The Stars and the Darkness, Part 1

[Soundtrack https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nNSqG2oa2rA ]

Beneath the broad light of day, the best and darkest gather. Not conspiring like rats in the sewers, or in a dark tower, as the folk on the street might imagine. But here, in a brightly lit courtyard, overgrown with foliage. All creeds and colors of scum are gathered here, and even if Rescue Ray had carried out his duty as a Pro Hero and called for aid, an attack on a gathering such as this on such short notice- impossible. The Association, the Commission, nobody would be able to mobilize enough manpower in time. No, what he’s doing now is exactly what they would have done. Send someone undercover, to gather information. Divide and conquer later.

Except, is he really here to do that? To gather actional intelligence for the good guys? Rescue Ray- Dr. Alchemist- stands beside the invitee to whose party he belongs. A wanted criminal, Mr. Therapist, smiles and drinks punch beside him as if this were some casual office party. They are accompanied as ever by De Jais, the man’s expression as dour and stoic as always. Suslik had opted to stay behind, for fear that some part of his past might return to haunt him. Curious that he still remembers the broad existence of the threat the Bratva pose, even though the grisly details have been unwound from him. Was it a personal request, or standard practice?

By associating with these people, Ryuji grows closer to his goal. Not just his professional goal, working to assist his students at the youth center. His personal goal, working to understand quirks, what they are, where they come from. He knows broadly where of course. They are not of this world. They come from the stars. That much cannot be called into question. But the specific where? Space is vast, and-

“Oh my goodness!” a giddy exclamation from Mr. Therapist snaps Ryuji from his inner thoughts. “Is that Doctor Ivon Kintober? Oh it is, it is!” Clutching his red cup in both hands, he shuffles his feet excitedly towards the object of his interest. De Jais sighs and steps quickly to remain at his employer’s side. With equal curiosity, Ryuji looks at the titular doctor. With sedentary yet gangly proportions, the notorious ‘evil genius’ quirk scientist is having a boisterous exchange with a cabal of masked individuals that Rescue Ray recognizes all too well.

The Singularity Society. Four of their members surround a young girl who stands at their heart. Pale hair hangs down around a red masquerade mask that conceals her face, its color matching her garb. It is not Ryuji’s first encounter with the Society, or with their spokesperson. There was a time when he thought they might be fellow seekers of knowledge, but they had rejected his work as butchery, dismissed him as a blasphemer and a madman for subverting the natural course of quirk evolution.

Fearful of what they might do to his new friend, Ryuji follows Mr. Therapist to the clustered clique. They don’t know who he is, Ryuji reminds himself. The beaked mask and dark robes of Dr. Alchemist conceal him.

“And thus!” Dr. Kintober raises a finger, dark glasses concealing the sparkling eyes of a scientist ranting about his findings, “As the discoverer, I have coined these the Kintober Folds. I believe they are vital to understanding the energy source that fuels quirks!”

“And what of quirks that drain the user’s stamina?” one of the Society members asks. He wears a dark red cloak and hood, and a white mask that covers half of his face. Red spider lilies bloom up from around his neck like a lei. But it is no necklace- the roots grow down into his skin.

“Simply a faulty Kintober Fold, forcing the quirk to supplement itself with alternative energy sources,” the ovoidal doctor proclaims, “So a defective quirk! If you aim for evolution, you would be better off discarding it!” At his words, the pale-haired girl looks aside and down at the ground. But her disheartened glance brings her eyes towards the approaching group, and she raises her head again.

“Mr. Doctor Ivon Kintober!” like a giddy fan at a hero event, Mr. Therapist pulls out a book from somewhere, bursting into the conversation with scarcely a hello. “I was so hoping I would see you at today’s event. Would you be willing to sign my copy of your thesis on intercellular communication and emotional quirk regulation?” The Singularity Society members look at him with irritation for the interruption.

