Chapter Text
Deku wakes up feeling fuzzy.
“Ugh,” he moans, rolling over onto his side.
His bed feels weird under his skin.
“Wait. When did I fall asleep?” he whispers, trying to remember what happened.
His vision is still blurred from sleep, so he closes his eyes to further his concentration. The last thing he remembers is going out for his work study with Nighteye. He remembers saying goodbye to Kacchan and Todoroki as they were heading off to their work studies, but he doesn’t even remember getting there.
Maybe I got a concussion.
He slowly sits up to make sure that he doesn’t aggravate the possible concussion. His head doesn’t hurt when he sits up, so he cautiously opens his eyes. His heart starts beating faster as he looks around. The room looks nothing like his room. The walls are a stark white. The bedding underneath him is the same color and very itchy. There are no windows in sight and only one door. The only other furniture is a desk on the other side of the room. Most noticeably though, there’s no decorations anywhere. No All Might merch and no bright colors. Nothing to even accent the space. Even the carpet covering the floor is white. He looks around again, his eyes wide. It takes everything in him not to spiral right into a panic attack. It feels like his throat is closing up, and someone is squeezing his head. So, he focuses on taking deep, even breaths. He’s not sure how long he stays there with his head tucked in between his knees, but it felt like forever.
Once he manages to get his breathing calm and level, he takes stock of his situation. His hero costume is gone, replaced by the spare clothes that he keeps in his backpack. Just a simple black shirt, shorts, and a blue zip up hoodie. His hair is fluffy and light even though he hasn’t washed it in a few days. His skin feels clean, and he feels better rested than he has in a long time. However, he doesn’t see his backpack anywhere, even though he knows that’s where these clothes came from. They’re even the same brand. As concerning as all of this is, the most concerning part is that he can’t hear anything outside of his own breathing. It’s incredibly quiet, quiet enough that he can’t hear anything besides himself. The room might be soundproof, but there should be something. Even if it’s from something inside of the room outside of himself. He listens carefully for anything, but doesn’t hear even the smallest noise, so he focuses on the door on the other side of the room instead. He proceeds towards it carefully as if it might explode if he approaches too quickly. He reaches for the knob, but right as he turns it with a soft click, a scream echoes through the space beyond the door.
Monoma pulls his wickedly heavy eyes open. All he can see for a moment is gold, but then he realizes that it’s just his bangs falling into his eyes.
Man, I must be more tired than I thought. Maybe I’m getting sick? I should probably get up, and take stock of how I feel. I’ll need to call Vlad if I can’t make it into school.
He pauses, half way through sitting up.
“This isn’t my room,” he says, his voice coarse. “Where am I?”
Everything in the room is drab, white and very plain. His whole body is too heavy for him to get off of the bed. He can tell, so he doesn’t even try. He just sits there, blinking in surprise.
Ok, my muscles are like lead, my head is pounding, and I can barely keep my eyes open. However, I need to take a look around so that I can figure out where I am. Where did I come from? Now that I think about it, I don’t remember going home. The last thing I remember is leaving for my work study on Sunday morning. I wonder what day it is now.
He looks down, a frown evident on his face. He’s in spare clothes from his work duffle. It’s a plain black shirt with sweatpants, and a red jacket. His bangs fall across his face again as he studies his clothes.
“Did someone treat my hair with something? It’s never this fluffy unless my mom makes me use her expensive treatment after I wash it,” he mumbles, pushing it out of his eyes.
While it’s not the biggest concern, his heart beats faster at the idea of someone being able to change his clothes and wash his hair without him being aware of it. He doesn’t let that stop him, or hinder him though. He pushes that thought away before using the bedpost to pull himself to his feet. His legs still almost give out on him, but he manages to stay standing. He’s shaking like a leaf, and his muscles feel like they’re on fire. He tries to move over to the wall so that he can get to the door without falling, but there isn’t anything for him to actually grab onto. So he falls, hitting the ground with a dull thud. It doesn’t hurt as much as he thought it would.
I have to get over to that door. Even if I do though, what do I do then? I can’t fight anyone off in this state. Someone must have put us here. With that thought in mind, how do I get out of here? Do I try to wait out the pain, or do I try to push through? What would Vlad tell me to do? Other than to wait for backup. That’s bullshit advice that he only gives us because we’re children. Nevermind, that’s all he tells us to do in practical application. Damn it, can’t he ever teach us something useful?
He groans, putting his forehead to the floor. It’s oddly quiet around, which just now piques his interest.
“What’s with the silence?” he wonders out loud as he picks his head up off of the floor.
