Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He held the phone with a sort of odd contemplation. At the same time, he stroked the phone with the soft movement of his fingers while it sat in his right hand, as if the phone was some sort of soft toy. He hadn’t pulled out and used that phone for 30 no, 40 years perhaps?

The phone was a very, very old kind of phone, one that existed before the dawn of quirks. It was a thick black flip phone with a silver rim, likely a Nokia of some sort, the kind that was popular before the smartphone came along. Before the stagnation that came from the rise of quirks.

To any regular person, the phone was a cheap antique, garbage even, clearly outclassed by the many, many versions that came after it. Why would anyone use something that had already been greatly surpassed before the dawn of quirks a century ago? Inferior for even the most basic needs. Despite its overwhelming inferiority, it did have one purpose that was its saving grace.

Its power of anonymity.

It was near impossible to trace anyone who used one. One could simply disappear like the wind after using the phone without a worry. If a number was suspected of being compromised, the phone would be discarded or “burned” so that the trail would go cold. Hence, these were called burner phones. In a modern world where privacy is ever so dwindling, where networks exist in every corner of the earth, it was a precious tool for conducting “business”, the underground variety at least. To hide away from the ears and eyes of governments, who scurried about in the underworld like rats, tapping lines, extracting messages, compromising numbers for the "safety" of the nation.

This was all harmful for “business” of course. It was an infestation, and burner phones were one of the key deterrents, to prevent the rats from ever reaching the crops and fruits of their labours. Thus, these phones had become a trademark of the underworld, a favourite among many men and women who indulged themselves in the industry.

This specific burner phone however, was far more special and valuable than any of its siblings could ever hope to be. It wasn’t owned by any common thug, any mere mob boss nor any politician. Even one who held a seat on the Table couldn’t compare to its owner. The phone’s owner of course, was Japan’s very own Symbol of Evil, All for One. He rested in a mansion, located in the Haibori Woods. The elegant mansion once belonged to a subsect of the Creature Rejection Clan as a church, though it was no longer the case. They had been slaughtered by Tomura and his friends like dogs. Lucky that the mansion was no longer wasted by fools. Even more foolish of them to resist, for they stood no chance against his successor.

All For One laid in an ornate cushioned armchair that faced a massive window. The chair was formerly the seat of the little cult's leader. Though now a far worthier man sat upon it. As he caressed the phone, he pondered whether his next step would be necessary, his next step against the heroes that laughably dared to oppose him. The heroes that didn't understand that he would always be two steps ahead. They however, had caused far more trouble than he would've preferred. Tomura did not fare well from the recent events. Time was needed for the body to rest, before perfection could be attained. That wasn't an issue, for he certainly bought enough time as the heroes would be swarmed by the rash of escapees he had released.

This next move involved dealing with Izuku Midoriya in a timely manner.

He already had Lady Nagant working on that. Though she was an excellent agent, there was always the possibility that the Midoriya boy could turn her to his side, playing on her lingering sentiment of heroes.

What he needed were people with more steadfast resolve.

Curse the fat oaf for finding such a worthy successor .

As expected, the boy left UA for the safety of his friends. Midoriya was far too kind and persistent for his own good. His choice was noble but sadly foolish, the fire that drove him would slowly fade with every passing day on the streets. Then when only ashes remained, someone would deliver the boy to him and the game would end in the Demon Lord's victory. This move would hasten the burning of the boy's soul or even outright snuff it out. This step however, could be seen as a sign of weakness for those that served him and others that sought to ally themselves with the great All For One.

But that would be a miniscule problem to deal with, for Midoriya needed to be captured swiftly.

Deciding on this step, All For One flipped open the phone. He couldn't directly see the keypad but could feel the braille-like outline of the numbers to know what numbers he pressed. Beep, beep, beep... the sound of the buttons filled the otherwise silent room. Upon being confident that he had entered the correct number, he pressed the dial button and held the phone to his ear, fully prepared to carry out the next step. As he waited for the operator to pick up the call, a smile slowly crept onto All For One’s face in anticipation of the coming storm.

Somewhere unknown...

A phone’s ring rang throughout a busy office. It was a common occurrence. The ring was the type that you’d hear from rotary phones that existed even longer than burner phones did. Most people that owed one only had it on display as an antique. The specific ringing noise was almost masked by a mix of other similar ringing noises and the clattering of old, heavy typewriters.

A white lady with brunette hair in a bun sat in a desk, having just finished her call from a previous client. She nonchalantly pulled her headset’s jack out of a socket and plugged it into another socket on the switchboard, preparing to answer her next client. She was dressed in a sleeveless light pink dress shirt, accompanied by a smooth grey shirt that went down to her knees. The outfit was fine for her tastes, though she knew some of her friends preferred something different if given a choice. She looked relatively normal, if you didn’t count the bright gold pupils that came from her quirk and the gang-like tattoos that littered her exposed arms.

The lady worked as one of the many phone operators in the office. Several rows of long desks were filled with similarly dressed women. A few of the women stood out slightly due to their quirks, maybe a stranger appearance, but it was very obvious that they were all colleagues. A moderate sized switchboard sat on each long desk, relaying calls from eager clients to the operators. When a call came, the red light would flash above one of many sockets on the switchboard. Plugging a headset jack would allow an operator to answer the call, to serve the client, for the operators would always be of service.

"Operator, how may I direct your call?" The brunette lady began as she had thousands of times before, in a slightly cheery but subtly bored tone.

"Accounts payable." All For One's soft yet intimidating voice replied.

"One moment please."

Having said that she, directed the call to the department responsible for "Accounts payable", unaware of who she had just spoken to.

The call was directed to an older, more experienced looking plump woman, obvious wrinkles creeping on her face. She was a senior member of the "Accounts Payable" department. She too had brown hair, though her’s was curly but tied in the same style of bun as the other operators. A pair of thin rimmed glasses sat on her nose. Overall she appeared relatively normal, no mutations visible, just tattoos inked onto her light skinned arms that somewhat stood out.

"Accounts payable. How may I help you?" She started as she prepared a pen and paper to write down whatever details for the contract that she would receive.

"I'd like to open an account." All For One continued.

"Name on the account?"

"Izuku Midoriya." replied All For One with a tinge of glee in his voice.

"Image of account holder?"

"That will be sent once everything is confirmed"

"Verification?" She further questioned.

"7701-07." he recalled. It was more than 50 years since he had last opened a contract.

"State of contract?"

"Make it open"

"And global." he added.

"Denomination?"

"Hmm" he wondered, "Tell me, what is the record for the highest price of a contract?" He probed in a curious tone.

The older operator's tone suddenly became more serious. "Sir are you aware that_"

"Is my verification not enough?" All for One Interrupted.

Staring at what she had written, her eyes widened as a sudden realization hit her.

The man's verification number was a kind only granted to those that were equals to an Elder. Based on records, the only two people who were granted this code by an Elder received it more than 50 years ago. Both files that contained any semblance of information on these individuals were sanitized and redacted. Censored so much that it almost seemed comical. Black lines streaked across every page of note. In fact, the only reason she could realize it stemmed from the sudden resurgence of the memory of an old superior that mentioned it 30 years past.

"A-apologies for my mistake, Sir." She apologized with a hint of panic, aware that the mistake of improperly denying service could warrant a "visit" from an adjudicator if the client dared complain. They were held to high standards after all.

"No need to worry, it has been quite a long time since I've opened an account. I expected that such a mistake could occur." All For One replied cordially.

He continued to ask, “Now, back to my question, tell me the record."

"14 million USD." She answered, regaining her sense of professionalism. The contract that held the record involved the death of a hero from America who had captured the enforcer son of a Mexican cartel lord a few years back. The hero’s severed head was proudly delivered to the lord by the lone assassin as proof, granting him a 14 million reward for a single man.

"Then the denomination shall be 280 million dollars. Two- no, three markers will also be granted by me for whoever that completes my contract." All For One declared.

