The city of Mustafu was always quiet at night. It was a working city with tall skyscrapers and business districts. Mustafu fell short of Hosu in terms of both population and architecture. The city was built from scratch on flat land, where tall skyscrapers made of sand, concrete, and glass were erected. Hosu differed from Mustafu in its ancient architecture, which Mustafu could not boast of.
Everyone knew one thing: if something happened in Mustafa, it was a noisy and grandiose event.
This day was no exception for the residents of Mustafu.
"Cultural festival and concert in the center of Mustafu — we are waiting for you all!" — so said the brochure, and it did not disappoint. There was a large stage with speakers and a lot of musical equipment, from stereo systems to modern speakers that cost a lot of money. The stage for the musicians was spacious, allowing them to realize their ideas. There were many musical instruments available, and even if someone couldn't provide them due to financial constraints, thanks to the organizers, many were able to participate with their own lyrics. There was also a committee to ensure that the lyrics of the songs were appropriate for the age group of the cultural festival.
The entire event, which was unprecedented in its generosity, was financed by numerous organizers, such as the Youth Development Fund and the Cultural Fund, with most of the expenses covered by AO Media Holding in order to discover new young stars and create new idols among young people.
The city was bustling like never before, and many workers managed to call the police to complain about the noise. Unfortunately, on that day, they had to sleep to the sound of music and crowds until the festival ended.
"Don't you want to go to the festival? Admission is free!" Melissa objected, talking on the phone. She loved big events like this before moving to Japan. Life is extremely changeable: one day you are in your home country, surrounded by your compatriots, and the next you are in a foreign country, in an unfamiliar environment, where you are a stranger in a completely different culture.
"I'm sorry, Melissa, I can't go to the festival with you. Fuyumi-sensei has given us a lot of work. I can't let her down," Izuku replied sadly. On the one hand, he was torn between his duty not to let down an important person in his life and his desire not to let down a new friend who really wanted to have a close relationship with him.
"I understand. Sorry to bother you," she said sadly, about to put the phone back in her pocket, but then she heard a strong gust of wind coming from Izuku's end of the line, which caught her attention. Out of curiosity, she decided to ask him about the strange noises.
"Izuku, are you okay?" she asked. There was silence after her words, and then Izuku gasped for air.
"I'm fine. Thanks for asking. I left the house and am running to the store to make it before closing time," Izuku said. Despite the phone call, he could sense Melissa's disappointment. Not wanting to be a bad friend, Izuku remembered their joint project.
"Don't worry, Melissa, we'll have time to spend together, and I think I have a couple of ideas for a joint project." Realizing that Izuku cared, Melissa smiled and didn't lose hope in him. In a foreign country, the culture was completely different from the life she was used to at home. She had found a friend who was close to her in spirit and background, which is very rare, and she didn't want to break off contact because of one refusal, like an insecure girl.
"Thank you, Izuku, I'm glad you're trying and thinking as much as I am. If you want to join the concert, I'm here," she replied, standing at the main entrance to the cultural festival. Izuku responded positively, sitting on the roof of the building and watching the festival from the roof of a multi-story building. The organizers did not skimp on reliable security, among them were heroes who kept order. Seeing no threat to people, Izuku jumped from the roof to the neighboring building, feeling the wind blow over his whole body. Landing on the building below, he heard the ring of a phone for secret calls.
An unknown user appeared on the screen. Shrugging, he picked up the phone. Putting the phone to his ear, Izuku heard a familiar voice.
"Oh, hello, my friend. I hope you haven't forgotten about your debts and me, because I thought you had decided to disappear from my sight after the battle with Mirko." Izuku's eyes widened as he remembered his unpaid debt. He had managed to pay it off in installments, but he remembered that the broker had added interest for late payment and reduced Izuku's reputation.
"If you're talking about the debt, I'll pay, I just need time," said Izuku. The broker snorted, putting his feet up on the table. It wasn't the first time he'd heard such excuses from serious people. He understood that circumstances varied, but what were people thinking when they borrowed money from someone without being sure they could pay it back in full? Almost everyone on earth, upon hearing the word "debt," begins to make excuses, coming up with various tearful stories that the creditor must believe.
"Everyone says that. I thought you were an exception, but you're just like half of my clients." Izuku gritted his teeth in anger, and the symbiote inside him wanted to deal with him quickly and quietly. In the background, a concert was in full swing with show hosts and loud music. The audience screamed and chanted the names of the new performers.
"I'm not calling to remind you of your debts. I have two good news for you. Which one should I start with, the first or the second?" Surprised, Andy poked his head out of his chest and grunted. Although he was an alien, he sensed something fishy about this man. The synchronicity of the two beings' thoughts gave rise to a single thought, which they both voiced aloud.
"Too honest for the criminal world." Suspecting nothing wrong, Andy returned, blending in with the rest of the suit. Izuku had seen property seized for debts, leaving the debtor with nothing but huge interest rates. Perhaps this was another trap that enemies loved to set.
"Come to my office, and I'll tell you everything. If you think I'm trying to set you up, don't worry. I don't lie and I don't give advice to anyone, not even you," Broker hissed aggressively, sensing hostility. He had to read stories and listen to long lectures from teachers on the internet through his headphones while Izuku slept after his heroic deeds or after school. Even the closest person can betray you, and it's hard to spot a traitor among the illusions of honesty. Until Izuku decides who to trust, Andy won't trust anyone at all.
"Well, I won't waste your time. It's your right to come or not. My duty is only to warn you." Izuku grunted and turned off the phone, thinking about his next steps. Thinking about the safety of the entire neighborhood where the cultural festival was taking place, Izuku made a unanimous decision.
"We'll go to the broker. There's at least an hour before the festival starts. I think we'll have time to get back in an hour." Andy didn't protest, but expressed concern about the slippery broker. Andy agreed to Izuku's firm arguments, but on his own terms.
"If there's an ambush, we won't hold back. We'll kill them all." Izuku agreed, albeit with great trepidation. He didn't want to shed anyone's blood, especially take lives. He was convinced that instilling fear in villains was not the right solution. No matter what approach Izuku took to achieve his dream of becoming a hero, he knew he had to do it, despite the blood on his hands. Clenching his fist, covered in symbiotic mass, Izuku gave himself an answer.
"No matter what methods I use to achieve my dream of becoming a hero, I will become one, despite the blood on my hands." Clenching his fist, tentacles burst out of his hands and back, hooking onto the edge of the roof. Izuku took a few steps back, pulling himself back like a slingshot ready to fire. Pulling himself back as far as he could, the tentacles on his back snapped back, merging with his suit. Izuku shot himself like a cannonball, soaring into the air, a gust of wind rushing through the symbiote, caressing the wearer's skin. Looking down, Izuku saw a mesmerizing view of the city and windows reflecting the light.
The lighting on the buildings was bright but acceptable for general illumination. Neat lines of light between floors and spotlights on the edges of the roofs illuminated the names of companies. Reaching out, Izuku grabbed onto the building as he fell from a great height. The tentacles stretched slowly, and as he fell to the ground, Izuku wanted to use the extra tentacles, but he got caught and swung forward by inertia, soaring into the air and gaining even more speed. Alternating his arms, he shot out new symbiotic tentacles one after another and pulled them back in. The symbiote was so accustomed to such movements that it was not afraid of falling to the ground and breaking; its trust in its host grew, because thanks to his intelligence and resourcefulness, he was able to use the environment and inexpressive force as a formidable weapon. Andy studied the quirks while the host slept in his bed; he did not need sleep, as his biology required rest from the host. The rest of the time, he spent studying human things. The quirks were powerful, and he could not copy their abilities, as his biology rejected the Freaks, considering them a hindrance to symbiosis. There were hundreds of expressive and unique quirks compared to which Venom's powers resembled a pile of black slime that made a person a little bit stronger.
Hooking his tentacle onto the glass building, Izuku ran up the wall at full speed until he jumped, touching the sharp corner of his shoes with the soles of his boots. This gave him the energy and speed to move until he stuck to the tallest building in the area. His tentacles gripped the building with a death grip, allowing Izuku to concentrate. Small tentacles emerged from the edge of his pants, clinging to the concrete buildings, allowing him to run along the wall. Izuku pushed off the wall hard, basing his knowledge on physics; it would require incredible leg strength and a speed of at least 40 km/h. Fortunately, Izuku had all of this at his disposal for running on walls. The symbiotic trail remained as he ran, making this trick even more mesmerizing. Running on walls seemed like normal running on a flat surface, except for the extra tentacles protruding from his pants. After accelerating to full speed, Izuku used all his power to jump off the roof. Adrenaline raced through his veins, and the euphoria of flying was indescribable. Words cannot convey how the little lights move under your feet as you fly above their heads.
Jumping into the air, Izuku spread his wings for a wingsuit flight, heading toward the area where the broker lived with his gray zone for criminals. The wind carried him straight to that area. The symbiotic material almost exactly replicated the properties of nylon and synthetics, maintaining aerodynamics. The airflow rapidly carried Izuku toward the slums, while chaos and poverty reigned on the ground. The contrast was too stark throughout the city. At times, it seemed that with the changing times, old problems had acquired new terms and meanings. Now they were no longer "the unemployed," but "people who did not want change." In these slums, there was one big sign — a TV tower that provided internet to all the people in this disadvantaged ghetto. It couldn't even be called a ghetto, because that would be an insult to those who were forced to live there; the word "ghetto" was replaced with "area of social stratification."
