hero's shadow // mha

38) bird of prey

Bats hurt. They hurt a lot.

Not the winged bats, of course; Izuku loves those funky little night gremlins. He's actually talking about the bats that are used for baseball—the same kind that are also used to beat up innocent little vigilantes! Sometimes they even have nails in them depending on how festive the criminals are.

The guy Izuku is currently fighting seems to have the right mindset! His bat has sparkly pink screws jutting out from the wood, all rusted and dirty and covered in suspicious fluids. They're bent in such a way that they'll end up tearing your skin on the way out once they puncture you.

Tetanus, Izuku thinks, but make it fashionable.

Has Izuku ever gotten a shot for that? He can't remember, but tonight probably isn't the time to figure it out.

The crook rears back, the baseball bat cutting through the air as he aims for Izuku's head. His jawline is sharp and angular, and his chin makes up at least half the length of his face. He honestly kind of looks like Crimson Chin from that one really old cartoon.

Izuku ducks, backing away a little. "Strike one."

"That's not how this works," Discount Chin huffs, swinging again. Except this time Izuku sidesteps and sticks out a leg, sending the man stumbling forward.

"Strike two. One more and you're out."

The criminal curses under his breath and readies himself. "Stop playin' around, you Rabbit fake! You're not even supposed to be alive, dammit!"

"Fake?" Izuku's voice takes on a dangerous lilt, and he yanks the bat out of the man's hands in irritation, quirks buzzing. "Hey, now, I know I don't look so hot anymore with this shabby outfit on, but I'm still me."

Is he, though? Something's changed, he can feel it. Whether or not that's a good thing is the question.

"Oh, yeah, brat?" Bastard Chin puts his fists up, towering over the boy in a lame attempt to intimidate him. "Fucking prove it to—"

The handle of the bat meets his temple with such speed and force that the guy drops like a sack of potatoes before he can even finish the sentence. If it were any other time, Izuku probably would've humored him, but he's on a time crunch right now.

He hauls the limp body out of the alleyway and uses the dude's belt to tie him to a pole, making sure to use some nearby mud to draw a frowny face on his forehead.

Criminals like King Chin over here don't deserve smiley faces.

He takes the bat with him, a slight swing to his step as he heads for a tall building to climb on. Not many people are out at this time, so there's less chance of people recognizing him while out on the streets, but that doesn't mean the risk is zero. His makeshift mask isn't exactly the most secure; it can be ripped off very easily.

Staying up high is a must—it's not like he wants some potential heroes to catch him wandering the near vacant streets. He's not looking for a midnight chase this time around, and he's also not looking for anyone to follow him to where he's going.

It would be in the best interest of everyone to not make the location of the Underground Club public knowledge. He's been stopping petty crime on the way there for about an hour now, just to get a feel for how the city has been looking since his brief absence.

Besides a slight increase in certain crime, more specifically in the robbery and assault category, nothing much has changed. Word seemed to have traveled fast, however, as apparently the entire criminal underground is under the impression that he's dead.