For the second time in less than a minute, the woman's eyes widened again. It was insane, the money was one thing, but she wasn't even sure if markers were an eligible reward for contracts. Given his status, he could choose whatever the hell he wanted. Fortunately, she managed to compose herself before responding.

"Duly noted, any remarks?" She inquired

"Specify in the message sent that the target must be alive, or I won't consider the contract fulfilled. He has no need to be intact however. He can be crippled neck down upon delivery, I don't care. "

"Also." All For One added, "Make sure that everyone knows the client for the contract is me, All For One. What use is a marker, let alone three if the one who granted them remains anonymous?" he mentioned, slightly humoured.

Ah.

That explains a lot.

Japan was in anarchy and chaos since the maximum security prison breakouts that happened about a month ago. Rumours say that the great All For One orchestrated the whole series of events, despite also being a prisoner in one of these prisons itself, likely Tartarus. Either way, that didn't matter. She wasn't paid enough or allowed to question a client's intent, background or status.

"Is that everything?"

"That would be all."

"Processing, please hold."

Finishing the record, she shifted her chair over to a nearby typewriter that sat on the same desk, inserting a piece of paper, the kind used for official documentation of High Table business, into the typewriter. Her plump fingers then laid onto the keyboard, intending to create an official record for the contract.

Beginning with the target's name as always, the name IZUKU MIDORIYA began to appear on the blank, yellow tinted paper one letter at a time before being followed by the finer details of the contract.

As All For One waited for confirmation of his contract, the normal smile that contrasted his deeply scarred upper face began to slowly grow into a grin. He couldn't wait for how exciting things would get. The escapees would surely give the Midoriya boy enough trouble throughout his tenure playing as a lone wolf. Add in the incoming hordes of local and international assassins, some that rivalled even the likes of the top pro heroes. Well technically bounty hunters would be a more apt term, but they were assassins by trade. All For One's contract was just an outlier in their line of work.

With all this heading Midoriya's way, the boy was most certainly finished.

"Fortis Fortuna Adiuvat." He murmured

An Italian acquaintance from long ago once told him about this Latin quote. The acquaintance told him about how the quote described him very well.

He couldn't agree enough.

Fortune would come to whoever that was bold enough to complete his contract.

UA Cafeteria, Musutafu

"Huh, this actually tastes good." he remarked to himself in English, pulling the spoon from his mouth and preparing to scoop his second spoon of rice-chicken mix from his Donburi. Well, Not really a Donburi, since he was eating from a plastic container.

Considering that Japan was a shithole right now, he was surprised that he could still enjoy high quality food like this. It seemed that tales of Lunch Rush's culinary feats weren't exaggerated, even the story of him preparing a full course French meal for the ten thousand typhoon victims a couple years ago didn't sound like a stretch now. He always thought that story was full of shit. Apparently not it seemed. At the moment, Lunch Rush was serving a couple hundreds of civilians that lined up at his the counter, each waiting for their turn to receive their daily package of lunch, courtesy of UA of course.

Once someone had received their food, they could return to their designated emergency shelter to eat there, or stay and finish their food in the cafeteria. Most civilians would rush back to the emergency shelters after receiving their share of food, out of fear that the escapees would break in suddenly, killing everyone like the psychos they were. Despite this, at least a hundred people stayed in the cafeteria to enjoy themselves, apparently convinced that UA's grounds itself was safe enough. As for him, he stayed. He had someone to watch out for. He wasn't any ol' civilian after all.

His name was Thomas, the name he currently went by at least. His appearance was average at most, complimented by his mediocre height. In his late 30s, short black hair covered his slightly balding head. Brown pupils contrasted his white sclera. His face was that of an American male, sharp nose, broad jaw, small mouth, the usual kind. Defined muscles hid under his short sleeved dress shirt, which was rather surprising for someone his age.

Officially on paper, Thomas was an American tourist who was stranded in Japan when the prison breakouts happened a month ago.

People who knew about his situation pitied him, talking about how terrible his luck must be having arrived in Japan just before the chaos began. He played into this story, presenting himself as an emotionally sensitive guy who didn't want to die on foreign soil away from his family, being on the brink of tears. In reality, his situation was far less sympathetic, most people would call him a villain if they knew the truth.

Simply put, Thomas worked as an assassin. His quirk, Flashbang, allowed him to near instantly produce a blinding white light from his hands. On paper, it was a shit quirk, having no real application outside of creating some flashy lights. Through years of training however, the lights produced were as bright as an actual flashbang. Paired with a supressed pistol, it was shockingly easy to walk up to the target, blind the passer-by’s and shoot the target, then screw off before anyone noticed what had happened. He mainly took minor contracts involving one-man targets, anything too well known or too much would get him buried six feet under, or melted by acid in an oil drum.

The real reason Thomas came to Japan was obviously for a contract. His target was a Japanese conman, who had run off with about 300 thousand dollars from his American client. The contract was for 50 thousand dollars, around the range of contracts that Thomas liked to accept. Unfortunately, other than one message stating, in the client's words, that the target was "Somewhere in fucking Japan, probably in Shizuoka." there weren't any updates on the target's location. Luckily enough he was decent at tracking targets, though he wouldn't say he liked it.

After some hard work, he tracked the target to Musutafu. Then, the prison breakouts happened and Japan went to shit. It definitely threw a wrench into his plans. All info on the target's possible locations became useless in midst of the chaos. After a month of hard work again, he had reason to believe that the target took shelter in UA.

Using his cover story as a lost tourist who stayed with a pocket of so called hero hating civilians before deciding to abandon them for UA shelters, he attempted to enter into UA. After the isolation period that was for some reason necessary, he was allowed to enter UA grounds and have his first proper meal in a month, ending up where he was now.

Halfway into gobbling his meal, noise buzzed out of his burner phone. At the same time, he could've sworn that he heard several other phones beeping or buzzing within the noise of the crowd. Recognising the sound of a new message, he fished out his phone just after putting a fresh spoon into his mouth.

Thank god that there was still phone signal on UA grounds.

Turning on his phone and glancing at the new message, he briefly choked on the food in his mouth, spitting out saliva covered remains into the uneaten half of his meal

Coughing, he read the message again. The message was simply insane, it read:

OPEN INTERNATIONAL CONTRACT

IZUKU MIDORIYA

ALIVE

UNINTACT

$280 MILLION DOLLARS

3 MARKERS FROM ALL FOR ONE

What. The. Fuck. Who the hell would want 280 million dollars for a person? Of course it was All For One.

Everyone thought All For One was dead 5 years ago. Apparently not. It didn't affect too much, since even before his supposed death All For One rarely interacted with the global underworld, preferring to focus on his little playground in Japan. However, the guy was undeniably feared and respected by many, many people in the underworld, a direct threat that could rival the High Table if he decided to go global.

For someone of his status and power, the legend must really, really want someone captured and not dead weirdly enough, if he's willing to part with that much money and give away markers like goddamned candies. Three markers from one of the most powerful men on the globe in physical power and influence, fucking irresistible I expect.

A second message sent contained an image attachment. The image was a photo the target's most recent appearance. The photo was blurry, but still clear enough to discern the figure's appearance. The figure appeared to be in the middle of combat, preparing to throw a charged punch. Whatever he? was fighting had been cropped out. He was mainly clad in dark green, with a stained yellow scarf or cloak wrapped around the neck. A hood with two strange extensions covered the entire head, resembling a pair of horns or rabbit ears. Green glows emanated from each eyehole on the hood. Some sort rebreather covered his mouth area. His forearms where wrapped in a red material of sorts, legs protected by black plated greaves. An indicator of his quirk, appeared to be the green lightning in the air around him. Overall, this was someone who seemed skilled, based on his stance and posture.

Probably some rogue villain or vigilante that's been causing a fuss for All For One, or someone that has a very, very personal connection with him.

