"Oracle, at this point, we're not gonna find anything, are we?" Izuku asked, frustration creeping into his voice.
Oracle: [Affirmative.]
The response only deepened his irritation. No matter how many backdoors he probed or false trails he followed, the government's digital fortress remained impenetrable shields reinforced by AI sentinels far beyond his reach.
Without direct access to the registry, tracking a biological Quirk that left no physical fingerprints was like chasing a ghost through a maze.
Izuku leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. "Guess I'll have to wait, either for the client to flaunt their stolen prototype or for evidence that someone inside the company sold them out." His fingers drummed against the desk.
A sudden shout erupted from the adjacent room raw, guttural, the kind of noise only a cornered man could make. Izuku didn't even glance up.
"Oracle, mute him. I need to think."
A sharp *click* silenced the noise mid-scream. The captive today's unwilling donor for his Quirk Extraction trials wouldn't be interrupting again.
Izuku exhaled sharply, pressing his palms against his closed eyelids until stars flickered in the darkness. "What now?" he muttered, punctuating each word with a light tap of his fist against his forehead. The answers didn't come any faster.
Another sigh escaped him as he stared at the screens, their glow painting his face in cold blue. And for the first time in a long while, Izuku had no idea how to catch them.
— — — —
(Image here)
Elena couldn't help but chuckle. "A week to track the perpetrator? Yeah, right." Izuku was just trying to calm everyone down typical of him.
'Always so earnest, worrying about people's well-being.' The thought made her smile. Cute, but naive. If they waited a week, the thief would be long gone.
So instead, she settled into her chair, fingers dancing across her keyboard as her Quirk hummed to life. Light Encryption wasn't just for scrambling data, its sub-ability, Decryption, let her peel back layers of digital obfuscation like stripping paint from an old wall.
The traces were faint, scattered, but not invisible. Not to her. She wove through firewalls and fragmented logs, chasing digital breadcrumbs until...
'There.'
Her grin sharpened. "Got you."
— — — —
Unbeknownst to them, a man watched from the shadows, Jamie Baines, CEO of Honeywall Corporation, one of Phoenix's largest hero support gear manufacturers.
Seated in his penthouse office, legs crossed, he studied the data glowing on his screen. The encrypted call with his anonymous contact had just ended, but not before the final exchange:
"I've sent the data to you."
Jamie scrolled through the files, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. 'Perfect.'
"You've done your job well, as usual," he said.
The voice on the other end was cold, impersonal: "Send the money. As usual."
The call cut off. Silence.
Jamie rose, strolling toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, a glass of wine cradled in his hand. Below him, the city pulsed with light, a glittering chessboard he commanded. He took a slow sip, savoring the vintage as much as the victory.
Everything was going according to plan.
. . . .
The Next Day,
Arkham Enterprise – Custom Training Room (Level 2)
The custom training room at Arkham Enterprise was designed for employees and sponsored heroes alike, equipped with state-of-the-art facilities to push their limits.
Izuku Midoriya stood at the Smith machine, muscles straining as he drove the weighted bar up and down with relentless focus. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead this load was far heavier than anything the others typically attempted.
When he finally finished his set, he stepped back, grabbing his water bottle and wiping his face with a towel. Without a word, he headed toward the restroom, leaving the machine behind.
Curious, a few nearby heroes wandered over to check the weight on the bar.
3,500 kg.
Their eyes widened. A hushed murmur spread among the veterans, while one of the new recruits scoffed.
"You're exaggerating his strength. He's Quirkless," the rookie said with a dismissive laugh.
One of the senior heroes smirked. "Try it yourself."
Confident, the newbie stepped up, gripping the bar, only for his face to turn red as he failed to even budge it. He collapsed onto the floor, breathless.
"...Is he really Quirkless?"
The veterans burst into laughter. "Yep," one replied, clapping the rookie on the shoulder. "But if you want to improve your combat skills, ask him to spar. He's a damn good instructor."
The rookie blinked. "There's no way he's only fifteen."
"Who knows?" another hero mused. "Kid's got the discipline of a pro twice his age. Rumor has it he balances training and studying like a machine."
Before the conversation could continue, the restroom door clicked open.
"Break it up," a senior muttered. "Izuku's coming back."
The group scattered, leaving the rookie staring in disbelief.
'Just how strong is that kid?'
Izuku spotted the rookie lingering near the Smith Machine, looking lost in thought. He walked over with an easy smile. "Need help with anything?"
The sudden voice made Jack stiffen, his face flushing as he blurted out, "C-Can you spar with me?"
The moment the words left his mouth, he winced. 'Why did I say that?!' Nearby, a few seniors muffled laughter, clearly enjoying his flustered reaction.
Izuku chuckled but didn't tease him further. "Sure. What's your name?"
"Jack Kirby," he answered, shoulders relaxing slightly now that the initial shock had passed.
"Izuku Midoriya. Just call me Izuku." He gestured toward the ring. "Let's go."
Inside, Jack's nerves had steadied into focus. No more stuttering, no hesitation. Just the sharp readiness of a fighter preparing for a challenge. They faced off, bare-handed, no padding between them.
"You ready?" Izuku asked.
Jack nodded, jaw set. "Go all out."
A blink and Izuku was already on him. Jack barely registered the movement before his back hit the mat, his arm wrenched into an armbar. A sharp gasp escaped him, and he tapped out instantly.
Too fast.
"Again," Jack demanded, pushing himself up. No fear now, just stubborn determination.
Izuku smirked. "Alright."
This time, Jack was ready. When Izuku shot forward, Jack almost kept up throwing a quick jab. But Izuku slipped past it effortlessly, his limbs coiling around Jack's arm in a seamless lock. Momentum flipped them, and before Jack could counter, Izuku twisted, forcing another three taps.
Panting, Jack glared at the ceiling, frustration burning in his chest.
Izuku tilted his head. "So, you here to learn, or just take a beating?"
Jack didn't hesitate this time. "Teach me."
Izuku's grin turned sharp. "Good answer."
Around them, the other fighters exchanged glances. A few shook their heads, almost pitying.
This kid has no idea what he's in for.