She'd met plenty of league members with red eyes, she just wasn't expecting to see ones so -
familiar.
*
Isie Kataoka hadn't been part of the League of Villains for long, a mere four months, but in that time he'd moved through the ranks and into the patrol rotation. One of his patrols, partnered with another League member, ran along the perimeter and surrounding blocks of the warehouse location, another ran through the weaponry supplies and his final patrol was through the holding cells.
Like all Sundays since starting this routine, he had a late morning start that began with the outside patrol for a few hours before ending his shift through the holding cells. He had a quick bite; two slices of buttered toast and a cup of black coffee, and a half-assed shower. His red eyes were more red from the little sleep he'd had the night before so he dropped in some eye drops before pulling his outfit on. A pair of dark cargo pants, a mildly torn up black sweater, a sun-faded beanie and a dark mask that concealed most of his face.
Isie adjusted the mask over his nose as he dropped down the fire escape of his building. He'd been avoiding his landlord for a few days now. It's not like he couldn't easily afford the rent of the minuscule apartment, he just didn't want to have to pay it.
In the time they'd been on patrol together, Isei and his partner, Madoka had formed something of a friendship. They didn't talk much about anything important but they understood one another, able to gauge each other's mood by a glance or inflection of tone. That was the perfect friendship for Isei. No real attachment, no real affection, just enough company to make the day go by.
After dropping by the staff lockers, Isie gave Madoka a nod as he arrived at their meetup spot outside of warehouse C. Madoka quirked a brow in return as he took a deep drag to end his cigarette, muttering a smokey "morning" before shooting out the cloud in a long greyish stream.
They walked the length of warehouse C's high fences, turning the corner to march between warehouse A and B on their left and C and D on their right.
"What letter were you up to last night?" Isie asked after a sheepish yawn.
"Uh... M. Ma- Mar-" Madoka scratched his head. "Fuck, what was her name? Mayuko."
"Mayuko." Isie repeated. "How was it?"
"Ehh," Madoka shrugged. "She was fine. She had cold toes and it was throwing me off. I think G was still my favourite."
"Even though you don't remember her name?"
"The name doesn't matter." He waved his hand lazily. "It's ticking the alphabetical box that does."
"I'm guessing you've already got N lined up then?"
"N, P and Q. At this rate I'll be done by the end of the year."
Isie chuckled, shaking his head as they continued past the warehouses and down the street. Their radius ran three blocks on either side of the warehouses, just to where the city teetered into the industrial area. The plot blended in well with the surrounding pharmaceutical warehouses and small industrial park offices. The streets were usually pretty empty of people, only cars and trucks flying past on the road. All-in-all it was an easy job, just lots of walking.
"Wonder what I'll get for lunch..." Madoka muttered as they reached the end of their route. The edge of the city hosted a collection of small cafes, fast food joints and convenience stores scattered between the buildings. People were more common to find here than a block back.
"Keep thinking about." Isie scanned the street around them. "Keep watch, I'm gonna take a piss."
"Ah."
Isie ducked into an alley, glancing behind him quickly before scoping out the narrow alleyway. He kicked at a tin can as he tucked himself behind a large garbage bin, giving one last glance to the fire escapes that clung to the side of the building.
"You done yet?" He heard Madoka call from outside the alley.
"Fuckin' relax. I haven't start-"
Isie's mind slipped. He felt himself falling back into the ground, dropping down through the pavement, and watching the world continue around him. He could see himself standing in the alley, motionless, and at the same time he could see the wall he'd been staring at when his mind slipped. He couldn't move, he couldn't speak, everything about him froze and all he could do was watch himself be nothing.
"Eugh. Could you at least make him zip his pants back up?" He wanted to turn to where the irritated voice was coming from but he couldn't move.
"You realise he's going to strip anyway, right?" Another voice joined, this one monotonous, bored even, and again he couldn't turn to face it.
"Yeah but this feels... Dirty." The annoyed one replied.
There was a pause with the perfect duration for someone to roll their eyes.
"Face me." The monotonous one said.
Now he could move but not of his own free will. Isie turned before his brain could catch up, coming face to face with the owners of the voices. One hung upside down from one of the fire escapes, suspended by what looked like a thin grey scarf. Bored and tired eyes stared at him while a chunky mask concealed the rest of his face, purple hair falling messily.
The other stood beside the suspended one, red eyes not unlike his own glaring at him, a snarl carved into face, messy ash blonde hair almost exploding around him.
"You done yet?" He heard Madoka call out again. "I'm hungry."
The suspended one turned a knob on his chunky mask and Isie heard his own voice respond. "Go eat then, I can't go if you're gonna rush me."
If Isie could will his jaw to drop he would.
"Let's get this over with." The blonde one grumbled as he dropped an empty backpack from his shoulders.
"Would you be so kind as to remove your clothing and hand them over to my friend here?" The upside down one asked Isie.