Looking up from his phone, Thomas did a quick look around the cafeteria, and it seemed that his expectation about the reward being fucking irresistible was on point. Several "civilians", some looking pretty normal, some with heavy mutations, stood up from their seats in the cafeteria. There were even some that came out from the line leading to the counter, with obvious intentions. In total, he counted about a dozen to twenty people who seemed to be involved in the same business as him.

All of them walked towards the cafeteria's exit at a noticeably quick pace, wanting to find a way out of UA as soon as possible. They could probably find a cop or guard with ties to the underworld, then bribe the lucky bastard with the gold coins of the High Table, getting the cop to open a backdoor or something along the lines of that.

Heh. Fucking idiots.

Whoever that was stupid enough to take the contract, was going to die, by the hand of the target or any other assassins chasing the same stick. Thomas was no idiot, he knew the risks.

For whoever that actually succeeded in completing the contract?  Good for them.

There was one thing for certain.

Izuku Midoriya was most certainly fucked one way or another.

Chapter Text

Grabbing the scoped pistol, he stared at it briefly with distaste, a grim reminder of what he'd done. It was a tool of the "business" he had carried out during the past few days.

It wasn't business, it was personal.

He swore to Helen, as she laid on the hospital bed, unable to be saved by any quirk and hours away from death that he'd never go back to what he once was, no matter what happened moving forward. He would remain as John Wick, known as the loving husband by friends and family.

The promise wasn't bound by anything, no blood, no obligation, just a simple promise for love that meant everything.

And he broke that promise.

All for a dog.

It wasn't just for a dog.

He wondered whether she could see what he had done, what her husband had done, in her name, for her.

He hoped not.

It was better for him if that was the case.

Dismissing the thoughts, John shoved the the gun into the plastic bag, containing it with the rest of his recently used tools and suit. Everything was still in good shape and condition, despite the stress the belongings had gone through recently. They would fetch a decent price on any black market, but he wanted them out of his sight as soon as possible, and that involved burying them.

Placing the last belonging into the bag , that being his trousers, and headed to the basement, determined to bury his past once more.

Reaching for the basement door with his right hand while his left hand gripped the plastic bag, John turned the door's knob, opening the door to reveal the void that led to the house's basement. Descending the steps, he was greeted by his little workplace, changed by the night that forced him to dip his pinkie back into the old world. Helen would always nag at him if he spent too long down there working his desk job or leisure reading, telling him that he should move his workplace to somewhere with more fresh air or a better view.

He missed those moments a lot.

The workplace contained a bookshelf and a small workstation, all illuminated by a desk lamp. The little and humble workplace seemed relatively normal, if one ignored the concrete debris strewn on the floor and a chest that sat in the large hole on the floor. The chest contained valuables from John's many years in the business of death, ranging from dozens of High Table aurei to assault rifles and other tools for taking lives, all neatly contained in different removable segments. He'd already pulled out the segments containing the aurei and sidearms on that night, leaving them sitting on the floor.

Looking at the chest brought back memories, mostly bad ones, of what he'd seen and done. Knowing not to linger too long on old sentiments, he dropped the plastic bag and began to place the segments back into the chest,  wanting to finish what needed to be done as soon as possible. Upon placing all the segments in, he threw the plastic bag in last then closed the chest, fully determined to shut out any old links or connection to his past for good.

As he shoved the concrete debris into the hole, he recalled the rage he felt after the incident. He tried not to think about it, but it was too recent to ignore.

That night, as he pounded his sledgehammer into the concrete, reopening the way into the past he so arduously escaped, he desired to kill. He only wanted to kill. Kill the fuckers that took away his chance of living a life with purpose and hope without his wife, kill those that stood in his way. It didn't matter that one of those fuckers was Viggo's son, he didn't care, he just needed to kill.

Taking a deep breath, John calmed himself down, aware that he'd already done the deed. Iosef was burning in hell, and together with him was Viggo. He'd killed his former employer for nearly ending Marcus's life.

Lucky that Viggo tried to let Marcus bleed out instead of finishing the job.

It was a stroke of luck. One of Marcus's neighbours had a healing quirk and so happened to visit him just after Viggo left, calling an ambulance and barely saving Marcus. John couldn't imagine the chances for that to happen.

At the moment, Marcus was in stable condition according to a friend who worked in a nearby hospital, but still needed to stay for a few more days. He planned to visit Marcus tomorrow once he got a new ride from Aurelio.

After making sure that every piece of debris was in the hole, he grabbed a bag of cement, mixing the powder with water, mashing the mixture with a shovel to be thorough. Halfway through, his dog entered the basement to join him. He appreciated the company. Once the wet cement was ready enough, he poured it, sealing the chest and the hole. Using a cement trowel, he slowly evened out the rough surface with deep concentration and effort, two traits that he always had no matter the time or task. Soon enough, the patch of cement was even enough to seamlessly merge with the floor.

A very slightly tired John sat on the floor, satisfied at his work. He would probably take a book to read before retiring for the night. After all, he needed get up early to pay Aurelio a visit the next morning.

Unfortunately, that wouldn't happen.

Ding...Dong

Someone rang his door bell.

He glanced at a wall clock in his workplace, he found out that it was already about 11p.m.

Who'd want to visit him at this time of the night?

For a moment, he considered the possibility that Abram Tarasov wasn't honouring the the peace deal he offered. It didn't seem unlikely, Abram had every right to hate John Wick for offering peace, who murdered most of his staff in a rampage to regain the Ford Mustang. He wondered if he had buried and sealed the chest a little too early.

Giving the idea more thought, he figured that if Abram sent anyone after him, they would've broken into his house instead of ringing his doorbell like a friendly neighbour would. Besides, why would Abram wait for a day after John had wrecked his place, then send his men after him, when John was certainly tired from the spree of violence?

Deciding to take the risk anyway , John got up from the ground and exited the basement, making his way to his house's front door. Sitting on his ass and waiting wasn't going to achieve anything.

Approaching the front door made of clear glass, he could make out the silhouette of a person standing in the night, likely a man wearing a suit of some kind. The silhouette was amplified in solidity and shape by what he presumed to be lights shining in the back of the figure.

As John opened the door, he was greeted by the sight of a olive skinned man adorned in a high quality dark blue suit and vest, paired with a same coloured tie. The garments were almost dark as night in colour. In addition, an also dark blue overcoat with empty sleeves hung on the man's shoulders, giving the man an air of wealth. The man's face was squarish, Italian in appearance, currently in a neutral if not serious expression. Medium length black hair sat on the man's head, thinning at the sides. The hair was curly, but visibly well styled.

Santino

He hadn't seen Santino in a long time, but he had a good idea of the why his old acquaintance came, though he very, very desperately hoped it wasn't for what he thought.

"Ciao, John," Santino began.

"Santino," he blurted. He'd wanted to add a Ciao, but the surprise visit stunned him a little.

Santino extended his hand, and John shook it in tandem as a sign of good faith.

"Posso entare?" (May I enter?), Santino asked.

"Certo," (Of course,) John could only reply with that, he had no reason to not treat Santino as a friend.

Yet.

Obtaining John's consent, Santino entered the house. John followed behind, briefly staring at the 2 white SUVs parked in front of his house, flanked by Santino's bodyguards, before shutting the door.

"Caffe?" (coffee?) John asked as they walked down the hallway. It was what he offered to most guests.

Santino replied with a simple grazie (thank you).

As they reached the dining-living room, he motioned for Santino to have a seat.

"Good to see you," He greeted.

"Good to see you too, John."

With that, he went to brew a new batch of coffee for his guest. It would be rude to serve leftover coffee from the morning. As he emptied the filter. He wondered whether he'd made a grave mistake, letting Santino into his house.

Meanwhile, Santino explored John's living room, finding framed photos of John and his then alive wife, smiling together and even laughing in some. He felt a tinge of pity for what he was about to do.

"I am sorry to hear about your wife, John," It was the least that he could say as a show of sympathy.

John appreciated the words.

"Thank you."

Simultaneously, John's dog approached Santino. He was a dog person, he admired their loyalty. If only more men shared this quality.

