Fractured Wings

Dabi leaned against the crumbling brick of one of the League's newer hideouts, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. The ember glowed faintly in the dim, flickering light, casting a light over his scarred jaw. 

He didn't smoke it so much as he let it burn, the slow rise of smoke curling into the air, dissolving into the musty scent of mildew and damp concrete. The place reeked of stale sweat, charred fabric, and an acrid undertone of something metallic. It was like an unmistakeable perfume of the League of Villains. 

The League had grown—exploded, really—ever since the Hosu Game. Dabi had watched as Shigaraki made one really smart ally in Cipher, who had some status in the underworld already, although they didn't get their new hires just because of that, Dabi could see and understand that All For One had a hand in it. 

Now their ranks were swelling with the kinds of people society liked to forget. Misfits. Rejects. Monsters. Dabi's eyes roved over the room, his expression half-lidded, his mind turning over the newcomers one by one. 

Saya Kurotsuki, the blood bender. She sat cross-legged in a corner. her pale fingers absently tracing the patterns on the floor. Her blood red hair fell like curtains, shielding her face from view, but every so often, Dabi caught a glimpse of her eyes, sharp and amber. 

She didn't speak much, but when she did, it was usually with a snarky edge that made even Twice hesitate. Dabi didn't mind her. She kept to herself or around the other one she waltzed in with. 

Daiki Tenma. Dabi watched him rest his hand over the zipper of his black leather jacket. Dabi remembers the way Daiki came in, nonchalant, and dismissive. 

Daiki's arrogance was like an overbearing cologne. It grated on Dabi's nerves. Something in that brash and condescending arrogance reminded him too much of his father. Dabi exhaled a stream of smoke, his lip curling slightly. He didn't like Daiki, but he was good muscle, frighteningly strong. 

Dabi wanted to know where someone like that had been hiding this whole time, he was young too, younger than Dabi. 

Now the type of arrogance Dabi didn't mind watching came in the form of Muscular. A dumb brick of a person with a lot of strength. He was a lot easier to be around, easier to control if necessary. Loud and obnoxious most of the time though, and much too bloodthirsty, so much so he can barely hold still. 

The rhythmic scrape of metal on stone grating against Dabi's ears. Mummy—a member of Nine's old crew—was perched on a crate, idly sharpening, or shining, Dabi didn't know, a long blade of his that he actively kept on his back. 

There were two more from Nine's crew that were also there. They joined the League after their boss had died and seemed to be looking for revenge, revenge against Lady Nagant and Soryu. 

The room buzzed with the low murmur of voices, the occasional burst of laughter or snarl punctuating the din. It was a hive of villains, each more dangerous than the last, and Dabi wasn't sure if that was a good thing in the long run. 

The League was stronger now, sure. Dabi's gaze shifted to Shigaraki, who was seated at the head of the room, his head resting on his right hand. He looked like he was asleep. Dabi always wondered if their leader knew what he was building up here. Power like this is volatile, a power keg waiting for a spark. In some ways, that is exactly what Dabi wants, but he still wanted to be ahead of it, so that he can fulfill his own plans. 

He took another drag from his cigarette, the ember flaring briefly before fading. The truth gnawed at him, sharp and unrelenting. He'd had pride in his flames, more so now than ever before, his flames burned hotter than anyone else's. But now? He felt odd, like he was surrounded around people that could crush him with little to no effort. He gazed back to Daiki. 

The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, one the cigarette couldn't mask. 

His mind wandered to a conversation he had with the doctor. Doctor Garaki had told Dabi that he could easily surpass his limits. Dabi knew that his weak constitution he had gotten from his mother was what was holding him back. 

The stage was set, but it felt like a noose was tightening around him. Getting tighter and tighter in his stagnation. 

"Dabi," Kurogiri's voice broke through his thoughts, smooth and measured as always. The smoky portal floated a few feet away. "The doctor is ready for you." 

Dabi exhaled slowly, the smoke curling from his lips like a sigh. He dropped the cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his boot. "Guess it's showtime," he muttered, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. But beneath the smirk, he felt it—that nervous energy coiled tight in his gut. Not fear... just anticipation. 

Kurogiri opened a portal, the swirling void beckoning like an open wound in reality. Dabi hesitated for only a moment before stepping through, the world shifting around him in a disorienting blur. When he emerged, the air was colder, sterile, tinged with the faint hum of machinery and the sharp bite of disinfectant. 

Doctor Garaki's lab was a nightmare given form. The room was vast, it's walls lined with water-filled casings housing incomplete Nomu, their grotesque forms floating lifelessly in the pale blue light. The air was heavy with the hum of electrical currents, the occasional crackle of static punctuating the silence. A metallic tang lingered in the air, mingling with the faint, sickly-sweet scent of decay. 