The wings merged with the rest of the body, and Izuku had to hook onto the TV tower, circling it several times, reducing speed and momentum. Having slowed down enough, Izuku surveyed the entire area. Homeless people on the streets were warming themselves by burning trash, like in old cartoon films about life in a zone of social stratification. The smell of burnt trash was nothing new, and, sensing the unpleasant odor, Izuku wrinkled his nose at the acrid aroma.
Seeing the familiar territory of the broker, Izuku jumped off the TV tower, landing neatly on the nearest roof. Tentacles shot out from his body, preventing him from crashing into the walls. Izuku became more skilled at using his abilities, despite their limitations. Thanks to his quick wit and creativity, he deftly used the abilities he had been given, as if it were a quirk that had awakened in him since childhood.
"You're getting better," Izuku accepted the praise from the stranger who had become his friend. Izuku had always thought that talking to himself, even inside his mind, was abnormal, but with Andy's arrival, his long-held prejudices were burned away by the need for communication.
"Thank you," he blurted out as he jumped over the roof. The graffiti on the walls and the smell of fresh paint hit his sensitive receptors, causing irritation, but that fleeting smell was enough to understand one simple thing.
"You can't stay here." Among the slums and crumbling buildings, there was a yellow light from lampposts that had not been repaired since they were installed. The yellow light added to the extremely hostile atmosphere, because Izuku did not live in such conditions and never understood such a life. Compared to the other buildings, the broker's hideout looked slightly better, but there was still a feeling of gunpowder, oil, and blood. Every now and then, the sounds of debtors who were unable to pay their promised debts could be heard. It was not for nothing that he was called the banker of the criminal world.
Two huge guards with animalistic features glanced at the guest, and, sensing a familiar smell, gave him a stern look and said, "Follow us."
The first one walked ahead with scales and an alligator's mouth. The second guard was more like a wolverine with fur and a small stature. Walking through the identical corridors of the complex, Izuku heard gunshots coming from some of the rooms. It was not difficult to guess that this was a shooting range. Only the police and heroes who had passed a special check were allowed to carry weapons. Ordinary civilians were not even allowed to have non-lethal weapons, so serious was the legislation. If it was forbidden to use weapons officially, then who forbade the use of weapons unofficially? This was roughly how criminal elements operated, earning hundreds of millions in their accounts.
Warehouses filled with weapons caught Izuku's eye; the arsenal would be enough to arm a city with a population of less than 100,000. Despite the large quantity, everything was in order. The guards escorted him to the main door and examined the guest with their eyes. Noticing nothing suspicious, the wolverine guard approached him, beginning to sniff him out for signs of being a spy. Finding nothing, he muttered something indistinct and told his colleagues to let him in.
"He's clean." The guards left, leaving him alone with the massive door. Taking a deep breath, Izuku entered the room, where he was kindly awaited and welcomed.
The shadow broker was, as always, in his expensive tuxedo and sitting in his luxurious chair, made by the best craftsmen. Behind him stood an equally stern and serious man in a stylish suit and black shirt. The broker rose from his chair, welcoming him with open arms, glad that he had come.
"I had no doubts about you, my friend. What would you like—water, soda, or a cocktail? My servants will make any cocktail to your liking." To Andy's surprise, he felt no hostility. Only honesty and decency without intrigue, as if he were happy to welcome him.
"I think I'll pass. What did you want to tell me?" The broker sat down, exhaling at his client's straightforwardness. He was always friendly to clients who paid on time or those he respected. The Silent Ghost was one of those people — quiet and not one to shoot his mouth off.
"When drinks are offered, you might want to consider your choice. After all, they don't make better drinks than here at Mustafu's." Izuku clenched his fist, because he was wasting time while the broker chattered on about drinks that didn't interest him. In normal life, he would have been interested in the variety.
"..." The broker chuckled at the silence, then, after taking a sip of his expensive, well-aged wine, wiped his mouth with a napkin like a true gentleman, observing aristocratic manners.
"Your actions have attracted the attention of some very wealthy sponsors. A man in expensive clothes with a large suitcase came and asked about you." The broker had dealt with many wealthy people. He communicated with them as an equal, as he had influence in many areas of life, but his life credo was not to abuse his power unnecessarily. Any fool would have spent his fortune on charity or on himself.
Without interrupting him, Izuku listened very carefully. His actions had attracted the interest of serious people he could not even imagine.
"He asked about you. But, as you know, I don't reveal my clients, no matter what bastards they are. Not learning anything, he asked about your debts. I couldn't resist and revealed the amount of your debt without harming you." The broker's right-hand man kept his eyes on the client. He had to deal with all kinds of people and carry out the broker's dirtiest assignments involving people. Listening to all the information, he wished the broker would tell him everything. Alas, the broker was too dramatic and loved long pauses.
"He looked at the amount and, without surprise, opened his briefcase and handed over a check for the required amount and even more. He asked me to give you this letter." A simple envelope with a letter was taken from the box, and a wax seal adorned the envelope. Izuku wondered who he could have attracted with his actions. Putting the envelope on the table, the broker waited for his client to open it, but the client liked privacy and put the envelope inside his pocket.
"Convenient, isn't it? You do your job, and people throw money at you just to get your attention. Let's move on to the second news." The broker took a sip of his drink without taking his eyes off his client. The Silent Phantom loves to punish bad guys who want to harm innocent people. Why not help him find the villain and scare the debtor? Their goals are quite similar.
"I haven't told you the second news. I have a debtor named Moloch, and that son of a bitch doesn't pay on time. I want you to break his arm and remind him that words must be answered threefold." Izuku wasn't interested in the broker's business. No matter how honest a man he was, Izuku viewed the broker, who wanted to get rich out of thin air, with suspicion.
"I'm not interested." Izuku turned toward the door, wanting to open the envelope and read the contents of the letter.
"Stop!" shouted the right-hand man and, concurrently, deputy broker. Izuku stopped a step away from the door, feeling the gaze of two people on him. Seeing him stop, the broker smiled and looked at the client with excitement.
"A little birdie told me that Moloch is planning some kind of terrorist attack related to the cultural festival." It was like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him. Izuku slowly turned around. His face, hidden behind a mask, was expressionless, but the broker felt the atmosphere in the room change. The air became thick, heavy, charged with a sudden predatory attention.
"Where can I find him?" The only sentence that escaped Izuku's lips was spoken quietly, but with such metallic coldness that even the impassive deputy broker involuntarily straightened up. The broker smiled, pleased with the reaction. He knew he had hit the mark.
"You heard him. Moloch. A petty spider who thinks he's the king of the slums. He's always been unstable, but now... now he's decided he can buy himself fame with the blood of innocents. He has people, weapons, and, most importantly, a bomb. My sources say the target is the main stage of the festival. Right in the middle of the concert." Izuku stood motionless. There was a ringing in his ears. He could see Melissa again, her smile, hear her voice. Izuku didn't want to be a coward, and even more so, he didn't want to see good people die because someone decided to prove to himself that he was a fool. The Shield family, who had welcomed him so generously, did not deserve grief. They were simple people living their lives, and Melissa's death was the last thing they should hear. Andy hissed with anger along with the carrier, but Izuku kept his composure.
"If you want to join the festival, I'm here." He imagined the fire, the screams, the panic, the debris flying into the crowd of spectators.
"Why didn't you report it to the hero agencies? Or the police?" Izuku's voice was even, but Andy was already boiling under the surface, demanding action, demanding blood. The broker laughed, briefly and cynically. He never believed in the law, let alone law enforcement. Everything was polished to perfection, which annoyed the broker. They hid what was going on behind the scenes and what was going on inside.
"My friend, the police and heroes... they're good for show arrests and photo ops. They'll rush around, block roads, scare people, and most likely scare Moloch away. And he, being a rat, will just lie low and strike another day. That's not good for me — he owes me. But what about you? Do you want to live in anticipation of when this bomb will go off somewhere else?" He leaned back in his chair.
"I propose a surgical solution to this problem. You find him, neutralize him, and... remind him of his debts. Visually. We kill two birds with one stone: you save the festival and innocent people, and I get my money back. Everyone wins." Izuku didn't want to get involved in criminal matters, but if he had to go against his convictions, there had to be a compelling reason to go against himself.
"Where is he?" Izuku asked, his voice tinged with hostility and a desire to get down to business.
"You'll see the coordinates on your phone. In short, he's 15 km from the festival. Remember, if you kill him, his debt will be transferred to you." Without answering, Izuku hurriedly ran out of the building.
"Only Moloch knows about the bomb and the information about it. We need to find him and neutralize him as soon as possible. If we are late, many people will suffer," he said, breathing heavily as he left the building and jumped with all his might onto the nearest roof to speed up his movement. Tentacles flew out from different parts of his body so as not to waste time thinking.
"And Melissa..." whispered Venom. Walking away from the slums, Izuku glanced at his phone and saw the coordinates. The broker was right: his location was seven kilometers from the festival. Tentacles all over his body pulsed with anticipation of speed. Despite his haste, Venom unzipped his jacket and, unexpectedly for Izuku, took out an envelope with a letter.
"We still have time. Would you like to read what's inside?" Taking the envelope in his hands, Izuku examined the unremarkable letter. The wax seal stood out sharply against the white paper. The blood-red seal symbolized seriousness and danger to him.
Breaking the seal, Izuku carefully took out the letter. The first thing he noticed was the neat handwriting. The artistry of the calligraphy surprised him. Wanting to see what was inside, he began to read the contents of the letter with his peripheral vision.