"Does it have a name?" Santino asked, while giving the good boy a rub on the head and patting it.

"No."

"What about a quirk?" he jokingly added.

"No."

Not one to waste words.

Soon enough, the coffee was ready. Santino and John took their seats, white cup of coffee on each side, and ready to converse.

Santino had come to John with a motive. Knowing that, he initiated their conversation.

"With all sincerity John, I don't want to be here."

It was exactly as John feared.

"Please, don't. I'm asking you not to do this," he pleaded, despite knowing the type of person Santino was. A man willing to do absolutely anything to get his way.

"I'm sorry," Santino apologized as his right hand, wearing a Rolex Daytona Cosmograph watch, pulled out a small silver metal coin-like object from the depths of his coat. The object's surface had an intricate design, featuring a skull in the centre circled by grapevines, along with the words that read:

QUOD.DEBITUM.SANGUINE

The blood debt.

The marker John granted him 5 years ago.

"No one gets out and comes back, without repercussions," Santino remarked, placing the marker onto the glass table.

"I do this, with a heavy heart, John," he continued, sliding the marker across the table to John.

John stared at the marker blankly. In his mind, he was thinking of ways to escape his current predicament other than pleading.

Seeing this, Santino decided that some "reminders" were necessary to convince John.

"Remember John, if not for what I did and gave you on the night of your impossible task, you wouldn't be here, in this home, with memories of your wife."

"This," he pointed around the house. "This is because of what I did." he said with a smirk.

"This, in part is mine. You own me John." The smirk had become a grin.

"Take it back," John didn't know what else to say.

"Take it back?"

"Take it back." John repeated.

Growing frustrated but still patient, Santino persisted in applying pressure.

"A marker," He paused "is no small thing John, for a man to grant a marker to another, is to bind a soul to a blood oath," his tone growing more stern.

"Find someone else." John pleaded again,  still refusing.

Now visibly frustrated and annoyed, Santino grabbed and opened the marker to reveal a blood print of a thumb on a white canvas, holding it in front of John's face.

"What is this? Do you remember? This is your blood," as he asked and answered his own question.

"You came to me, I helped you. Is it so difficult to for you to help me in return?" Santino continued to questioned.

"If you don't do this, you know the consequences."

It was a warning.

But John couldn't bring himself to go back just after escaping again.

Not again.

"I'm not that guy anymore," John insisted.

"You are always that guy, John." Santino asserted, sliding the marker to John again.

"I can't help you, find someone else," he answered, sliding the marker back to Santino.

"I'm sorry."

Realising that John's answer was final no matter what, Santino's face was plastered with disappointment and frustration. It seemed that the Baba Yaga wouldn't honour their oath.

For now.

Composing himself, he gave a faux smile, intending to end the conversation.

"You're right, John. You can't,"

"but he can." He had prepared a way to draw the Baba Yaga out from John.

Ending the conversation, Santino was accompanied by John to the house's front door.

Before exiting the house, Santino had one last thing to say.

"You have a beautiful home, John."

John could tell that what came out of Santino's mouth was laced with mockery.

Having said his parting words, Santino and his bodyguards entered the white SUVs, seemingly driving out of the Wick estate.

John wasn't a religious man, but he could only pray that, that would be the last of his meetings with Santino.

The two SUVs stopped on the road in front of the Wick estate's very large front yard, stretching at least 40 meters from the house.

Santino exited his SUV, heading to the back and opening the car's trunk, revealing a case containing an ARWEN 87 grenade launcher, a "less than lethal" weapon modified to accept explosive incendiary grenades.

Perfect for burning a house down.

However, as Santino gazed at the ARWEN 87, he realised that burning down John's house that contained the happiest moment's of John's life, would likely release an unrestrained and maddened Baba Yaga that would only want to kill him.

It would also potentially kill John's new dog.

That would be bad.

A safer way was needed to release the Baba Yaga, while also ensuring that John was still around to be reasoned with.

Fortunately, he had an alternative way at the moment.

Closing the trunk, he motioned for one of his bodyguard's to exit the car. This bodyguard was a tall brown haired caucasian man, wearing the same dark grey suit as the rest of the bodyguards.

"Bruciare il cortile," (Burn the yard,) he ordered.

"Certo, Signor D'Antonio," (Certainly, Mr D'Antonio,) the man replied.

Having said that, the bodyguard stepped onto the yard and reared his head upwards. The bodyguard's throat began to glow, and within seconds, a large stream of fire and lava about 15 meters long erupted from his mouth, similar to a volcano. It was his quirk, Lava Breath in action.

Moving his head forward, he spewed fiery lava in a constant stream onto the yard, trying to cover every inch of the yard but being careful to not touch the house.

Within 5 minutes, the entirety of the Wick estate's front yard was engulfed in flames and lava, as if the depths of hell had risen to the surface.

The bodyguard who had done the deed was badly coughing with smoke fuming out of his mouth, unable to use his quirk again for at least a week.

Santino paid no mind to this, instead choosing to stare at the inferno.

I warned you, John.

Of course Santino had to burn his yard.

Upon realizing that there was an inferno in front of his house, John quickly called the fire department. Two fire trucks and a hero with a water-based quirk were sent to help curb the inferno. It took them about an hour to fully extinguish the flames and cool the magma.

Soon after, a police car arrived. Two officers questioned him about the incident. He simply claimed that he didn't know anyone who held a grudge against him, believing that it was likely done by some hooligan arsonist with a strong quirk.

Fortunate that none of the two officers had any mind-reading quirks.

Accepting John's statement, the officers left, telling him to contact them if he had any leads.

He needed to ask Jimmy to make sure that no one pried into his case.

John sat in front of the steps, taking in the new appearance of his front yard, dog at his side.

The yard was mostly covered in a layer of cooled magma. Any patch of grass that wasn't covered was singed to the ground by the fire. Overall, the entire yard had become a dark and rocky crust, having patterns of once flowing lava.

As he gazed at his once green yard, his phone buzzed from his pocket. Pulling it out, the caller's number was unknown. He answered the call and held the phone to his ear.

"I warned you, John," Santino's voice from the other end of the line began.

"Your actions, have consequences. That was a taste of what I can do. You are lucky that I spared your beautiful home. Find me tomorrow at the New York Continental at 8 o'clock. We will discuss your task."

"Do not try to run, I have men with tracking quirks. They will find you," Santino mentioned at the end.

With that the call ended. John didn't have much of a choice. He couldn't run. Despite his somewhat prideful attitude, Santino wasn't the kind of man to bluff.

If he ran, Santino would find him, then do something even more malicious to force him.

If he tried killing his way to Santino, the Camorra would send hordes of men after him.

Neither were remotely good options.

Thus, the only option was to do whatever Santino wanted, fulfil the marker and then hopefully go back to his normal life.

Marcus would have to wait.

New York Continental, New York

Parking near the front of the hotel that was almost a second home to him even now. John, dressed in his brown leather jacket and a simple shirt, exited an old 1996 model Mercedes Benz car.

He had the car sent over by Aurelio last night. Though Aurelio wasn't happy at John for calling him at 2 in the morning, despite the fact Aurelio's workshop was open 24/7 on weekdays. Apparently he had been in the middle of a good nap when John called.

When John claimed to want any car for rental, Aurelio simply laughed.

"Yeah rental, good joke John, just keep the car, it ain't comin back."

In the backseat, was the chest of his past that he'd just buried, re exhumed from the wet cement. He spent most of the remaining night yesterday scooping out wet cement with a shovel until it was possible to pull the chest out. He wasn't yelling like a madman like the last time, but he was angry. Angry for being forced back to a job of death.

In the front passenger seat sat his dog, tongue out and panting like a normal dog would. He planned to have his dog stay at the continental while he was away.

Letting his dog out of the front passenger seat, John proceeded into the hotel's lobby. As he neared the lobby's reception counter, manned by Charon as usual, he glanced at his watch.

The watch read 7:32 a.m.

