"Ouch!"
"What are you doing, Mike?"
"Trying to get this damn vending machine to spit out my Doritos!" Michael yells, pounding on the screen. "At least give me my credits back!"
I hear a sigh to my left as I lounge about on the sofa on the 14th Floor. It's been a few days since I've arrived on the island and the days are slowly ticking down to the end of the internship.
Turning my head, I watch the spitting image of Michael walk up and calmly press the 'Call for Help' button on the side of the machine.
Sometimes I wonder if Matthew is the older one of the two, despite the numerous times Michael insists he's the eldest. I'm sure others have thought the same of these two, but their minds truly are gifted. They're also older than me by a couple years, at least in physical age, as is the norm on the island.
The past couple of days have been quite eventful with David showing just what his reputation could accomplish here. I've yet to encounter any of the other interns besides the twins which isn't too bizarre, all things considered. I'm sure the majority of people here prefer spending time with their cliques researching and inventing in their labs.
I know I would.
But at the end of the day, there's something relaxing about just hanging around with these idiots.
Ignoring the mindless chatter, my mind wanders to the past couple of days.
—
{Flashback} Insert signature loading screen from the Big Bob.
"What is this?" I asked, pointing to one of the files I discovered after finaggling my way into on David's computer.
The tall man turned around from the costume he was working on and pursed his lips.
"Just some experimental ornaments." David crumpled his arms together. "But that's besides the point, how did you even get into my top secret folder?"
"Pfft," Laughing, I gestured at my head and the other small inventions scattered throughout Floor 71. Even though we initially met on the 72nd floor, the 71st was actually David's private playground, fitted with multiple high value machines that functioned similarly to a few I'd worked with at U.A., but much stronger. "I've been 'borrowing' your data for ages."
David's eyes slanted and the frown on his face only grew larger. "I brought you here to learn the support aspect of heroing, not to steal my work right under my nose."
"Don't worry," I yawned, brushing a stray strand of hair, "it's not like I'll be selling it to an enemy group or anything. I'm already under your wing."
"Also, I updated your system for you. I can't tell you how many agencies are prone to infiltration, purely due to negligence." The files flew by rapidly, some filled with designs for new costumes, some schematics for a suit featuring aspects from a couple of Quirks, and more. Watching them all fly by, I held a faint smile. Now that I had time to spend working purely on the 'support aspect', as David so helpfully pointed out, I could appreciate the nuanced complexity of it all. One might think it's all fun and games, but wait till you got old heads breathing down your neck looking for any weaknesses that they could capitalize on. Now that's thrilling! Like a game of cat and mouse.
David opened his mouth to protest but ultimately let out a reluctant sigh after seeing the gleam in my eye. "Well, don't snoop around for too long, we have work to do."
"Yeah, yeah—wait come back, what's this doing here?"
Turning back, David stopped in his tracks when he saw what I had pulled up on the screen.
"That's… my assistant and I worked on that for years, but the moment word got out about what it could do, we were forced to shut down the project and relinquish the only working prototype."
"I can see why they did that," I responded after reading through the few notes on file, "a world where there's a device capable of exponentially increasing the power of a user's Quirk would be—"
"—Disastrous?" David asked bitterly. "'Catastrophic? Devastating?' Maybe even 'unholy?'"
A grin spread across my face as my employer listed off words I was sure he'd been told in multiple meetings leading up to the cancellation of the project. "I was going to say it could be fun."
That made David pause again. I figured he'd be used to me by now with us spending so much time together even in just the past couple of days.
"All the oldies hate fun," I continue, much to David's silence. "They've lived so long and for what? Do they expect some kind of reward for making it to the ripe old age of 80? That it automatically allows them to make decisions on behalf of the future of our world despite their growing senility?"
"The world hates change, yet it is the only thing that has brought progress." I idly mention, remembering the past couple meetings I had the absolute pleasure of sitting in thanks to David's recommendation.
"Just don't try to piss off anyone you aren't confident of handling." David chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "There's only so much I can do to control the damage."
"Sure thing, Boss." I gave him a mock salute, causing him to roll his eyes in defeat.
"Now come help me with this," He ordered, gesturing to the suit he was working on. Similarly to Hagakure's Quirk, the suit would be able to reflect light to aid in espionage.