"Hello. You are a very well-known figure in the criminal world. I'm not even surprised by your actions. We will meet soon, but before that, I want to tell you something. Re Destro is throwing a lavish banquet for his birthday. As you can see, there is a card with an identification number at the end of the letter. Use the new face replacement technology, and you will easily get into the banquet.
Good luck, sweetie."
Izuku and Andy looked at each other in confusion, then at the letter. Not believing his eyes, Izuku smelled the scent of expensive women's perfume. The notes of sweet strawberry and sour grapes were reminiscent of the aroma of wine. The scent was persistent, and whoever wrote it was someone who liked to attract attention in various ways, and perfume was no exception.
"This is all too suspicious," Izuku replied after reading the letter twice. Andy agreed, but decided to keep the letter for himself.
"I agree, but what if this is a new step in our investigations? Think about it, we will make new connections, and in the future our words will carry weight in society. Perhaps the person writing this has similar goals to ours. Think about it: Re Destro is not an ordinary person, there will be many wealthy people at the banquet, and this will expand our opportunities when we find common ground with many." While Andy was talking, Izuku was moving across the rooftops, jumping with all his might and using his tentacles to move around. The area where Moloch had settled was far from the broker's sphere of influence. Listening to Andy's arguments, Izuku agreed with many of his friend's words, but there were too many "ifs." It was no secret that many people were hunting him; heroes and villains alike had scores to settle with him, and in order to remain anonymous, he had to act ruthlessly.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to our fantastic cultural festival. Tonight is going to be very noisy. Say it together: NOISE AWAY!!!!" Pointing the microphone at the audience, the young showman tried his best to stall for time while the musicians got ready to perform. In anticipation, the audience began to applaud and chant for the show.
The crowd near the stage was so dense that it was impossible to pass through. People of all sizes crowded together to see the musical magic with their own eyes and enjoy the performances.
Watching the crowd from behind, Melissa sighed in frustration. She didn't make it to the front, but there was another way out of this situation. Passing by the crowd, Melissa saw stairs and high stands. Fortunately, she had registered in advance and reserved a seat for the best view.
Smoke and various light effects filled the air, creating an unpredictable atmosphere, as the crowd thirsted for spectacle. A good time always overshadows stress and monotonous workdays. Melissa showed her ID on her phone, and the security guard, after checking it, let her into the stands. Melissa was greeted by a beautiful sight: drones flying in the sky and light effects she could not have imagined before.
"If they're putting on a show here, it's something grand," she thought as she sat down in her seat.
****
Landing on the roof of the building, Izuku watched the alley where, according to the coordinates, Moloch should be. Moloch's appearance was not very neat, and it would be difficult to call him pleasant. A dark jacket, black and white sneakers, and worn jeans. This man had no sense of style. Any fashion designer would bang their head against the wall knowing that people dressed like this.
According to the broker, Moloch owed him a considerable amount of money, which he had not paid for many months, falling behind on his payments. The information indicated that he was hiding in the building. Unfortunately, it was difficult to determine which window the man was hiding in.
"He must be there," Izuku noticed movement on the third floor of the building. Risking everything, he wanted to jump out of that window with all his might, but a grain of doubt still tormented him that it might be a trap.
"BEHIND YOU!!!" Andy shouted. Izuku didn't have time to turn his head, but Andy was able to build a defense with his tentacles to take the shot.
Boom!
A loud explosion threw Izuku forward. After withstanding the shot, Izuku nearly crashed into the ground. Tentacles stretched out from his back, sticking to the walls of the alley. Long, pulsating tentacles held Izuku above the ground. Recovering from the unexpected blow, Izuku retracted his tentacles into his body and landed on his feet like a cat. A heavy atmosphere hung in the air: the dirty alley, trash scattered everywhere, and the smell of waste gave away the place as unsavory. The smell of rotting garbage was overwhelming, making him want to vomit, but there was no time for that. Looking up, Izuku saw the very same shooter who had shot him in the back. He was smirking, giving him the middle finger.
In addition to him, Izuku's ears caught the sound of footsteps slowly coming around the corner with a touch of pathos. The shooter had a quirk that resembled a metal crab claw with a cannon in the middle, between razor-sharp pincers. The rusty arm resembled a transforming limb; if Izuku hadn't reacted in time, he would have suffered much more serious damage than he did.
With a pompous gait, two people began to approach. Andy didn't understand all this coolness and growled like a beast, seeing a new threat.
"Two people with unknown quirks and one shooter with a 'metal claw' quirk," Izuku took a couple of steps back to assess the situation, but for some inexplicable reason, they didn't attack.
"We knew the broker would send someone. I never would have thought he'd send you," said the man in the black jacket and colorful sneakers. The pretentious phrases, coupled with the rainbow sneakers, created funny images in Andy's mind of a clumsy gangster who wanted to be cool. Standing next to this man was a thin-looking man with sideburns, dressed in everyday clothes and wearing glasses.
"One colorful gangster, one nerd, and one rat shooter," Andy analyzed in his own way. Izuku had to get into a fighting stance for unexpected attacks. The man with glasses grinned, taking off his glasses and outer clothing.
"So you're the guy who beat Muscle?" The rainbow gangster approached his accomplice and whispered something in his ear before his eyes lit up with excitement. Inexplicably to Izuku, the man with glasses began to growl; his nails resembled those of a bear. The transformation was slow and painful.
"This is my chance!" Izuku Andy almost shouted. Izuku ran swiftly while the transformation was taking place; tentacles stretched out from his body, trying to neutralize the hairy man. The black tentacles rushed to grab the werewolf, but he was stopped by the same man with colorful sneakers. He grabbed two tentacles with one hand, pulling Izuku toward him with all his strength. He managed to hit Izuku a couple of times before throwing him into a trash can. Before Izuku could recover, he heard the sound of a gun being loaded and a shot.
Boom!
Izuku managed to dodge the explosion thanks to the tentacles, pulling him to the right wall. The explosion didn't damage him, but he felt the pain of the throw in every bone.
"The shooter has a charge before firing. It's no wonder he took the high ground. That guy with the sneakers... I clearly heard mechanical sounds and..." Before Izuku could finish his sentence, he rushed into the attack from his position: the werewolf's transformation was ending, and while he was recovering, Izuku had a tremendous opportunity to strike him in the back. Izuku's keen hearing picked up the sound of a metal claw charging, and he instinctively dodged, jumping five steps to the right of where he was standing. Izuku landed gracefully on his feet, but he was attacked from behind. His back felt the immense pain of being struck by a hydraulic arm.
Mentally commanding his tentacles, Izuku grabbed his arm and pulled him toward him. Kneeling, Izuku grabbed the sleeve of his jacket; using all his strength, Izuku tore off his enemy's jacket sleeve. Before him appeared a shiny metal hand with patterns on it. Now everything became much clearer. The tentacles all over his body pulsed, trying to attack the enemy, but the sound of a cannon firing could be heard, and Izuku quickly had to change position so as not to get hit.
Bang!
Where he had been standing, there was a crater 5 cm thick. The asphalt pavement melted like butter in the heat. Seeing this, Izuku panicked, lost his concentration, and attacked randomly with his tentacles, but the enemy sharply intercepted this and grabbed the tentacles with an iron hand, pulling them toward himself. The iron arm allowed the wearer to lift heavy loads, and Izuku was not so heavy as to feel discomfort when lifting 67 kg. Feeling the iron grip on his neck, Izuku tried to break free, but due to insufficient strength, he was unable to do so.
"I've been told you're strong and resilient," Izuku said angrily, releasing a hundred sharp tentacles, breaking free from his body with all his strength and throwing his opponent back. With a roar, Izuku rushed into the attack. The opponent lay on his back with an iron arm, trying to recover. The opponent's body felt as if 20 kg of iron had struck it all over. The transformation into a werewolf was complete, and seeing his colleague losing, he jumped up and attacked with two huge clawed paws.
Izuku managed to react and put up a solid block, covering himself with his arms from the enemy. The enemy was not stupid, and with a quick movement, he knocked Izuku off his feet, knocking him to the ground and beating him on the ground. A furious growl escaped from the werewolf's mouth; Izuku blocked all of its attacks as it tried to reach his head. Izuku felt some damage despite his defense. Seeing no results, the werewolf released its claws, leaving holes in Izuku's black jacket.
"Rhaa!" Izuku roared, and, using a counterattack, he blew up dozens of sharp tentacles from his stomach, throwing them away from himself. While the werewolf was recovering, Izuku wasted no time immobilizing the werewolf's arms and, gathering enough strength, struck him in the chest, causing the werewolf to whimper. With his knuckles, Izuku felt how he broke the chest handle; the crunch of broken bones could be heard, but the werewolf roared even louder, trying to bite through Izuku's neck. His hands were immobilized by the tentacles, so he used everything he could to maim, even his teeth. Izuku reacted and grabbed the animal's mouth with his hands, preventing it from breaking his neck. The middle and ring fingers of his left hand were in its mouth; the mouth snapped shut, and a scream and a cry escaped from its mouth. Its teeth tore through the soft tissue of his fingers, reaching the bones. With his free hand, Izuku struck the werewolf's mouth with a series of crushing blows to the head and the back of the neck. In his anger, Izuku lost his concentration and let go of the werewolf's hands, which his opponent took advantage of, leaving a trail of three claw marks on his chest. Fueled by adrenaline, Izuku ignored the pain and hit the werewolf with an uppercut, followed by a left hook to the head, finishing the series with two powerful blows to the nose. The creature's skull was very strong, and the knuckles on his left hand cracked from the powerful blow. All the wounds were accompanied by excruciating pain; the healing bones burned calories throughout his body. Izuku felt the symbiote inside him fusing the broken bones into a whole bone, causing irritation and a headache.