He had time for a little chat with Winston.

He told himself that he wanted advice, to hear from Winston that there might be another way.

There was no other way.

In reality, John just wanted someone close to talk to.

"I'd like to see the manager, please," John asked as he approached the reception counter.

"How good to see you so soon, Mr Wick," Charon greeted in response, slightly surprised.

"Shall I announce you?"

"Yes, please," he agreed.

"The manager is currently in the gardens," Charon specified.

With that he headed for the elevators, but not before commanding his dog to stay. He'd taught the dog to do that yesterday morning.

Charon could only stare at John's dog as he informed the manager, wondering what had dragged John back so soon.

"What are you here for, Jonathan?"  Winston queried, removing his glasses as he finished reading his smartphone.

"I'm looking for another way, "John said, as he took a seat on Winston's little tea table.

"There is no other way." was the only answer Winston would provide.

"What the hell were you thinking, giving a man like Santino D'Antonio a marker? And daring to reject it as well!" Winston spat out as he began his rant.

"You were lucky that he only chose to burn your yard, he had every right to do so and even worse."

"It was the only way out," John argued.

"And yet you came back here," Winston said, mocking John.

"What did you think was going to happen? What did you expect? Did you really think  this day was never going to come?"

Understanding that Winston was telling him cold and hard facts, John could only keep quiet.

Sighing, Winston decided that there was no point in ranting.

"What does he want you to do?"

"I didn't ask, I just said no," John replied.

"I have a notion of what that might be, its been causing quite a stir recently," Winston revealed.

Interested, John attempted to question Winston. "What is it then?"

A "You'll find out soon enough." was what John received.

"Two rules, Jonathan," Winston suddenly recited, "no blood on Continental grounds and every marker must be honoured."

"You dishonour the marker, you die. You kill the holder of the marker, you die. You run, you die."

"This is what you agreed to, Jonathan."

John could only accept that.

"Honour the marker. Be free. Then, if you want to go after him, burn his house down, be my guest," Winston suggested.

"But until then..."

"Rules," John uttered, completing the sentence.

"Exactly, rules."

The little chat actually lightened John's mood. However it was almost time to meet Santino.

Standing up, John thanked Winston.

"Thank you, Winston."

"Welcome, Jonathan."

"Also, Santino's waiting in the lounge," Winston added

Hearing that, he made his way to the Continental's lounge.

John walked down the steps of the very grand lounge. The lounge was moderately full with patrons. John saw Santino having a meal, likely a breakfast of the French variety. Several of Santino's bodyguards watched him descend the steps from the corners of the lounge.

Arriving at Santino's table, John took his seat, face in a grimace.

Seeing this, Santino set down his utensils and opened their conversation. "You know, John, I would have respected your decision had you stayed retired. I told you I needed that guy, the man staring at me right now. I needed John Wick, I needed the Baba Yaga."

"Get to the point," John interrupted, not wanting to hear Santino brag about his reputation.

Santino pulled his smartphone out. "I wanted you to kill my sister,"

"but, a better opportunity has arisen," he declared, sliding his phone to John.

Picking up the phone, John read the message for the contract of Izuku Midoriya's capture along with the image of the target clad in green. He was shocked by the absurd details of the contract, but still kept a neutral expression, not wanting to give Santino any reason to make a stupid comment.

"Japan's Demon Lord, All For One released this contract yesterday."

"His offering of markers has caused a frenzy. Many, including my sister, have sent their best men to Japan for this contract, even in Japan's current state. There are even rumours that the Marquis de Gramont himself may become involved," Santino explained.

"Imagine, the power to command All For One himself, three times no less. Many would give their lives for even the slightest chance that they succeed."

John fully understood how powerful All For One was. The man was well known as a true rival to All Might in every way, only boosted with his widespread influence in the underworld. Even thinking of assassinating or calling a hit on him was a waste of time, carrying it out led to an inescapable death for the assassin or hirer, sometimes even condemning their families.

To call in a favour from such a man would be a dream itself to many. Even if some didn't believe that All For One would honour the markers, the 280 million dollars by itself was enough of an incentive.

Alive?

What was extremely odd to John, was the fact that this Izuku Midoriya person was to be delivered alive to All For One. There was the option to have the target be sent alive to the client when opening a contract, but barely anyone did that.

In fact, the only time John carried out such a job was when he did a contract for one of Viggo's friends. The job was to capture a vigilante who'd been disrupting said friend's operations. John had to use a mix of quirk weakening bullets and gas before the vigilante, who's quirk involved super speed, was weak enough to be restrained with a quirk nullifying collar and hand cuffs. It was something different for John, to say the least.

Santino moved on to giving instructions.

"Information from All For One about the target's location will be sent every two hours. For now, it seems that the target remains mostly in Musutafu, where the chaos in Japan is the most severe."

No need to waste time tracking.

"This should be no worry to a man such as John Wick, however," he complimented.

John didn't react at all to this "praise".

"Deliver Izuku Midoriya to the Osaka Continental, properly restrained. I will be waiting there."

Koji's place.

"Why there?" John questioned.

"So that All For One does not betray his contract with bringing death and destruction. He will collect his prize there, where he is under the rules of the High Table," Santino clarified.

Makes sense.

Santino smiled, "do this, John, and your marker will be honoured. You will have your life back."

John handed the phone back to Santino, replying to all the information with a slight nod and "Yeah". He was unsure whether Santino would keep his word. But for a chance to be rid of Santino for good, he needed to take this chance.

Letting out a small chuckle, Santino gave his last instruction, satisfied with John's obedience.

"You have four hours to prepare your equipment, return here once you have finished. Transportation to Japan has been arranged."

Discussion done, John stood up and left the table. Santino resumed with eating his meal.

He needed to get his dog room and board, then visit a sommelier and tailor. It would take longer than usual to obtain quirk suppressing or quirk nullifying equipment, since he wasn't too well versed in that area of expertise. He also needed a new set of weaponry and ammunition, in case the target would need to be weakened with heavier firepower.

As for his outfit, he would unfortunately be unable to get a custom suit made in time. He would have to settle for a standard tailor heavy combat variant, designed for more messy situations.

Before leaving however, he had one last question for Santino.

Turning his head back, he locked eyes with Santino once more.

"Why me? You know I don't do business involving capture and deliver," he questioned.

Santino laughed.

"Because you, John," pointing at him, "are a man of focus, commitment and sheer will."

"Perfect for any task," Santino added with a tinge of elation.

Chapter Text

Musutafu

"No wonder the Fourth's Danger Sense kept going off."

He barely saved Yo Shindo AKA Grand from being turned into red paste by Muscular. Funnily enough, this wasn't the first he'd saved Yo, the last time during the Provisional Hero License Exam.

How things have changed then.

Izuku landed on top of a grey building, somewhat damaged, like many of the others in the currently ruined city.

"Muscular," Izuku called out, hands carrying Yo in a cradle position.

"That voice... I remember", Muscular chuckled to himself, realising that the person who had saved the little vibrating shit and given him a punch in the back that actually hurt was someone he knew very well.

"It’s you right, RIGHT?!"

"MIDORIYA! I'VE BEEN DYING TO SEE YOU!" He yelled back.

"ALL THIS FODDER HASN'T BEEN ENOUGH TO QUENCH MY THIRST FOR BLOOD!" Muscular proudly declared.

Keeping his tone, Muscular quickly started a rant, gripping his fist, "Don't run away. Don't misunderstand what I mean. This isn’t for revenge or anything honourable like that"

"But ever since I experienced that thrill fighting you," he grinned while gripping the rock that replaced his left eye, "That I haven't been able to have ENOUGH!" madly admitting his pleasure.

Swiftly and powerfully, he leapt at the building's midsection and dug his hands into the solid concrete wall, flipping the upper portion of the building open like the lid of a box.

Leaping off the building, Izuku was able to escape by using Float, then hiding his getaway with Smokescreen. As he escaped he could hear Muscular yelling something about going all out. There was no time to listen, since Yo's life was at risk. He expected Muscular to jump directly at him, but for some reason Muscular didn't.

