Chapter 7 Incident Zero by Ya Boy Guzma

All things considered, I think that went rather well, don't you?"

Rikiya Yotsubashi strode through the expansive glass doors of the Detnerat Company headquarters with a beaming grin on his face, as if he owned the place. He did, of course, but the chairman was especially enthused by events that went on, even as his security guards tightened their grip on the batons on their waists and stared out of the glass front to the street outside and the crowd now surrounding the car he had just exited. As far as he was concerned, tonight had been a glorious evening.

His trusted employee Miyashita clearly disagreed. The marketing executive was wide-faced and bobbing up and down as he looked outside at a gaggle of protesters with signs who had set up outside of their office, unhappy at the inflammatory press conferences and changes to Hero society they had just witnessed. "You kinda painted a target on our backs there, sir."

Rikiya waved a hand, unconcerned. "Like all great changes, there will be a very vocal minority unhappy that they don't get exactly what they want out of it. They'll come around. And think of the potential for us as a company out of this!"

"Expanding into Hero support items now too?" Miyashita asked, shooting a little sly smile at his boss. "Or are we going to be one of those lovely private benefactors and run our own Agency now? Can I put a bid in for Mirko?"

Rikiya laughed. "Oh Miyashita, aim your sights higher! We are Detnerat! I've already arranged a meeting with Endeavor next week."

The rodent-faced man gasped. "You're serious?! Our profile will go through the roof!"

"That's the plan!" He clapped an arm around Miyashita's shoulder fraternally, gesturing in front of him as if the rest of the world lay at their feet. "We don't stop until Detnerat has the Number One Hero to rely on, and all those advertising opportunities. Add in the new Support school we're sponsoring and the Hero items we'll be making, and we won't just have a business, we'll have an empire to last for years to come!"

Miyashita cheered. "Excellent work, sir! And if you want to start with those meetings, may I suggest you take the gentleman upstairs as the first of many?"

Rikiya's face shifted slightly, and he clenched onto Miyashita's shoulder. "I have a few calls I need to make after earlier. Why don't you... clear my schedule?"

The rat-man didn't flinch if he was nervous. "He said you'd say that. The gentleman from Feel Good Inc was rather insistent. He believes he would have been one of your calls, anyway."

Oh. That certainly made things better. He could take that meeting, after all. "... You know what, I will meet him now, Miyashita. Give us an hour."

"Yes sir!"

As he strode to the elevator and held his thumb on the pad to travel up to his private office, Rikiya rolled his shoulder and cracked his knuckles, letting the smile drop from his face while the doors closed. That was enough pretence for one day.

They had lapped it up! So many of them! All of those meetings with the Hero Commission and the top Pro Heroes, and they ate up the idea that things should be stricter than they already were. It was stifling before All Might died, but now they seemed to have decided that the only thing to do would be to hurt people more, to rob more of their freedoms. Outcasts be damned, they wanted an iron fist to rule with, and they would not stop until they crushed those they were most afraid of...

Fine. So be it. They would only play into his hands that way.

His legacy had been one that was decided for him by one man before him. Years upon years of violent and bloody struggle, and one fateful text which had shaped his development growing up. He knew what needed to change, he could see the fatal flaws at the heart of this choking society, and he would be the one to act on it. To finish what had been started by a man he could only dream of living up to. To his father.

They wanted to be the oppressors? Really? Then he would be the liberator.

Rikiya Yotsubashi entered the elevator, and as the doors opened to the office of the Detnerat CEO, the Grand Commander of the Meta Liberation Army exited it.

Re-Destro groaned, allowing so much of his frustration to come out in one feral noise. "How insufferable. Remind me never to spend too long sat in a room with Endeavor in future."

The visitor looked up, the long fringe of lanky black hair obscuring his eyes from view, and sniggered. "To think he is All Night's successor? What a failure for Hero society!"

Re-Destro laughed, and brought his thumb to his forehead, lifting his finger in an L shape towards the visitor. "A pleasure to see you, Skeptic, my brother."

Tomoyasu Chikazoku, Head of Design of Feel Good Inc, grinned at the use of his codename, and met Re-Destro's gesture with his own L, with the hand not clutching a briefcase. "Re-Destro, sir. Thank you for having me."

"Come, sit," Re-Destro said, gesturing towards a seat in front of an expensive mahogany desk and sliding into the chair behind it. "How did you find the press conference?"