The wound on his chest had healed, but they managed to cause serious bleeding, which disrupted Izuku's breathing and caused him to lose concentration. Clenching his fist until it hurt, Izuku aimed for the eye, but someone grabbed him by the back of the head and threw him away from the werewolf.
"Wait for my signal!" Throwing Izuku over himself, he slammed him into the ground, breaking the concrete pavement. The tentacles instantly lifted Izuku off the ground, and an unexpected high kick struck him in the face with full force. Izuku's head spun from the purity of the attacks, causing him to lose his balance and bend to one knee, catching his breath.
Boom!
Izuku was limping on one arm, and they took advantage of this by attacking him head-on. The tentacles created a defense, but it was extremely ineffective to take so much damage. Falling to his knees, Izuku took all the damage from his two opponents. Roaring in pain, Izuku released a bunch of sharp tentacles from his body, throwing the enemy with the metal arm aside. The werewolf was much less fortunate, as some of the tentacles pierced through its skin, piercing vital organs; the beast whimpered from the damage, biting the tentacles with its sharp teeth, causing Izuku no less acute pain.
"It's time to tear everyone's heads off," Andy gloated inwardly, wanting to kill everyone who had caused them pain and suffering. These people were no exception. Izuku did not want to kill anyone, despite his thirst for blood to instill fear in the hearts of his enemies.
Looking at the werewolf, Izuku noticed that it was repairing itself. Its fur was becoming thicker and denser, and dried blood stained its black fur. Approaching it, Izuku watched as the werewolf breathed heavily, hot steam escaping from its mouth, symbolizing that it was at its limit. He was helpless, and all he could do was watch as his opponent in the torn leather jacket finished him off. Several tentacles burst out of Izuku's back, wrapping around his arms and preventing them from bending; several more burst out of his chest, covering his mouth. Izuku's tentacles squeezed with all their might, breaking the radius bone in his right arm. The werewolf whimpered again, but his mouth was tightly closed by the tentacles, which held it shut, preventing him from taking a breath. Pulling out the werewolf's left arm, Izuku grabbed the radius bone and broke the arm with a single blow of his heel, reducing it to a useless piece of flesh and bone. The werewolf had to exhale steam through his nostrils to somehow muffle the hellish pain. If that didn't stop it, he would kill him with his own hands or injuries.
"Damn, I didn't expect him to be able to defeat him. Come on, trigger syringe, help us!" The mercenary loaded two shells into his claw. One was a sound grenade, which didn't care what kind of quirk the man had: he would still be disoriented, and the second was the infamous trigger, so popular in criminal circles.
Taking aim, the mercenary aimed directly at the Silent Phantom 's head while he was striking the Werewolf's face. A dull sound of a shot escaped from the metal claw, and his keen ear, accustomed to the sounds of gunfire, anticipated the unexpected shot. Having dealt with the Werewolf, Izuku directed his hand toward the projectile, creating an artificial arm. Cutting through the air, the projectile split into two pieces. Not expecting such an outcome, Izuku grabbed the projectile flying straight at him, but soon regretted it.
A nasty low-frequency sound escaped from the split projectile. It wasn't loud, but it was piercing, as if a million glass needles were sticking straight into his brain. For an ordinary person, it would have been just an unpleasant hum. For Izuku and Andy, whose existence was a symbiosis at the cellular level, it was agony.
Izuku froze, his body seized by a spasm. He let out a silent groan, clutching his head. Andy's black biomass boiled on his skin, bubbling and receding, exposing patches of Izuku's scorched flesh. It wasn't just a sound. It was a cacophony of destruction, resonating with the very foundation of their connection.
"AAAAARGH!" Andy's mental scream burst into Izuku's consciousness, full of animal terror and pain. The symbiote curled up, trying to crawl away, to hide, but it was tied to its host.
Izuku collapsed to his knees. His own hearing, heightened by the symbiosis, now treacherously amplified the torture. Every nerve in his body burned. His vision blurred, bloody spots floated before his eyes. He could feel Andy losing control — the tentacles flailed around wildly, like severed snakes, unable to form anything coherent.
"Hang... on..." he hissed, but his own lungs refused to draw air. It felt as if the sound waves were physically tearing him apart from the inside.
With his last ounce of strength, Izuku approached the device, despite the burning pain that turned his brain to mush. Taking one step at a time, taking advantage of his opponents' disorientation, Izuku, one step away from the device, broke it into small pieces with all the strength of his foot. Lightning sparkled from the device. The sounds disappeared, but the rest of the symbiote was coming to life, merging with its host again. Sticky tentacles wrapped around the body, giving off cold and heat at the same time, and the painful wounds began to heal at an accelerated rate, restoring soft tissue.
Izuku stifled his moans from the pain of his healing wounds and fell to the ground, leaning his forearm against the dirty concrete.
"Ngh, rrrr, it hurts," Izuku said. As he healed the wounds, Andy intensified Izuku's emotions, trying to distract him from the pain. The wounds on his chest healed, leaving an even uglier scar than the rest. Izuku managed to catch his breath and, with each new breath, came to his senses. Focusing on the pain, he completely forgot about the enemies he had not yet defeated.
"Watch out!" Andy shouted. Before he could raise his head, Izuku's back felt a blow like a sledgehammer. The Werewolf's fist hurt more than before. Looking up, Izuku saw an even more ferocious Werewolf. His fur had grown longer, his teeth sharper, and his eyes were filled with bloodlust; his claws had lengthened, and his growl had become even more primal. Breathing heavily, Izuku had no chance to attack, as his regenerating organs had left him completely paralyzed by Andy's actions.
With his huge paw, he grabbed Izuku by the shoulders and lifted him up like a rag doll. Bringing him close to his face, the Werewolf sniffed him before growling even louder. Out of the corner of his eye, Izuku noticed that his left arm had not yet recovered and was still shaking. Below, on his thigh, Izuku's eyes opened even wider than before.
"Trigger?" Before Izuku could comprehend what was happening, he was thrown against the wall.
"Ngh!!!" Izuku didn't want to scream, but he couldn't hold back the cry of pain. The bones in his back ached, and the cracked bones itched, sending only two commands to his brain: "Run or kill." Before he could recover from the throw, he heard a weapon being loaded with the edge of his ear and...
Bang.
Breathless, Izuku was able to use his tentacle for a moment to climb up the wall, buying time to recover. The werewolf, seeing his prey crawling, thought he was trying to escape. Fueled by rage, his eyes turned completely black from enlarged pupils, the skin on his back began to bleed from the muscles in his shoulder blade area, and the werewolf writhed in pain as if parasites were crawling out of his back. From the left side, with excruciating pain and a nauseating crunch, a long paw 1.5 meters long emerged with soft tissue and four fingers near the palms.
Izuku's eyes widened as he saw his opponent's advantage. His hand began to grip the brick tighter, preparing for the upcoming battle. The beast growled as Izuk's last tendons healed.
"I'm sick of this shit. If you can't handle them, I'll do it myself," Andy declared. Teeth began to appear in his chin area, his lenses took on a more angular hue, and white veins began to appear on his chest. Not wanting to lose control of his mind, Izuku considered the prospect of giving everything to Andy. The prospect was tempting: brute physical strength could defeat the mercenaries without spending much time. But Izuku was missing the most important lesson in this battle — the experience and skill of using his surroundings against his enemies.
"No, I can handle them myself," Izuku said as a long pink tongue, more than four times longer than usual, began to emerge from his mouth.
"How are you going to defeat them? They're stronger than you think," Andy replied, more irritated than before. Opportunities to demonstrate his strength didn't come along very often, but Andy wanted to show what advantage he was losing to his enemies.
"I have an idea," Izuku said. Not wanting to argue with the carrier, Andy retracted his long tongue and mouth; calm returned, and with it, clarity of mind. While he wasted time discussing what to do next, the Werewolf jumped onto the wall, clinging to it and scratching it with its claws.
Bang.
The shooter missed, and Izuku had to jump from wall to wall, dodging the Werewolf's attacks as it tried to tear him in half. It hooked its tentacle from its back onto the walls, pinning Izuku in place.
"Is it your idea to run and hide?" Izuku wanted to answer his question, but the growling of the Werewolf climbing the wall made it impossible to concentrate. Tired of running, Izuku pulled his tentacles back and launched a frontal attack against the beast.
****
"Whew, ladies and gentlemen, that was an AMAZING performance. But we won't be limiting ourselves to just Japanese artists at our festival." The audience was delighted with the host's intonation and professionalism. He was like the real Mick without his quirks. The crowd took out bright neon sticks, wanting to support the aspiring musicians. The festival was in full swing. The vibrant performances and creative costumes captivated the audience. Drones flew through the air, filming everything that was happening live for various TV channels.
Melissa watched from above and filmed everything with her phone camera. The noise of the crowd made it difficult to hear her own thoughts. Near her in the stands, there were many people shouting and demanding a new show. It was funny to see adults, disregarding the norms of behavior, acting like teenagers, which suggested that everyone had come here to relax, rather than to behave according to etiquette and social norms.