Is it possible that Yo's attack weakened him?

He needed to take Yo somewhere safe before taking care of Muscular for good. Luckily, he spotted someone walking out what looked to be a gym building followed by a small crowd, possibly a hero based on their clothing.

Landing near them, Izuku activated Smokescreen. He didn't want the risk of Muscular discovering what was happening.

Approaching them shrouded in smoke, he slipped out an "Oh good" upon realizing the hero was Shindo's friend, Tatami Nakagame AKA Turtleneck. She ran quickly over to Izuku and Yo with tears in her eyes, formed from almost watching her close friend get killed.

He handed Yo over to Tatami, "please, take care of him."

"Yo! Yo you idiot!" she scolded a unconscious but alive Yo as she held him in her arms.

"Sorry that I didn't make it in time before he got hurt," Izuku apologised despite having saved Yo's life.

"You should get him treatment soon,"

"Right!" Tatami admitted, pulling herself together. A hero needed to be calm under pressure.

I can't see how he looks like through the smoke, but I think I've heard that voice before. Who is he?

Dashing through the smoke, he internally questioned the Sixth User about overusing Smokescreen.

"Was it too much?"

"Yeah, you used it past the controllable limit," the voice of the Sixth replied.

"You used too much," the Sixth pointed out.

Izuku agreed, "Right."

"Don't people say that if someone uses your own attack against you you're screwed?" the Sixth stated

Izuku agreed again, "Yeah..."

"Because of One For All, it’s gotten out of control. I mean, the power's been stockpiled for eight generations. Of course, it’s the hardest for you to handle. That's why you should pull back a little, most of our quirks aren't absolute. You're thinking too much of them. Instead, think of them as tools. Use those tools to your advantage," the Sixth advised.

Adhering to the Sixth's advice, Izuku activated Smokescreen to lure Muscular upon making sure he was far enough from the building of civilians, then propelled himself into the air as bait using Float, narrowing Muscular's vision and letting him control were Muscular would go next.

Now, Izuku! Bring back the memories of that day!

In the air with a bird's eye view however, he noticed something strange, several cars, sedans and SUVs were driving in a neat line led by one large black car, roughly around his location despite the fact that the roads were damaged and that the ruined city was mostly evacuated. He immediately thought that they belonged to some civilians who were either evacuating or had decided to take matters into their own hands.

In either case, there was even more reason for Muscular to be quickly dealt with.

"MIDORIYA!" Muscular yelled, as his shape burst out of the purple smoke, leaping towards Izuku.

With Danger Sense, he parried Muscular's heavy blows mid-air without injury. When the distance was right, he used Blackwhip, wrapping the dark tendrils around Muscular. With Muscular restrained, Izuku used the raw power of All For One to sling Muscular into a wide water channel nearby that was in between 2 double lane roads, slamming Muscular into it and creating a large explosion of water.

Izuku landed and approached Muscular, still restrained.

"Dirty tricks..." Muscular muttered, disappointed at Izuku.

"Where are All For One and Shigaraki?" Izuku interrogated.

"Who knows, all they said was, 'Do what you want', “Muscular half-heartedly confessed.

"Your little tricks are boring, why don't we brawl at full power like that day?!" He asked.

Izuku couldn't bother to answer that.

"Why would you go so far?" He truly didn't understand how a human could be like this.

"So that I won't have regrets," was what Izuku received in response.

"What regrets?"

"Not enjoying things I love to the fullest extent!" Muscular revealed.

That was why.

Izuku could only accept that this was what some people truly are.

"Was there no other path, Goto Imasuji?" he questioned once again, using Muscular's real name.

Breaking the tendrils, Muscular confirmed Izuku's question with an insanely cheerful, "NOPE!"

At the same time this happened, Izuku noticed the same line of civilian cars led by the black car, which was actually a jeep were nearing his and Muscular's little battleground. They were travelling down the road right of the water channel from Muscular's direction. Muscular couldn't see them, but he could.

No, no, no what are civilians doing here?!

He needed to take care of Muscular as soon as possible, or else these civilians would be in danger.

What happened next however, he could never expect in a million years. The black jeep stopped in the middle of the distance between Izuku and Muscular. The other cars behind the jeep stopped as well.

The sunroof of the black jeep opened up. A man dressed in what appeared to be a grey jacket and dress shirt, popped out from the opening. The oddest part were the ear mufflers that the man had over his head. Izuku was confused, until he noticed it.

A very large mounted gun sat on the roof of the jeep, and the man was pointing it at both of them.

At this point Muscular noticed what was happening as well. Both of them ceased their staredown and glanced at the jeep.

These aren't civilians.

Tilting the gun slightly downwards, the man fired the mounted gun.

Izuku's eyes widened.

"What-" Muscular was interrupted before he could finish. The fiery high-speed projectile hit the ground in nearly a flash before either of their bodies could properly react, near instantly creating an explosion with a diameter of about 15 meters. The explosion was accompanied by a tall splash of water, followed with waves. It wasn't a gun, it was some sort of grenade launcher. No, it was a railgun that fired explosive shells with power equivalent to artillery.

Izuku was knocked back by about a meter and a half by the force of the blast, landing on his back. The explosion didn't injure him. It had only slightly singed his outfit. His ears however, had a different story.

His ears only heard a constant loud ringing noise that stunned him.

Tinnitus.

The explosion sounded far louder than he'd expected, designed to be as loud as possible. Even Bakugou's explosions weren't as loud like this up close.

Izuku picked himself up, clutching his ears in a futile attempt to block the noise out. As the black smoke cleared, he saw that Muscular was unharmed as well, and barely moved by the force due him being a large mass of muscle. Muscular however, was also affected by the noise, one hand clutching his left ear.

In his confusion, Izuku mused about why Danger Sense hadn't warned him about the attack.

Then he figured it out.

That attack wasn't meant to harm us, it was meant to disorient us for something else.

Izuku turned his attention back at the jeep. The man operating the railgun was reloading, preparing to load a shell the size of a one litre bottle into the chamber.

That wasn't the only threat.

Men and women, mostly foreigners, had exited the cars behind the jeep. Some of them had obvious mutation-type quirks, like curved blades protruding from the forearms and animal-like appearances. They were all dressed in the same style as the man on the jeep, wearing a mix of jackets and shirt. Some wore gloves or a hat of some kind. Overall, they all looked like normal civilians or tourists that were a little overdressed.

Except for one thing.

Most of them were carrying some sort of gun, either a handgun or rifle.

These definitely aren't civilians, and how did they get so many guns?

They rapidly spread out across the channel's railing. Several of them with what Izuku assumed to be more close range quirks jumped down the three meter deep river channel without hesitation. Landing in the water, they approached Izuku and Muscular, surrounding them from behind. He counted about three dozen people who weren't him or Muscular.

Who are they?

"LOOKS LIKE SOME FODDER IS HERE TO INTERRUPT OUR REMATCH!" Muscular yelled out in anger to the newcomers.

All of them remained silent.

Muscular leapt at the direction of the black jeep, intending to crush it and whoever was inside. The railgun operator who had already finished reloading fired an explosive shell at Muscular, landing a direct hit on him. The force of the explosion threw him back into the channel. He hit the channel's wall, visibly impacting and cracking the wall.

Thinking quickly, Izuku activated Smokescreen, turning most of the channel into a valley of purple smoke. He needed time to plan his next move quick. The smoke gave him that. It also gave him some degree of control over what was going to happen next.

Ears still slightly muffled, Izuku couldn't see too much past the smoke, but vaguely could hear Muscular roaring out something about blood and killing in the distance. Following that, there were gunshots and yelling.

On his side, he could clearly hear someone, definitely ordering in English.

"He used a smoke grenade! Spread out and find him!

Great, they wanted him as well.

He prepared to use Float, he needed a better view of the situation.

