Quirk awakened. I pompously named this substance, and my Quirk along with it, "Dark Matter."

One of its properties lets me somehow affect the space of my own body and a small area around it. This allows me to choose what can touch my body and what cannot. But this powerful ability has a serious limitation: I cannot pass through Quirk users or attacks that are imbued with Quirk energy. Either it is fundamentally impossible, or I am not strong enough yet.

Back then, that did not bother me.

The villain's eyes were bloodshot and wild from the chase. He stared into mine. His hand, covered in fur like a monkey's, squeezed my arm until I felt my bones creak slightly. Panic and horror washed over me at the thought of being caught and sent back to that laboratory. The thought of the man with the cold eyes asking me his questions again. I wanted to scream and cry, but more than anything, I wanted death for the one who had threatened my freedom.

A sudden movement toward the villain instead of away from him made him hesitate for a fraction of a second. That was enough for me to sink my teeth into his throat. Images of the past flashing through my mind made me clench my jaw even harder. A sharp blow to the side sent me flying two meters back and snapped me out of it. Forgetting about the money, my legs carried me away from there. The metallic taste in my mouth and the memory of involuntarily swallowing a piece of his neck were disgusting. Only two blocks later, in a back alley, I allowed myself to empty my stomach.

From then on, I became more cautious and tried to better understand what had happened.

Claustrophobia: The fear of being trapped. That was the answer I found in a search engine. It glowed brightly on the cracked screen of a smartphone I had "borrowed" from a villain. Quite ironic, given my Quirk, since the only thing that could stop me was someone getting a firm grip on my body. Well, knowing that something was wrong with my head was better than not knowing. Even if it caused problems later.

I noticed police officers running toward the alley with the corpses. I ducked into the nearest back alley and hid behind a dumpster. It seemed they had not seen me. I did not want to answer questions about what a twelve year old was doing out so late at night. I told myself that when all of this was over, I would lie low for a few months, rest in my hideout, and focus more on training and education.

Everything was much easier now than during my first year of "nomadic" life after escaping from that place. I was lucky to run into an information broker named Giran. Or maybe he allowed me to find him. I am still not sure. For money and for completing certain tasks, I was able to obtain information, some goods, and services. For example, I had to spend all the money I had saved over a year and a half on proper identification documents and a middle school diploma, which I supposedly completed early. That stingy bastard. Damn. Why did I even remember the exact amount of money I spent? I only ruined my mood.

The main thing is that thanks to Giran's connections, I managed to find trainers who did not ask unnecessary questions. There, I was taught combat techniques, knife handling, and firearms. And there were sparring matches. Many sparring matches. I literally beamed with joy when I gave my trainer a black eye thanks to his ignorance of my Quirk and the element of surprise. Well, that smile faded quickly once the trainer got serious.

The man was quite a character. Bald, dark skinned, built like a tank, nearly six foot five, with a vertical scar across his left eye and a face like stone. He only spoke about business. Any desire to ask about his life or anything other than training disappeared under his direct gaze. I think the joke about "a fork in the eye or in the ass" during our first meeting was unnecessary.

I also discovered new properties of Dark Matter. It passively enhances all of my physical attributes. And this enhancement is closely tied to how fit my body is. For example, if I trained my strength up to a certain level, then my Quirk gives me a certain boost. If I trained it higher, the boost is higher. These conclusions are frustratingly simplified, but for precise measurements I would need equipment that I have neither the desire nor the money to buy or rent.

So, this seems to be the right entrance, according to what Yakushi told me. This building could really use some major renovations. Still, it does not matter. I will grab the money from the stash in this villain's apartment. That "Dissolver" turned out to be a complete disappointment in combat, and I doubt I will ever need to come here again.

There is the money. Toss it in my backpack and head to my rented apartment. Everything else can wait until tomorrow.

How wonderful it is to sleep in my own bed, not on the floor or on boxes. Although, I once spent the night in a furniture store. I had to run pretty fast the next morning. But it was fun to see the salesperson's shocked face when he found me awake on a king sized bed.

