Clown Days 2
Chapter 1: Factory Raid
Kuchibashi Synthetics Factory, 1-3-1 Uemachi, Osaka - 0233 Hours
Ryusei's shoulder was absolutely killing him. The bullet had torn through muscle, leaving his dominant arm hanging uselessly. He pressed his back against a fractured wall, adjusting his grip on the bokuto in his left hand while his katana remained sheathed at his hip. Not ideal, but he'd trained ambidextrously for years. If his sensei could see him now, he'd get an earful about proper form.
Yeah yeah. You never fought killer drones, old man.
Sparks flickered from a half-crushed security turret nearby. Down the corridor, something collapsed with a metallic screech. This mission had gone straight to hell.
Two hours ago, Smokin' Sexy expected a clean raid. Four teams. Twelve pro-heroes. The intel was triple-verified—the old Kuchibashi Synthetics Factory was a front for the remnants of Area 19. What they hadn't expected was the labyrinth beneath. The moment they'd breached the lower levels, turrets, drones, and—worst of all—villains appeared. Ten high-profile names working together meant money, planning, intent. Now half the building was rubble, and the air carried a stench of shattered containment units. Ryusei stretched his senses through the smoke. Something—someone—was moving toward them.
His earpiece crackled—
"Sector five clear," Seiryu called out.
"Requesting medical in west corridor," Skycarver reported.
"ALPHA TEAM BREACHING MAIN LAB IN THIRTY!" Saurus bellowed.
A quick in-and-out, huh? He tightened his grip on the bokuto.
"Hey, Ryusei! HeyRyuseiHeyRyusei," Akagi called out beside him.
"Huh, what?" he'd been tuning her out.
"Your shoulder looks like hot garbage." Akagi rummaged through a medical pouch, her clown outfit looked out of place. She held up two rolls of bandages. "You're gonna love this. I've got… polka dot or periwinkle."
"Periwinkle," Ryusei winced as she peeled back the soaked cloth from his shoulder.
"Hunch down, tough guy," she ordered, unrolling the bandage. "By the way, this is the worst date I've ever been on."
"It's not a—"
"—And I dated a fellow who showed me my dead dad at a taxidermy museum!"
"Yeah, and I remember the guy you dragged into an underground wrestling match. He got hit with a folding chair."
"Oh yeah! The cannibal guy. That was an accident! Commander Eye-Patch had terrible aim!" Akagi protested. "Besides, I got free nachos out of it. And the date ended early. That was one of the good ones."
Ryusei chuckled and glanced at the blonde clown babbling. Leave it to her to try and cheer up a dark situation. But he could see the strain behind her smile, the tension in her shoulders. The past week had been hell for her.
"Thanks for coming. Wasn't sure you would, after everything that's happened," Ryusei said quietly.
Akagi's fingers faltered slightly while wrapping his wound. "Well, I'm sure as heck not sitting at home while those vultures circle my apartment. Might as well come get shot at instead." She tried for a light tone but couldn't quite hit it.
"How bad is it out there?"
"Oh, you know," she said, tightening the bandage with more force than necessary, "just every mistake I've ever made splashed across the morning news. The last four years of rotting on a twenty-four-hour highlight reel. The usual."
"And the kids?"
Akagi's expression darkened. "They didn't deserve that. Those reporters dug up everything – Sally and Yui's pasts. Some report on Hoge being an arsonist. They even had the nerve to run a reel on Chihiro's accident," She trailed off, her hands were shaking. "You should've seen her face. Like someone ripped her heart out. And there wasn't a dang thing I could do to shield them. The brats weren't there when I left. They're probably off doing who knows what. I'm thinking it's time to end the internship short. I'll let em' go when I get back," She forced a smile. "They're good kids. Too good for a washed-up mess like me."
"Hey," Ryusei caught her wrist, "don't talk like that."
"Why not? It's the truth. Things were finally going right, you know? The circus, the hero work, the kids... I was actually starting to believe maybe I deserved it." She laughed, hollow and bitter. "Should've known better. The higher you climb, the harder they knock you down."
"Akagi—"
"I'm a damn fool," she continued, voice barely a whisper now. "Thinking I could just... what? Start over? Leave the past behind? I tried so hard with those kids, Ryusei. Tried to be what they needed. And now they're paying for my mistakes."
Ryusei studied her face—this woman who'd dragged him out of his own anger and darkness all those years ago, who'd refused to let him wallow in self-pity when he was a brooding teenager. She'd been the light then, bright and unrelenting. Even when life had tried its best to beat her down, something in Akagi always bounced back. That was what had amazed him most about her.