"That's actually what I came to talk to you about," Skeptic said, sliding his lanky frame into the seat and smoothing down his black turtleneck. "I watched it with a few others-"

"Some people I imagine who are on my list of important people to call, no doubt."

"Possibly. It's because of that I came here directly, rather than wait to speak to you over the phone. Some things are... better reported in person."

The pregnant pause betrayed his nervousness to Re-Destro, who noticed it. "You have something to report?"

"Mmm. Other members of the Army looked at the press conference through the lens of our ideals. The direction we have taken until now, the end goals of Destro as written before he died..." Skeptic opened up his briefcase and slid a copy of a well-worn, red-covered book onto the mahogany. Re-Destro didn't need to look twice to see what it was; he had been raised off of it after all. It was all he had left of his father. "And now, this press conference, with you in attendance."

"Ah yes." Re-Destro cracked his knuckles. "And that causes our comrades some discomfort?"

"Concern," Skeptic spat, bluntly.

"Concern? How do you mean?"

"Some may consider..." Skeptic paused, as if choosing his words carefully, and then sneered. "... That we may be standing behind an agenda which runs contrary to everything Destro stood for. That we may promote something totally against the aims of our organisation. That we forget... the goal of Meta Liberation."

"Some?" Re-Destro smiled glassily, seeing through the attempted delicate provision of anonymity by his lieutenant. "Promotion of an agenda? Trumpet, I assume."

He resisted the urge to chuckle as Skeptic's face twitched; he would win handsomely if he ever convinced the long-haired man to play poker. "Among others."

"But not you?"

Skeptic gave a curt, brief nod. "I do not waver from what Destro believed in. I never will. And nor do you. You see a way to finish what your father started."

Of course he would understand. Skeptic had joined the Army after Destro had been imprisoned, around the same time as he had begun to be tailored to the role of command, and his own rise to prominence within the Army had been mirrored by the rise of the Feel Good Inc board member. In Skeptic, he found loyalty and a steadfast conviction unlike any other member of the Army. "You see it too, then, friend. The path to achieving our goals."

Skeptic smirked, a strange look when his eyes were obscured by his fringe. "We're businessmen, Commander. Boom and bust are things we are very aware of. You seek to let society suffer, and then show them the light of liberation."

"Precisely." Re-Destro ran a couple of fingers over the spine of the book which had been placed on his desk. "Our mission could not succeed in the Golden Age of Heroics. The public became sheep, blinded by the notion of a Symbol of Peace. They were too content to let All Might be their guiding light to see that their own freedom was being eroded from underneath them."

"Then there was Incident Zero," Skeptic said, leaning back in his chair slightly. "All Might dies, and we find a vacuum."

"We find more than a vacuum. We find... opportunity." Re-Destro spun his chair to look away from Skeptic and stare out of the massive office window, across the skyline of the city; he marvelled at how the people in the streets below looked so tiny, like ants on a hill. "The Heroes were not ready. They were complacent and naive, and they failed to ensure that what came after All Might would be worthy successors. Trust is drying up."

He chuckled to himself. "Did you see Endeavor? The man is a brute and a fountain of rage, more devil than saviour. That is the standard which Hero society finds itself living up to after the death of All Might. One nail in the coffin, already."

"And yet if we were to move immediately to ramp up our campaign, the public would see us as the villains," Skeptic said, scoffing at the end of his sentence. "No matter how much we'd be doing them a favour, they would resist, and we'd feel the full force of the remnants of the Pro Heroes on our own."

"Precisely." Re-Destro swivelled back to Skeptic and steepled his fingers. "They're scared. They fear what could come crawling out of the woodwork and fear losing control, and as they watch the sands slip through their fingers, their only response is to clench a fist. It serves us very well."

"So we bide our time," Skeptic responded, rubbing his hands together. "Constant dripping wears away the stone."

Re-Destro laughed. "Have you been speaking to Trumpet more recently besides tonight? You're getting more philosophical with age."

He was met with a smirk. "I can neither confirm nor deny."

"You're quite right though. We let them do our work for us." Re-Destro ran a hand through his hair, and inwardly lamented that his Meta Ability was making his hairline recede at a greater rate these days. "Wind back the laws on collateral damage, and the people will see that the Heroes are happy to treat them as cannon fodder. Encourage them to crack down on vigilantes, and the moral compass at the heart of society starts to question why they would punish people for doing the right thing. The seeds of doubt begin to bloom properly, and soon where we had weeds, we have a jungle."

