Fractured Wings

The room was cold, the air damp and heavy with the scent of mildew and rust. The walls were rough concrete, cracked and stained with dark patches that could have been water damage or something far worse. 

The floor was littered with broken chains, shattered glass, and the remnants of what looked like furniture. A wispy light bulb hung from the ceiling, casting erratic shadows that danced across the walls like specters. 

He was slumped against the wall, his wrists bound tightly behind his back inside a big metal box that if he even tried to explode it would destroy his hands first. His body was stripped down to his under garments, his once-proud frame was now a canvas of bruises, cuts, and the grotesque marks left by Toga. 

The lipstick imprints, were faded but it felt like a permanent mark. Her name carved into his stomach was worse though, with every shallow breath he took it throbbed in deep pain. 

Bakugou's head hung low, his spiky blonde hair matted with sweat and blood. His vision blurred in and out to focus, his mind drifting between consciousness and a blind hazy, dreamlike state. The noise above him was distant but growing louder, shouting, crashes, it sounded like a battle. He tried to focus, to make sense of it, but his thoughts were sluggish, weighed down by exhaustion and pain. 

What the hell is going on up there? he thought, his mind was struggling to piece together the fragments of awareness. Are the heroes here? Or is it another group of villains? Did the League piss someone off? 

The thoughts of heroes coming to rescue him felt almost laughable. He hadn't seen a single news report about his kidnapping, hadn't heard a word about his disappearance. For all he knew, the world had moved on, forgotten about him. The thought made his chest tighten, a bitter mix of anger and despair bubbling up inside him. 

They left me here. They didn't even try to find me. 

His breath hitched, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven gasps. The memories of what Toga had done to him—the cuts, the blood, carving her name into his skin... and more—everything flooded his mind, overwhelming him. He felt a surge of panic, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled. His body trembled, his breaths coming in short, frantic bursts. 

Get it together, damn it! he screamed at himself, his teeth gritted as he fought to regain control. But the panic was too much, the memories too vivid. He felt like he was drowning, the walls closing in around him, the shadows twisting into monstrous shapes that seemed to mock him. 

And then, a voice cut through the chaos. 

"Bakugou." 

The voice was firm, commanding, but there was an undercurrent of something softer, something almost comforting. Bakugou's head snapped up, his red eyes wide as he tried to focus on the figure standing in the doorway. 

Best Jeanist. 

The Pro Hero stood tall, his signature denim jacket pristine despite the chaos surrounding them. His sharp eyes scanned the room, taking in the grim details—the bloodstains, the broken chains, the marks on his body. For a moment, his usual composed demeanour faltered, a flicker of something raw and unguarded crossing his face. 

Behind him stood Pixie-Bob, her expression a mix of concern and determination. Bakugou recognized her from one of Midoriya's old hero journals, the memory stirring a pang of anger and grief. He hated how much that damn nerd still occupied his thoughts, even now. 

"Bakugou," Best Jeanist said again, his voice steady but softer this time. He stepped closer, his movements deliberate and careful, as if approaching a wounded animal. "We're here to get you out." 

Bakugou didn't respond, his throat too dry, his voice too weak. He just stared, his chest heaving as he tried to process what was happening. Best Jeanist knelt beside him, his gloved hand moving to undo his bindings. The heroes fingers trembled slightly as he worked, his usual precision marred by the shock of what he was seeing. 

"You're safe now," Best Jeanist said, his voice low and reassuring. "We're going to get you out of here." 

As the ropes fell away, Bakugou's arms dropped limply to his sides, his muscles too weak to hold them up. Best Jeanist hesitated for a moment, his eyes lingering on the marks Toga gad left. The hero's jaw tightened, his composure cracking for just a moment. 

"What did they do to you?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. There was a rawness to his tone, a mix of anger and sorrow that Bakugou hadn't heard from the hero during his brief intern with him. 

Pixie-Bob stepped forward, her hands glowing faintly as she summoned her quirk. The ground beneath them shifted, the earth rising to form a sturdy platform. "We need to move," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "I'll lift him up. We'll get him to safety." 

Best Jeanist nodded, his expression hardening as he regained his composure. He shrugged off his denim jacket, the fabric soft and warm as he draped it over Bakugou's shoulders. The gesture was small but grounding, the weight of the jacket a tangible reminder that he was no longer alone. 