Seeing how her friends and loved ones were spending their time made her feel uncomfortable. Her parents decided to stay home and do a thorough cleaning according to Japanese sanitary standards. Exhaling in frustration, she went down from the stands to get some cold drinks. Due to the huge number of people, it was difficult to maintain an average body temperature and not sweat. The body temperature rose due to the shouting and active actions of the spectators. Although the organizers tried to solve this problem with huge fans that blew away the hot air, they did a very poor job.
Going downstairs, Melissa had to push her way through a crowd of people who were waiting for the next performances.
"One cold mojito, please," she asked. A middle-aged man with an impassive face took her order, showing off his skills to everyone. The bar was open to everyone, but most people wanted to watch the festival rather than be distracted by drinks. As Melissa watched the bartender's skill, a man in a hoodie, black and green pants, and a huge bag on his back sat down next to her.
"I'll have a beer," he asked in a hoarse voice. His vocal cords sounded menacing, but at times disgusting, as if he were chewing on his tongue. Out of curiosity, Melissa decided to take a look at the man and saw a man with gray hair and stubble on his face. He noticed her, and their eyes met; the man asked the question first.
"Any problems, girl? Or should I take you around the corner?" Melissa, offended by his rudeness, looked away from the man's unfriendly tone. He was taller and bigger than her, and the smirk never left his face.
"Your ID, please," asked the bartender, pouring a drink for a blonde woman. Snorting, the man was indignant that he was being treated like a minor. His whole face said that he was of legal drinking age.
"Can't you tell that I'm of legal age?" he protested, clenching his fist under the table. The bartender regretfully denied his request. Without identification, no one could buy alcohol or cigarettes. Due to many laws and unique quirks, many young people could change their faces or impersonate someone else, thereby breaking two laws at once. The bartender politely shook his head, refusing to pour beer.
"Go to hell, nerd!" he declared, casting a farewell glance at Melissa, who was quietly sipping her drink. Moving to a more secluded spot away from the noise of the crowd, the man made a phone call.
"Moloch is listening," he replied impassively, putting his feet up on the table.
"I'm here. There are a lot of people, just like you said. Should I blow it up now or at the end?"
"Almost done, my friend. Let's give the people a real show. Throw the bag in the middle and you can leave." The phone call ended, and listening to tasteless music, the bomber put on his hood and slowly walked into the crowd. Feeling no resistance, the bomber had no idea that he had already been photographed on a cell phone. The silence on stage was broken by the host in bright clothes and a fur hat on his head.
"I hope you haven't missed me? As a tribute to our next guests at our festival, I am wearing this fur hat." The audience burst out laughing, because in such heat, only some of the northern peoples of the world could wear a fur hat. Despite years of technological progress and development, many people still had stereotypes about different ethnic groups, which made it easy to guess who was being referred to when they saw the fur hat. The audience laughed and began to demand the musicians, applauding and clapping their hands.
"Ladies and gentlemen, meet the Migrants, who rose from the very bottom, the golden youth who conquered all of Japan with their music. Meet our favorite musicians, who named themselves no less provocatively, Mm...igrants!!!" The crowd chanted, despite the difficult pronunciation and dissimilarity of languages. Many conservative members of society would laugh at the band's name, but the hard work and diligence of this small group of musicians inspired nothing but admiration and respect. Not everyone is destined to achieve greatness in a foreign country and culture without a lot of money. Despite pressure from society for their dissimilarity to the locals, they were able to gain recognition and win the love of the public.
Young people aged 20-25 took to the stage. They looked like ordinary people, without any animalistic features. They were all dressed in gray suits with clean shirts, demonstrating their neatness and love for their work. While everyone else was dressed in extravagant clothes, they dressed modestly, without showing off or using loud words. Four people came on stage; the first and most important one waved his hand to the audience with a double-neck guitar in his hands. The other colleagues, sharing a moment of glory with the lead singer, looked at the audience and smiled.
A drummer and a man with a complex instrument that not everyone can master. A luxurious keyboard and a black electric guitar to keep the rhythm. The crowd fell silent as the singer approached the microphone.
"Welcome, everyone, to today's festival. We are glad to see you and, even more so, glad that you took the time to wait for us. We appreciate every fan who came here. Today we would like to play a song that opened up the world of music for us and, even more so, share it with you, our dear listeners." The audience fell silent, and, standing on the stands, Melissa began filming everything on her phone while everyone waited for the main show to begin.
The earth in the illuminator, the earth in the illuminator,
The earth in the illuminator is visible...
The way a son would miss his mother, the way a son would miss his mother,
We miss the earth - there is no other.
****
And the stars even so, the stars even so
Having lost the battle with the Werewolf, Izuku breathed heavily as the Werewolf grabbed his leg and arm, wanting to tear him in two. He began to pull in two directions, causing Izuku great pain. Andy did not allow the carrier to die and quickly and firmly repaired the damage. Unable to withstand the resistance, the beast lifted Izuku impatiently and slammed his spine against his knee.
"Rkhhaah!" Izuku roared, gathering all his strength into one blow. He managed to break free from the grip. The blow, fueled by adrenaline, broke the beast's jaw. The pain in his spine caused an unpleasant sensation; Izuku pressed his hand against his back, trying to somehow ease the pain. Too many opponents overwhelmed him with their numbers and skill. The mercenary with the hydraulic arm simply destroyed him in close combat, leaving him no chance of victory. The rat sniper was impossible to talk about. He constantly changed positions, shooting like a rat and preventing Izuku from attacking.
"A slight displacement of the spine. It's going to hurt now, and the spine will be back in place," Andy said. The symbiotic antennae gathered at the site of the displacement and, with one quick movement, returned it to its place. A sickening crunching sound escaped from the body, and then a sharp pain reached the brain and the fingertips. Breathing heavily, Izuku wanted to kill them in the most brutal way possible because of his heightened and intense emotions.
His fists clenched, cracking, and anger spread throughout his body like burning lava, wanting to melt the iceberg of all moral principles, fighting like a beast cornered. Growling, Izuku wanted to grow claws and rip open the belly of the Werewolf, who was annoying him with his endurance and agility, despite his size.
"What are you up to?" Andy asked cautiously, feeling all the anger boiling inside him. It wasn't every day that he saw a carrier with such a strong desire to hurt people.
"To lay some hate," Izuku growled through clenched teeth. As if reading his thoughts, the Werewolf lunged at him on all fours like a hunting dog. Izuku didn't move as the 270-kilogram mass rushed toward him, wanting to tear him to pieces. The beast swung its hind paw at full speed; as its fist flew toward Izuku, it seemed to the beast that the Silent Ghost was standing still, accepting his defeat. Imagine its surprise when its opponent, standing still, delivered a quick uppercut to its jaw. The blow was so fast that it didn't have time to understand anything. Whimpering from the blows, the beast felt several heavy blows to its stomach and diaphragm.
A tentacle from Izuku's body burst out of his back, wrapping around his neck with a symbiotic tentacle and beginning to strangle him with all its might. The mercenaries watching this scene began to take action, but this was enough time for Izuku to strike the beast's spine with his heel, throwing it forward. Fully focused on the fight, the tentacles from the calves broke free and attacked the mercenary with an iron grip. His run was interrupted when he felt his bones begin to compress with monstrous force, nearly breaking them.
The tentacles lifted him off the ground, bringing his face closer to Izuku, whose lenses had become sharper before the fight began. Without any remorse for his injuries, Izuku threw him with all his might under the fire escape. The shooter fired, but Izuku dodged it with a graceful somersault. The tentacles from his hands randomly reached for the shooter and grabbed his weapon, wrapping it around his main weapon. Pulling him closer, Izuku examined his face, memorizing all his features. Following the mercenary with the hydraulic arm, Izuku threw the shooter at him. Taking advantage of his immobilized opponents, Izuku tore out a hundred long, thick tentacles that had caught on the fire escape support holding the entire structure.
"Rhaaaa Aaaaa!!!" Izuku screamed, feeling all his muscles begin to burn from using the symbiote, exhausting him with all his strength. With great difficulty, the metal began to bend under the pressure, like a tree unable to withstand extreme loads. The sturdy reinforcement began to bend and was torn out along with the asphalt.
Are getting closer but remain as cold.
And just like in the time of eclipse, just like in the time of eclipse,
We seek the light and dream earthly dreams.
Izuku didn't hear his own scream. All he heard was the screech of metal tearing under the pressure of dozens of black tentacles. A huge fire escape weighing several tons tore away from the wall with a deafening roar, crashing onto a pile of garbage containers, under which lay the stunned mercenaries. The crash was so loud that the ground shook and the windows in neighboring houses rattled. Dust and soot rose in a column, obscuring everything from view. Izuku stood, breathing heavily, his chest heaving, black, living sweat streaming down his body—the symbiote, exhausted by superhuman effort, was trying to stabilize itself. The pain in his spine subsided, replaced by all-consuming fatigue. He could feel every muscle fiber in his body screaming from overexertion.
Bending down on one knee, Izuku felt hungry, and his body demanded nutrients to continue fighting. His arms and legs were starting to tire, and some of his wounds were healing much slower than he would have liked. The werewolf began to get up; he was still standing. Izuku's eyes burned with the desire to finish him off so that he would stop bothering him. The strengthening of the trigger prolonged the fight, which should have ended earlier than expected. Two pairs of thick tentacles burst out from Izuku's back, grabbing the 248-kilogram trash can and lifting it with effort. Seeing the black figure approaching him, the beast whimpered, trying to run away. His spine was broken in the lumbar region, causing his legs to refuse to obey him. The beast felt fear of the Silent Ghost; its white lenses were sharp as a razor. Surrendering was the safest decision, but due to the beast's quirk, it could not utter even a letter, except to growl or whimper.
