EARLY as HAD A LOT OF BAD REVIEWS😅(No chapter tomorrow, have work)
JOIN MY P@TREON FOR JUST $5!!! (Info in author's notes)
TRY MY NEW(KIND OF) FANFIC: ONE PIECE: SOL RAGNAROK
NEW SIVER MEMBERS:- Doglore63, Xkeyonxh, Michael, Kenny, acce, Onso, Voks17, Grim, ELLOMYGELLO, 9876543210123456789, Semaja Thomas, Nachiket Thakur, Kermiit, Shaquille kwieman, Reed Pace, Jose Hector, Stephanie Jovel, Ismael
NEW GOLD MEMBER:- Kvng
A lot, I know. Apparently my The 100: Mike fanfic is doing crazy good🥳🥳
 --XXXX--
The conference room at the Nighteye Agency was a pressure cooker of tension. Dozens of pro heroes, sidekicks, and students, including the Big 3 and the four U.A. interns, sat around a long table.
Sir Nighteye stood at the head, adjusting his glasses, his sharp gaze making sure everyone was present. Behind him, a large screen displayed a map of the Shie Hassaikai's suspected operations and a photo of Kai Chisaki, AKA: Overhaul.
"We have gathered you all here," Nighteye began, "because the situation regarding the Shie Hassaikai has escalated. Based on our surveillance and the information gathered by Fat Gum regarding the quirk-destroying bullets, we have confirmed that they are manufacturing and distributing illegal drugs."
The room murmured. Kirishima clenched his fist, remembering the bullet that had hit Amajiki.
Nighteye continued, outlining the structure of the organization, the suspected quirk of the leader, and the disturbing involvement of a young girl named Eri.
"Eri is the key," Nighteye stated. "Her quirk, Rewind, is being harvested to create these bullets. We have two objectives: seize the evidence of their illegal activities, and rescue the girl."
Izuku's head snapped up. Rescue her. The image of Eri's terrified face, her small hand letting go of his, burned in his memory. He clenched his fists on his knees. This time. This time I won't let go.
But another thought, a much darker one, crept into his mind. If they are hurting her... if they are torturing a child... is just rescuing her enough? He remembered Akaza standing over Muscular. The absolute finality of it. Akaza stopped him forever. If we just arrest them... can we guarantee they won't hurt her again? He shook his head, trying to remove the thought, but the seed of Akaza's "way" had been planted deep in his mind.
"We need to find their primary manufacturing facility," Nighteye said. "We believe it is hidden within their main headquarters, but the layout is unknown. We need a precise location before we strike."
The meeting adjourned with a plan to widen the search net. The heroes dispersed, the weight of the mission pressing down on them.
Three Days Later
The group was reassembled three days later.
"I have found it," Sir Nighteye announced directly.
He explained how he had used his quirk, Foresight, on a suspected Hassaikai member. He had seen the path. He had seen the hidden underground facility beneath the Hassaikai compound, leading to the little girl with white hair.
"She is in the deepest part of the facility," Nighteye said, pointing to a blueprint on the screen. "Here. We strike tomorrow morning at sharp 08:30 am. We will hit them hard and fast. We will not give them time to react or move her."
The heroes nodded. Aizawa, standing in the back, looked at the map and smirked.
'So it begins.'
The morning sun was bright as the massive task force gathered a block away from the Shie Hassaikai compound. Police in riot gear formed a perimeter. The heroes of Nighteye's, Fat Gum's, and Ryukyu's agencies stood ready.
The clock ticked.
8:29… 8:30.
"Move in!" the police commander ordered.
The group advanced. They reached the large wooden gates of the compound. A police officer stepped forward and rang the intercom buzzer.
Ding-dong.
"This is the police! We have a warrant to search the premises! Open the gate!"
Silence.
The heroes braced themselves. They expected an explosion. A villain ambush. A horde of yakuza thugs bursting out with guns blazing.
Nothing happened.
A minute passed. The silence stretched, but nothing happened.
"Sir?" a policeman asked, looking at Nighteye.
Nighteye frowned. "This isn't right. Chisaki is paranoid. He wouldn't leave his front door unguarded."
"Breach it!" the commander yelled.
A heavy battering ram slammed into the gates, splintering the wood.
The heroes rushed into the courtyard, along with the police, all of them ready for war.
"Hands in the air!"
"Don't move!"
But again, there was no one to command. The courtyard was empty. The meticulously raked gravel was undisturbed. The front door of the main house was slightly open, swaying gently in the breeze.
"Where are they?" Rock Lock asked, his voice tight. "Is this a trap?"
"It has to be," Fat Gum said, stepping in front of Kirishima and Amajiki. "Stay close."
Nighteye narrowed his eyes. He pushed past the police line. "Follow me. The entrance to the underground is this way."
He led them through the silent and empty house. Shoes were lined up neatly in the genkan. Tea cups sat half-full on a table. It was as if the inhabitants had simply vanished into thin air mid-breakfast.
They reached a heavy bookshelf in the back office. Nighteye pressed a hidden panel, and the shelf groaned, sliding aside to reveal a dark, descending staircase.
"Get ready," Aizawa warned, his capture weapon floating. "They'll be waiting for us down there."
The heroes descended, the air growing colder and damper with each step. The silence was absolute, broken only by the scuff of boots on concrete.
They reached a massive steel blast door at the bottom.
"Police! Open up!"
Again, silence.
"Break it, Fat Gum," Nighteye ordered.
Fat Gum stepped forward, cocking his fist, "HHHFFFFFFFF!", and punched.
BOOOM
The door burst open. The heroes rushed forward, expecting a hail of bullets.