The day went by just like that. Every now and then David would bring me over to help him out, taking the place of his assistant Sam. He's kind of strange too. Well, everyone here is pretty eccentric, even me.
Soon, the sun began to set and I was ready to head back to the Golden Globe. Sometimes I would stay longer to see if I could get any other juicy bits of info from my mentor—not today though.
Before I could press the elevator buttons to leave, I heard a voice call from behind me.
"Hold on, Renji!"
I turned to see Yoshida walking towards me, David following just behind him. I watched Yoshida come down the stairs earlier from the 72nd floor but who would've thought the two would be stopping me like this.
"What's the matter?" I asked, nodding my head toward the old man.
"Remember the time I told you about Head Researcher Feng?"
"Yeah, did something come up?" I could already sense what Yoshida was going to say.
"Ms. Feng has found time in her schedule to see you tomorrow afternoon." Yoshida replied with a nod. "It's quite surprising considering her busy schedule. Luckily, you have the greatest guide to ever grace this island on your side to smooth things out."
While I didn't doubt his abilities, it didn't take a genius to surmise that her rapid approval and availability wasn't purely from his efforts. The glance back at David told me all I needed to know.
"Thanks for the help, Yoshida." I thanked anyways, offering a gracious smile.
"Happy to be of service, Mr. Kanzaki." The old man replied firmly regardless of our developing closeness.
"Oh and I almost forgot, Ms. Shield will be escorting you there tomorrow."
"Melissa?" That might be a problem.
"Oh yes, she's been eager to meet you along with Ms. Feng." Yoshida nodded in confirmation.
Shoving my thoughts aside, I simply nodded along and waved goodbye to the two adults after going over miscellaneous specifics such as Ms. Feng's insistence on arriving on time.
The elevator ride down to the lobby was quiet with only a few passersby—perks of having a more secured elevator.
My face steeled as I rode down, watching the number indicating my location tick down past fifty and into the high fourties. A looming presence suddenly penetrated the elevator with a razor sharp edge, uncaring for anyone who may detect it now that it was at full strength.
Not that many would even be able to detect it prior, not even at the heart of the cause.
The moment I reached the 43rd floor, my senses screamed at me that something was amiss. But no matter where I looked—even with the use of my Quirk—there was nothing in the elevator indicating anything wrong. The lights didn't even flicker!
It seemed like time was frozen still, but soon enough, the number near the ceiling ticked down past 40 and I let out a breath. The feeling of my skin being peeled back subsided and I could finally breath again.
I'll get my answers tomorrow.
—
"Oi, Renji," Michael called out, a small bag of chips in his offhand, "want to check out what I've been working on?"
"Sir. Davis," He starts in a crude English accent as he speaks about his supervisor, "requested that I finish our project as soon as possible. I wouldn't want to disappoint the good sir so unless you want to watch me get chewed out later, I could use the help."
Matthew shoots him a look. "Stop talking like that. And wasn't the deadline earlier today?"
Michael laughs and waves his hand around nonsensically, "I would've been done an hour ago if the vending machine hadn't stolen my Doritos." He shot back, shaking the bag for emphasis. "I've incurred emotional damage."
I snort, pushing myself up from the sofa. "Well, what do you need exactly?"
Michael's grin was immediate and unapologetic. "Ah, see, Matt? He gets me."
Matthew's only response is a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You need to focus, Mike."
"I'm totally focused."
"You were hurting your hand against the vending machine glass just a minute ago."
Michael simply laughs and continues to mess around with his brother, much to my amusement.
But unfortunately, I can't stay here forever.
Letting out a sigh, I turn around to see a young blonde haired woman with familiar glittering blue eyes. She's wearing a short sleeved dress shirt with plaid cuffs accentuated by a dark raspberry waistcoat.
Through her oval glasses, her eyes flick toward the two boys beside me before she offers us a strained smile.
"Hello, Melissa." I greet while extending my hand forward before she can speak. "Your father has told me all about you."
"He did?" Her face creased in surprise, caught off guard by the sudden greeting. "Sometimes I feel like he's more concerned about his work than he is me."
"We both know that's not true."
Melissa giggles and nods her head enthusiastically. "Yeah, I'm just messing with you!"
Flicking her gaze toward Michael again, her smile drops subtly before she can brace herself. From the way that he looks back sheepishly, it seems like there's more to the story than meets the eye.