Somewhere in his mush of a mind his conscious was screaming 'fuck no' but that didn't stop Isie from slipping his beanie from his head and dropping to the ground in front of him. His mask quickly followed, then his shoes slipped off casually before he pulled his torn up sweater off and dropped his pants.
He left everything in a pile in front of him, eyes blankly staring at the wall behind the pair.
"Quickly." The upside down one said to the blonde.
"Yeah, yeah." He grumbled, unzipping his tight black jacket and shoving it into the empty backpack. His shoes were slipped off next before he shimmied out of his pants and tucked them into the bag with his jacket.
The blonde moved quickly to pull on the outfit Isie had been wearing, using the faded beanie to tuck in any strands of messy blonde hair from sight. While he dressed, the upside down one dropped smoothly to the pavement, his long grey scarf unfurling from the fire escape above and falling neatly to his shoulders.
As the blonde slipped his shoes back on, Isie felt his mind slowly clawing its way out of the dark, his willpower returning just enough for a finger to twitch.
"I think that's your cue." The no longer upside down tired one muttered to the blonde as he pulled the grey scarf from his shoulders. With a skilful flick of his wrist, his grey scarf engulfed Isie, wrapping tightly around his arms, up his shoulders to his neck and around his mouth.
Isie's conscience snapped back from the void. As soon as he felt his body fall back under his control he tried to make a break for it. He'd barely moved a millimeter when the tired one pulled back on his grey scarf, forcing Isie to collapse to the ground and writhe irritably.
"Can you remind me what he sounds like?" The blonde asked.
The tired one flipped a knob on his chunky face mask again. "Like this." Isie heard his voice say from the contraption. His voice wasn't raspy at all like the blonde's, and his tone sat in a higher range too.
"How's this?" The blonde one asked, trying to smooth his raspy tone.
"Eh." The tired one waved his hand back and forth that suggested an almost-but-not-quite agreement.
The blonde cleared his throat. "How about now?"
The tired one stared at back him blankly, making the blonde one sigh and drop his head back into his shoulders.
"Fine," The blonde one kicked his bag over to the tired one. "I'll have to think of something."
"You look the part, at least." The tired one said with a nod.
Isie groaned into the fabric of the scarf, any sound he attempted coming out as no more than a muffle, any move he made only making the scarf constrict tighter.
The blonde made for the entrance of the alley, doing a few last minute adjustments to his outfit.
"Dynamight," The tired one called out to him.
Isie's wriggling ceased. Somewhere, deep in his memories of information he deemed useless, he remembered stories from when he first joined the League. Whispers of others more involved in the going-ons and projects he didn't really care for.
Dynamight...? They can't be serious...
The blonde - Dynamight, turned back to the tired one.
"Get her back, yeah?"
*
Bakugo thought catching up with Madoka would be a little more of a challenge but his disguise's partner found him a few blocks down from the alley, tossing the paper wrapper of a burger repeatedly in his hands.
"You took your time. Rub one out back there?"
Bakugo cleared his throat. A few times.
Then he coughed.
"Feel... Sort of-" He coughed again. "Feverish."
"Gross." Madoka moved a few paces away from the fake Isie. "You sound terrible. Look like shit too, the hell kinda germs you pick up in that pile of trash?"
Bakugo coughed again, this time sniffing and wiping his brow. "I'm sure it's-"
pathetic cough
"Nothing."
"Yeah, right." Madoka eyed him. "Keep your distance and keep the mask on. I'm using this as an excuse to get home early."
Madoka waved to Bakugo... Isie... as if gesturing for him to move further away from him.
"Just don't go collapsing on me."
Bakugo would stumble occasionally as they walked back toward the warehouse. He would sniff, sometimes draw out a pathetic cough and clutch at his chest like his lungs were in pain. Madoka was tired of his sickly antics by the time they returned to base, taking it upon himself to open each door and steer the sad man he thought to be Isie (at an arms length of course) through the halls and towards the staff locker room.
Madoka had to face "Isie" up to his locker before inching away to the locker next to it. He kept checking over his shoulder to see if his partner would collapse but he just stood there, facing the door.
"You're not too fucked to remember your locker combo are you?"
A rush of footsteps coming down the hall peaked Madoka's attention as another member of the League came skidding into the doorway.
"Y-you guys-!" They panted as they gripped the doorframe. "N-need help in the holding cells, quick!" They were off as soon as they appeared.
Madoka was about to take after him, leaving his locker still open before checked back at "Isie". Bakugo still hadn't moved, he's eyes fixed on the door in front of him.
"Isie?" Madoka asked inching forwards. "Not that I care but are you gonna be okay?"
Bakugo's eyes flicked over to the door before snapping to Madoka.
"I-Isie?"
In a flash, Bakugo's hand was gripping the back of Madoka's neck and slamming him forward into his disguise's closed locker door. Madoka's hands flung forward in a panic, trying to stop the impact as his head was pulled back and slammed into the metal again, again, and again.