 

[ThierryScott]

Chapter 7: Hated by Life

Two days had passed since the death of the villain called Dissolver and his gang. After sending proof of the job in the form of photos, I received my payment from the businessman's middleman. I spent those days resting.

Searching for Yakushi had worn me down. He worked in the same district, but he picked completely different targets every time. And despite all his caution, he got caught in the dumbest way possible. He got drunk at a bar, fell asleep at a table, accidentally dissolved part of the table, and crashed to the floor. When I was asking around for leads on Dissolver, I heard about this incident from a cursing bartender. I decided to check it out. Yakushi was a regular there. In short, it was stupid.

Anyway. I decided to listen to music and wait for my acquaintance to arrive.

I sat on a bench near the park and scrolled through a Hatsune Miku album on my new smartphone, looking for a song I had not heard before. My eyes stopped on one title: "Inochi ni Kirawarete iru." Translated, it means "Hated by Life." Heh.

My gaze drifted over the buildings and people around me.

The song started playing. The lyrics spoke of not caring about one's own death but feeling sad when others die. They talked about breathing indifference, about hating everything, about how "let's be friends" was the most hypocritical phrase. The news on a nearby TV reported a brutal murder in the city of Hoshu.

The song continued. It described an empty wallet, loneliness, childhood fading away. The singer said that if she became immortal, she did not know if she could truly live. Then the news anchor's voice cut through the music: "I regret to inform you that Aika Kayoshi passed away three months ago."

My mother. I had searched for her once.

A smirk stretched across my lips. Something inside responded with an unfamiliar feeling. The song said that life hates us each time. That the singer wanted to say goodbye to it all. But at the end, she said she still wanted to live, desperately clinging to life, because you are alive.

A loud noise made me look up.

A group of four students stood out from the crowd. Two of them were smirking at a fallen boy with green hair who was clearly panicking. The last of the four, a blond with a face like a villain, was saying something to him. When he finished, he walked away with his two lackeys.

I sighed, stood up, and walked over to the boy who was brushing off his pants.

"Izuku, I understand this is between you and Bakugo, but this behavior is really annoying. If you always let him bully you, nothing good will come of it."

Midoriya's eyes went wide. It was actually kind of funny.

"Hi, Ken San! I did not expect you to be here already. As for Kacchan, he is just in a bad mood today."

I looked at him skeptically and decided to change the subject. He could deal with his own problems. I was not his babysitter.

"Fine. By the way, I have told you many times that you can drop the honorifics. We have known each other for a long time. And you said you found a good place to train. Are we going there today?"

Midoriya's eyes lit up with excitement. He nodded quickly.

"Yes, Ken! It is a great place to train. A beach on the outskirts of the city. It used to be very popular. But I went there yesterday to check it out, and I saw that it is completely covered in trash. But cleaning it up can be part of the training. As the American hero 'Master in a Tank Top' said, 'Any intense work can be turned into a workout.' Oh, sorry, I need to go home and get some spare clothes. And did you see the morning news about…"

I listened to Midoriya ramble as we walked toward his house. I started to remember how we had first met.

It was about a year and a half ago near the site of a fight between a hero and a villain. I think the hero was Death Arms, and the villain had the head of a bull. I was amused by the resemblance to the Minotaur from Greek myths. But the fight quickly became boring. I decided to look at the crowd that had gathered. Some people were even eating hamburgers." Panem et circenses" Bread and circuses. Centuries pass, but people never change.

Then I noticed a boy quickly writing something in a notebook. Out of curiosity, I walked up to him and asked what he was doing. He began listing Death Arms's characteristics, the strengths and weaknesses of his Quirk, and the same for his opponent. I was a little overwhelmed by his intensity. But I kept talking to him, and later, as he panicked, we exchanged contact information on social media.

Over time, we talked often. We discussed his analyses of heroes and villains. At first, I was surprised by his constant energy and his complete lack of self confidence.