"You know what I've always admired about you?" he said finally.
"My stunning good looks? My unparalleled wit?"
"Your hope."
That caught her off guard. "My what now?"
"Hope," he repeated. "Even in your darkest moments, there's this... stubborn spark in you that refuses to die. When everything goes to hell, somehow you still find a way to laugh, to keep going. You're the most optimistic person I know, Akagi. Always have been."
She scoffed. "Have you seen me these past few years? I was a walking disaster."
"And yet here you are. Back in the game. Fighting." He squeezed her shoulder gently. "Being depressed for so long means you appreciate when things are good. And they will be good again, I promise."
"You can't know that."
"Sure I can. Because I know you. Those kids aren't paying for your mistakes—they're learning from your comeback." He held her gaze. "So the media dragged up the past. So what? Show them, and those kids, what resilience looks like. Show them why you're Popsy."
Her old self flickered in her eyes. "When did you get so wise, lazy bum?"
"Learned from the best. This loud skinny girl used to follow me around, spouting nonsense until some of it stuck."
Akagi smiled. "Sounds like a real pain in the tuchus."
"The worst," he agreed, returning her smile. "And the best thing that ever happened to me." Her expression softened, and for a moment, they weren't pro heroes in a dangerous raid—they were just two kids on that hill again, the rest of the world fading away.
"Ow! Watch it!" The moment broke as she finished tying off his bandage.
"Such a baby," Akagi snorted, her tone lighter than before. "You know I only had THREE drinks today. Professional restraint. You can blame the brats for that."
"Well, I'm proud of you," Ryusei said, testing his shoulder. "And for what it's worth, so are those kids. Even when the world's against you, they're still standing by your side."
"Yeah, well. They're pretty special. But I definitely should've picked up less next time."
A shockwave rippled through the building, knocking debris from the ceiling. Somewhere in the distance, Saurus roared—the sound reverberating through the concrete. They met eye-to-eye and nodded. Back to business.
"Team Charlie ready to move," Ryusei reported into his comm, keeping his voice steady.
"Copy Charlie," came Impakt's voice, tight with strain. "Delta team pinned down. Bravo advancing to north quarter. You're clear to continue."
"Copy that." Ryusei took a deep breath, letting his smoke quirk probe further ahead. Akagi peeked around the corner again. "Clear to the junction. We make a break for it on three—"
"I can't let you do that," said a cultured voice from the shadows, perfectly timed with a crescendo of booming opera music.
"What the—" Ryusei began. discordant buzzing echoed through the corridor as a damaged speaker system crackled to life. The powerful soprano voice filled the air. The smoke parted like a curtain, revealing a figure perched atop a broken support beam. Tatarimokke—the owl villain—adjusted his impeccable black and brown suit with taloned fingers, then fixed golden eyes on Akagi with undisguised contempt. As the soprano hit a particularly high note, Tatarimokke extended his hands, palms upward. The dramatic sounds transformed into dancing flames— swirls of blue and green fire that illuminated his feathered scowl.
Tatarimokke
Quirk: Audio Ignition
Able to conjure and manipulate flames drawing on sound energy in the air, ignited by his own voice.
"Popsy..." Tatarimokke's head rotated unnaturally to face them. "You should have stayed in Kyoto, where the old relics belong."
Akagi clapped her hands together, bouncing on her heels. "Tata! Oh boy, it's been forever! Still mad we stopped your little bird heist?"
Tatarimokke’s feathers bristled, his talons tightening. The flames spiraled higher.
"You will pay for that humiliation, you half-baked atrocity"
"Aww, you remembered our special nicknames! Look, I even wore my good shoes for our reunion!" She lifted one foot, her oversized clown shoe honking.
Tatarimokke’s beak clicked. "One clown left unchecked—that’s all it takes to drag society into filth. It's time to put you back into retirement." His voice darkened. "Though I must say, your latest... publicity has been quite the spectacle."
Akagi’s smile froze. "It was you..."
Tatarimokke smiled and adjusted his cufflinks as the aria dipped into a mournful passage, his flames darkening and forming a wall of fire around all of them. "Information is a currency all its own. And certain media outlets pay well for a hero’s downfall. Your little circus has been quite the entertainment—though not the kind you intended."
The grin slipped from her face.
His beak clacked in amusement. "I have a friend who enjoys watching clowns crumble. And your interns—such compelling little tragedies."
Blue-green fire exploded outward in a massive phoenix shape, the heat forcing Ryusei and Akagi to shield themselves. The inferno reflected in their eyes as Tatarimokke dived, talons wreathed in emerald flames.