"Can you stand?" Best Jeanist asked, his voice steady once more. 

Bakugou again, didn't respond, his body was too weak, his mind too overwhelmed. But he managed a small nod, his pride refusing to let him admit just how broken he felt. Best Jeanist helped him to his feet, his grip firm but gentle, and guided him onto the platform Pixie-Bob had created. 

As the earth began to rise, carrying them away toward the surface, Bakugou felt a single tear escape, trailing down his cheek. He quietly wiped it away, his jaw clenched as he stared straight ahead. He wouldn't let them see him break. Not now. Not ever. 

***

The hilltop overlooked the chaos below like a grotesque theater performance. From this vantage point, the League had a perfect view of the crumbling building, the flashes of fire and the occasional burst of debris as heroes and Nomu clashed in a cacophony of destruction. 

The night air was thick with the smell of smoke and burning metal, the distant sounds of battle carrying up to where the League stood, a mismatched group of villains silhouetted against the moonlit sky. 

Shigaraki sat cross-legged on the grass, his fingers drumming restlessly against his thigh. His red eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and irritation as he watched the spectacle unfold. Beside him, the rest of the League lounged in various states of boredom. 

Muscular was pacing back and forth, his massive frame casting a long shadow which was annoying Shigaraki. Compress leaned against a tree, bringing out a deck of cards and shuffling them. Toga was perched on a rock, swinging her legs and humming a cheerful tune, her golden eyes fixed on the distant flames. Kurogiri stood a few feet away, his misty form flickering faintly in the moonlight. Mimic, still in his small cloth form, clung to Shigaraki's shoulder, quiet and almost unnoticed. 

"This is boring," Muscular grumbled, cracking his knuckles. "We should have stayed, even if only a little longer. I could have taken on All Might by now." 

Shigaraki shot him a glare, his lips curling into a sneer. "Shut up. You'd get flattened in two seconds and then I'd have to figure out a way to grab you or leave you." 

Muscular scowled but didn't argue, instead muttering something under his breath about, "wasted opportunities." 

Compress chuckled, flipping a card between his fingers. "Patience, my friend. The show's just getting started." 

Toga giggled, her voice high and melodic. "I think its fun to watch! Look at all burning rocks, they're like fireworks." 

Shigaraki rolled his eyes but didn't respond, his attention fixed on the building below. The heroes were making progress, cutting through the Nomu with alarming efficiency. It annoyed him... less than he thought it would anyway. 

"Should we use Kurogiri to grab Bakugou again?" Compress asked, his tone casual, as if he were suggesting a quick trip to the store. "We could slip in and out before they even notice." 

Shigaraki shook his head, his expression dismissive. "No point. Killing him in public was more of a fantasy anyway. I didn't place a lot of bets on it." 

Toga pouted, her lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated display of disappointment. "Aww, but I worked so hard on him!" 

"Your art piece is currently wrapped in Best Jeanist's tacky denim jacket," Shigaraki said dryly. He was able to know all of this through Kurogiri allowing him to look through his portals. "Let it go." 

Kurogiri's golden eyes glowed faintly as he stepped forward, his voice calm and measured. "Shall I teleport us back to the other base? It's unwise to linger here." 

Shigaraki held up a hand, his gaze still fixed on the battle. "Not yet. I want to see how this plays out. How are the Nomu doing?" 

Kurogiri faced forward again. "Not so great. Endeavour's burning through the weaker ones like they're kindling. And All Might... well, he's All Might." 

Shigaraki smirked, a dark glint in his eyes. "Figures. Guess we'll have to replace them with the students from Aldera. Master's been preparing them for a while now." 

Muscular perked up at that, his grin returning. "Finally, some action. When do we get to play with them?" 

"When I say so!" Shigaraki snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small remote device, it's surface sleek and black, with a single red button in the center... how very comical. 

Compress raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "And what, pray tell, is that?" 

Shigaraki's smirk widened, his fingers hovering over the button. "Insurance. I had Twice and Mimic rig the building with explosives over a month ago. Just in case." 

Yes. Kidnapping Bakugou and one other UA student was always on his mind, but he knew that heroes would be hot on their tail so in case they followed them on the same day, he would have just had the students left here with the heroes and blown the place up. 