Then I learned that he had no Quirk.

For a moment, I felt lost. I wondered if I could have become like him. Then I realized that we were different. He had kept his naivety and his belief in his dream of becoming a hero. I could not have done that. Even back then, I did not believe I could become a hero. I was studying support course materials, telling myself that was what I wanted.

Shame over my own weak will made me want to sink through the floor. But my decision to support Midoriya came immediately. I knew he did not need pity or sympathy. He needed someone to believe in him and his dreams. I was not sure I wanted him to become a hero, and I was not even sure he could succeed. But I decided to support him, because no one had ever supported me.

"We are here, Ken."

I shook off my thoughts and looked ahead. We were standing at the top of a stone staircase. Below us was a beach covered in mountains of trash, broken machines, and old furniture.

But my eyes were not on the garbage. They were on the sea.

Slowly rocking waves shimmered with the sun's reflections, evoking something warm and bright. A light breeze cooled the air after the warm day.

I looked again at the trash filled beach and thought that by cleaning it up, I might become a little like the hero I had once wanted to be.

 

[ThierryScott]

Chapter 8: Training

"Come on, Izuku. We only have five more meters to drag this refrigerator, and we will have completed today's quota."

I shouted to Midoriya, who was covered in sweat and could barely move his legs. I hoped he would not overexert himself. That would be an unfortunate outcome for this training session.

"Just a moment, Ken. Ha. Just a little more. Let me catch my breath."

One week had passed since we started cleaning up this beach. Of course, first we cleared a space for warm up exercises and stretches. Dragging away trash would increase our physical strength and endurance, but not our speed or agility. So before each cleaning session, we went for a run, followed by stretching exercises.

I had been through training before and knew how to properly distribute my workload. Midoriya, on the other hand, could be wrung out like a wet rag. I often had to stop him from overloading himself, and then drag him back to his house. But this time, it seemed he would be able to walk on his own.

I looked at Izuku, who was lying spread eagle on the ground after finally dragging that refrigerator to the pile. Well, hope dies last.

"Here."

"Thanks."

Izuku caught the water bottle I threw to him and drank from it greedily. Over the course of our training and discussions, he had become more confident. It was a shame not confident enough to tell Bakugo to go to hell.

I was really puzzled by the relationship between those two. I could understand that Midoriya did not want to fight back because of his inferiority complex. But why did that Kacchan keep picking on Midoriya for years? That I did not understand. Maybe the way he said the nickname "Kacchan" kept him in a state similar to someone who had taken Trigger.

It was actually fun to tease him. The look of sacred horror on the faces of those around him and his reactions were especially amusing. Katsuki was so used to the respectful attitude of others that the slightest teasing threw him into confusion and provoked aggression because he did not know how to respond.

So, our first official meeting ended with him chasing me, trying to blow me up with his nitroglycerin sweat, and me laughing nonstop. I could not decide what was funnier: Kacchan's red face, ready to explode anything and screaming "Die!", or the sight of Izuku standing off to the side, looking like his worldview had just been shaken.

This time with Izuku had lifted some weight off my shoulders, relaxed me a little. But I did not forget my main goal, which was to become strong enough to destroy my enemies when the opportunity arose.

Over the years, I had not actively searched for that laboratory or the organization behind it. My strength was still too weak to confront them, let alone destroy them. So I tried to hide one ability of my Quirk, or rather a property of Dark Matter.

Dark Matter itself flows steadily through my body and pulses when I use it to pass through objects. I even named this ability "Choice," because I can choose what can touch me and what cannot. But the situation changes when I try to release it from my body. It becomes extremely aggressive, first trying to absorb everything around me, even the air. If that fails, it tries to distort or destroy.

I cannot use this in combat because it requires too much concentration. But the benefit outweighs the drawback. Any person's energy can be absorbed and assimilated, albeit with some loss, by Dark Matter. And the stronger the person's Quirk, the higher the efficiency.