Ryusei exhaled sharply, his smoke billowing up to enshroud them both. "Stay quiet," he murmured.
From the depths of the smoke, Tatarimokke chuckled. "Hiding won’t save you."
"Oh, we’re not hiding," Akagi’s voice chimed, bouncing unnervingly in the fog. "Just making sure you don’t see me wind up."
Tatarimokke swiped through the haze, flames bursting outward, momentarily clearing the space. But in that split second, Ryusei struck. His blade flashed, knocking the fire aside as he twisted low, aiming for a break in the villain’s defenses. Tatarimokke dodged, but barely—the tip of the sword sliced through the air an inch from his chest. Popsy's enlarged fist followed slamming into his backside.
"FOOL!" The opera climbed toward its climax. Tatarimokke let out a low pained chuckle. "You still don’t see it, do you?"
Ryusei frowned, and fell back as flames encircled them. Tatarimokke's golden eyes gleamed through the haze of smoke and fire. "Poor ole' dear Popsy... you were always going to end up here. Dancing on a stage you don’t understand. You think you're in a fight, but you're in the third act of a tragedy. The curtains were drawn long before you stepped into the scene."
Popsy blinked, then gasped, clutching her chest. "Oh no! Not the third act of a tragedy!" She staggered back dramatically, then peeked between her fingers. "Wait, I dunno if you checked the script, buddy—this is a slapstick comedy, and third act means I'm dropping a piano on your head." She pointed up with a grin.
Tatarimokke barely had time to register the taunt before a massive shadow loomed overhead. His eyes snapped up—just in time to see a full-sized grand piano materialize out of nowhere and come hurtling down toward him. With a burst of flame, he vaulted backward, the piano slamming into the ground where he’d just stood, sending up a cloud of dust and broken keys.
Popsy whistled. "Ooooh, quick feet! Let’s see if they stay that way!"
Another piano plummeted from the sky.
Tatarimokke twisted midair, wings flaring as he barely slipped past it, the wooden frame splintering against the pavement behind him.
"One more for the road!" Popsy sang, flicking her wrist. He skidded to a stop, flames licking at the ground around him.
"Why are you here?" Akagi called out. "Playing bodyguard for mad scientists? That’s not your usual M.O."
Tatarimokke smoothed his coat. "Retainer work. Not my ideal partnership, but... let’s just say the investment has been fruitful. More than I ever imagined."
Ryusei caught Akagi's eye. Partners. Through the comms, Ryusei could hear the chaos unfolding across the factory. Rosethorn was locked in combat with Greenfinger, vines and trees broke out in violent spirals. In the eastern section, Saurus wrestled with what looked like a mechanized rhinoceros, the hero's scaled body straining against metal plating. Impakt traded blows with Breakdown, the master saboteur. Every major villain in Osaka, somehow converging on one textile factory. The coincidence was too perfect.
"They're buying time," Ryusei realized. "This isn't a defense—it's a distraction."
Akagi’s expression darkened. "They’re evacuating something."
"The labs," Ryusei said, pulse quickening. "East wing."
He turned—but hesitated. Tatarimokke was already advancing through the smoke cover, flames swelling with the music.
"Go," Akagi ordered, stepping forward. "Featherface and I have unfinished business."
Ryusei hesitated. "Akagi—"
She didn’t look back. "I’ve got this. Go!"
Tatarimokke lunged to block Ryusei—but Akagi was faster. Her arms shot out like coiled springs, locking around his torso.
"I'm fine," she cut off Ryusei's protest, elongated limbs pinning the villain's wings. "He's not the only one who's gotten stronger."
Tatarimokke roared, his voice converting instantly into blue fire that forced Akagi to loosen her grip.
"I will knock that damnable smile off your face for good!" he snarled, flames coalescing into a superheated cocoon.
"You said that last time!" Akagi shouted, pulling an oversized water flower from her lapel. "But this time I brought extra water!"
Akagi shot Ryusei a look. "Go!" He nodded and ran, smoke billowing in his wake. As Ryusei raced down the corridor, he couldn't help but smile. There she was—the Popsy he remembered from all those years ago. The one who faced down countless villains and disasters with a joke and a smile. The one who never gave up. No wonder the kids loved her. Behind him, Tatarimokke's enraged shriek mixed with Popsy's laughter, followed by the sizzle of water meeting fire. "I'll save you some feathers for a souvenir!"
Chapter 2: G-3
The emergency stairwell was unguarded—a tactical oversight. Everyone focused on the main entrances, the obvious routes. No one watched the service access. Ryusei descended into darkness, blade at the ready, smoke flowing ahead enough to hide his presense. A sign read - Level G-3. The heart of the facility. As he approached the laboratory entrance, a harsh cackle echoed from around the corner. Ryusei pressed himself against the wall, his wooden sword gripped tightly.