Toga clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Ooh, are we blowing it up? Can I press the button?" 

"No." Shigaraki said flatly, his tone brooking no argument. "I'm doing it." 

Muscular groaned, crossing his arms over his chest. "This is lame. I wanted to fight All Might, not watch him get blown up." 

"You'll live,"Shigaraki said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Probably. Anyway, I doubt All Might would die to an explosion, it won't be as big as I wanted it to be." 

Before Muscular could retort, a rustling sound came from the bushes nearby. The League turned as one, their attention snapping to the source of the noise. A police officer stumbled into view, his face pale and his hands trembling as he clutched a transmitter. The device crackled faintly, the voices of the heroes faintly audible through the static. 

"Uh... hi?" the officer said weakly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I, uh... I think I took the wrong turn?" 

For a moment, the League just stared at him, their expressions a mix of amusement and disbelief. Then, without warning, Muscular lunged forward, his massive hand closing around the officer's throat. The man didn't even have time to scream before his neck snapped with a sickening crunch, his body going limp in Muscular's grip. 

"Oops," Muscular said, dropping the body like a sack of potatoes. "My bad." 

Shigaraki sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're an idiot." 

"He was a spy!" Muscular protested, his tone was defensive. "What was I supposed to do, invite him to tea?" 

Before Shigaraki could respond, a faint creaking sound drew their attention. The trees around them began to shift, their branches twisting and elongating unnaturally. Shigaraki's eyes narrowed as he recognized the telltale signs of the hero rising quickly through the ranks, Kamui Woods. 

"Great," he muttered, "Just what we needed." 

The ground beneath them rumbled, the sound growing louder and more intense. Shigaraki glanced toward the building, where All Might's silhouette was visible through the smoke and flames. The Symbol of Peace was heading their way, his movements were swift. 

"Time to go." Shigaraki said, his voice calm but urgent. He pressed the button on the remote, the red light blinking once before going dark. 

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a deafening roar, the building exploded. The force of the blast sent a shockwave rippling through the air, the ground trembling beneath their feet. Flames erupted from the structure, consuming everything in their path, while debris rained down like meteors. The heroes scattered, their shouts of alarm barely audible. 

Shigaraki smirked, his red eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "That should keep them busy." 

Kurogiri stepped forward, his warp gate swirling to life. "Shall we?" 

Shigaraki nodded, his smirk fading as he turned to face the League. "Lets go. We've got work to do." 

As the warp gate enveloped them, the last thing they heard was the distant roar of All Might's voice, filled with fury and determination. The last thing they saw was the burning wreckage of the building, a fitting symbol of chaos they'd unleash. 

And then they were gone, leaving behind only the smell of fire and ash, and the echoes of their laughter. 

***

The world was a blur of smoke, fire and ash. The ground trembled beneath All Might's feet as he stood amidst the wreckage, his massive frame silhouetted against the glowing embers of the destroyed building. 

His costume was scorched and torn, the fabric hanging in tatters from his broad shoulders. Burn marks crisscrossed his arms and chest, the skin beneath raw and blistered, but he paid them no mind. His focus was entirely on the three figures cradled in his arms. 

Best Jeanist. Pixie-Bob. And Bakugou. 

All Might had acted on instinct the moment he heard Shigaraki's voice over the comms speaking on explosions in the building. It sent a jolt of panic within him, but he hadn't hesitated. He'd moved faster than he thought was still possible for him, his body a blur of motion as he dove into the crumbling structure. He'd found them just in time—Best Jeanist and Pixie Bob shielding Bakugou, their bodies and earth constructs curled protectively around the boy as the world around them erupted in flames. 

All Might had thrown himself over them, his massive frame absorbing the brunt of the explosion. The force of the blast had knocked the wind out of him, the heat searing his skin, but he hadn't faltered. He'd held on, his arms wrapped tightly around them, shielding them from the debris and flames until the chaos subsided. 

Now, as the smoke began to clear, All Might stood tall, his breathing heavy but steady. His blue eyes scanned the scene, taking in the destruction—the shattered remains of the building, the charred bodies of the Nomu, the distant figures of the heroes and officers regrouping. But his attention quickly returned to the three in his arms. 