"They would still resist," Skeptic said evenly, and Re-Destro realised how much he liked that side of his lieutenant; he wouldn't be afraid to point out a potential issue if it risked being a detriment to Destro's grand designs. "The Hero Commission would have its own standing army of Heroes by that point. Any revolution would be met with repression..." He smirked. "But then that pours fuel on a bonfire, doesn't it sir?"

Re-Destro's smile grew wide and lupine; Skeptic really was sharp. "Precisely. The more they violently oppose those who speak out, the more ammunition we have to advocate for change. The only solution for society at that point would be for the Commission to step back, to let the people have their freedom back. Free Meta Ability usage becomes more popular an idea than ever before."

"And in the meantime..." Skeptic looked thoughtful, as if connecting dots. "We have a Support Academy to keep ourselves occupied. Branching out into the Hero industry is something which I know your company has been looking at-"

Re-Destro held up a bony finger to interrupt his lieutenant. "A valuable way of gaining data and identifying the weak points. But certainly Kuat Academy provides us with more opportunity. We raise brilliant engineers who can develop items to counter certain Heroes, we gain intelligence about their weaknesses from what they request, and we can mass-produce support items to arm our loyal followers for when the time comes."

Skeptic clapped, genuinely. "Then everything falls into our hands. Masterfully done, sir. Your father would be proud."

Re-Destro felt the well of emotion in his chest at those kind words. "Thank you, Skeptic. You have always done us a great service."

He watched his lieutenant run his hand through his hair, and saw the wild eyes of the zealot flash. "I'll handle Trumpet, sir. It may be that we need another meeting to adjust our message, but patience is a virtue. We've waited long enough, so a little longer to let the Heroes hang themselves isn't too difficult."

"No need. A simple meeting between the command should iron out any doubts." He felt remarkably cheerful at the developments, and reached under his desk into the bottom drawer, fishing out two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. A fine bottle from Scotland, kept only for the most glorious of victories. "A drink, perhaps, to celebrate? I'm feeling rather good about things."

"I'm not driving." Skeptic smirked. "One can't hurt."

"Reliable as always, my friend." Re-Destro took joy in the small things, and the slosh of the amber liquid into the glasses was a beautiful sight. He passed across one glass to his lieutenant, and raised the other. "A toast, perhaps? To liberation?"

Hero society was a wounded animal. Maybe, just maybe, if they let the wounds fester, then their time would come.

"To liberation."

Clink.

(***)

As he walked down the long and barren corridor ready to report to the Boss, black boots pounding against hard concrete, Hari Kurono was troubled.

Not, as it turns out, by the contents of the press conference which had just gone out that night. The Boss had asked him to keep an eye on the news to see what their new Number One Hero had to say, and how the law was going to change, whether anything would affect them. If anything however, the contents had been more incendiary to the adherents of the Hero system than to their little world. It was almost as if those in power were so preoccupied with the idea of vigilantes doing their jobs for people, or with the criticism they had been receiving, that the actual villains weren't important.

If that was how they viewed it, Hari didn't mind one bit.

They had grown in recent years, of course, no thanks to their rising star and young Boss. It wasn't just his willingness to take on bigger scores than they ever had, or the Quirk which had made them a whole new base of operations. It was down in no small part to the ambition to restore them to a position they hadn't been in since before Quirks had spread through society like wildfire, and they revelled in it. Because of that, they found themselves becoming big fish once again, as they had been in years before.

And yet despite that, despite the influx of new members loyal to the Boss, they had slipped under the Heroes' radar. The vigilantes who had emerged since All Might's death had a lot to be thanked for, truly.

Now if only he knew how the boss would react to the other news.

The echo of his boots on the hard floor stopped as he reached the door, the door only a select few chosen by the Boss were allowed to go beyond. Running a hand through his silver hair, he reached behind him and pulled his hood over his hair, tucking the largest arrow-like needle into the cloth. From his pockets, he donned plastic gloves, and a black mask with gold trim which covered not just his mouth, but his whole face. The black eyes of the mask gave nothing away, and the Boss appreciated the extra effort to keep clean, to avoid tainting the environment. The Boss was working right now, after all.

He swiped his keycard, waiting for the satisfying beep and thunk as the door permitted him entry to the almost-laboratory, the inner sanctum at the heart of their empire. Stepping through the door, he saw the intended recipient of the news, hunched over a table in the centre of the room with a tray of surgical equipment at his side, and bowed his head in respect. "Sir."