"Somebody's coming," sang a grating voice. "I can hear you breathing, hero!"
A gangly figure lurched into view—a thin, grungy man with a wild, unkempt beard and greasy hair that made Ryusei wrinkle his nose. The guy looked like he hadn't showered in weeks. He wore a lab coat several sizes too large, the sleeves rolled up haphazardly. Strapped across his chest was an arsenal of grenades, and in his arms, he cradled a grenade launcher like an eager child with a toy.
"Well, well, well," the man grinned, revealing a row of yellowed teeth. "Look what we got here! They told me about you! 'Smokin' Sexy' right?!" He sneered. "Big fucking deal. So ya have nice hair and chiseled jawline... but 'Smokin' Sexy'? What kind of ego do you need to call yourself that?"
Ryusei frowned. "Step aside. This doesn't have to get messy."
"Oh, but I fucking LOVE messy!" The man patted his grenade launcher affectionately. "Name's Jimmy. Jimmy Vinchenzo. The boys call me 'The Scumbag.' At least my nickname's honest!" He spat on the ground, face contorting. "And ain't no handsome piece of shit getting past me today!"
"Thanks?" Ryusei advanced forward.
Without warning, Jimmy fired a grenade. Ryusei swung his sword, connecting with the grenade and batting it aside. It exploded behind Ryusei, showering the corridor with debris.
"What the fuck?!" Jimmy exclaimed, genuinely shocked. "That's not supposed to happen!"
The next grenade came sailing toward Ryusei's head. Again, his sword flashed, deflecting it down the corridor where it exploded harmlessly.
Jimmy growled, backing up while firing another grenade. After deflecting the third grenade, Ryusei advanced, managing to land a quick strike across Jimmy's face with his bokuto. The hit connected solidly—should have knocked the guy out cold—but Jimmy only staggered back, laughing. "That all you got?" Jimmy taunted, wiping blood from his cheek. To Ryusei's surprise, the blow barely registered. The bastard's tougher than he looks.
As Ryusei moved in for another strike, his foot pressed down on something.
BEEP!
Pure instinct saved him as he leaped backwards, the landmine exploded nearly taking his leg off.
Jimmy cackled. "Try getting close now, asshole! The whole floor's rigged! The next three grenades came in rapid succession. Ryusei deflected the first, dodged the second, and had to dive behind a pillar as the third exploded too close for comfort. The concrete barrier shuddered against the blast. "Die already, you slanty-eyed bastard!"
Ryusei pressed himself back against the pillar, cursing under his breath. "Shit." The corridor was filling with smoke with each explosion, but it wasn't the ideal smoke for his quirk. And the landmines meant he couldn't get close. His bloody arm stung. He reviewed his options. He could run but Akagi and the rest of team were counting on him. If he failed, it would all be for nothing. The entire raid would be compromised.
Time for plan B.
Jimmy peeked over his cover. "Where the hell are you hiding? Come out and fight like a man, you coward!" Something landed with a metallic clink at his feet. Jimmy looked down, eyes wide. "Wait, that's not one of mine!" Ryusei's smoke grenade detonated, releasing a thick cloud of gray smoke that rapidly filled the corridor. Ryusei smiled, flexing his fingers.
"I'm gonna rip your fucking throat out when I find you!" Jimmy raged, coughing and sputtering as the smoke engulfed him. He fired blindly, grenades rocking the hallway.
Ryusei slipped his hand into the cloud, activating his quirk—Sticky Smoke. Immediately, the particles began to adhere to Jimmy's skin, clothes, and eyes like glue. "What the—" Jimmy clawed at his face, the sticky smoke making it nearly impossible to see or breathe properly. "What the fuck is this?!"
Now's my chance! Ryusei concentrated. The smoke began to thicken and compress, forming a dark, semi-solid path that hovered just above the mine-laden floor. Leaping onto the smoke pathway. His feet sank slightly into the compressed smoke but found enough resistance to support his mad dash. Using his quirk to continuously reinforce the pathway ahead of him, Ryusei sprinted across the corridor, completely bypassing the deadly traps.
As he approached Jimmy, he directed more smoke to cling to the wall, creating a ramp. With a burst of speed, Ryusei ran up the sticky smoke-ramp, defying gravity as he spiraled around the stunned Jimmy. The villain spun wildly, trying to track Ryusei's impossible movements as he literally ran circles around him, using the walls, ceiling, and his adhesive smoke to stay completely airborne.