"Michael," she nods, making idle conversation, "how has Mr. Davis been treating you?"
"Very well actually—"
"I presume you aren't messing around with experimental dyes again?"
"Heh," Mike's silvery blonde hair shakes slightly as he lets out an awkward laugh, his hand rising to rub the back of his head. "Uh—not since last time."
"Last time?" My eyes meet briefly with Matthew.
"Michael may or may have not messed with some supplies and spilled them all over our friend Melissa here back when we were still at the Academy. It was our last year." He explains with a knowing smile. "You should've seen the way he tripped back then. Too bad he basically locked himself out of a program with Mr. Shield."
"Not like I'm going to go into costuming anyways," Michael butts in.
I've seen his designs already and I must say, his artistic abilities aren't the greatest. I won't tell him that, of course. Or that I used my Quirk to look into his workbooks.
"Back to the point—" Melissa leans toward me after a beat. "Ms. Feng had to reschedule due to some complications so we have some time to kill before our meeting and I was going to go grab a bite…"
Ignoring the not so subtle look both twins are giving me, I gesture to the door. "What do you have in mind?"
"There's this pizza joint not too far from here." She waves me along, leaving the recreational room after offering a brief goodbye to the twins.
Heading toward the elevators, I smile and nod. "So you and Michael have a long history, yeah?"
"You could say that," Melissa presses the button on the elevator and it chimes delightfully, signaling that an elevator is already available. "They were my seniors and I was always ahead of my age group so I spent a lot of time with people like them."
"Does that make you a loner now that all your friends have graduated?"
"Hey!" Her head snaps sharply at me and she instantly gets heated. "I had other friends in my own year too, you know!"
"Definitely. I don't doubt you for a second."
"Are you sure~?" She drawled on, giggling. "It doesn't seem like you do!"
"For sure." I nod sarcastically, happy to put the uncomfortable atmosphere between Michael and her behind us. "Say, what's the name of this pizza place again?"
—
[Dough Re Mi]
"So, you've been working with my Dad."
"Mhm." I grunt even though she didn't phrase it like a question.
"How did you even manage to get admitted as an intern? And only for a week at that?" Melissa asks. "Most of the ones with an apprenticeship are graduates of I-Island Academy."
"Have you been living under a rock?" I shoot back with a raised brow. "Did your father not tell you anything?"
She shakes her head and takes a sip of her mango green tea before continuing. "Innovation takes a long time and the Academy does things a bit differently than most schools. Most of the semester is based around projects so I haven't had much time to goof off. Otherwise, we would've met sooner."
"Yeah, the first time David mentioned you, I was half expecting you to jump out from one of the closets or something."
—
In no time, our food arrived and we began digging in. Melissa had bought herself a small margherita with a side of buffalo wings while I ordered a classic medium sized pepperoni and a small meat lovers.
Melissa had mentioned earlier that she doesn't usually visit this restaurant and only comes here every now and then, but the ease of which she ordered and joked around with the waiters was too relaxed.
Not that I'm going to look too much into it. Why dig deep into a lady's background when you can just enjoy the golden, perfectly crisp pizza the establishment offers.
Besides the beautiful crunch of the crust, the tomato sauce is rich and slightly tangy. The slices of pepperoni on the other hand are savory and curled at the edges, releasing small pools of oil that don't overwhelm the dish.
We make idle conversation while we eat, balancing out nicely with the small band playing on one side of the restaurant. 'Dough Re Mi,' what a name. It feels like everywhere I go, there's a store popping out of nowhere with a fancy title and a suave new catchphrase.
The thing I notice about Melissa is that she picks up on social cues extremely well. You'd think a girl like her, sheltered in a place like this, would struggle with that sort of thing, but it seems the environment filled with multiple political figures and scientists has done its work.
She knows when to speak and when not to, guiding the conversation carefully in case I get offended or misjudge a particular topic.
It's annoying, but impressive at the same time. Fortunately for her, I don't mind talking about my life and my hobbies as we move on to what David and I have been working on.
"No, those prosthetics don't work the same as you might expect."
"Really?" She asks with a gentle smile, "I'd think most of them work similarly."
"Not the ones we're working on." I clarify, picking at my smaller pizza. "Our prosthetics are much more advanced, some requiring direct cortical implants, others using bidirectional nerve interfaces."