But before he could, Danger Sense went off. Someone rushed him from the side, forcing Izuku to sidestep. The person overshot very slightly and rushed back at Izuku, revealing himself to be a man with curved blades protruding from his forearms and shins, the blades being his quirk. The man threw a quick slash, but Izuku dodged it, intending to counter with a hit to knock the man out.

To Izuku's surprise, the man managed to dodge the hit despite him being at 45% power, and followed up with a flurry of slashes, each aimed at a vital part of the body to incapacitate.

This guy's as fast as Stain! Maybe even faster!

Predicting and dodging each slash with Danger Sense, Izuku waited for an opening. As the opening appeared, he threw another punch.

The man, who couldn't dodge in time, opted to block the hit with both his arms. Izuku's punch shattered his arm blades and threw him a few meters back. Izuku quickly rushed towards him. As Izuku was right in front of him, the man pulled out a combat knife and quickly slashed at Izuku as he recovered from the ground. He attempted to chain the slash with a sweeping kick.

But Izuku, who knew an attack was coming, grabbed the man's leg as he kicked, throwing him into the channel's wall at a high speed and knocking him out.

But before he could check on the man, Danger Sense warned him of a punch from another man who ambushed him from the smoke, this time a larger man with no face or hair, who seemed to be made of pure concrete. Based on the man's grunts despite having no mouth, he could tell that this was the man who gave the command based on voice.

He easily dodged the punch, but before he could retaliate, several shots were rapidly fired in his direction, forcing him to dodge again. A man firing an automatic rifle and a women who fired a pistol near each other shot at him, but had trouble aiming due to the smoke.

Izuku dashed in a zig-zag movement towards their location, making it even harder for them to hit him. The slower concrete man chased after him, also pulling out his own handgun and shooting at Izuku's direction. A fourth assailant, a man with sunglasses, followed behind the concrete man.

How many guns do these people have?

As he neared the gun firing man and woman, he shot out two tendrils of Blackwhip with his left arm. The man was captured by the tendril, but the woman managed to dodge by unnaturally arcing her back downwards. Her quirk allowed her to contort her body without limit. She didn't however, expect Izuku to shoot out a third tendril, wrapping around her legs.

Using the tendrils, he slammed the man and woman together as hard as he could, incapacitating both of them at once.

Near instantly after that, he narrowly dodged a burst of red lasers from behind thanks to Danger Sense. The man with sunglasses had taken off his glasses, revealing that he only had one large pure white eye like a cyclops, capable of firing lasers.

As he dashed towards the cyclops man while dodging lasers, the concrete man kept his gun and charged towards him from the side with a punch. Izuku simply backstepped a little and grabbed the man's punching arm, then used a mix of his own power and the man's momentum to throw the man in the direction of the cyclops. This sent the concrete man barrelling towards the cyclops man, also blocking the cyclops man’s lasers.

The cyclops man rolled to dodge as the concrete man crashed into the wall, leaving an obvious impact.

Preparing to fire another beam, the cyclops man was swiftly stopped as Izuku closed the gap, striking him unconscious with a single hit.

As the concrete man slowly recovered, Izuku delivered a kick to his gut. The man was hit into the same wall he'd previously impacted, knocking him out for good.

All of the attackers on Izuku's side of the channel were defeated, allowing him to finally use Float.

Using Float, he leapt onto the road slightly away from the jeep and watched Muscular's side of the canal, were he discovered a grisly sight.

Several bodies were strewn across the channel, seeping thick red blood into the water. Several of the bodies were heavily damaged, torsos smashed into pieces, heads caved in. Overall it was pretty messy. He would never get used to the gore some villains could create.

What grabbed Izuku's attention however was the fact that Muscular was lying near the bodies on the water channel wall opposite of the jeep, clearly defeated. The water around him was all red. A thinner layer of outer muscles only covered up certain parts of his upper body. Anywhere exposed was littered with injuries.

The right side of his face was slightly singed, while the right side of his neck was fully burnt. Small patches of skin were burnt away, allowing his actual muscle below his skin to be seen.

A large portion of his right shoulder was burnt black, mixed with dark red misshapen tissue and cauterized wounds. The wound was definitely caused by the direct hit of the explosion. Upon closer inspection, Izuku also noticed several of Muscular's muscle fibres were torn as if they had snapped.

It looks likes Yo's attack overstrained his muscles, meaning that his defences were also weakened. Add in the overwhelming firepower he received, it’s no wonder he's that badly injured.

Still, it was slightly scary to see Muscular defeated like this even if he was weakened before the fight. Their first encounter still deeply affected him.

One of his legs had become a red stump, with a red-stained bone protruding out. Anything below the knee was gone. The stump wound was profusely bleeding into the water. His other leg was exposed and heavily injured as well. There was no chance of escape. It seemed that he'd focused most of his remaining muscle fibres into protecting his upper body.

Surrounding him were about 15 people. Some stood guard around the smokescreen, waiting for it to fade before going in. A few of them were pointing their guns at the already defeated Muscular. One man who was kneeling down seemed to be interrogating Muscular.

Deciding to eavesdrop, Izuku covertly approached the cars. Lucky that everyone else that remained on the road was focused on watching Muscular.

Getting closer, Izuku had a better look of the man from behind a car. The man was of a large build, dressed in a dark blue shirt and jacket. He was olive-skinned and bald. Izuku could tell the man had a short black beard, even though he couldn't get a good look at the man's face.

"Why were you going after Izuku Midoriya?" The bald man asked in Japanese.

"For the markers, or the money?"

Markers?

Muscular also had no clue what the bald man was going on about.

Coughing up blood, he replied. "What are you," *cough* "even talking about?"

The bald man's tone and expression remained neutral and serious. "Were you intending to kill Izuku Midoriya?"

"Course I was, he's the only one who can," *cough* "quench my thirst for blood," Muscular proudly informed despite his current condition.

Hearing this, the bald man stood up and calmly pulled out a silver handgun from his jacket, cocking the slider and pointing it at Muscular's forehead.

Realising what the man was about to do, Izuku quickly shot out a burst of Blackwhip, wrapping and bringing Muscular to his side. He paid extra attention to Muscular's leg stump, wrapping it tightly to reduce the blood flow. Inevitably, his location was revealed in the process of saving Muscular.

"HE'S HERE, GET HIM!" Someone yelled in English.

Everyone turned around quickly. Some aimed their guns at Izuku and Muscular and fired, while others with suitable quirks to chase them chose to sprint towards them instead.

Izuku quickly took cover behind one of the cars with Muscular in tow. Suppressed by heavy fire, he activated Smokescreen to obscure the sight of the attackers, then used Float to quickly leap onto a building that was out of range.

The guns were out of range, but the railgun wasn't. Knowing this, the railgun operator turned the mounted gun towards the building and fired. The explosive shell landed on the front side of the building, causing a portion of the building to collapse. Izuku simply leapt further away from the collapsing building in response.

"HALT!" the bald man ordered loudly, raising his voice so his men could hear it. His men turned to look and listen to him.

The bald man further ordered, "Do not pursue. We have been here for too long, we leave now before a hero patrol notices. Take whoever that is alive."

Following the man's orders, anyone who was still alive climbed out of the water channel. A few of the men entered the smoke to pull their injured colleagues out before leaving. Once they were all out of the channel, they all entered their respective cars, driving away in the same line and waiting for the next update on Izuku's location.

At the end, only corpses remained in the water channel, along with portions of the channel wall that were cracked.

Meanwhile, Izuku scrambled to apply a tourniquet bandage on Muscular's right leg in an effort to stop the bleeding. He'd landed with Muscular on the rooftops of a tall building, hoping that no one could ambush them again there. Bringing Muscular to a police station would take time. Bringing him there untreated would almost certainly cause him to bleed out.

At this point, Muscular was half conscious, soon slipping into unconsciousness due to the blood loss.

"I don't need your sympha-" Muscular let out before fully becoming unconscious.