Best Jeanist stirred first, his sharp eyes blinking open as he took in his surroundings. He looked up at All Might, his usual composed demeanour slipping for just a moment as he registered the hero's battered state. 

"All Might..." he began, his voice hoarse but steady. "You... you saved us." 

All Might smiled, his trademark grin shining through the soot and ash that covered his face. "Of course," he said, his voice warm and reassuring. "That's what heroes do." 

Pixie-Bob groaned softly, her hands glowing faintly as she summoned her quirk to stabilize the ground beneath them. She looked up at All Might, her expression a mix of gratitude and exhaustion. "Thanks for the save, big guy. That was... intense." 

All Might chuckled, the sound deep and resonant despite his obvious fatigue. "Just doing my job." 

But his attention was already shifting to the third figure in his arms—Bakugou. The boy was unconscious, his face pale and his body limp, but he was alive. All Might's heart ached as he took in the marks on Bakugou's skin—the bruises, the cuts, the grotesque imprints left by Toga. The sight filled him with a mix of anger and relief, but above all, determination. 

We got him back, All Might thought, his chest swelling with a sense of pride and accomplishment. After everything that's happened this year, this feels like our first solid win. 

The sound of approaching footsteps drew his attention, and he turned to see Gran Torino and Kamui Woods making their way toward him, their expressions a mix of concern and relief. Behind them, the officers were already moving, stretchers and medical supplies in hand as they prepared to tend to the injured. 

"All Might!" Gran Torino called, his voice sharp but laced with worry. "Are you all right? You look like you just went ten rounds with a volcano." 

All Might laughed, the sound hearty and genuine. "I've had worse," he said, his tone light despite the obvious pain in his body. "But I'll live. More importantly, they're safe." 

Gran Torino's gaze softened as he took in the sight of Bakugou, his small frame dwarfed by All Might's massive arms. "You got him back," he said, his voice quieter now. "Good job, kid." 

Kamui Woods stepped forward, his expression serious but relieved. "We've got ambulances on the way. Let's get them out of here." 

All Might nodded, his grip on Bakugou tightening slightly as he carefully handed him over to the waiting officers. They moved with practiced efficiency, gently placing Bakugou on a stretcher and covering him with a blanket. Best Jeanist and Pixie-Bob were quickly tended to as well, their injuries minor compared to the trauma Bakugou had endured. 

As the officers worked, All Might took a moment to catch his breath, his body trembling slightly from the strain. The burn marks on his skin throbbed with every movement, but he ignored the pain, his focus entirely on the boy being wheeled away. 

He's safe. All Might thought, his chest swelling with a sense of relief and pride. We got him back. 

The thought was almost euphoric, a bright spot in what had been a year of darkness and loss. The heroes had been on the defensive for so long, reacting to the League's, and any other villains every move, but this... this felt like a turning point. A small but significant victory. 

All Might's thought's drifted briefly to the chainsaw Nomu, the one that had managed to land a hit on him earlier. The creature had been a formidable opponent, its grotesque form and relentless attacks a stark reminder of his time running out. 

But as soon as the announcement of the explosion came about, the Nomu disappeared, it was nowhere to be found. All Might couldn't help but feel a flicker of unease at the thought, but he pushed it aside. There would be a time to deal with that later. 

For now, he allowed himself a moment of quiet triumph. The heroes had reclaimed one of their own, and that was worth celebrating. 

Gran Torino approached, his expression unreadable as he studied All Might. "Your shaking." he said, his tone blunt but not unkind. "You sure you're alright?" 

All Might smiled, his grin as bright and reassuring as ever. "I'm fine," he said, his voice steady. "Just... happy Gran Torino. After everything that has happened.." 

Gran Torino's gaze softened, only for a moment, the old hero almost looked proud before his face twisted after just remembering something. 

"Yeah well enjoy it for now. 'Cause after our little conversation later I think you'll be changing tunes." 

All Might nodded, his expression was serious and he was quite interested in what it could be that his former teacher could be so worried about. 

The ambulances road away silently through the single forest path before they would start wailing back on to the street. Endeavour had just clawed himself out of more wreckage and shook his head while stretching an arm. As All Might expected, he was not too badly injured. 

Great. 

Now onto the next...