"I had what you might call a friend? Friends, even, but I'm not sure if they saw me that way, or just as another teammate. Or even as an asshole."
"Okayyyyyyyyy." Rhett leaned in, sensing the shift in Henrik's voice—something raw beneath the usual cynicism.
"Ugh." Henrik sighed, turning back to sit on the dirty floor, his back against the railing wall. His fingers drummed against his thigh, a nervous tic Rhett hadn't seen before. "There was my squad, team B. There was this guy, Mateo. He was kind of like me, you know? Usually kept to himself, but he was pretty nice when you got to know him? He had this weird quirk that let him create slime, which I honestly thought was useless and he failed to even pass the entrance exam, but he managed to turn it into something powerful."
Henrik's voice grew quieter, more distant. "Then there's Alex, who was just this brutish and brash girl that just did whatever she wanted, even on patrols. She was a pain in the ass in Academy training, but she managed to become something of a team player later on."
The wind picked up, carrying the acrid smell of distant smoke. Henrik pulled his jacket tighter around himself.
"And then there's Akira. We. . . never had a really friendly relationship. We just. . . were part of the team, I guess? We were usually apathetic to each other in the academy, but I was kind of a huge asshole when things got serious once we were deployed. I doubt she would even call us friends."
"Mmm." Rhett nodded thoughtfully as he connected the dots with what he already knew about Henrik. Marina had mentioned names like Alex, Akira and Mateo too. "But you don't know where they are?"
"Hell, I don't even know if they're alive." Henrik's voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat, annoyed at himself. "The last time we were together was in a fight against two of King's experiments. I got knocked out halfway into the fight, but it was that tough. I even thought I was the only one who miraculously survived until I saw Seraphine and Marina."
"Damn, that's rough." Rhett said, unable to find anything to console Henrik with, not that he thought Henrik needed his consolation. "So what do you wanna do now?"
Henrik was silent for a long moment, his hands trembling slightly as he fiddled with another unlit cigarette. The tremor wasn't from the cold—Rhett could tell. Henrik's jaw clenched, as if he was wrestling with something inside himself, weighing whether to speak or stay silent.
Finally, he threw the cigarette on the floor and muttered, "Do you know how I knew you had been given your quirk?"
'He's changing the subject?' Rhett thought, but decided to roll with it. "Didn't you just say it was because if I was born with it as a kid I would have gone insane?"
When Rhett thought of it, he really wondered what would have happened if he was born with his revival quirk. Would he even realize he had that quirk unless he actually died as a kid? Would he even be able to mentally grapple with the fact that he died if he was still like twelve? The thought sent chills down his spine.
"Yes, and also because you haven't utilized it to its full efficiency." Henrik replied as he breathed deeply, his exhale visible in the cooling air. "People born with powers already have a good grasp on it and have better control and intelligence when using it than someone who had just been given that power. Like you. You don't think before using your quirk, you just let yourself die a couple of times until something clicks."
"Again, what's with all the roasts?!" Rhett frowned, but Henrik continued in a quieter voice, his gaze fixed on the darkening horizon.
"Although, there are some people that when given a quirk newly, the pressures put on them force them to develop the quirk to an equal or even stronger degree than someone who had been born and used their power all their life."
Henrik raised his thin right hand, and Rhett noticed how it shook before Henrik steadied it with visible effort. He nonchalantly fused the cigarette with his index finger, then lit it with the lighter, watching the fire burn the tobacco blend, red flakes flying into the darkening sky like dying embers.
"I'm one of those people—" Henrik's voice dropped to barely above a whisper, and there was something hollow in his eyes now, something that made Rhett's chest tighten. "—I was given this power that allowed me to merge with inanimate objects, just two years, having lived my whole life without one before."
His eyes narrowed to slits as he continued, and Rhett could see his pupils dilate slightly, as if the memory itself was a physical threat. "It was King. I've never seen him before, he only acted through directions from his Lackies. One day I was just another Slum rat about to be caught up in the war I had no part in, but then, I was offered. . . this."
Henrik clasped his hands together, and Rhett noticed they were shaking again. The cigarette between his fingers had burned down to almost nothing, forgotten.
"I was offered a choice." Henrik's voice was barely audible now. "To join King's warriors, take a quirk and fight for him. Either that or I die by their hands. And unlike you, I'm not a fan of dying."
Henrik gave a short, bitter laugh at his unfunny joke, but his expression turned serious again immediately, as if the moment of levity had been a mistake.
"They gave me quirks. This one that allows me to merge with things." He paused, his breathing becoming shallow. "For about a year they made us fight each other to prove our strength and worth, and those that lost. . ."
He stopped completely, his eyes suddenly wide and unfocused, as if he was seeing something that wasn't there. His whole body began to shiver, and this time it had nothing to do with the temperature.