The Boss didn't turn to him, focused solely on the table in front of him, and Hari could see that his gloves were off. His Quirk was at work, visibly in front of him. "Chronostasis. Report."

Hari cleared his throat, not straying from near the door. "The press conference-"

"Closer, Chrono. I'm working here."

Chronostasis paused, for a second uncertain, before accepting the Boss's words and moving to stand beside him at the bench. "Boss. The press conference didn't mention us at all."

It was best not to concentrate on what was on the table. If you dwelled on it too long, on the bits that were still twitching and the slow dripping sound you could hear, it didn't help. Best to concentrate on the end result that would come of this. "What of the rest? The other groups?"

"We weren't the focus." Chronostasis folded his arms and looked at the ceiling. "They're more concerned about vigilantes. There was a lot about controlling the schools, eliminating the collateral damage rules, and private hero agencies. None of the Yakuza were mentioned at all."

The Boss made a little noise, and the downsides of wearing those masks were that it took Hari a second to realise that the Boss was smirking underneath it. "Good. The less they care, the more time it buys us, and the easier our work becomes." He paused, one hand lifting out of the mess. "Private Heroes?"

Chronostasis turned, and saw that hand drip with blood and flesh. "Agencies have a month to secure sponsorship. Anyone who has the money can recruit their own Hero for hire."

"As if all those people afflicted with Hero syndrome could have it any worse." The flesh on the Boss's hand pulsed as he activated his Quirk, a pool of purified blood now collecting in his palm. "See if we can locate one to pay through the side channels. It would be helpful to have a blind eye to help in the Trigger distribution."

He nodded. "It will be done." He paused. "Boss, there's something else."

The blood pulsed again as the Boss turned to look to him now, gold eyes piercing through him. "You sound... uncertain."

"This was... unexpected." Chronostasis met his gaze. "You remember the lieutenant in Musutafu I told you about? The one we were looking to bring into the Eight Bullets? Toya Setsuno?"

"Hmm... the name doesn't mean much. What was his Quirk?"

"Larceny. The thief who could take stuff out of your hands-"

"Yes." The Boss nodded in recognition, and Hari realised just how lucky he was that the Boss didn't think he was a tool like the others. "I remember now. What of our promising recruit?"

"Well... He's now Quirkless."

Those terrible golden eyes blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"There was... an altercation. A low-leveller brought him in, hysterical. Apparently they had tried to take on two kids in an alley-"

"Ambitious as always."

"I know. Only these two kids had bite. He came back in ranting and screaming, and needed restraining. We've tested him since with our own doctors and, well... he no longer has his Quirk."

There was a long pause, before the blood was poured into a glass beaker and placed aside. "... Is one of our products responsible?"

Chronostasis shook his head. "No sir. Everything which we have allowed to leave the compound is accounted for-"

"Eraserhead?"

"Nowhere near the incident. And as far as we know, his Quirk isn't permanent." Chronostasis would have offered a paper copy of the report to the Boss, but knew it would be declined. The Boss wasn't wearing gloves, after all. "This was. Our doctors said you might want to have a look at him, but from on a genetic level the Quirk Factor has gone completely missing. It's as if he never had a Quirk to begin with."

"Hmm... interesting."

Chronostasis waited silently for more from the Boss, but when nothing was said he cleared his throat. "Boss?"

"Keep digging. See if you can find anything about the ones responsible for this. And arrange a meeting between us and Setsuno." The Boss shrugged. "He knows a lot of our organisation. If he isn't able to give us any information, then he has served his use. I'll dispose of him before others find out what happened to him."

It was cold and brutal, and a while ago Hari would have blanched at the thought of what the Boss was saying, but he had seen a lot since he promised his loyalty to the young man in front of him. "As you wish, Boss."

The Boss' eyes gleamed. "This is a good find, Chrono. If this is the work of someone else, then find them. They could be a great asset for our future plans."

"I understand."

"Good." The Boss nodded. "Now leave us. I need to finish up here for the day."

As an ungloved hand reached into the mess on the table, Chronostasis turned his back without a word and walked away. That look in the Boss' eyes at the thought of an individual who could take a Quirk, remove it from their system and completely purge their body of the Quirk Factor... there was hunger and intrigue in those eyes. If this was a Quirk or a technique, then the Boss would want to see it for himself, and see what it could do paired with his own research.