Izuku threw a trash can at him with all the strength his body allowed. Despite the weight that fell on the beast, it still had the strength to throw the trash can away.
And dream we not of the thundorous spaceport,
Not of this icy azure,
We're dreaming of the grass outside our homes,
The green, green grass.
"He's stubborn," Andy said, grinning when he saw this scene. Izuku didn't answer, just grunted in response. He would have left him, because he no longer posed any threat. But the fight distracted him so much that he forgot the primary goal of the entire mission — to question Moloch about the bomb and remind him of his debts to the broker. Izuku's biggest flaw was that he didn't know which floor Moloch was on. Looking at the pile of debris, Izuku hoped for luck that the mercenaries would not be killed by the pile of scrap metal.
Without wasting any time, Izuku released a long, thick tentacle from his hand, grabbing the Werewolf by the waist.
"I'll say this once and for all. Where is Moloch?" Izuku asked in a ruthless tone that made all the fur on the beast stand on end. He did not resist the onslaught, only whimpered and could not utter a single letter.
And fly we like orbits,
Through untouched paths,
Without ceremony, he released the beast, and it fell face down at his feet. Several strong black tentacles broke free from his hands, grabbing six long pieces of rebar torn from the remains of the fire escape. The six tentacles held the rebar in their hands and drove it with all their might into all the limbs, causing a painful scream, the sound of which made Izuku cover his ears in pain. Pulling out another piece of rebar, Andy drove it into the mouth, nailing it firmly to the asphalt. Izuku stood over the Werewolf's body, his chest heaving heavily. The beast's cries, mixed with a hoarse growl, were piercing to the ears, but now it was not a battle cry, but a sound of agony. The rebar stuck in its mouth prevented it from even screaming properly, allowing only gurgling, choking sounds to escape.
"Serves him right!" Andy shouted mentally, his voice breaking through the veil of rage that enveloped the carrier's consciousness. Izuk froze. He looked at the creature twitching in agony, at the blood flooding the asphalt, and a wave of nausea washed over him. He had crossed the line. The very rage that had helped him survive was now turning him into a man without boundaries or compassion.
He spun around sharply, his gaze falling on the pile of debris under which the other two mercenaries were buried. Sensing his intention, the symbiote shot out several tentacles. Like steel snakes, they dug into the scrap metal and threw it aside with a crash.
A mercenary with a hydraulic arm was trapped under the rubble. He was conscious, but his arm was hopelessly damaged and his leg was twisted unnaturally. Seeing the black figure approaching, he tried to crawl away, but to no avail.
Izuku didn't waste time with threats. One black tentacle wrapped around his throat, preventing him from screaming but allowing him to breathe and speak. Another, thin and sharp, pressed directly into his eye.
"Moloch," Izuku's voice was a low, lifeless hiss, with nothing human left in it. "Where?"
The mercenary shook, his eyes widening in horror. He saw what had happened to the Werewolf. He saw the icy emptiness in the creature's white lenses.
"The... third floor!" he gasped, whimpering in pain and fear. "The west wing... the office with the green door! I swear, that's all I know," he said, fear in his voice. Izuk believed his words, because the tentacle on his body was reading his heartbeat and body temperature. The verdict was firm and accurate.
"He's not lying." After listening to the symbiote, Izuk completely forgot about the shooter, who was buried alive under a pile of scrap metal. Izuku knocked out the mercenary with an elbow strike, sending him to count sheep in his mind. Several tentacles lifted the pile of metal and found the shooter, who was unconscious and breathing heavily. Blood was flowing from his head, but most importantly, he was alive, and that was enough for Izuku not to forget his goal.
Embroiding the space with meteors.
The risk and bravery are justified,
The music of the space
Is sipping into our formal chat.
Jumping to the third floor, clinging to the wall thanks to his symbiote, Izuku unceremoniously broke the window and entered the hallway. The hallway was dark and too quiet for a man who wanted to prove to himself that he was not a simpleton. Landing on his feet, the glass shattered under his own weight, breaking into even smaller pieces. Andy, seeing this as a good tool, grabbed a piece of broken glass that looked like a sharp triangle. Andy, watching his carrier, noticed how he was acting more aggressively than before; in a calm state, he would carefully sneak up on his opponent, catching him off guard. Now he attacked head-on and without any strategy, which was not his style, which Andy liked.
"Green door," Izuku whispered. Swinging for a strike from five paces away, he released a swarm of slick, thick tentacles, knocking the metal door off its hinges. The door was thrown open with incredible force, the door frames were torn out and lay on the ground in the dusty room among the scattered debris.
Taking his gun from under the table, Moloch began shooting at the doorway. Through the dust, he couldn't see the figure coming up behind him and emptied the entire magazine into the air. The room became very quiet when the gun ran out of bullets. Out of fear, Moloch hysterically pulled the trigger, despite the click symbolizing an empty magazine.
The door lay on the ground, gathering dust, but then it became suspiciously quiet. Moloch could hear his heart beating in the silence, and he began to panic and breathe heavily, fearing the impending threat. His other hand began to search for a spare magazine in the cabinet, until a thin tentacle grabbed the gun, forcibly wrenching it from his hands. Moloch was thrown back from his chair and fell on his stomach, beginning to crawl away on all fours. He looked so pathetic that an idea popped into Izuku's head.
"How can such a pathetic person recruit anyone?" — the thought flashed through both of their minds. Two pairs of tentacles closed around his ankles, beginning to squeeze and pull him toward them. Despite his desire to get rid of him, Izuku remembered that he was carrying out the broker's orders; this thought aroused disgust and hostility, but his interests coincided with Izuku's, so they had to work together. The lives of hundreds of people at the concert depended on him, and killing him made absolutely no sense.
"Did the broker send you? I swear I'll pay you back with interest!" he shouted, trying to convince the creditor. His unkempt appearance did not add any credibility to his favor, but only exacerbated the disgust Izuku felt for this man.
"I don't care what your beef with the broker is. Tell me, where's the bomb?" His voice was broken, stronger than before. Moloch trembled at the tone of his words, but his fear gave way to calm, and a smirk appeared on his face that Izuku didn't understand. Andy, looking at this scene, only wanted him dead even more. He had never seen such duplicity in people before.
"So you're talking about the bomb? Yes, that was my doing. Why are you getting so worked up? A bunch of idiots drove themselves into the ground." Izuku froze. The silence in the dusty room suddenly became deafening. Moloch's words hung in the air, poisonous and inhuman. There was no remorse or fear in them, only cynical contempt.
Izuku let go of his ankles to grab his jacket, squeezing so hard that if it had been bone, it would surely have broken from the force applied. His eyes shot out lenses, becoming sharper, and teeth began to appear in the area of his mouth, opening his jaw. Moloch was horrified by what he saw; hundreds of sharp teeth dug into his skin like prey, causing pain he was not prepared to endure. A shard of glass pierced his palm, cutting through skin and soft tissue as he was tortured. A long pink tongue shot out of its mouth, slowly licking his face, leaving a wet trail of saliva for a more pleasant taste. Izuku grew in size, becoming bigger and bigger until it reached a size that made an adult look like a child next to it. The dark mass grew larger and began to pulsate like living organs from surgery. The arms were muscular with a dark texture, and the palms were twice the size of the head.
Moloch tried to escape from the horrific scene. He would devour and sink his teeth in until he reached the bones. The horror unleashed a primal fear and instinct for self-preservation in his brain.
"At the end of the festival, the bomb must explode, and it will be soon. I swear, that's all I know." In his true form, Andy grabbed him by the waist, squeezing him tightly like his most precious doll.
"Where can I find the bomber?" Andy asked as Moloch's face began to redden from lack of air. Under pressure, Moloch had to tell him.
"Here's the phone. It has his geolocation so he can't cheat me out of money. I feel sorry for you, because the festival will be over soon." Izuku's eyes sparkled, and he snatched the phone from Moloch's hands, returning to his true form with his usual size. Izuku pushed Moloch against the wall and jumped out the window.
"No. The festival is 15 km from here. If it's 9:53 p.m. now, we have to cover 15 km in 7 minutes." Izuku swallowed a large lump in his throat. It was an extremely dangerous situation, on which the lives of hundreds of people depended. In a panic, he slapped himself in the face to calm himself down somehow.
****
"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen," said the performers as they left the stage. The bomber was ready to press the detonator, blowing himself and everyone else up, but the nasty white noise in the speakers disoriented him due to his enhanced hearing, whose sensitivity had become more of a disadvantage than an advantage. The stage emptied, and under the explosive effect, the host appeared in stylish but ridiculous glasses.
"If you thought that was the end, you're wrong. Now we have a newcomer who persistently bombarded our mailbox with letters. Her persistence impressed our organizers, and they gave the green light for her performance." The audience, impressed by her persistence, became interested in the song and shouted...
"GO!" shouted the crowd, unaware that the bomber was among them. Watching the crowd, the bomber looked at his phone, which had received a message from Moloch. Amidst the noise of the crowd and the shouts of teenagers, he couldn't believe his eyes.
"Explosion at 10:15 p.m. at the main entrance," the message read. The bomber looked at the crowd and began typing a reply to the customer. The noise was starting to annoy him, and the desire to press the detonator seemed like the most reasonable solution.
"We agreed on a contingency plan. At the end of the festival, at 10 p.m., I will detonate the bomb. We clearly agreed that there would be no deviations from the plan. Communication terminated." The bomber put the phone in his pocket, continuing to watch the shabby festival with its equally shabby music.