"Henrik?" Rhett said softly, leaning forward. "You okay?"
Henrik blinked rapidly, as if trying to clear his vision, and bit down on his lip so hard that blood—what little he had left—began to seep out. "They were taken away. We watched them as they were put inside some sort of chamber full with a weird liquid."
His voice was hollow now, mechanical, like he was reading from a script he'd memorized against his will. "They would stuff them with quirks and after about three months, they would come out as mindless husks who only had one purpose. To destroy."
"They weren't human after that. Just war machines that couldn't speak, form thoughts or even take any coherent instructions other than to kill." Henrik's hands were clenched into fists now, his knuckles white.
The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. In the distance, Rhett could hear the low rumble of something—explosions, maybe, or the groaning of collapsing buildings.
"The only thing they taught us to do was fight," Henrik continued, his voice steadier now but still fragile. "And one day, when it was my turn to fight against an opponent I knew I had no chance of winning against..."
He took a shuddering breath. "I ran. Miraculously, I found an exit from the Palace, since this was in the early days and it wasn't as high-security as it is now, and got the hell away from there. I hid in the slums and destroyed buildings, stuck to the shadows and dispatched villains sent to hunt me down, and I almost died, so, so many times."
Henrik wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, leaving streaks of dirt and ash on his cheek. "Then I got to a city and saw the EP17 protocol broadcast, calling everybody who could to join the heroes side and fight against the villains. They were desperate for cannon fodder, and it wasn't like the country had done anything to help me. When I thought of horrific things that they did, I thought, and I can't actually believe it, that I could make a difference. That I could actually join a force that would stop them."
A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "Obviously, we all know how that went. I would have had better luck living under the radar, keeping to myself and living a small life in any city, but I decided to join a war I had no business in, and now I'm bleeding on the battlefield..."
He shot a sour look at Rhett. "With you."
"You say 'with you' like it's a bad thing." Rhett scoffed, but the usual bite wasn't there. After what Henrik had told him, how could he joke? Henrik never had a Ryoji, or Casey, or Melissa, or Leon, or Lucille in his life. He never had anyone to help him.
His words sank heavily into his bones. It must have been depressing, fighting against the world on your own. When Rhett looked at him, he could almost see himself in him, a mirror of what would have happened if he never had those people in his life.
"Don't look at me like that." Henrik huffed, but his voice was tired now, drained. "I'm not telling you all this so you can have pity on me. In fact, I don't even know why I told you all this. Must have been the nicotine."
"No, I think the reason you told me this is because you've never really talked to anyone about this before." Rhett said calmly. "Don't you feel sorta better now?"
"NO." Henrik derided as he sniffed, scratching at his eyes. "Don't patronize me. You're not my therapist."
"Yeah, but I'm your comrade." Rhett smiled as they sat in silence for another while. The sky was definitely getting darker now, and the distant rumbling was growing stronger. Night was falling. He almost couldn't see Henrik anymore, apart from the occasional glow of another cigarette.
The smell of smoke was getting stronger too, mixing with the metallic scent of blood and destruction that seemed to permeate the entire city.
"So, Rhett." Henrik finally spoke again, his voice carefully controlled. "I asked you who gave you your quirk, since it wasn't King. Who did?"
'Should I tell him?' Rhett thought for a moment, then he shrugged. He had no real reason to hide anything from Henrik. Besides, the usually reserved boy had poured out his life just now.
"It was... a guy with white hair. That's honestly all I remember." Rhett admitted. "I honestly can't remember his features, but he did seem pretty chill. He was like, in his late 20's or early 30's, and when he gave me the quirk after my last foster family left me behind because they didn't want to have to take care of me when they were packing to the Capital. Besides, I just turned eighteen, so I was already my own man."
Henrik went completely still. Even his breathing seemed to stop.
The words came out a little bitterly, but Rhett continued. "One day, he met up with me, and all he did was touch my chest, saying that he just gave me a power that meant I could no longer die. I was ecstatic, thinking I was the luckiest man alive to get such an OP ability at the most dangerous time in history. I didn't even get his name, and a day later, I finally understood what that 'I could no longer die' really meant. Ha ha ha..."
Through the glow of his cigarette, Rhett saw Henrik's face had gone pale, his eyes wide with what looked like recognition and fear.
"White-haired man?" Henrik's voice was barely a whisper, and his hands were shaking again. "No, you couldn't be talking about... No, it can't be..."
Rhett sat up straighter, his pulse quickening. "You know this guy?"
"No." Henrik shook his head frantically, but his demeanor suggested he definitely had more than just an idea. His breathing was becoming erratic. "I don't. And you didn't bother to ask his name? Why are you so retarded? Why did he give you the quirk? What did he tell you to do with it?"