Right as that question comes into his head, the silence is broken by a loud scream from beyond the door.
Kaminari feels sparks fly across his skin, a light smoke smell filling the room. His eyes fly open, but there are no sparks and no fire. The blanket across his legs is completely intact, and his skin feels weird. It takes him a second to realize what’s wrong with the scene in front of him.
“Not my blanket,” he mumbles before tossing it off.
He looks down in surprise. He’s in a new bed with his spare clothes from his work bag. He has on an orange, long sleeve shirt, jeans, and a black jacket. He’s really hot in these clothes since they were meant for the cold December winds on the way back home from his work study so if had to change, he would still be warm. He doesn’t pay much mind to that since he has much bigger things to worry about. He looks down at his skin, frowning. The usual buzz under his skin is gone. In its place is an odd silence. It feels exactly like the few times that he’s taken quirk suppressants and there wasn’t a thunderstorm outside. He looks up, taking in the room around him. The quiet is the next thing that he notices. His breathing picks up. His eyes lose focus as his lungs ache for air. He flashes back to the quiet after his mom died.
The long nights were he was home alone, and no one was around. His dad worked, and no one wanted to be friends with him after he had his first seizure. That only made things harder. He wasn’t supposed to be alone after that, but he had six seizures while alone in his house before his dad got meds to help prevent them. His head is filled with cotton, and he forces himself to try to breathe. He feels like he’s hyperventilating, not to mention that he feels a little like he’s going to stress himself into a seizure.
“Calm down, Denki. Calm down,” he whispers, burying his head in his arms.
He forces himself to his feet, immediately stumbling towards the desk on the other side of the room.
“Find a task. Something to make the quiet less loud. If I just keep talking, I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. Maybe I should find someone to talk to. I wonder if I can find anyone. Maybe… is there a way out of this room?”
He looks around, his eyes landing on the door. He picks his hands off of the desk where they were sitting uselessly. He only takes a single step towards the door before a scream echoes through the door.
Shinso curls into a ball, wrapping his arms around his midsection. His body aches, his head lightly pounding. He pushes his face into the bed underneath him before frowning.
“Huh?” he mumbles, clumsily sitting up. “Where am I?”
While he doesn’t remember falling asleep, that’s not uncommon after getting the crap beaten out of him.
“I don’t have a bed.”
He blinks, wondering if he’s hallucinating. The bruises across his chest don’t hurt as badly as they did when he was on his way to his work study with Mr. Aizawa. He feels along his ribs, testing how badly they hurt.
Ok, did I get grabbed leaving work? No, Mr. Aizawa usually walks me back home. I was walking there in broad daylight though. My walk from the school to work only goes through one bad neighborhood. The walk home is worse, but I wouldn’t have been alone. I’m alone now though. It’s oddly quiet here.
However, it’s not completely silent. There’s a slight buzzing that he can barely hear over his quiet breathing. He stands up, blinking as his hair falls right into his eyes.
“Oh, that’s weird,” he says, running his hands through his damp hair.
It’s barely sticking up due to still being wet. He walks over to his door, trying the knob. It doesn’t turn, refusing to budge even an inch. He pulls on it, leaning his whole weight against the knob. It doesn’t concede. He sighs heavily.
“Fine, I guess I’ll look around for something to pick that lock with,” he grumbles.
His brain fuzzes over, causing him to blink rapidly for a moment just to get his bearings.
“What the frick?” he mumbles, putting a hand over his eyes.
I should sit down before I fall.
He sits back down on the edge of the bed, heaving a sigh. He looks around again, taking everything in. The walls are white, the floor is made of white tiles, and even the door is white. Everything is also meticulously clean. There isn’t a speck of dust or dirt in sight.
This place looks like a room for crazies, but less padded. At least I’m not in a straight jacket. That would suck. I think I might have a concussion. This is a weird line of thought. Also, I can’t seem to focus. My observation skills aren’t great either.
He hums, frowning deeply.
“Ok, there are no windows, so I’ll have to focus on the door. Maybe I should try standing again so I can look through the desk for something useful.”
He stands slowly, still slightly wobbly. But he manages to stay upright, so he starts making his way over to the desk. A muffled scream startles him out of his thoughts. It sounds like it might have come through multiple layers of wall. He makes his way over to the door again, pressing his ear against it. He doesn’t hear anything anymore besides the quiet buzzing.
Bakugo bolts up in his bed, his body shuddering. His eyes dart around wildly, trying to figure out what’s going on. His eyes immediately land on his arms, his eyes going even wider.