What drove me to use absorption was that the amount of Dark Matter I would have gained from that guy with the fire Quirk would have taken me two years of ordinary training to achieve, based on rough calculations. And the more Dark Matter I have, the less energy I spend using it, and the higher the passive enhancement of my body becomes.

For a while, I was afraid that they might find me because of the known ability of "Choice," which I had presented as my Quirk. So I found out that while such an ability is rare, it is by no means unique.

Midoriya, whom I was now dragging home, would probably be horrified by how many people I had killed and how many I planned to kill. Even if they were all villains, criminals, drug dealers, and rapists, that did not change the fact that I am a killer who kills for power and my own well being.

Therefore, Izuku is only an acquaintance of mine. It would be hypocritical to call someone a friend when I cannot trust them with my secret.

"Good evening, Midoriya san. We are back from training. Izuku is a little tired, and so am I."

"Hello, Ken kun. I have prepared dinner for you. So sit down and eat with us. It is so good that Izuku finally has friends."

Midoriya Inko, a pleasant, slightly plump woman, moved actively around the kitchen, talking quickly and expressively. I think I understood which parent Izuku got his emotional nature and habit of gesticulating from. Rice, meat miso soup, and steamed vegetables began to appear on the table. Knowing that arguing was useless, I sat down. Besides, I genuinely liked Midoriya san's cooking.

Questions about family were a problem, though. I had to lie about living with relatives. Sometimes I felt sad about how easily lies and hiding the truth came to me.

"Thank you, Midoriya san. Sorry for any inconvenience. I have to go home now. My uncle asked me to help him with something. So goodbye. See you later, Izuku."

"Come again, Ken kun."

"See you, Ken. And… thank you for helping me train. I am glad to have a friend like you."

Izuku said this with a bright smile. In return, I gave my usual friendly smile, slightly narrowing my eyes.

"You are welcome, Izuku. I was happy to help you."

After saying goodbye, I left the home of this small but wonderful family. I sometimes even felt envious when I saw the relationship between mother and son. But it was more of a white envy. I had long accepted my situation. And I had no intention of giving up on my goals.

I walked toward the bar where Giran had asked me to come after sending me a message earlier today. I could have refused. I had paid him everything I owed him, that stingy bastard. But I did not want to lose the potential to earn money, gain experience, and increase my strength. After all, a large portion of the villains I had killed and absorbed were found thanks to him.

Even though he benefits from villains for his business, those who are too violent, uncontrollable, and openly disruptive usually disappear. So there is not much difference if they disappear with my help. I felt like a villain from old comic books who pretends to be a good, upstanding citizen during the day and becomes a serial killer at night. A life turned into an endless game of masks and walking on the edge of a knife.

"Hold it right there, kid. We need to ask you something. Our friends here saw you steal their stuff. As compensation, we will be taking everything you have on you. Any objections?"

Two men of an obviously thuggish appearance stopped in front of me, and a third began approaching from behind. I thoughtfully examined the thugs, remembering which district I was in and whether there were any hero patrols nearby.

I took off my backpack, holding it in my hands, flashed a bright smile, and said:

"Yes, I have objections."

I threw the backpack at the first two. I held my breath, made my entire body permeable to air, and drove a knife into the eye of the approaching opponent with a spinning kick. I drew another knife, leaving the first in the corpse. I turned toward the remaining two future corpses. My smile widened.

"You know, moments like these in a villain's life are starting to grow on me."

 

[ThierryScott]

Chapter 9: The Offer

[Giran's POV ]

Arms dealer, smuggler, racketeer, successful businessman, informant, broker, and simply a "good" and principled man. That is the answer a person would get if they asked Kagerou Okuta to describe himself in the briefest possible terms. Of course, only if that person actually pleased the man known in the criminal underworld as Giran.

Such thoughts and dozens of others floated through the consciousness of the lazy, cigarette smoking "good" man as he waited in one of his favorite bars. He was calmly relaxing, slowly tuning himself for the work ahead.

