My League Of Villains

"Why the hell didn't he have a gun?!"

The shouting man was one of the Directors. Izuku's supervisor was one of the first heads to roll after the incident, but he wasn't out of danger either. Relationship with the public and Internsh.i.p.s were his responsibility, so it wouldn't be strange for him to get in trouble because of this incident. According to the rules, all interns had to carry a rubber bullets gun, just in case. Midoriya thought about it a lot, but even if he had a weapon it would have ended up in the same way. Actually, he was glad he didn't have it, because, if he did, he would have fought Stain, and he would have lost... and been killed.

The days were passing like a river under a bridge. It was like someone else was living his life, and he was just a bystander. Since he called the police, everything he did was responding to the outside world's expectations. He became a robot running in automatic mode. The stay at the hospital, the interrogation, his mother's visit and then his teachers' and classmates', the funeral. He could barely remember all of it. They had given him an entire week of leave but, after three days of apathy, he wondered if he shouldn't just go back to work. The Internsh.i.p.s were a good opportunity to learn new things and show off his abilities. Jinnai wouldn't be happy if he missed it just because he was dead. Midoriya stood up, took his keys and went out.

Despite the late hour, Shinjuku was as bustling as ever, and on the main streets where lighting never died, shops, restaurants, and other activities were competing on who was going to close first. Recently, he started to feel the impulse of taking walks in the middle of the night. It was refreshing and it made him feel more alive than ever. He often stopped at a discreet, out of the way clothing shop. The owner was a suspicious old man who glared at him whenever he came in, but he never asked any questions. The only thing he ever said was to not touch the merch. It was common to have clothing thought to meet the needs of those who had mutant-type or transformation-type quirks, so it was weird this one sold only normal clothes. At first glance, a normal customer would think people with quirks weren't welcome here. But the dusty bronze plaque behind the counter was enough to change anyone's mind. It was a twenty years old award for best hero costume. In reality, the shop only manufactured custom clothes, and the ones exposed were only the 'normal' ones.

"Sir, do you still make hero costumes?"

The old owner glared at him again. A costume wasn't something anyone could buy. Many thought it's just a flashy suit, but it was also aimed at bringing out the best of one's quirk, especially in battle.

"I see. It'll cost more if you want me to keep it off the record."

"Ahahahah, well then, I guess I'll pay that little extra!"

Izuku scratched his head and laughed, pulling his jacket up a little, just enough to show the Secret Services silver badge attached to his belt. The geezer kept his cool and wiped the sweat on his forehead. After he saw the little devil disappears beyond the door, he closed the shop in haste. The customer's requests were absurd and he wanted to refuse, but he didn't want to mess with the organization behind him. [Bah, I worked for villains, I can work for the PSIA too. I'm already lucky they didn't send a hitman, instead.]

The next morning, Midoriya returned to work. His new supervisor, a tall guy named Murakami, was against it, but then he gave up and started to train him. Unlike before, the training was intense and diversified. Most of it was martial arts and techniques to deal with armed felons and a few tricks to use against different types of quirks. Depending on the type (Emitter, Mutant, Transformation), quirks share some similarities and weaknesses. It was an unreliable method, but still better than nothing until Uematsu shared with him the ARP and SPP data. He also taught him military tactics, socialization skills and helped him understand the inner workings of the State and the Hero System. It was nothing new, but the depth and insight were much richer than what he knew. Murakami was definitely a good teacher and the reason he was assigned to him was most probably the Agency trying to put a patch on the whole scandal. Murakami was also an agent, so he had to help him on his missions. Almost all of them were diplomatic missions with the various Embassies, making him useless. In fact, he was told just to watch and learn.

Finally, at the end of the week, Uematsu called him. It wasn't possible to make a copy using a computer, so Uematsu hired someone with a strange quirk who wrote everything on paper in a few minutes. Seeing the amount and size of the notebooks filled, he was impressed. He passed the whole weekend, without even sleeping, to read it. Now, Izuku understood why the ARP were forbidden. Their purpose wasn't to deal with villains alone. Anomalies used to refer to anyone having a quirk. The ARP was meant as a 'Final Solution'. Sterilization, genocide, everything was clearly outlined. But that was in the long term. The majority of the ARP were instructions on how to kill mutated human beings based on their Quirk Factor. This was where the SPP stemmed for, with the difference it was humanly acceptable, focusing on the restraining and non-lethal neutralization parts and smudging them. At a certain point, not sleeping stopped being a choice and begun being impossible. As soon as he closed his eyes, he could see the horrors written on those pages coming to life and gnawing at his mind. For the first time, he realized what they meant when history teachers called it a 'society breakdown'. Those times were a fusion between dystopia and anarchy. The worst thing was he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. A mysterious chord was plucked in the abyss of his heart, forcing him to keep reading and memorizing every single word. When he was done, he hid the papers in his closet. The temptation to burn them was high, but he wanted to keep them on hand, in case he needed to revise them.

Izuku was drinking his coffee, early in the morning, when he heard some knocks on his door. He checked the peephole and opened the door with a surprised frown on his face: it was Sakura.

"Hey, Midoriya! It's been a while ... I heard you resumed your internship and I wanted to see how you are!" She shyly waved at him and looked around, "You have a cool apartment!"

Izuku was nodding and holding his cup of coffee in the air. It was the first time a girl came to his house.

"I'm doing fine."

Sakura nervously twirled her brown hair. She didn't believe him, but she had received her orders. She rummaged through her pockets and put a golden badge on the table.

"I don't want to give this... But, Yuuji-sensei said it would help you. The Police Force is short of man since it's dealing with Stain and the League of Villains at the same time, and they requested us to patrol the streets at night." she stopped and looked him in the eyes "If we see something, we have to report it immediately. We can't and we must not engage any villain unless it's an extreme emergency."

Izuku picked up the badge. "I understand, when do we begin?"

"From 18:00 to 21:00, every day. Your partners are me and Watabe. Please, be careful and don't do anything stupid."

She dwindled on the doorway. It seemed she wanted to say something else, but she changed her mind. "Bye!"

He and Watabe were strolling on the streets donning their uniform. Izuku adjusted his sleeves. He received it just a month ago, but it was already starting to not fit him anymore.

"You want some rat?"

He absent-mindedly accepted the paper wrap his friend was offering him and bit off a piece. It was succulent... "W-wait, rat?"

"Yes, my mother makes them. They are delicious. Don't worry, they're safe. She buys them from a trustworthy butcher!"

Izuku wanted to throw it away, but in the end, he gave in to Watabe's expectant gaze and ate it all. It wasn't so bad, after all. The shift was about to end, so they were going to meet up with Sakura. That was when he saw something on a roof. He saw someone. Someone with a red scarf.