Instead, they stopped.
Every single person in the front rank fell to their knees. Not from a quirk. Not from an attack. But from the smell.
They all gagged.
A thick, metallic stench rolled out of the opening, a physical wall of rot and iron that hit them like a sledgehammer. It was the smell of a slaughterhouse.
"Oh god," A policewoman whispered, covering her mouth, her face turning green.
Sir Nighteye's eyes went wide. His Foresight hadn't shown him this.
"What… what happened here?" Rock Lock choked out, pulling his collar over his nose.
"Move," Nighteye commanded, his voice grim. "We have to secure the target."
They entered the hallway. And the world turned into a nightmare.
The maze-like corridors of the Hassaikai base were painted red.
The first thing they saw were the Eight Bullets. Or what was left of them.
Rikiya Katsukame, the vitality-draining giant, was slumped against a wall. His massive body was deflated, his skin hanging loose like a baggy suit. His throat had been torn out, leaving a jagged hole that exposed his spine.
Next was Toya Setsuno. He was pinned to the ceiling by ten of his own knives. His face was frozen in pure terror, his eyes bulging as if he had seen a ghost before he died.
Yu Hojo, the crystal-creating villain, had been reduced to a pile of shattered, glittering shards mixed with thick blood. It looked as if he had been struck by a force so powerful it had shattered his crystal armor and his body at the same time.
"This… this wasn't a fight," Fat Gum whispered, looking at the remains of Hojo. "This is a torture session."
They moved deeper. The carnage only got worse. Soramitsu Tabe, the eating villain, had his jaw ripped off. Kendo Rappa, the fighter, was embedded into the concrete wall, his chest caved in so deeply that his back was touching the other side. His knuckles were shattered, as if he had punched something unbreakable until his own bones turned to dust.
Every single member of the Shie Hassaikai lay dead. And not just dead. They had been dismantled in the most painful way. There were no signs of a struggle. No scuff marks, no bullet holes in the walls from a firefight. Just instant, overwhelming violence.
Mirio was shaking violently. Mirio had especially seen villains hurt people. He had seen scary things. But this… this was a level of cruelty he couldn't comprehend. It wasn't heroic. It was demonic.
Izuku, on the other hand, had flashbacks of the summer camp.
'No way... There is no way he was here.'
And yet... as he looked at the man who had been pinned to the ceiling, the man who had likely helped hold a little girl captive, Izuku realized with a jolt that he didn't feel sad. He didn't feel the urge to save them. He looked at the carnage, at the men who had tormented a child, and a cold, quiet part of him whispered, Good. The thought didn't horrify him as much as it should have. (Hehehehehe it begins)
"Who… who could do this?" Mirio whispered, his usual smile completely erased.
They finally reached the end of the labyrinth. The heavy double doors to the deepest chamber, the "nursery" where Eri was kept, were torn off their hinges, lying twisted on the floor.
Nighteye stepped through, followed by the horrified heroes.
The room was a sterile, white laboratory. Or it had been. Now, it was a canvas with a painting of crimson red.
In the center of the room, against the far wall, was Kai Chisaki. Overhaul.
He wasn't dead. Not yet.
He was nailed to the wall. Not with metal spikes, but with thick, jagged shards of the concrete floor, driven through his shoulders, his hips, and his hands, crucifying him against the white plaster.
His arms… his arms were gone. Severed at the elbows. The wounds had been burned, likely by friction or intense heat, leaving black, charred stumps. One of his eyes was out of its socket and was dangling, connected with the nerves and the blood vessels.
He was conscious. His working eye was wide, staring at nothing as tears of blood rolled down his face. He was mumbling, a low, broken stream of gibberish.
"Don't touch me... dirty... filthy... he's a ghost... a demon... kil.. m... plea.. KilL mE PleAsE!! I BEg YoU!!!" His mumbling turned into a blood-curdling yell, begging them to put him out of his misery.
Above him, scrawled on the pristine white wall in Overhaul's own blood, was a single, chilling message.
I TOLD YOU I WOULD SAVE HER.
The silence in the room was absolute. The heroes stared at the broken, tortured villain, the man who could disassemble anything, now disassembled himself. (The irony lol)
Aizawa, standing far behind the rest, watched this with a smile.
'Quite an artist you are, Asura.'
"The girl," Nighteye said, his voice cutting through the horror. "Where is the girl?"
They looked around. The chair where Eri would have been strapped down was empty. The leather straps were worn, stained with old, dried blood. A small, discarded toy lay on the floor next to a tray of surgical tools.
Izuku stared at that chair. He imagined Eri there. He imagined the pain, the fear, the endless days of torture she must have endured in this room.
The image overlaid with the scene in the hallway.
They deserved it, he thought, the words ringing clearly in his mind. For doing this to her... they deserved every bit of it.
He gasped softly, his hand flying to his mouth, shocked by the violence of his own thoughts. What am I thinking? That's not... that's not what a hero thinks. But the feeling remained, a hard, cold knot in his chest that wouldn't go away. He looked at Overhaul nailed to the wall, and felt... nothing but grim satisfaction.
She was gone. But somehow he knew she was safe.
--XXXX--
How was it?
Good !
or
Meh!(IF SO WHY? Let me know!!)
Let me know how you liked it in the comments.
AND PUT THE POWERSTONES IN THE BAG RIGHT NOW!! PLS
Hope you would like it.
Plus I got +5 early access chapters for it up on my P@treon. If you dont want to pay you can be a free member and get a sneak at the upcoming chapters. Along with my other works.
This link is below
Just search up Joe_Mama p@treon on google.
....