The door dented, blood colouring the steel red before Madoka went limp in Bakugo's grip. Satisfied with how mashed his face was, Bakugo shoved the patrol member into the open locker. It was a tight squeeze and when he inevitably stirred with concussion, he'd be far from comfortable in there.
Bakugo slammed the door shut. He haphazardly smeared his hand over Madoka's blood spatters on the steel and slapped it off on his dark pants. He checked around him before adjusting his mask and ducking for the doorway the other League member had summoned them from.
He didn't really know where to go other than the side the member had ducked down and luckily the hallway only went in one direction for a while. Once he reached a set of stairs, the sounds of yelling and hurried footsteps told him to go down, and he continued his trek down bleak halls towards the sound.
More Leavue members rushed past him as the sound of the panicked voices grew louder and he eventually rounded a corner into a hallway dotted with steel cell doors. Knocked out and severely injured League members were strewn on the plain concrete flooring in front of the only opened door and as he got closer, someone who had rushed past him earlier was thrown into the hallway and smashed against the wall.
Bakugo's pace had been somewhere between a fast walk and jog but as he drew nearer to the cell, he slowed down. Two members who remained outside the door exchanged a look before they went in. A click echoed through the bleak hallways and one of the pair immediately exited the cell with a cry of pure agony, his whole body engulfed in flames.
The other was howling too, echoes of a struggle, but soon their yells were drowned out by fist colliding with flesh.
"As if I was gonna go down easy!" Ren's voice echoed from the cell.
Bakugo paused, gulping the lump in his throat and reminding himself why he'd come all this way before he stepped into the doorway of the cell.
Ren had the League member on their back, their arms splayed out on either side lifelessly while she crouched over them, punching, slapping, beating their head from side to side. Each hit sent a spray of blood across the once pale clean concrete.
Bakugo gritted his teeth. She looked worse, so much worse than she had that day in the summer. Her hair clung to her forehead from sweat. Her clothing was so torn one of her sleeves was ripped off and the other barely dangling by threads. She was sprayed with blood, mostly of the members she'd tortured half to death and some her own. Bakugo was most taken back by her eyes, blank of anything but malice.
"Are you trying to kill him?" Bakugo asked, still trying to imitate Isie.
"Maybe." Ren snapped back, not looking up as she landed another hit.
Bakugo checked either side of the hall before he ducked into the cell. He cleared his throat.
"Ren." Bakugo hoarsely whispered, letting his own tone return.
She hit again, ignoring him.
"R-Ren."
She either couldn't hear him over the sound of her own fists or she was so enthralled she was choosing to ignore him.
Bakugo glanced behind him before he stepped closer to wrap his hand around the upper part of her arm and tugged before she could land another hit.
"Fuck off!" Ren snapped, ripping her arm from his grip and still not giving him her attention. "I'll get to you."
He clenched his teeth, glancing at the cell door again to see if anyone else had arrived.
He latched onto her upper arm again and this time he ripped her to her feet in one swift movement. Ren was halfway through another swing and stumbled slightly when she found herself on her feet and her fist not colliding with a jaw.
Pulled from her stupor, Ren's free hand was instantly on the wrist of her attacker and she snapped her attention to him, teeth barred and jaw clenched.
"Get your hand off-" Ren froze when her eyes met his.
It couldn't be.
There was no way.
She was just thrown out of concentration,
overexerted,
underfed.
She'd met plenty of league members with red eyes, she just wasn't expecting to see ones so -
familiar.
Fresh footsteps and voices echoed down the hall.
"Of me." Ren mumbled the end of her sentence, snapping herself out of her trance and pulling her eyes from his as she tugged at his wrist. "Let. Me. Go."
Bakugo held steady, allowing his hand to heat up against her skin slowly as the voices and footsteps drew closer.
Ren froze again, eyes snapping back to his and watching as his brow knitted slightly. She unclenched her jaw, making her lips part open as she drew in a sharp breath.
"Got her!" A voice echoed into the cell as Ren was throttled back into the wall with hands clambering to grip and hold her steady. League members poured into the cell to assist with subduing Ren. Cuffs were slapped onto her wrists and she felt her body fall limp as if drained of all power and energy. She was shoved, slapped, maliciously being dragged from the room for fighting against them so brutally.
It was a blur of people in the tiny room. Ren being dragged and passed between heavily armoured crew and Bakugo straining to break through the mass of people. He clenched his fists, ready to counterstrike when another group flooded him. He felt hands throw him against the wall as soon as Ren was pulled from his sight.
His mask and beanie were ripped from his head, three pairs of hands on each of his arms and shoulders pinned him back to the wall. Madoka came into his view, the beaten man holding a bloodied rag to his smashed face, glowering at him from beneath a swollen brow. Bakugo's hands heated, sparks crackling at his palms.
Madoka smirked, pulling back his free hand and sending it straight for Bakugo's nose.
The bleak, starkly bright hallways turned black.
*