Ryusei's wooden sword fell, as he drew his steel katana instead. Jimmy had just enough time to look up in terror through smoke-stickied eyes. "What the—"
In one perfect motion—the culmination of thousands of practice strikes—Ryusei executed an iaijutsu strike. The blade flashed so quickly it seemed to disappear, then reappear in its sheath. The strike was so clean, so precise, that Jimmy stood frozen for a moment before crumpling to the ground, his grenade launcher cut in half beside him
"Surrender," Ryusei commanded, holding his sword at Jimmy's throat and wiping sweat from his brow with his free hand.
Jimmy's face contorted in pain, then twisted into a manic grin. "Surrender? You think this is over? HAAHAHAHAHAHA!" He began to laugh. With a violent movement, Jimmy tore open his coat, revealing a complex vest of wired explosives strapped to his chest.
"Don't!—"
"Boom, BITCH!" Jimmy cackled, and jammed his thumb down on a detonator.
Ryusei pivoted and sprinted, diving around the corner as the explosion ripped through the corridor. The shockwave caught him mid-dive, hurling him against the wall. Sharp pain lanced through his leg as shrapnel tore into his flesh.
For several seconds, Ryusei lay stunned, ears ringing. Blood soaked through his pant leg. Fighting through the pain, he pushed himself upright and limped toward the laboratory doors, which had been blown open by the blast.
What the hell was in here that's worth dying for...
Blood dripped steadily from Ryusei’s wounded leg as he limped through the shattered laboratory doors. The air inside was cold. A numbing chill he felt thankful for. Rows of flickering monitors cast a pale glow over the wreckage. Medical equipment lay overturned, papers scattered like dead leaves.
And then, at the heart of it all, he saw him.
A tall man stood before the last occupied containment unit, his back turned, a clipboard in hand. Silver-blonde hair swept back from a patrician face, his white trench coat looked too clean. He moved with the slow grace of someone who wasn't in any hurry.
Tick. Another box checked.
“Subject 84-C, terminated.”
The words were spoken without emotion, a simple observation. But they slithered into Ryusei’s gut and made him pause. He forced himself to steady his stance, gripping his wooden sword tighter. “He was your bodyguard.”
The man in white coat sighed, adjusting his immaculate cuffs. "An outside contractor, nothing more. Quality help is difficult to find these days." He spared a glance at the charred remains of the scumbag. "Rather demonstrates the drawbacks of hiring based on enthusiasm rather than competence."
He turned his head slightly, glancing at what remained of Jimmy’s charred corpse. Not with regret—no, not even curiosity. Just mild distaste.
Ryusei gripped his sword tighter, ignoring the throbbing pain in his leg. Inside the tank behind the man, a blue-skinned humanoid slumped forward, a neat bullet hole centered in its skull. Five more bodies lay crumpled on the floor, executed with the same clinical precision.
Ryusei ignored the pain in his leg, leveling his blade.
The man sighed, as if Ryusei had interrupted an important meeting. He tucked his pen into his breast pocket and finally looked up. His eyes were glacier blue. Eyes so pale he barely seemed human. "Smokin' Sexy, I presume. Your reputation precedes you." His gaze flicked to Ryusei's injured shoulder, cataloging the weakness. "You're bleeding quite extensively. Medical attention within the hour would be advisable. If you leave now, you might avoid permanent damage."
"Thanks for the diagnosis, doc," Ryusei replied. "Keep your hands where I can see them. Step away from those things..."
The man smiled. "These subjects were failures. Rejected prototypes. Their elimination constitutes a win for both of us."
"I said, step away."
"You misunderstand the situation." The man gestured to the carnage around them. "You've won the day, hero. The facility compromised, research data destroyed, failed experiments neutralized. Precisely the outcome you desired."
Ryusei advanced, smoke curling around his blade. "You're under arrest."
“These subjects were failures,” he said, gesturing slightly toward the corpses. “Rejects. Errors in calculation. Their elimination was inevitable.”
Ryusei glared. “You murdered them.”
“You misunderstand the nature of what’s happening here,” The man tilted his head, just slightly. “Would you rather I let them out? I was cleaning up a mess. Executing abominations that should never have existed. " He checked his watch. "In any case, I have a schedule to maintain."
"Don't—"
The man adjusted a ring on his left hand. The air rippled around him like heat from pavement. The man took a slow step forward. Not aggressive. Not afraid. “You came here believing yourself the blade of justice. The purifying fire that burns away corruption. But tell me, Ryusei Sugiyama—” His lips curled. “Do you know what you’re really cutting into?”
“You're insane,” Ryusei said. “And you’re under arrest!”