"Please welcome our rising star and her team. The young and ambitious beauty, KYOKA JIRO!" shouted the host, deliberately drawing out her name. She scratched her elbow, feeling the gaze of hundreds of people. Completely unprepared for such attention, she felt lost and wanted to run away in shame, but her team and vocal choir chanted her name.
"Come on, Kyoka, you can do it!" she whispered to herself as she approached the microphone. Closing her eyes, she began what she had been striving for most.
Where are the brave men, where are the brave people?
Where is the brave Hercules who will protect us in trouble?
Where are you, my brave one on a golden horse?
Where is the one who rides into battle at night?
Come, I am waiting, and all night long I see you in my dreams.
Everyone fell silent at the sound of her voice, listening to its timbre, and despite her age, she impressed many, including adults. No one understood why she needed an orchestra with such an impressive voice. She stopped singing, closed her eyes, and exhaled.
"Let's go!" — after saying that, she grabbed the microphone, and the orchestra behind her began to play.
"O-o-o!!"
Where is this hero!
Somewhere out there, in the clouds,
In the vastness of the heavens,
The wind carries him,
He is with the stars of wonders!
"Faster, faster!" Izuku shouted, sweating like crazy. He was running with all his might. His joints were breaking from overexertion, and every muscle was burning and ready to burst from the intense strain. No living person could withstand such speed. Running along the walls of skyscrapers, Izuku clung to buildings with his tentacles, swaying and moving despite his brain's refusals and resistance.
His lungs and heart burned, taking on the heavy load on his entire body. His feet touched the walls and immediately bounced off, not wanting to lose a second. The faster he accelerated, the clearer the music from the festival sounded. Due to a lack of fat, Izuku began to exhaust himself, burning calories from his fat reserves. He had never flown at such a speed and could not imagine that it was possible. His speed reached 138 km/h, which was a record for him, but also the greatest challenge he was not prepared for. His lungs could not keep up with breathing and removing carbon dioxide from his body, which made it difficult to breathe and oxygenate his brain.
His arms and legs ached with a dull pain, and Izuku took a desperate step. He stuck himself to the glass buildings of the skyscraper with his hands, using several tentacles and the last of his strength to reach the roof of the building. As he climbed higher, the effects of oxygen deprivation hit his lungs and brain, causing dizziness and weakness that Andy couldn't overcome. His tentacles helped him climb up, but with his knees shaking, Izuku fell face down without much resistance.
"What are you lying there for?! Move forward!" his inner voice shouted, despite the pain. His limbs had completely lost their ability to bend and function. Every vein burned brighter than anything else, and the muscles throughout his body were tearing, his bones beginning to crack from the strain. The battle had taken its toll, and Izuku had used up most of his stamina, no longer able to walk or fight. Barely mustering all his strength, he was able to use his knees, leaning against the roof. All his efforts seemed pathetic; he wanted to be a hero, but this sight only made him feel sick.
Somewhere out there, across the sea,
My heart burns with fire,
Time rushes forward —
He's rushing to me!
"You've covered 12 km in 5 minutes, and just a little more — we'll be at our destination," Andy encouraged him, healing past wounds and restoring concentration. While Izuku crawled pitifully, a crazy idea popped into his head.
"If I can't use my limbs, I can use my tentacles." Hundreds of tentacles burst out of his back and stomach. He moved with their help, and the sticky black tentacles stretched him like a slingshot. The black viscous mass clung tightly to every corner, turning him into a cannonball. Pulling himself with all his might and feeling a burning sensation in every muscle, Izuku shouted and shot forward.
"GO!" Izuku shot forward like a living projectile. The air whistled in his ears, knocking the breath out of him. The city below turned into a blurry strip of lights. He wasn't flying — he was falling, guided by tentacles that clung to the spires of skyscrapers like a drunken spider spinning a web in free fall.
"TOO FAST!" Andy shouted mentally, his voice distorted by overload. The symbiote was doing its best to strengthen the host's body, but his bones still cracked under the pressure, and his vision was clouded by a red haze from burst capillaries.
Izuku could see nothing but the festival lights ahead. He could hear only the howling wind and distant, growing music. Kyoka's voice broke through the noise, clear and full of hope:
"Somewhere out there, across the sea,
My heart burns with passion,
Time flies by —
He's rushing to me!"
"HURRY!" Izuku roared in response, and his tentacles pulled him forward with renewed strength.
He flew over the rooftops, over the heads of unsuspecting people. His shadow, monstrous and elongated, momentarily covered the moon. Someone below screamed, pointing at the sky, but it was too late.
"Attention all heroes. An unknown object is rushing towards the festival. Intercept the intruder immediately." Several heroes had already gathered to intercept the swift figure.
The festival square was rapidly approaching. Izuku saw the stage, brightly lit by spotlights, and a sea of people chanting in time to the music. Flying over the crowd, Izuku felt the climax of the entire festival coming to an end. There was only one minute left before the official end of the festival. Izuku panicked; time was not on his side. Finding a person in a huge crowd is practically impossible, he thought, and was about to give up, but then he remembered that he had Moloch's phone with him, which he had taken from him.
"Bingo!" — While flying over people at high speed, Izuku opened his parachute, slowing down above the crowd. On the ground, he saw a hundred heroes moving toward him to intercept him. Andy mentally read the carrier's thoughts and called the saboteur to hear the phone ring.
"30 seconds left," said Venom. Izuku had to put away his parachute and fall straight into the crowd. During this show, none of the residents saw him, and taking advantage of this, Izuku focused all his hearing on the call and heard the ringtone of a regular phone. He thanked his enhanced hearing for the hundredth time and, knowing where the bomber was, found him. Izuku shot at him with his tentacle and pulled him toward him. The residents saw something black shoot out of the sky.
"VILLAIN!" someone in the crowd shouted. Summoning all his strength, Izuku threw the bomber into the air, and he exploded on the spot.
Boom.
The blast wave threw Izuku to the ground, and he didn't have time to react to prevent a hard fall onto the crowd of people. The crowd roared, and the bomber's insides were scattered in all directions. The blast wave destroyed many objects, including some decorative structures. The crowd began to panic and rush toward the exit, despite the heavy crush. One misstep meant being trampled by the crowd.
"My performance," was all Jiro could say as she watched the crowd run away from her. Tears welled up in her eyes, because the very performance she had been striving for, the performance she had been preparing for months, had collapsed in an instant. She had expected the crowd's recognition and attention. Her legs gave way, and she collapsed, covering her eyes with her hands. Everyone who had been supporting her in the background ran away from her at the first sign of danger. In her grief, she did not even notice the stage falling on her head.
"Get out of there!" someone in the crowd shouted. She opened her eyes and saw metal beams falling straight toward her. Izuku jumped straight to the stage, releasing his tentacle, catching her, and pulling her toward him. She fell with a crash, along with the debris that could have killed someone if it had hit them. She was saved, and the stage didn't crush anyone.
Izuku landed on his knee, cushioning the fall, one arm holding the singer's light, trembling body close to him. His other arm, wrapped in black biomass, was still stretched out toward the collapsed stage—that was where the tentacles had pulled Jiro out at the last moment.
She was in shock. Her wide eyes looked at him — not at the hero, not at the savior, but at this black thing, a pulsating creature with white, merciless lenses. He smelled of smoke, burning, and something... alien.
"You..." she whispered, but couldn't finish.
Chaos reigned around them. Screams, pushing and shoving, sirens of approaching heroes. The spotlights that had illuminated her triumph a second ago now darted across the square, picking out people running in the darkness and clouds of dust from the explosion.
Izuku slowly helped her to her feet. His hand lingered briefly on her shoulder to make sure she was steady. He didn't say a word. What could he say? "Sorry for ruining your concert, but I just saved you from an explosion and a ton of falling metal"?
"Get out of here now," Andy's urgent, anxious voice sounded in his head. "The heroes are surrounding the square. They're about to close in on us."
He knew the symbiote was right. He saw silhouettes in bright costumes pushing through the crowd, heading towards him. His mission was accomplished. The bomb was defused, the bomber was dead, the singer was saved. But the price...
He took one last look at Jiro. At her tear-stained, frightened face. At the stage, which lay in a pile of rubble — a symbol of her shattered dreams. His body had been burning with exertion the whole time, and he only had enough strength for a short fight. He had never had to fight someone for so long to save someone else. Izuku clenched his fist as two heroes burst onto the stage. The hero duo wasn't a novel idea for the hero society, but Izuku was more focused than ever, despite his aching limbs.
"Give up. You've done everything you can," the hero said with a stern voice. Andy felt ashamed and smiled at the heroic pathos. Ignoring them, Izuku turned away from them, retreating as long as his strength allowed him to do so.
The heroine began to absorb all the electricity and energy from the destroyed stereo systems and torn cables, creating electrical interference throughout the festival. With one swift movement, she pointed two fingers at her opponent.
"Careful!!" Izuku jumped aside when he heard the shout in his head. The concentrated electricity could paralyze him, including all his muscles. He saw with his own eyes how the attack punched a hole in the metal wall, and Izuku realized from the red-hot metal.
"Her attack is extremely dangerous. Not only does it pierce objects, but it also heats them to the melting point of metal." The tentacles helped him get up and concentrate. The aching pain in his legs prevented him from jumping high enough to escape his pursuers. Several tenacious tentacles grabbed construction debris or what was left of the stage and threw it at the heroes. This bought a few seconds, during which Izuku managed to escape their field of vision.