"Henrik, you're freaking out." Rhett leaned forward. "What aren't you telling me?"
"Nothing!" Henrik snapped, but his voice cracked. "There was just... someone I know who looks like that, but it's just impossible. Forget about it. About someone who..."
"About someone who what?" Rhett pressed.
"Forget it." Henrik's voice was sharp now, defensive. "It's nothing. Just paranoid bullshit."
"Henrik—"
"I said forget it!" Henrik's eyes were wild now, and he was gripping his cigarette so tightly it was beginning to crumble. "Just tell me what he said to you."
Rhett stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. "Ah, I know, I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed." He said sheepishly, despite everything that had happened as he tried remembering everything he could about the white-haired man who gave him his quirk. "I didn't ask about why he gave me the quirk, didn't want to question his good faith. Besides, I was just too happy to have some sort of power. He did tell me to use the quirk to my heart's desire and do everything I wanted."
"It still makes no sense." Henrik thought as he brought his hands to his chin, but Rhett could see they were still trembling. "Either it was a villain who was tired of his dud quirk, or it was a hero who was a bit too altruistic that day, and had extremely bad judgement."
"Or it was someone else entirely," Rhett said quietly, watching Henrik's reaction.
Henrik's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond.
"Hey!" Rhett said, forcing a laugh to break the tension. "Even if it is really shitty, I'm still glad I have it. I can save as many people as I want."
"Only the people on your list?" Henrik asked, and there was something bitter in his voice now, something that cut deeper than his usual sarcasm. "Wouldn't you want to save everyone with your power?"
It was Rhett's turn to frown slightly as his expression darkened. "What did the world do for me? I only want to save the people I care about, which is already pretty fucking hard. I'm not going to put myself through that much pain for people I don't even know. I'm not that kind of hero."
Henrik's face twisted with something that might have been pain, or anger, or both. "Must be nice," he said quietly, "having people worth saving."
The words hung in the air between them like a physical weight. Rhett felt something cold settle in his stomach—not fear, but something worse. Understanding.
"Henrik..."
"Not everyone has a list, Rhett." Henrik's voice was hollow again, but there was a bitter edge to it now. "Some of us don't have anyone left to care about. Some of us watched everyone we might have saved get turned into monsters, or die in front of us, or just... disappear."
He took a long drag from his cigarette, and when he spoke again, his voice was so quiet Rhett had to strain to hear it. "So forgive me if I think your selective heroism is a luxury I can't afford."
Rhett opened his mouth to respond, but the words died in his throat. What could he say to that? That Henrik was wrong? That he should find people to care about? It all sounded hollow and patronizing.
The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken truths and uncomfortable revelations. In the distance, the rumbling was getting louder.
Henrik looked like he was about to say something, but he quickly closed his mouth, a wry look on his face. "Very heroic, Rhett. I guess we're all heroes in our own ways."
"Yeah, I guess so." Rhett whispered, but the words felt wrong in his mouth.
"So what're you gonna do now?" he asked, more to fill the silence than because he actually wanted to know.
"Get the fuck out of here once the sun comes up." Henrik answered briskly, but there was a finality to his voice that hadn't been there before. "I'm saving my ass. I'm my own hero. I'll have to raid a hospital for shit to fix myself with, but once I'm okay, I'm going back. I'm already too deep into the city as it is. You'll be going to save the people on your 'list' tomorrow?"
The way he said 'list' made it sound like a dirty word.
"Yeah." Rhett said quietly, but every time he said it, it seemed to lose its vigor. He had absolutely no idea where Leon, Ryoji or Melissa would be. Hell, they probably had left the city when the warnings came. He had no idea what the situation was in other cities, so what if he had just been on a goose chase all along?
The adrenaline and desire to save them was starting to die out. He had no real plan. Maybe Henrik was right. Maybe he was just retarded.
But he did know where one person was.
"Yeah. We'll head for Lucille at the Clocktower. Once I've made sure she's okay, I'll talk to her if she would like to follow... Nah, you've almost died, and I've died more times than I can count in this city. I'll just make sure she's safe and leave."
Henrik nodded slowly. "That sounds reasonable, which is something new coming from you."
"Fuc—"
"We can stick together until then." Henrik continued like he didn't hear Rhett's remark. The rumbling was definitely getting louder now. "We'll head back to my base after that. I'm out of ammo and weaponry, so I'll restock when we get there. I've got rations and—"
He pointed north, farther away from the Clocktower, but as his finger extended, both of them saw it at the same time.
In the distance, in the exact direction Henrik was pointing, a massive fireball the size of a football stadium erupted into view. The explosion was so bright it turned night into day, casting their shadows stark and black against the rooftop. The sky lit up in hues of red and orange like another sun had been born in the heart of the city.