He honestly didn't even know why he'd saved Goto Imasuji. He could've stayed hidden and eavesdropped for even longer to gain more information from the attackers.

In the eyes of many, a man like Muscular deserved to die, a rabid dog that needed to be put down. A pure monster.

Yet Izuku couldn't let someone who had already been defeated to such a sorry and pathetic state die like that.

Finished with wrapping the bandage, he used Float and leapt from the roof, headed for the nearest police station.

Daina Police station, Musutafu

Izuku landed outside the station in a burst of smoke. He tried not to reveal himself too much in case someone undesirable was watching.

Placing the fatally wounded but still breathing Muscular by his side, he approached the heavily armoured policemen guarding the entrance gate with his hands up as a sign of no ill intent. Three policemen stood guard, one carrying an assault rifle and two equipped with riot shields.

"Halt, state your business!" the startled police officer ordered, pointing his assault rifle at the green figure.

"He needs medical attention, quick," Izuku informed the officer.

Looking at Muscular, the officers were shocked at how badly wounded Muscular was. "Holy-, the Jailbreaker, did you do this?" the lead officer asked in bewilderment.

"No, I didn't," he replied.

"Then who did?" the lead officer further questioned, as the two other officers rushed to bring Muscular in to the station.

Who were they?

"I don't know, but they're travelling in cars, led by one black jeep. I'll try to find them and bring them in."

Turning around and preparing to leave, he added, "Make sure that he's locked in an Iron Maiden once he receives treatment."

"Wait-!" the lead officer tried to stop Izuku, but he'd already leapt away in a smokescreen.

As he leapt across buildings, he pulled out his smartphone to call All Might

For now, Danger Sense has calmed down, but I need to tell All Might about what happened.

At the same time, a man in the driver's seat of a blue van started the engine as he was talking to someone through an earpiece. The man most notably wore a green balaclava. The van was parked two blocks east of the police station, with the front slightly poking out of an alleyway. This allowed the man to spy on what had just happened outside of the station with a pair of binoculars.

"The target seems to be helping police," the balaclava man talked into his earpiece.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a goody two-shoes here," a man on the other end of the line cockily answered with a Boston accent.

"Permission to follow target? He is headed north of the police station," the man in the balaclava requested.

"Granted, don't lose him", the Boston accented man allowed. "Still, I can't believe he fucking landed at a police station when we-"

The balaclava man ended the call, not wanting to hear his employer complain.

He glanced into the back of the van, where six similarly dressed men also wearing green balaclavas and sunglasses along with military gear sat on the two interior sides of the van, each with military-grade equipment in hand. In total, there were eight men in the van, including two in the front.

With that, the van exited the alleyway, heading to the next possible locations of Izuku Midoriya.

Chapter Text

So sorry that I left this fic dead for almost a year without updating. I’ve sort of lost interest in this fic and have decided to focus on my newest fic. There might be a rewrite of this fic in the future but that’s a big maybe.

As sort of a mild compensation, I’ll share some plans I had for the story.

-Izuku faces waves upon waves of people gunning for him like in canon, except much worse since in addition to dealing with the escapees and AFO’s lackeys, he has to deal with waves upon waves of assassins and mercenary groups from all over the world.

-The reason why these assassins and mercenaries are entering Japan so easily is through private airports owned by the High Table. Couple that with bases and hideouts owned by the High Table like the Osaka Continental and things get crazy.

-Nagant fight happens, but Mr Nobody is involved too.

-Mr. Nobody’s quirk is a very OP tracking quirk that enables him to lock on to a single person and see their outline no matter how far they are away from him.

-His dog has a quirk too. His dog can grow to roughly the size of Clifford the Big Red Dog. He rides around on his dog as a way to increase his mobility when hunting targets.

-Due to an even worse experience from going solo, Izuku refuses to let 1-A save him. During his struggle with 1-A, more assassins ambush them and end up killing 2 to 3 random classmates. Izuku successfully escapes but is left mentally and emotionally broken, only driven to take down AFO.

-Eventually after weeks of fighting almost non-stop, Izuku is overwhelmed and collapses while fighting whatever group that’s after him at the moment. Before he’s captured however, John swoops in and kills the other group before capturing Izuku himself.

-John’s quirk is related to his unbreakable will. As long as he’s determined, his body will heal faster, move faster and fight harder beyond normal limits to keep him alive.

-While transporting Izuku to the Osaka Continental, Izuku somehow convinces John not to deliver him to Santino and to instead help him take down AFO instead.

-Despite this, John knows that the bounty on Izuku will remain a major issue. So he still plans on going to the Osaka Continental to ask Koji for a way to get rid of Izuku’s bounty.

-On the way, they encounter a few fodder groups and John kills them all. Izuku takes issue but John obviously doesn’t give a shit.

-Somehow AFO finds out of John and Izuku’s sudden alliance. He isn’t too happy about it and decides to go the extra mile. He calls in a marker of his own. That marker is one for the Marquis de Gramont’s father. But since the Marquis’ father is dead, the Marquis himself has to do what AFO orders. AFO orders the Marquis to take down John and capture Izuku by any means necessary.

-The Marquis sets up a second smaller but still significant bounty for John, gets Caine out of retirement and bla bla bla.

-Eventually, they arrive at the Osaka Continental. John smuggles Izuku without much issue into the hotel since his real face isn’t known. The picture that AFO provided was just him in his Dark Deku costume.

-Santino is a small fish at this point in the story and somehow ends up dead sooner or later on.

-John finds out through Koji that duelling a seat-holding member of the High Table can settle disputes, even clearing bounties. He also finds out about the Marquis’ bounty on his head. Before he can really decide what to do however, the Marquis’ forces raid the Osaka Continental.

-In a split second decision, he decides to challenge the Marquis himself to lift his and Izuku’s bounties. The Marquis can’t deny since John isn’t excommunicado yet in this story. Koji tells John to find a guy he knows that has a long distance teleportation quirk.

-A version of the Osaka fight from JW4 plays out. Izuku’s presence slightly tips the balance of the fight to the hotel, but he and John ultimately leave due to overwhelming numbers of High Table forces coming in. Caine kills Koji like in canon.

-My plan for Caine’s quirk was something related to a shadow based power. I didn’t want him to have some quirk that allowed him to “see” while blind like Daredevil since it would be even more badass for him to be that good.

-Izuku and John make it to the teleportation guy and get sent to France.

-In France Izuku and John parley with the Marquis before the duel, and John draws the cards like in canon JW 4.

-The Marquis sends a fuckton of men to deal with Izuku and John, leading to scenes like in the JW 4 movie with some changes like Chidi vs Izuku.

-The idea I had for Chidi’s quirk was a werewolf quirk that only allowed him to transform at night. When transformed, he’s strong enough to keep up 1v1 with Izuku. I found it ironic if someone like Chidi who treats dogs so badly in the movie would have a dog-like quirk.

-Izuku and John eventually reach Sacre Coeur for the duel, but the participants aren’t allowed to use quirks as a result of the Harbinger’s presence

-The Harbingers’s quirk is a more op version of Aizawa’s quirk, that being a quirk nullification field. That way, the High Table ensures that duels are as fair as possible.

-The duelling sequence begins, with the twist that Izuku swaps in for a heavily injured John when the Marquis swaps in for Caine.

-Izuku is forced to kill the Marquis and is shaken. He has a mild breakdown over it, probably crying idk. Even after all he’s experienced, keep in mind he’s still a 15 year old teen thrust into a war. Seeing people die by the hand of others is way different than killing them with your own hands after all.

-John comforts him and reassures him that he did what he needed for the sake of stopping a bigger threat.

-As an epilogue, Izuku returns to Japan with a changed mindset roughly just before or after the Stars and Stripes arc, while John fully retires to get the rest he deserves.

-AFO is undeniably pissed, but what happened doesn’t matter too much since he and Tomura are almost ready for the final war.

-All of this takes place between a week or two.

Anyway that’s all. Sorry again and hopefully this will help some of you have an idea of what this fic could’ve been.