Sam didn't feel well.
His hands trembled as he tore his shirt off, teeth clenched against the pain. He wrapped the torn fabric tightly around his shoulder.
Still bleeding.
Still bad.
'I need stitches.'
Every breath sent spikes of pain through his chest. A few ribs were definitely cracked from the crash with Hawks.
He staggered into a convenience store.
"Welcome to—"
The clerk froze.
"Don't," Sam said flatly. "I'll be gone after I buy what I need."
The clerk nodded stiffly.
Sam grabbed a first aid kit, a backpack, water bottles, bandages.
At the counter, he tossed his wallet down.
"Keep it."
The clerk opened it.
Too much money.
Overtime. Construction.
Sam was already gone.
Climbing another fire escape took everything he had. He collapsed onto the roof.
"…Fucking bird."
He disinfected the wound.
Needle in.
Out.
Again.
He wrapped it tight.
"It'll reopen. But it'll hold."
Morning came too soon.
"…Sam Suzuki, the eighteen-year-old villain now described as a symbol of the quirkless…"
Symbol?
"My ass," Sam muttered.
The forest was right there.
Two streets.
His instincts screamed.
Fire slammed into his back.
"GAAAH!"
He hit the pavement, skin blistering.
He stood, shaking, furious.
"So… you're Endeavor."
Flames danced around the Number Two Hero.
"Sam Suzuki," Endeavor said coldly. "You are under arrest. Any further resistance and you will be burned to ash."
Sam exhaled.
'Well.'
'This isn't good.'