Izuku Yagi -Agent of Overwatch-

Memories

Izuku felt something light tickle his nose. He shook his head slightly and suddenly roughly inhaled. His eyes squeezed tight, and he reluctantly peeled them open. His vision was blurry and wet, so he raised his arm up and wiped his arm with his sleeve. Izuku clicked his tongue as he tried to wet his extremely dry mouth. 

Izuku grabbed the blanket with his free hand as he slowly woke up. The gears in his brains might have only just started turning since he recently woken up, but Izuku had always been a quick thinker. He first noticed his hand was rubbing against something gritty and flexible. The second thing that Izuku realised that his alarm didn't go off, meaning he had either woken up early, which had almost never happened before, or his phone wasn't by him. 

The second thought startled Izuku and kicked started his brain like he had just taken caffeine. He shot up and looked around his surroundings and found himself in a relatively rundown room. His bedroom looked better than this and it was mostly filled with junk he had collected from the scrap yard. But this is probably due to his parents being overly wealthy. Their house may look inconspicuous on the outside, but once you are inside, the expenses of items and decorations clearly depict their income. Izuku could only guess the reason for his family living in a plain neighborhood was to try and have his father's civilian life as secret as possible. 

But now where was he? Izuku struggled to get back up, his body was unusually stiff. His back was tense, and it he could feel his spine crack as he got onto his feet. It was probably from him laying on nuts and bolts for over three hours in a crate on the back of a hover truck. Now he was in a bedroom, thin peeling wallpaper covered the interior with old wooden draws to what hold clothing and other belongings. 

Was this, McCree's, or no, Cassidy's room. Izuku found it difficult to believe at first until he remembered he was a wanted man. Japan is one of Overwatch's largest haters and he was an American man in an Asian country. Even if the masses don't recognise him, the authorities will be on him as soon as they catch wind of him in their country. 

Izuku was confused, the last thing he remembered was holding onto Cassidy on the back of his bike. Did he fall asleep? How would that have worked? Did Izuku almost fall off on the ride or did he somehow stay as solid as a rock as he rested on the back of a high-speed vehicle. His thoughts went wild, but he came to the conclusion that it was in his best interest to find Cassidy and ask more questions, as well as think on how he should handle this situation. 

So Izuku waddled towards the door. His eyes still roamed around the area and his eyes landed on his yellow bag. Izuku darted towards it, his sudden train of thinking crashed as he unzipped his bags and checked the contents. All of his gadgets and few school supplies were all nestled against each other in the bottom of his bag, and it didn't seem like they were rummaged through. 

Not that he would be angry of Cassidy had but he didn't want to be seen as some weirdo with crappy inventions inspired by his Overwatch friends. So Izuku slinked the bag strap over his shoulder. He looked over himself and found his uniform to be incredibly wrinkled, he was weakly aware of a wet cloth over his left shoulder but decided to not question it for the time being. 

He still had school today and he is at minimum three hours away from home. Something tells Izuku that he'll be absent today which means the teachers will have free rein to suddenly do whatever they want with his record, education and even his classes. Which means he was screwed. He never missed a day, not because he was determined to be diligent, it was to save his livelihood and any chances he had to go to high school. His teachers had been against him since day one and they were always looking for a way to magnify problems that he or someone else created. 

With a sigh, Izuku opened the door. What was revealed was essentially the rest of the small house he is currently in. He looked towards the front door and could see the bathroom, some of the tiles on the floor were cracked and the ledge of the shower seemed to be growing mold. He continued to scan the room and saw the tiny lounge room on the opposite side of the bathroom had an antique couch pointed towards a small box television. The carpet in between the two items Izuku just listed was ripped and had rugged green and beige fabric lazily stitched together.