A second member, in a red and white suit and tie and with flowers blossoming from his cuffs, interjects, “We are in the-”

“Of course, my boy!” shouts Dr. Kintober over the objection, taking the book from Mr. Therapist and reaching into his coat for a pen. “Always a pleasure to see the younger generation taking an interest in the real sciences. Of course, the world would be lost without a mind such as mine! But if someone like you can fathom even a fraction of my vast and versimilous understandings, then perhaps humanity is not fallen yet! Ah, and a custom binding!” Clearly pleased at the reverence with which his work was treated, the doctor flips open the cover and signs the introductory page.

With sour expressions on the halves of their faces visible, the cultists endure Mr. Therapist’s interruption as patiently as they can manage. One of them, of the larger pair at the back wearing armored vests- clearly security or bodyguards- clears his throat. “And who are you? Another scientist?”

“Well I dabble here and there, but really I’m a man of medicine,” Mr. Therapist introduces himself, taking out a stack of business cards and beginning to hand them out. Dr. Kintober takes one, examining it and turning it over, while the Society member in the suit simply tucks one into his breast pocket. “They call me Mr. Therapist! If you ever need a pesky trauma to go away, or if you’d like a new skill, just give me a call! Mr. Therapist, that’s what they call me! So feel free to call! Hahaha!”

Patting his rotund stomach, Dr. Kintober asks in a faintly embarrassed murmur, “Do you know any… minimal effort exercise routines?”

Mr. Therapist just laughs again. “Hahaha! That’s a funny joke, Doctor!”

The man crumples his face into a brief frown before shaking it off. “And who are you? A colleague of this… therapist?” It takes Ryuji a moment to realize that Dr. Kintober is talking to him. The Society members seem to have the same question on their mind, eyes now fixed on him. Nerves thrum under Ryuji’s skin, and he’s thankful for the mask and hood concealing the sweat on his brow.

Clearing his throat, Ryuji tries to put on a different voice from his own for Dr. Alchemist, a more nasally one than his deep natural bass. It makes him feel like he has buck teeth. “You can call me Dr. Alchemist. I’m new to the… underground scientific community,” he explains, soon running into the problem of explaining exactly what he does without tipping off the Society to who he is. “I am a… biokineticist. I can alter bodies.”

“Oho!” rubbing his mustache between two fingers, there is another audible sparkle in the doctor’s hidden eyes. “So you could…” he pauses and looks around, lowering his voice, “Help with my problem? All that scientific research leaves little time for petty business like exercise routines, you see.”

Nervously, Ryuji fidgets with his hands and nods. “I, yes, I can, certainly. You can contact me through Mr. Therapist, he and his associates can arrange an appointment time. He serves clients in the mental, and I serve them in the physical.”

Mr. Therapist winds up and punches Ryuji in the shoulder, a feathery blow. “That’s why we make such a good team!”

“You can except to hear from me soon, then!” with an adjustment of his coat, Dr. Kintober turns away. “Now, I simply must get more of those little Karma Kakes before they’re all gone…” he wanders away, having already forgotten his conversation with the Society, much to their consternation.

“Forgetting trauma,” the hooded man scowls at Mr. Therapist, venomous spittle in his voice. “And shortcuts to improvement… It is through suffering and learning that humans grow, and their quirks evolve. What you suggest would make it impossible to achieve awakening. You are turning every one of your patients into an absolutely useless genetic dead end.”

“I’m sure all my quirk marriage clients would disagree!” Mr. Therapist fires back so cheerfully that Ryuji almost fails to detect the underlying hostility. It’s in his eyes, a sharpness that emerges from the bleary daze of his existence when something catches his interest- or his ire. Like the unblinking glare of a bird of prey. “Well, if you do not want to use any of my services, I will go and meet other prospective clients. Good day!”

Leaving the presence of the Society takes them indoors at last, where more villains and gang bosses are assembled. Mr. Therapist locks eyes on King Midas up on the balcony and smiles. “We haven’t even introduced ourselves to the man of the house yet. How rude. Come on!” taking De Jais and Ryuji by the hands, Mr. Therapist jogs ahead, dragging them along behind as if he were their overexcited child.