After all, he could not afford to relax for long periods very often, given his lifestyle. In the criminal world, few people can allow themselves to unwind for long without the risk of ending up dead or behind bars. Especially a broker like him.

If he thought about it, Giran had already saved up enough money that he could shift to safer ways of earning money without his personal involvement. His sharp intellect would allow him to run a successful business. And the chance of running into heroes would drop sharply. No matter how good heroes are in real combat, their battles against corruption and bureaucracy do not go well. A few bribes to some officials, blackmail with compromising information on another, one frame up of an overly curious hero followed by notifying journalists, and suddenly that hero is no longer interested in a modest businessman.

That would be the correct move and much safer for him.

But Giran did not want that. The decision did not sit well with him, and he did not think he would achieve anything more than just adding more zeroes to the numbers in his bank account. While he prided himself on his intellect and life experience, he considered his most important and most useful skill, acquired over the course of a very turbulent life, to be his ability to assess people. Their potential, their character, their quirks and inclinations.

After talking face to face, the broker could tell whether he should deal with a person or whether he should avoid them entirely. This was the reason he had stayed afloat when smarter and luckier men had lost their lives or their freedom. He liked finding interesting people and predicting their future achievements. And also directing them along the path that suited him. Of course, he had his failures, but who has not made mistakes in life?

And now he was waiting for the arrival of a very interesting young talent. Unfortunately, information about him was scarce.

Ken Hoshino, formerly Ken Kayoshi, known in the criminal world as Ticci Micc. Giran had racked his brain for a long time trying to figure out why he had chosen that particular "working" name, until he found an old manga from before the era of Quirks called D.Gray man. He appreciated the irony. And the preference for taking the names of fictional heroes and villains was popular in the early years of Quirks. Though he had not lived through that time, unlike him.

But he was talking about an unusual kid now. Rumors about a dwarf stealing everything in sight had started spreading quickly four years ago. At first, he was not too interested. Just another bearer of a decent Quirk who decided to take the easy way to make money. Most of them were quickly caught by heroes.

But when the dwarf lasted longer than seven months and even started stealing from other villains, Giran became interested. And he laughed for a long time, realizing that a nine year old boy was successfully stealing from famous, adult villains right under their noses. Oh, he would have paid good money to see their faces when they discovered all their cash was missing. He even began to think that the boy's survival instinct had completely atrophied. So he decided to get in touch with him.

That was a bit difficult, because despite his audacity, the boy was quite timid.

From there, a business relationship developed between them. And for someone with such a useful Quirk as "Choice," finding a use in "dark" dealings was quite easy. It was clear that Ken was hiding a lot and was afraid of some organization. The naive boy sincerely believed that he had managed to hide that from Giran.

The broker himself had never been able to learn much about that organization. Only that they needed a lot of children for a while and that they had cooperated for a time with Daruma Ujiko. Though that was not saying much. That long lived old man liked to participate in experiments and then step aside and watch the results. And those results often made Giran quite uneasy.

As for the boy, Okuta had recommended a good hired mercenary to him as a trainer, someone whose last job had not gone very well, since he had fled to Japan in a hurry and needed money. Plus, it would be good to hear his opinion on the boy's skills. The broker always tried to listen to the opinions of professionals. Excessive pride never ended well for those who possessed it.

Giran was even sometimes surprised by his own interest in Ken's future. Though the active phase of his plan was still two or three years away. And no major or interesting business was expected during that time. So it would be interesting to set the boy on the right path, so to speak. And, of course, with profit for himself. He enjoyed watching the boy try in vain to hide his greed and indignation at the prices of goods and services. He even managed to secretly take a photo of his face when he learned the price for official identification documents.

If the boy survived, he could achieve quite a lot, especially in the coming chaotic times. And the broker intended to wait for that time. Maybe then he would show him this small piece of "compromising evidence" just to see his reaction. It should be quite amusing.