"Attention, the intruder is wounded. He is heading northeast of the festival!" The radio responded with agreement, and two men ran toward the intruder. Hiding behind the tents, Izuku was breathing heavily from the fighting and the aching pain throughout his body. He hadn't gotten away from them yet, and his strength was running out before he lost his mind and started killing everyone who crossed his path.
Exhaling, Izuku ran as fast as he could. His most important advantage was that he could hide behind large buildings and skyscrapers or even hide in narrow alleys, where he had a better chance of winning. Thinking about different strategies, he didn't notice that someone was aiming right at his back from above. A jet of pressurized liquid hit his back, nearly breaking his ribs.
"I told you, these thermal imaging goggles are the best," the hero said to his partner.
Recovering from the unexpected blow, Izuku stood up and realized that he was surrounded by various heroes. The duo of heroes grinned at him, and Izuku just realized that they were a team calling themselves "Electric Eel." Their name spoke for itself: one could manipulate electricity, while the other could use liquid in any form. The combination of their abilities was extremely dangerous when facing crowds of enemies. The problem with their abilities was that they couldn't get water or electricity out of thin air, so they often patrolled urban areas.
Turning his head, Izuku also noticed several heroes with strength abilities. Izuku swallowed hard and expected the worst. The heroes he believed in wanted to arrest him and do so in the most painful way possible.
A hero with a massive build ran up to Izuku. He couldn't make any sudden movements or maneuvers because of his injuries and aching pain. Only short bursts and blocks couldn't save him. Izuku dodged and used his tentacles, using everything he had, but fatigue took its toll, and his strength left him, despite all the will he put into the battle.
Once again dodging the blows, Izuku was hit by a stream of liquid, throwing him aside.
"There are too many of them," Izuku said as he got up, but he was grabbed tightly and held in a firm embrace. Izuku tried to break free, but he had so little strength that his resistance was quickly nullified.
"Quick, put the handcuffs on him!" Several heroes approached with handcuffs, trying to arrest him. Izuku saw liquid all over the ground: water, juice, soda, and alcohol. Six of the ten heroes were close by. The rest kept their distance for a long-range attack. It seemed like there was no way out, Izuku thought. Resorting to plan B would be a wise decision, but luck smiled on him.
Under the rubble was a long, thick, severed live cable. Izuku saw this as an opportunity, remembering his school chemistry and physics lessons; it wasn't hard to put two and two together. A thin tentacle shot out from his calves and rushed towards the cable. The heroes noticed this, but did not understand his plan at all and tried to stop him. The hero who had grabbed Izuku squeezed him even harder, causing him severe pain. The tentacle wrapped itself around the cable, and the high-voltage current struck everyone present, including Izuku.
The world exploded with a white, searing pain.
Thousands of needles pierced every cell of his body at once. His muscles cramped so badly that his bones cracked. His own scream stuck in his throat, stifled by the electric current burning him from within.
"IZUKU!" Andy's voice broke through the agony, full of panic and rage. The symbiote contracted, trying to absorb the shock, to isolate the host, but the current was too strong, too sudden.
But he was not alone.
The hero with the power ability who was holding him in his arms screamed first — short, piercing, before his body shook in uncontrollable convulsions and collapsed to the ground, smoking. The liquid spilled on the asphalt became a perfect conductor. A wave of electricity rolled through the puddles, reaching the feet of the other heroes.
Screams, curses, the smell of burnt flesh and ozone — everything mixed together in deafening chaos. The long-range heroes standing in the distance froze in shock, watching their comrades fall one after another, struck down by their own ally.
The tentacle wrapped around the cable turned black and charred, but it had done its job. The grip loosened. Izuku collapsed to the ground, his body twitching in a minor convulsion. Steam rose from his mouth. Every muscle burned, every nerve exposed.
"Move!" Andy growled, his voice hoarse but full of incredible willpower. The black biomass, covered in smoke and bubbles, struggled to heal the burns, restoring connection to the damaged nerves. "NOW!"
His self-preservation instinct, heightened to the limit, forced Izuku to move his fingers. Then his hand. With superhuman effort, he pushed himself off the wet, electrified asphalt and crawled. His movements were clumsy and spasmodic, but he was moving. He crawled away from the circle of destruction, from the lying bodies, from the cries for help.
The heroes who remained on their feet were too shocked to immediately rush in pursuit. They saw the consequences of this improvised electric shock.
Izuku crawled to the shadow of the destroyed tent, his chest heaving convulsively. He looked back at the battlefield. At the smoking bodies, at the sparking wires. He felt no triumph. Only emptiness, pain, and the bitter aftertaste of survival at any cost.
Summoning all his strength, Izuku heard the sound of police cars in the background. This meant that things had gone too far. He had to jump, clumsily grabbing the edge of the building. His flight speed slowed, and sensing this, Izuku rushed toward the tallest building to escape his pursuers.
"Ugh!" Izuku groaned in pain. His open wounds, held together by the symbiote, began to open. Bright red blood began to drip from the height onto the ground. He had reached his limit, and all his building materials had been used up in battle. The police officer was closing in on him, and the sounds of sirens and fire engines made it difficult to concentrate.
"I have to go home," Izuku said, not having achieved his goal. Jumping off the building, Izuku hopped across the rooftops, attracting less attention than if he had flown across the high-rise buildings. Looking back, he saw a spotlight on the building and a police helicopter patrolling overhead. Clumsily jumping from roof to roof, Izuku wished he could get home and finally recharge his powers.
"You're not that strong," Nagant first aimed straight at his head, hoping that her headache would end once and for all. The desire to capture him alive annoyed her greatly; she kept track of him, but couldn't find his hideout or catch him off guard. From her vantage point, she could see his pathetic attempts to hide and his equally pathetic jumps, which resulted in him crashing into walls or falling off roofs, nearly falling.
From the outside, it looked funny to Nagant. Watching such a spectacle reminded her of cats that couldn't jump onto a cabinet. Aiming more carefully and adjusting the optics, she fired her rifle. The bullet opened up in flight, maintaining its speed for the tracking beacon. Flying at breakneck speed, it hit him in the shin. The device in her pocket beeped; taking the device, which resembled a player, out of her pocket, she looked at the screen, displaying its geolocation. The light from the device illuminated the darkened room, revealing her beautiful face and purple hair with pink streaks.
A smile appeared on her face, and, glancing at the optics, she continued to follow her target. Unexpectedly for her, he jumped off the roof and disappeared into an alley.
"Could his base be there?" For three minutes, she watched the spot until the tracking device indicated that he was underground.
****
"We need to leave quickly," Izuku clung to the dirty walls of the sewer, moving with careful steps so as not to open his wounds further and start bleeding. He held his side with his left hand and the wall with his right to keep from falling. Dried blood flowed from the corners of his mouth, but he paid no attention to it. Wandering through the sewer, Andy grabbed the tracking device with his small tentacle and called out to Izuku, who looked paler than before.
"Look, it's a tracking device. They managed to attach it to us." The tentacle handed Izuku a device that looked like a small metal pill. The blood loss and exhaustion made it difficult to think and concentrate at the same time. At the same time, several rats were swimming in the sewer channels, which led to an interesting thought.
"I think I have an idea."
****
Kaina opened the hatch together with the agent from the Heroes Commission. The tracking sensor pointed to the sewer. For the last three hours, the beacon had been showing movement in the sewer. The sensor did not lie, and all his movements were very easy to see. Covering her nose, she climbed down into the sewer.
"Ugh, of all places for his lair, he chose this?" Naghan was indignant. She had to sit in one position for a very long time, but as a woman, she couldn't stand working in dirty warehouses or places with bad smells. Despite the disgusting smell of the sewer, she took out the device.
"This is no time for your complaints, Miss Caina," the agent merely narrowed his eyes and did his job without being distracted by emotions. Caina grimaced and stepped into the semi-darkness, her heels echoing loudly on the damp concrete. The agent followed her, his face an impassive mask. The beam of the flashlight picked out slippery walls, rusty pipes, and murky water flowing down the gutter from the darkness.
"The signal is very close," the agent muttered, checking his tablet. "Right after this turn."
They froze at a sharp bend in the tunnel. Caina took her rifle off safe, her fingers resting habitually on the trigger. She nodded to the agent. He stepped forward sharply, raising his flashlight.
A beam of light fell on a pile of rubbish piled up in the middle of the tunnel. And on what was lying on top of it. Nagant gasped, and the agent cursed.
At the top of the pile of sticks, scraps of fabric, and bones stood a rat, eating garbage. The sight almost made Nagant vomit, but the device was pointing at that very rat.
"He... he tricked us," whispered Caina, her voice filled not so much with irritation as with icy rage. Aiming her rifle at the rat, Nagant fired without hesitation, splattering the rat's blood across the floor. "He knew we were following him. He deliberately led us here, to this... this shit."
"He dared... dared to treat me like an idiot," her voice trembled with impotent rage. She lowered the rifle, the barrel smoking. The smell of gunpowder and blood overpowered the stench of the sewers.
"He's wounded," the agent said calmly, looking at the tablet where the signal had finally disappeared. "He was losing blood. He couldn't have gone far. But now he knows we're here and he knows he's being followed."
She turned and walked away from the foul-smelling pile of garbage, her steps firm and ruthless. The hunt wasn't over. It had just moved to a new, much more dangerous level. Now it wasn't just about catching a criminal. It was a duel. And Kaina Tsutsumi never lost a duel.
To be continued.