The man exhaled—filled with something like disappointment.
"Congratulations on your victory" His hand lifted—just a fraction—but the air around him rippled.
Ryusei moved. Fast. Blade flashing forward—And slicing through nothing.
The man was gone.
Ryusei’s breath came hard and fast. His sword hovered in empty air. No sign of movement. No sound of footsteps. Nothing.
Then, from behind him, a whisper—just a breath against his ear.
“I hope you survive long enough to understand.”
Ryusei spun, but there was nothing there. The voice lingered. Behind him, boots thundered on the stairs. Impakt burst through the doorway, followed by the remainder of Bravo team. The German hero looked battered.
"What happened here?" Impakt asked.
"Target escaped," Ryusei sheathed his blade. "Unknown teleport tech. He executed the test subjects before I arrived." He gestured toward the bodies, feeling a twist of something dark in his stomach.
Impakt's face was grim. "Looks like they cleared out."
"The villains?"
"Retreated. Building's rigged to blow in sections—they're using the demolition to cover their tracks."
Ryusei knelt beside one of the fallen subjects, a somber weight settling in his chest. Despite the mutations that had warped its body, the face remained human—twisted in final terror. It had been awake when the bullet came.
"Media's already on scene," Impakt continued. "They've set up a perimeter around the factory. Official story is a chemical fire from improper storage of textile compounds. This operation stays classified."
"The man in the white coat—"
"Doesn't exist, according to our briefing." Impakt's voice left no room for argument. "Whatever was happening here had connections far above our clearance. The tech they extracted is gone."
"Damn... So they got away." Ryusei felt weak. They had followed protocol, done everything by the book, and still walked away with more questions than answers. "You know I didn't want to believe you when you said Area 19 was coming back..."
"I didn't want to believe it myself. But lucky for us Kraftwerk prepared for this," Impakt replied, before moving to support the injured Ryusei. He grabbed one arm and slung it over his shoulder. "Let's get out of here."
Chapter 3: Dino Roar
Tatarimokke hit the ground hard, skidding across the fractured concrete in a heap of scorched feathers and torn fabric. His breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps, golden eyes burning with defiance even as his body refused to move. A few feet away, Akagi wasn’t much better off. Smoke curled from her singed costume, the edges charred where his flames had grazed too close. Her blonde curls were limp with sweat, and every inch of her felt like overstretched taffy.
She forced herself upright, wobbling slightly before planting a boot—her comically oversized, soot-streaked boot—squarely onto his chest. And despite it all, her clown smile remained intact, that maddening grin which never failed to unnerve and annoy Tatarimokke.
"Was that your big finisher?" Popsy panted, forcing a grin through the ache in her ribs. "Bit of a letdown. I thought you'd at least set off some fireworks."
Tatarimokke coughed. Blood flecked his beak, but the sneer never left his face. "Enjoy this while it lasts. I'll bring you down. Already the public has turned against you."
Popsy chuckled. "Aw, you've been reading my mail?" She pressed down harder. "But let's focus on you, huh? Those orange jumpsuits do not complement your whole bird aesthetic." His talons twitched, but his limbs wouldn’t obey. He was spent. So was she. And yet, deep in his slit-pupiled stare, she could tell—he wasn't done scheming.
"POPSY! COULD USE... A LITTLE HELP HERE!"
Akagi's head snapped up. Across the demolished chamber, Saurus was down on one knee, blood pooling beneath him. The massive dinosaur hero had already been sporting a nasty gash across his chest from his earlier battle with Mecha-Saurus, and now laser burns crisscrossed his torso. A large piece of rebar had pierced his thigh. He was surrounded by Desperado and Recino—the mercenary duo who rarely came cheap—and a half-dozen Night Parade henchmen dressed in black tactical gear, their faces obscured by white NP masks.
Akagi surveyed the demolished storage area where the walls had collapsed during the fight. Saurus bleeding heavily from his earlier battle, Tatarimokke was trying to escape from under her foot, Saurus was in trouble, and two powerful villains had them cornered. The situation was grim, but she had to stiffle a laugh. Time for a classic!
"You know what?" she announced, voice carrying across the battlefield. "Everyone just calm down for a second! Before we continue this little fracas, I think we should all take a moment to remember something important."
Recino and Desperado exchanged confused glances. Even Tatarimokke stopped struggling.
"What are you babbling about, clown?" Recino demanded, her drone still hovering menacingly.
Akagi sprung into motion, her quirk activating as she bounced across the battlefield in elaborate cartwheels. With each landing, her body stretched and twisted, forming colorful metal pillars that sprouted from the ground like strange flowers.