After glancing at the time on his phone, Kagerou took a drag from a new cigarette, lighting it with a recently purchased pistol lighter. It was a childish trick, but it sometimes made clients nervous when he pulled it out of his pocket. Returning to his thoughts, the broker began to consider his order.

Find potential recruits for the future plan. They were not rushing him, but he needed to prepare in advance. Among possible newcomers, only Muscular and Smog came to mind so far. One had made a name for himself by killing low ranking heroes, and the other was a recently emerged serial killer. Giran sincerely doubted the sanity of both. But what could he do? Problems with logic and mental health were common among villains who were confident in the power of their Quirks. And sometimes the Quirks themselves physically affected the minds of their bearers. The broker himself had been lucky with his Quirk. "Haze" had helped him out many times early in his "career." The Quirk itself allows the user to induce mild amnesia in a target by making contact with their head. Their memories of the previous five minutes and the next five minutes become hazy.

His further thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching his table. Looking at the time, Okuta broke into a wide grin, showing the gap where one of his front teeth was missing.

"Ken kun, you were almost late. I was starting to think you had decided not to come see your old friend."

"I ran into some minor problems on the way. And judging by the prices you charge me, the meaning of friendship is not that great to you, old man."

At this, the broker's grin only widened. In his opinion, the boy had managed to hide his irritation and impatience behind a sarcastic reply better this time than before. Not much better, but better.

"Well, you have to separate work from personal life. Every successful businessman knows that."

Ken's eye twitched slightly. He hated being given patronizing advice and lectures on topics that did not interest him. And Giran knew this perfectly well. Ken also knew that Giran knew this, so he said with a sigh:

"Fine, Giran. We could trade jabs for a long time. I did not come here for that."

Watching the boy's face closely, the man who had become a skilled killer began to speak.

"Oh, I think this will interest you. My offer is that you retrieve something for me from a police station in Tokyo. And as a reward, I will provide you with information on the whereabouts of the American underground space hero, 'Omnipresent'…"

The boy, who had been about to refuse, froze sharply. Already knowing the answer, Okuta continued.

"…formerly known as Kayoshi. Do you agree to this offer?"

[End Giran's POV ]

 

[ThierryScott]

Chapter 10: Preparation

He knows. He knows. He knows. He knows. The thought hammered in my head. Maybe he also knows about the organization? And would he sell me out to them for a large sum of money? I need to kill him. He is dangerous. No, first interrogate him, then kill him. Here? No, his associates or allies could be nearby, or there could be inconvenient witnesses. Wait until he leaves, follow him, capture him, and interrogate him. Then definitely kill him. No one must know about my past, so that the organization cannot find me. Yes, no one must know, no one must know, no one must know, no one must know. Everyone who knows must die.

I quickly suppressed the rising panic and the thirst for blood along with these foolish thoughts. I tried to keep my face indifferent. Of course, Giran reads me like an open book even with this face, but I am not keeping an indifferent face for him. I hate my weaknesses, and showing my true emotions when making deals with people like him is a glaring weakness. Being weak, given my goals, means death. So I must learn to hide my intentions behind various masks. Even if I failed to hide them this time and last time, I will succeed next time. Did not succeed? Try again.

Besides, killing the broker is an extremely stupid idea. I still need him. And an interrogation on my part would ruin everything. Looking directly into Giran's eyes, I said:

"Fine. What needs to be taken? And tell me the time frame."

"The other day, the cops and heroes detained a smuggler. I do not care about him, really, and he should have known the risks of his profession. But the goods he was carrying are very important to my acquaintance. They are quite rare medical drugs and narcotics. They are currently in that police station. Where they might be located and the layout of the building, I will send them to your email, as a favor. You have a day or two. The drugs themselves are extremely temperamental, and their shelf life is short. Bring them to the usual place."

The broker finished and took a drag from a new cigarette. After waiting a second, expecting a possible continuation, I stood up.

"Well, since I do not have much time, I will go."