"I overheard that you were working on nanotech," Melissa mentions offhandedly, "How would that work with something like a prosthetic?"
"I figured you knew nothing about me?"
She shrugs, "I've gathered bits and pieces."
Sighing, I take a bite of my pizza, making her wait for my response.
After wiping my lips on a napkin, I finally break the silence. "A surface level neural interface isn't something to be done whimsically." My head tilts, "Nanotechnology even more so."
"Of course, some people wouldn't mind a direct implant or a more invasive interface." I cut her off just as her mouth opens. "There are also options such as peripheral nerve interfaces attaching to the remaining nerves in the residual limb, even if it won't provide the same effect."
"And nanotech…?" She asks again, much more interested in the conversation now. "How does it come into play?"
I stare at her for a moment. "In the best scenario? It doesn't. Nanobots could potentially spread to other tissues during the process. Without fine tuning, the machines could be recognized as foreign invaders too. That's not even mentioning the signal noise and the power needed to sustain themselves safely inside a body."
"What of yours?" Melissa questions, tilting her head much in the same direction as mine. "Nezu leaked some bits and pieces about you to my Dad. I looked it over right before I came to see you."
"That little rat," I sigh, shaking my head. "My case isn't the norm. I had a lot of time to get all my math put together before installing them."
"…but theoretically, they could be used to empower the rest of the world."
I look up to match Melissa's piercing blue eyes. Her palms are clasped together and she breathes steadily, but I can almost here the anticipation striking through her heart. I take another glance at her determined gaze and pause at the conviction hidden beneath. What a curious little lamb.
"Theoretically." I agree.
She stays leaned over a second longer before exhaling out through her nose and settling back into the seat.
I have a feeling I'm not done hearing about this, already dreading the long arguments I'm bound to have with David. I suppose I could just not tell him…
Actually, I think David's earned enough of my respect to at least know if his daughter is going off the rails. It's only fair if I can catch things before they get too wild.
"In any case," She guides the conversation after coughing into her fist to regain composure, "what made you want to work on tech like prosthetics?"
Melissa blushes and laughs quietly. "I'd think guys your age would be more focused on weapons and blowing stuff up."
"Like Michael?"
"…like Mike."
"Well, I'm not Michael," I retort.
She laughs again, much less reserved than before. "Right, I'm starting to see it now."
Why am I so focused on prosthetics?
I keep quiet as my mind wanders back to her question and it abruptly races toward my time spent wandering the city nights in search of a man born with the name, Hakari.
Oh, Hakari. What a joy it was to rid you of this world. Well, not really 'rid of', I'll admit. But by the state I remember leaving him in, I'd say there's a guarantee he won't be harboring any more vile tendencies.
But Hakari is not the focus of this memory. No. Rather, it's the countless bloody faces I watched look up at me through cold steel bars. They were barely even reaching their teens and yet they were subjected to the cruel machinations of the undercity.
That memory won't ever leave my mind—a mind that never forgets is a mind that never forgives.
In a way, I was just like them. Stranded beyond comprehension purely due to the twisted intents of a small group of people I never even knew.
I won't stop finding people like them. Some say picking at a scab will only make it bleed worse. But the thing about that saying is that a scab is beneficial. It's a cover of clotted blood and dried tissue, forming over a wound to protect it.
People like them—synonymous with rot—need to be severed. Cut so sharp and decisively that it prevents any risk of further injury.
Thinking back to the children and the state they were in makes my blood boil. Only a few were favored enough to stay unscathed, the rest were hurriedly bandaged up after having their lives snipped away.
"…There's too many people who need them." I ultimately answer, shoving my thoughts aside. "Losing a part of themselves, or being born without such a part, shouldn't be the deciding factor. I want to give them back what was taken."
"Huh…" Melissa ponders. I can see her thoughts race as her perception of me changes after just a couple sentences. "It's nice to see that you have such a human side, Renji."
She speaks my name for the first time in a while and the way her smile lights up softly catches me off guard. "The world is lucky to have people like you living in it."
Her warmth might be genuine, but my mind is elsewhere. The gentle smile across from me and the soft tunes from the harpist who came in moments ago are trivial as my conviction grows.
One day I will excise the world of its rot in one fell swoop.