The return of the Yakuza could finally be realised.

Slick.

There was a wet and gristly noise behind him which set his teeth on edge, followed by a pitiful choked sob. He should really be more used to both of those noises by now. "Please... no more..."

"Well done, Eri. You've been a very good girl today."

He hadn't seen Kai Chisaki, his boss Overhaul, look so excited in a long time.

(***)

The office was dark by now, the only light coming from the computer on the desk and from the dull orange bulb of the ancient desk lamp. The only noise was the tapping of the keyboard as the office's sole occupant hunched over the desk and added another paragraph to their latest piece of research. Nobody else would by come here into this dark corner of the world, nobody would disturb the work, and this was absolute fine by the lone writer.

They had been working on this particular piece of work for long enough on their own, after all.

The lamp flickered for a second, and the typing paused as the writer looked up. Senses very well attuned to any change in their environment picked up on a new presence where a second previous there had not been one, a ripple in the air a telling notification.

They weren't surprised, and didn't turn around. "You bring news."

The newcomer didn't waste any time. "I looked into the rumours. There seems to be some truth in the matter."

At the sound of that confirmation in that deep, eloquent voice, the writer saved his work and shut the computer screen off. His brow furrowed, his curiosity piqued. "The Yakuza?"

"A small-time lieutenant on a promising rise to the inner circle of the Shie Hassaikai. Toya Setsuno." There was a pause. "He is now Quirkless."

The writer let a whistle out through his teeth. "Permanently?"

"Permanently. The source of the rumours was most accommodating... eventually." Papers rustled, and were placed on the desk beside the writer. "Their own doctor has been looking. He tested the DNA."

Eyes well-accustomed to look for the key details skimmed the report hungrily, and found exactly what they had been looking for. "His Quirk Factor is completely gone... it's exactly the same."

"Indeed." There was an air of confusion to the deep voice now. "We didn't get this wrong, did we? He died-"

"Yes, he did." The writer interrupted, and turned to look out of the window at the crawling traffic on the main road outside. "We saw the body, before they burned it. He is dead, and long gone. But... this confirms the analysis. Those cells which I recovered from the body before they destroyed it, the ones I tested... they came back Quirkless."

"So it's true. Before he died... All for One passed on his Quirk." The visitor said, with an air of finality. "And it is now being used."

"Indeed." The writer took a moment to let the gravity of the revelation sink in, and revel in the satisfaction of knowing he was correct. He turned back to the computer, and unlocked the screen, tapping away to open a new file. "There's more. I picked up something on our little radio the other day."

"You did?" Realisation dawned on the visitor. "Surely not-"

"Listen."

The mouse was clicked, and static filled the air. The recording hadn't picked up anything in a long, long time, and both of them had been used to complete radio silence for a long time. Now, though...

"... Master? ..."

The visitor didn't have eyebrows to raise, but if they had they would have shot up in surprise at the guttural voice which cut through the static. "That's... but he shut down completely the day after Master died. Hibernation, completely non-responsive. And now-"

"Now sleeping giant awakens. Gigantomachia stirs." The writer turned in his swivel chair to look at the newcomer. "All For One has returned."

The visitor stood up straight. "What will you have me do?"

"Return to watch the Yakuza, for now. Stay to the shadows."

There was a chuckle. "That's not something I ever struggle with."

"I know. But you cannot afford to expose us. We continue the work, and continue to lie low." The writer gripped the chair handle. "The Yakuza will want to know how one of their own lost his powers. They will search for the source. Let them do your work for you, and they will lead us to All For One. And if you need assistance, if you must act.. come to me. Some of the creatures are ready; I will not have you act alone."

"Of course." The newcomer pulsed briefly for a second before pausing, bowing a misty black head to the man in the chair. "It was good to see you again, Doctor."

"Likewise," the Doctor agreed, nodding. "Stay safe... Kurogiri."

As Kurogiri flickered from existence and disappeared from the office, the Doctor rubbed his bald head and turned to face the window, again looking out over the city and the cars below. The world outside that window was full of unknowns and a society teetering on the brink, and now it had just thrown another unknown at him. This was every best-case scenario he could have hoped for, and his eyes hardened with resolve he hadn't felt in years; this was the thrill of the chase.

Now he had a Quirk to trace.

"Well well, Master," Kyudai Garaki murmured, stroking his bushy moustache with a ghost of a smile on his face. "Just who did you pass that Quirk onto?"