"Good luck, Ken kun. Do not worry about the reward. The information is accurate."

He could not see it because my back was turned, but a mad smile appeared on my face for an instant.

- - -

Arriving at my hideout, a small structure on one of the rooftops, because storing certain things in a rented apartment would be stupid, I began to put on the costume I use for such jobs. Gloves, boots with steel toes, top and bottom with weak protective qualities that did not restrict movement, knives hidden in the costume, a holster with a SIG Sauer P226 pistol, and a dark mask with a wide red smile and eye holes. The rest of the costume was also dark in color.

While putting it all on, I tried to suppress my impatience and the jumble of thoughts. Expecting that after spending several months as a test subject I would only have claustrophobia out of all my mental problems was naive of me. I realized this when, instead of running away from possible opponents like villains or thugs, I started killing them.

It would seem that with my Quirk, I just need to grab what I need and slip through a wall or the ground using "Choice." So why fight and even kill? I asked myself this question and answered it myself. The desire to prove my strength, my superiority. At the expense of others. A rather petty, selfish, and immoral desire, ordinary people would say. And I would even agree. Because I never became confident in myself.

The nightmares, the fear, and the panic had been with me ever since the first experiment performed on me. They dulled and slightly faded during my time in the white cell. Despair and resignation made me apathetic. But after my escape, they returned with renewed strength. The fear that on a certain day my Quirk would simply disappear, as suddenly as it had appeared, still suffocates me. That I would become useless again, helpless, a second class citizen. I want to be strong, to be confident in myself and my abilities. But doubts grip my heart with a cold grip. It is as if another, smaller me is speaking in a nasal, confident tone:

*"All your strength is the result of your Quirk. Without it, you would not be free. Without it, you are nothing. Just a pathetic piece of cattle in the hands of the strong."*

This drove and still drives me insane. I wanted to pour out my indignation, my fears, my hatred on my enemies. To prove to myself that I am strong, both with my Quirk and without. And how can I do that without comparing myself to others? Sparring with my trainer without using my Quirk helped a little. But deadly fights with strong villains, when lives are at stake and all means are used, made me laugh joyfully or smile madly at the end. Because at those moments, I no longer cared about the fear of losing my Quirk or of being nothing without it. We used everything we could, including our Quirks, and the fact that I survived, is that not proof that I am stronger and more trained than my already dead enemy?

Even that Dissolver, I could have caught him alone and extracted everything I needed from him, and his gang would have simply fallen apart without him. But I wanted to test my strength in direct combat. Even though I also have to commit stealthy killings. I am not a fool, and I remember the main advantage of a villain, which I have become, over heroes. Secrecy. No matter how strong the heroes are and no matter how many there are, if they cannot find me and cannot hit me with their attacks, it does not matter.

Staring at my clenched fists as I waited to receive the information about the police station, I thought about the reward for this task. My father. I want to find him no less than I want to find that organization and the scientists. He worked in Japan for some time after leaving Mom and me, but later he flew to the United States and disappeared there. There was no news of his heroic deeds, and even before, he never really liked the attention of journalists and the public. Information about the families and personal lives and activities of heroes, if they did not want to publicize it, was carefully hidden by the government. Moreover, the policy of providing benefits and privileges to heroes is widespread in all modern countries, which has encouraged heroes to move from one country to another. In the past, countries with harsh conditions and strict control over hero activities quickly lost their strongest Quirk users, which was equivalent to losing military strength. Such countries quickly fell apart and were absorbed by more adaptable ones.

Finally, the sound of a message arriving on my email came from my laptop on the table. I needed to review the information and later go scout the police station itself. I should be able to make it there and learn everything I need before morning.

I looked at my mask, and my face smiled involuntarily.

Father, we will meet soon, and I have some questions for you. And your answers had better satisfy me. Otherwise, my reaction will not please you. Not at all.

 

[Billbo baggins]

Ok got a question. Is your MC evil or just a villain? I guess that question goes for your other stories as well.