At the center of it all was Doctor Garaki, hunched over his massive computer desk, the screens casting his face in an eerie glow. His hands moved with frantic precision, scribbling notes on a clipboard before typing furiously on the keyboard. The man was a blur of motion, his mutterings a constant stream of half-formed thoughts and calculations. 

"Ah Dabi," the Doctor said without looking up, his voice a mix of excitement and impatience. "You're here. Good, good. We're ready to begin." 

Dabi's eyes scanned over the room, taking in every detail. The flickering monitors displayed streams of data, diagrams of Nomu anatomy, and lines of incomprehensible code. The Nomu themselves seemed to watch him, their vacant eyes a reminder of what he was about to become. His fingers flexed at his sides, the faint crackle of his flames grounding him in the moment. 

"Let's get this over with." he said. 

Garaki finally turned, his wide grin splitting his face as his small as his small eyes glinted with something that must have been curiosity or madness. "Ah, impatient as ever. But that's fine. It's only natural, given the... nature of the procedure." 

Dabi raised a brow, his lips twitching into a humourless smirk. "You gonna lecture me, or are we doing this?" 

The doctor chuckled, stepping away from his desk to approach one of the monitors. "A moment of patience, my dear Dabi. You've made a bold choice—an evolution, really—and you deserve to understand the benefits." His fingers danced across the keyboard, pulling up a detailed diagram of a Nomu's cellular structure alongside what looked like a fragmented DNA sequence. 

"You see, thanks to Overhaul's experiments and my own refinements, I've perfected a way to imbue human subjects with the genetic makeup of a Nomu without erasing their personlity, autonamy and life." 

Dabi's eyes narrowed. "That's... comforting." he said dryly. 

Garaki ignored the sarcasm, his tone taking on the reverence of an artist explaining their masterpiece. "With the body you are merging with, you will be receiving a regenerative quirk—a weak one, mind you, so you can heal from your flames and not end up killing yourself. And an enhancement to your basic physical strength, again, subtle but substantial. Your body will mend itself, endure more, and burn brighter than ever before." 

He turned back to Dabi, his expression giddy. "Imagine it: no longer shackled by those simple limits of yours, your flames will be a more unrelenting weapon of destruction. You've been pushing your body to the brink for years, haven't you? This will free you." 

Dabi crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on the screen. The implications churned in his mind. Strength without compromise. The scars will still be there but so what, he was already used to them. 

Garaki continued, his voice softer but no less fervent. "Let me assure you, Dabi, you have made the right decision. The process will be excruciating, yes. But isn't pain something you've grown accustomed to? Something that drives you?" 

Dabi's smirk faded, replaced by a solemn look that he tried to mask with dismissiveness. "I'm not here to second-guess myself, Doc. Just do it." 

The doctor clapped his hands together, almost gleeful. "Excellent, excellent! Then step this way." He gestured toward a surgical table in the center of the room, surrounded by an intricate network of tubes, syringes, and mechanical arms tipped with sinister looking tools. 

As Dabi moved toward the table, the faint echoes of his footsteps seemed to grow heavier, as though each step anchored him deeper into the inevitability of what lay ahead. The Nomu tanks loomed over him, silent witnesses to his resolve. 

He climbed onto the cold metal surface, the chill biting through his thin shirt. Garaki busied himself with adjustments, muttering under his breath about "cellular fusion" and "Quirk harmonization." 

For the first time, a flicker of something akin to doubt crept into Dabi's mind. But he squashed it with a sharp inhale, the smell of antiseptic filling his lungs. He had chosen this path. He would see it through. 

The doctor loomed over him, syringe in hand, his expression alight with anticipation. "Brace yourself. This will hurt... wonderfully." 

And with that, the needle plunged into his arm, and the world fractured into a storm of searing pain and blinding light. 

___

We were in a car workshop, the air was thick with rust and spray paint. It clung to anything, and was fading into the concrete walls. 

Nagant leaned against the edge of the table, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her sharp gaze swept across the rest of us as she spoke, the clipped tone of her voice cut through. "I've got nothing. No leads, no traces that Proxy may have left, and not even a whisper of any former yakuza members. I scoured every angle I could think of. The city's been cleaned of them." 

She didn't mince words, if they hadn't left initially they had probably died. The frustration in her tone was palpable, though she kept her composure as tight as ever. 

Arata stood across from her, his arms folded over his chest, his stance calm and steady. "That's alright." he said, his voice was reassuring. "We still have time. We've been given two weeks to find something on Daigo Kiyoshi or the family of Lyra Himemiya. That's even more than enough. It's a difficult task, but we'll manage." 

I listened, but my mind began to wander as Arata's words played over the silence. There was still time, but even that time was cut short because heroes most likely already knew of Lyra's outcome, and that would likely lead them to also searching the city for her family. 

