Insult To Injury :: 𝘮𝘩𝘢 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘺𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

Prologue 00.

Episode One 〃Origin: Len Matsumoto〃

"You'll never be anything boy. Nobody is ever going to need you so just stay laying on your side and bleed the fuck out already!"

Dad used to tell me that all the time. That all I would ever be good for is laying down and taking my beatings like a good boy. Too bad he never lived past seventy to see his dream for me lived out. Part of Japan's nastier 'heroin' and completely under the thumb of some even nastier government officials.

I don't give a shit about them. Or myself for that matter. But it pays the bills and I guess there's some deep part of me that needs to feel wanted, a need dad only ever bothered to deepen. It sucks living with a longing like that, but I'm not too ashamed to admit I'm a selfish guy and if doing my job eases the ache I'll keep doing it till I finally kick the bucket.

Blowing out a long and hard breath, I scribbled with a marker on my thumb nail while I waited for the most recent disaster report from the team's excursions in Korea.

Oh yeah, by the way, my team is a group of people like me that the government grabbed up out of the slums and made their personal lap dogs- a lot like some program they had going for a while where they did the same to kids with promising quirks and made'um heroes. Bond A-4 is what they call us, and don't question me about the shitty naming because that wasn't my job.

Ah yeah sorry- I'm probably screwing with your poor head by getting ahead of myself. The names' Len Matsumoto, I'm forty one years old and I'm what today's society would call an anti-hero. Or I suppose in more PG terms, a legalized vigilantly.

This new age of peace has been wonderful for the heroes, making life not just in Japan, but the entire world easier. And while they stroll around practically carefree, it's me and my team who make sure they're not figuratively stepping on nails and broken glass that's left on the sidewalk. Think of us like the house keepers of Japan: we make sure everything is clean even if we have to get our hands dirty doing it.

A sharp knock at the door to the box sized room I was given as an office resounded before Asahi strode in, that plastic look of 'I can't believe you pinned me with all the paper work again so I was pulling double shifts' on their face.

"Finally got all the reports back from Tenka Six," they grumble after dropping a stack of manilla folders down onto my cigarettes like it's not an absolute war crime. Quickly I reached over and rescued the poor things before leaning back in my duct tape apolstered chair. Kicking my shoes up onto my desk, I have them a deadpan look.

Underneath Asahi's striking orange eyes was dark like they hadn't slept well recently and I felt that, mine had practically been stuck they way since birth.

"I can see that," I grunt in return and they rubbed between their brows before plopping their wirey self on my desk top. Crossing their legs, they opened the top folder while I lit one of my squashed smokes.

"Oh that's nasty you know those are bad for you right?" Came the usual lecturing huff as they reached one of their quirk manifested ribbons over to the window and cracked it.