"You know," she called, her voice unnaturally cheerful as she contorted between laser blasts, "society is really just a big circus!" Another pillar formed as she landed in a handstand. "We all play our parts—the strongman, the acrobat, the clown..."
"She's up to something! Get her!" Tatarimokke snarled.
Desperado fired off his rifle at Akagi but the clown's bouncy form was near-unstoppable. "Stop it!" Desperado roared, his jetpack flaring as he launched towards her, beam-saber drawn. "She's trying to distract us!"Akagi's movements became faster, more erratic, yet somehow deliberate. The metal pillars she formed began to connect, creating an elaborate lattice structure around the villains.
With a final flip, she landed beside Saurus, the last metal beam forming with a clang. The villains were completely surrounded by an intricately woven cage of metal pillars—a cage constructed entirely from Akagi's quirk.
"Sometimes," she finished, winking at Saurus, "the audience is part of the show!" Akagi put on her most serious expression. "But don't let any of that distract you from the fact that on this date in 2xx8, Saurus threw Mambo Mamba off the Hell In The Cell, and plummeted sixteen feet through an announcer's table!"
"...."
"...."
"...."
Popsy frowned at the tough crowd. "Whatever! He got it!" She pointed at Saurus. Ready for one more shot, big guy? Popsy' eyes sparkled.
"OH YEAHHH!" Saurus's body twisted and contracted, his humanoid form shrinking and elongating into the sleek, deadly shape of a Velociraptor. With impossible speed, he launched himself forward, claws scraping sparks from the concrete as he zigzagged between Desperado's frantic shots.
"Get back!" Recino screamed, her drone's laser cutting uselessly through the air where Saurus had been a split second before.
The raptor leaped, its powerful legs propelling it in an arc over Recino's head. Mid-leap, Saurus's form expanded explosively—raptor limbs stretching and bulking into the massive frame of a Tyrannosaurus Rex.
The transformation was perfectly timed. As Saurus crashed down, his massive jaws snapped shut around both villains. With a mighty heave of his powerful legs, Saurus leaped upward, using the metal cage as a springboard. The villains dangled helplessly from his jaws as he reached the apex of his jump. Then, in a final spectacular transformation, his body widened into the colossal form of a Mosasaurus—the ancient sea predator that once ruled the prehistoric oceans.
"NOW!" Akagi called, her body stretching across the center of the cage to form a perfect announcer's table, complete with microphones, papers, and name placards.
The massive sea dinosaur form of Saurus, with both villains still trapped in his jaws, plummeted down toward Akagi's table. At the last moment, he released the villains, letting them crash first into the table before his full weight came down in a devastating body slam.
TYRANO-CIRCUS SLAM!
The impact shook the entire facility, the sound of splintering wood and crumpling metal mixing with the villains' cries of defeat. When the dust settled, Desperado and Recino lay unconscious beneath Saurus, who had shifted back to his humanoid form, one foot planted triumphantly on Desperado's cracked chestplate.
"AND THAT'S HOW IT'S DONE IN THE MAJOR LEAGUES!" Saurus declared, reforming to his regular size before collapsing. He rumbled with laughter, but it turned into a wet cough. Blood spattered across the floor—too much blood.
"Jeez pal, you're hurt worse than them. The pro-wrestling moves aren't great for self-preservation," Akagi said, eyes scanning the wreckage of the battlefield. The Night Parade's henchmen were fleeing, but that was the least of their concerns now. The facility's alarm systems wailed, emergency lights casting everything in pulsing crimson.
"Let them go... We have to get out of here," Saurus hissed.
Akagi struggled to keep Saurus upright, his massive form sagging against her as she gritted her teeth. "Come on, big guy. Work with me here." The dinosaur hero was simply too heavy, and her own injuries were catching up with her. She tapped her comm. "This is Popsy. Need immediate evac, west wing. Saurus is down."
Static answered her. The facility's structure was interfering with communications.
Then, just as panic began to rise, she noticed a figure emerging from the darkness. One of the pro heroes from Gamma team—Three-Sixty, dressed in his signature mech suit, blue eyes locked on Akagi. He ranked in the top 10, a well-respected figure in the hero community.
But something felt off. Was her clown sense tingling? A feeling akin to dread crept down her spine. Something about his presence, his unblinking gaze, sent a chill through her.
"Three-Sixty! Perfect timing," she called out, masking her unease. "Saurus needs—"
The world exploded.
The blast came from below, the floor buckling upward before collapsing entirely. Akagi's quirk activated instinctively, her body stretching to absorb the impact. Her vision went white, then black, then returned in sputtering frames like a damaged film reel as she tumbled into darkness.