I wondered which heroes would show up. 

Another image made it's way into my mind. It was of Kaede, who interrogated Lyra back at the base. Before we left she used her quirk to transfer images of the supposed bungalow that her family was kept in. 

It stood at the edge of a dense forest, trees were towering and gnarled, their branches twisted like skeletal fingers clawing at the sky. The structure itself was small, almost unassuming, yet it carried an air of foreboding. Time had not been kind to it—the wooden panels were warped and weathered, the faded remnants of paint curling away to reveal the raw timber beneath. 

Vines crawled up it's sides like creeping veins, their deep green muted by the grey of dust and decay. There was a large double panel window that was dark, not allowing anyone to see the insides. 

Kaede says that Lyra had never been inside of it, so she wasn't able to search the inner workings of the home. 

Nagant's voice snapped me back to the present. 

"We're not spinning our wheels," she said, "Proxy isn't a ghost." 

"But he can disappear like one." I fired back. She sent me a quick cold glare. 

She was confident but was also growing frustrated. It was understandable, she probably didn't even want much relating to Daigo Kiyoshi. We had to find him, she, like others in the team we're in, probably felt safe in numbers. 

Any one of us had a small chance to run away if it got too bad and the villain was stuck on one for too long. I wouldn't blame her, or anyone. 

The Hosu Game, where she was forced to fight the strongest hero in history, that was something she probably doesn't like thinking about. 

I found it a little odd how little I think of it. 

Miku was murmuring to herself, her voice was softer than the usual sharp and savage, no non-sense tone she usually had. "Proxy has already shown the world he is a smarter than average psychopath. He can make traces disappear, so we really just have to be in the right place at the right time. Or find a way to follow his exact steps and hope that he left something for us to trap him with." 

"Our focus is still that family." Ren said, she said it in a strong matter-of-fact tone. 

She probably didn't even think of finding the villain. Out of many, if not most, members of the Meta Liberation Army, Ren is probably someone that is most hero like. 

She is someone with a strong fire in her chest and is actually really kind, quite dense too but she tries her best. It was hard to hate someone like that. Someone like her would typically have been in a hero school, thriving. Which led me to believe that Destro just got to her much too early. 

"You're right Ren." Arata smiled, it looked like a strained smile. "We almost lost sight of our goal. We're here to find our new allies family and bring them back home with us. Give them a better life." 

I let the conversation lull for a moment before casually shifting the subject. "I've been hearing things. Rumours back at the base. Apparently, we're all going to be part of something big before the year's out. Any truth to that?" 

Miku's eyes snapped to me, her suspicion sharpened like a blade on whetstone. She didn't say a word, but her gaze was enough to make me want to check my pockets for holes. 

Arata chuckled lightly, running a hand through his hair. "Something big, huh? I've heard similar whispers," he said easily. "I don't know the specifics, but yeah, there is something in motion. We'll be working with someone very important—someone close to the organization." 

His tone was smooth, almost too smooth. I knew he had lied about not knowing details about what was to come. But that was fine, it only made the game of finding it out more entertaining. 

Although it did give me some Deja Vu on the man named All for One. Nagant told me some more about him, everything she knew from when she had worked in the commission. Like how he most likely has some form of prolonged life as a quirk and probably also through some scientific reach. The man has been alive for long. 

That could be bad if he already has his hands on the MLA. From the few stories I've heard of the man, I realised that he is someone I just don't want to be near. Someone that can steal quirks. 

Steal personalities basically, stealing what makes an individual themselves. 

Well I've went a long fifteen years without ever hearing the name or knowing of his existence. And many more have never heard of him either, and since he has some prolonged life, I could be fortunate enough to never have to see him show himself to the public. 

But that could just be me jinxing myself. 

I still had to give a response to Arata, Miku was highly suspicious, but that didn't matter. 

"Well, if something big is coming and it happens before we surrender Proxy. Maybe Nagant and I can truly show our efforts." That was a load of crap, and Miku snarled. I smirked before looking past her. 

"With the whole country searching for Daigo Kiyoshi, I doubt he'll make it to the end of the year though." 

Arata's smile didn't waver, although it seemed even more strained before, his eyes were growing thinner. "That'd be ideal," he said lightly. "Let's focus on the task at hand for now. We'll regroup in the morning and pick up where we left off." 

Nagant pushed off a pillar and nodded curtly. "Fine by me." 

One by one, the group began to disperse. Ren left with Arata, her lively chatter picked up and echoed as they walked away. Miku lingered a moment longer, her gaze fixed on me before she left. 

Nagant and I left together in the opposite direction. I wanted to wait for some time before I began speaking, and she seemed fine with the silence which was good. 

I had some stuff to think about.