CoTE X MHA Fanfiction : Life Behind Masks

V1 Chapter 1 : New Life

Part 1

It was night by the time I finally got out of the forest and found myself roaming the streets of a lively city. Fortunately, the night sky offered sufficient camouflage for me and I was able to slip into the alley way behind a brothel without bringing any attention to my blood stained shirt.

I am in a desperate need of a change of clothes. Walking around with a blood stained shirt is bound to be conspicuous, not mention the fact that this city is filled to the brim with heroes.

Luckily, it seems that the heavens are on my side today, as there are several drunken men in the alley way either sleeping on the ground or going to. I carefully avoided the wasted men as I made my way to a man at the back who, compared to the rest, seem to be much more sober. I firmly placed my hand on his shoulder.

"Huh?" The man glared at me.

"Good evening, I'd like to borrow your jacket?" I asked, not letting go of his shoulder.

He swatted away my hand though. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Get lost, brat!"

"Oh my, not so friendly are we?" I said in a casual tone.

"I said get lost!" He swung the wine bottle he had in his hands at me.

I effortlessly avoided it. "Now, now, I'd prefer there be no bloodshed so early into my new life."

"Stop talking like that before I cut off your lips and feed it to you!" He yelled angrily, not ceasing his attacks.

I sighed internally. This'd be way easier if you'd just lent me your jacket...but, whatever.

I grabbed his wrist as soon as it came within inches from my face and twisted it. Wrenching the bottle free from his grasp, which fell to the ground and shattered to pieces. With a mild cry, he came at me with his fists, aimlessly punching trying to hit me.

Swatting away his punches, I took note of where the bottle's shards were, luring the man over to the targeted piece, which was a 3 inch big piece, I hunched over and swiped the piece without the man noticing. The drunken men threw a wide punch at me, which missed, and I thrusted the glass shard deep into him from the front, puncturing his guts.

With an anguished roar, he pressed on his belly trying to stop the fountaining blood. I walked in front of him.

"P-Please, w-wait. I'll give you my jacket! Just stop the blood!" He pleaded.

But alas, I've already made up my mind.

I sliced his throat opened. The man gurgled and died.

I swiftly took his outer wear and put it on before the blood managed to soak them and made my way out the alley. But not before making sure I checked the drunken men's pockets for money and tampered with the scene, dragging a second drunken man near the one I'd killed and making it seem like he was the one who attacked the dead man.

Then I slipped the glass shard I'd used, which I made sure to clean off my fingerprints and DNA by using the wine I'd stole from the second man, into his palm and using his hand to hold the shard, stabbed the dead man in the gut again.

With the way he laid on the ground holding the blood soaked glass shard which has only his fingerprints on, my involvement in this has been erased, there's no way the authorities or heroes will find me. Come morning, the other man, whoever he is, will be taken into custody by the authorities for murder.

I pulled up the hood and kept my head low while I walked out the alley way. I'll later have to discard this jacket too, as it is an important evidence to the events earlier. After making sure I'm sufficiently distanced from the crime scene, I walked into a clothing store and, with the money I stole, bought a light blue polo shirt and navy long pants and a cheap pair of shoes.