“What the…”
Black covers his arms from his wrists to his elbows. He can see his skin through the black, it’s almost shadowy. Except for his veins. Those are completely dark like a void. He presses a finger slowly against one of his veins. It doesn’t hurt, but it does feel kind of numb. Not completely numb. Almost as if he’s used a little bit of numbing cream to cover his skin, but not enough to actually stop the feeling. He stands, surveying the white room around him. The first thing he notices is how bright the room feels. It’s all very clean too. He’s barefoot, clothed in his extra clothes from his backpack. It’s just sweats and a red t-shirt. The only thing missing from his outfit is his jacket, but that’s nowhere to be seen. He takes a few slightly shaky steps forward towards the door, becoming steadier and steadier. He can’t hear anything, but he can feel the air entering and leaving his lungs. So, he reaches up towards his ear, hissing and mumbling a curse.
They took my hearing aids. That must be why I’m so disoriented. It’s been a while since I went anywhere without them.
Once he makes it towards the door, he tries the knob. It doesn’t budge. He bangs his weight against it, tries to break it open, and even tries breaking the knob. After none of that works, he chooses to make his way to the desk instead. There’s nothing on the top so he reaches for the top drawer instead. It doesn’t budge, also locked. He growls in frustration, trying the other drawers.
None of them open either. Ok, I can’t get in there. Maybe I can find some way to pry the drawers or the door open. Let me see if I can get my fingers in there.
He tries to put his nails in the slit between the drawer and the top of the desk. He kicks the desk as even his nails won’t fit into the small space.
“What the heck? Where am I, and how did I freaking get here?” he demands, louder than he intended to due to not being able to regulate his volume.
He thinks back to the last thing he remembers, coming up blank for a moment. Then he remembers pulling on his hero costume, saying goodbye to Deku, and heading off for his work study with Jeanist. The street was quiet as he walked. Oddly so since there was normally a lot of foot traffic. He brushed it off, listening to the sound of his boots hitting the ground with each step. His phone dinged twice, signifying that he got a text from Jeanist. Then nothing. He doesn’t remember pulling his phone out, or looking at the text. Only that his phone received one, then waking up here.
Someone must have grabbed me off of the street. I need to do something to get out of here right now. The only question is what to do?
Mina stretches with a large yawn.
Ugh, I thought I just woke up from a nap. Why am I asleep again? she wonders. Maybe I dreamed of waking up and heading to work. This late work call might have thrown me off more than I thought it would. I had to have been asleep for at least an hour. That means that the others have probably been at work for at least forty five minutes. I should probably get a move on even if my alarm hasn’t gone off. This room is a lot colder than I remember it being.
She shivers as she pulls her eyes open. Her curls fall wildly around her face.
I thought I already gelled and fixed those this morning. A little nap shouldn’t have messed it up that much.
“Ugh,” she groans, pushing the loose curls out of her eyes to reveal a completely white room around her. “Where the heck am I?” she whispers, head on a swivel to look at everything around her.
Maybe I didn’t imagine getting ready for my work study.
She looks around one more time before looking down at herself. Black covers her arms from her wrist to her elbow. Her breath catches as she sees that, her eyes going wide.
“What’s wrong with my arms? It looks like one of those really terrifying snake bites where your whole arm turns black. Then you have to cut it off. I probably shouldn’t say that. I’m going to freak myself really fast at this rate.”
She pokes the black, but it doesn’t feel bad. Just odd. She can hear slight banging almost as if someone’s banging on the wall of the room next to hers. She stands up, walking towards the wall. She’s in the clothes that she had shoved into her bag. They’re old clothes. She only stuck them in there so that she could drop them off at the thrift shop on her way home. The skirt is way too short on her, and the shirt is just a little too cropped for her taste. She huffs in annoyance before pressing her ear against the wall. The banging is still there, but she can’t hear it any better than when she was across the room. She also doesn’t hear anything else except for a slight buzzing. The banging is almost drowning out the buzzing already. She knocks on the wall.
“Can you hear me?” she yells, but no one responds.
The banging doesn’t even get quieter. So, she assumes that for some reason, the other person can’t hear her. She heads towards the door, but it won’t open.
“They must be trying to manhandle the door open. I wonder if that worked for them,” she says, heading back towards the wall.
The banging is quiet now, and she can’t hear the other person. She spends a while banging on the wall and yelling at the other person, but they never respond. Eventually she plops down on her bed, exhausted.
“What could have happened?” she whispers.
Before she can question it further, a muffled scream comes from somewhere outside.