Pain brought Saurus back to consciousness. His massive form, battered and bloodied, hung precariously over a jagged pit. One clawed hand gripped a twisted support beam as he tried to steady himself in the aftermath of the explosion.
Stay focused, he told himself, trying to ignore the agony searing through his chest. He couldn't let go. Not yet. Sirens rang outside. He just had to hold on.
His bleary gaze caught movement at the edge of the chasm. A familiar silhouette stood there.
"Three-Sixty?" he called out. The hero had been Saurus' rival in Osaka, but here they were allies.
"Hang on, Saurus," Three-Sixty's voice rang out.
Saurus let out a strained chuckle. "Don't worry, brother. I'm not goin' anywhere."
Three-Sixty knelt down, his high-tech suit glinting in the dim light. A series of cables shot out from his gauntlets, wrapping tightly around Saurus's free arm. The mechanical whirring of the winch began.
"I got you," Three-Sixty said again, but there was something in his tone. A subtle shift. Almost like... like he was savoring the moment.
"About damn time!" Saurus roared. "Pull me up before this thing decides to drop me!"
The cables pulled taut, and Saurus started to rise. His bloodied hand stretched toward Three-Sixty. "We don't always see eye to eye," he said. "But when it counts, heroes stand together. Pull me out, brother."
Three-Sixty stared at the offered hand. Something shifted in his expression—a coldness that hadn't been there before.
"I've always hated that about you," he said quietly.
"What?" Saurus blinked in confusion.
"Your speeches. Your posturing." Three-Sixty's voice remained conversational, almost friendly. "Your entire existence. You disgusting mutie-freak."
Before Saurus could respond, Three-Sixty's gauntlet discharged a pulse of energy directly into the dinosaur hero's chest. Saurus convulsed, his grip faltering.
"You..." Understanding dawned in Saurus's eyes, followed by fury. "TRAITOR!"
With a mechanical hiss, Three-Sixty retracted the cables with a flick of his wrist. Saurus fell, his roar of rage and betrayal echoing up from the pit, growing fainter until it was swallowed by darkness.
Three-Sixty didn't even flinch. He stood there, his silhouette framed by the flickering flames, staring into the abyss where Saurus had fallen.
"Unfortunate," he murmured, adjusting his gauntlet. "A hero lost in the line of duty."
Akagi gasped. Every inch of her body felt like it had been stretched too far, then compressed too tight—which, given her quirk, was probably exactly what had happened. She pushed herself up, blinking through dust and blood. She was alone in a pocket of debris, half-buried in concrete and twisted metal. The lingering echo of a roar—faded into silence above her.
Saurus?
Fighting dizziness, she clawed her way toward a sliver of light. Through a gap in the wreckage, she glimpsed a figure standing at the edge of a massive pit—Three-Sixty, his back to her, mechanical arms retracting something into his gauntlets. Something had happened. Something terrible. Three-Sixty turned, scanning the area, and Akagi instinctively shrank back into the shadows. Every instinct screamed danger. Before she could process what she'd seen, her comm unit crackled with static.
"—repeat, all units report. Popsy, do you copy? Skycarver has reached extraction point with civilians. Delta team accounted for. Popsy, Saurus, do you copy?"
It was Ryuse's voice. Her finger hovered over the response button. Tell them. Tell them everything. But what had she actually seen? A shadow, a movement, a feeling of dread. She hesitated. If Three-Sixty had truly betrayed them—betrayed Saurus—speaking up now might only ensure she joined him.
She needed time. Evidence. Something solid.
With trembling fingers, she pressed the response button. "Popsy here. I'm... alive."
"Thank god," came Smokin' Sexy's relieved voice. "Location?"
"Not sure. Somewhere in the west wing. There was an explosion. The floor collapsed."
"And Saurus? He reported finding you before his comm went dead."
Akagi's eyes fixed on the edge of the pit where Three-Sixty had stood moments before. The casual stance. The lack of urgency. The absence of any call for help.
"Popsy? Is Saurus with you?"
She closed her eyes, the echo of that final roar still in her ears.
"I don't know where he is."
"I'm sure he's fine," Three-Sixty's voice cut in smoothly over the comms, so convincingly concerned it made her skin crawl. "I'll do another sweep. Popsy, I'm coming over with my team to get you."
A cold chill ran through her body. Three-Sixty ranked in the top ten. She was a washed-up clown whose interns were being dragged through the mud. Akagi pressed herself deeper into the shadows as footsteps approached. Maybe she should've stayed in her room. Skipped the internship all together. Who would believe her over him? And if he'd turned, how deep did the betrayal go?