Guns And Roses // BNHA × OC //

(1) Here we go

    How do I tell a well-structured story when life is absolute chaos?
Well, there's a lot to get through so let's get to it. . .

    I like to believe I'm a strong and capable person, you know? I can carry my own weight just fine. But here we are, first day at UA high! And I couldn't help but feel weaker than ever.

    Believe it or not, I actually did pretty well on the entrance exams. I cleaned up on the villain portion with 44 points and scored 25 points on the rescue section. I ended up in the top ten and walked out feeling pretty good about it too. But because I relied on my own weapons, gadgets, and whatnot, the judges decided that I would be better suited for. . . the support course.

    Don't get me wrong, I admire the people in there. Pro Heros probably couldn't stand on their own two feet without the upgrades they receive from them. They're talented kids, and I would get along with them just fine.
It's just not why I was at UA.

    Now, there is nothing that I love more than making and using weapons. Everything I use I build myself, including my own prosthetic arm and leg. I've made knives, armor, anything with a trigger, and I adore every one of them. Even my current living quarters have been converted into a shop where I make and sell such devices for a fair price. The smell of welding metal and gunpowder is what I live for, but it's not why I applied to UA.

    I applied intending to become a Hero as fast as possible with the hopes that it would please my family. That was the plan, and being put into the Support Department surely wasn't a part of said plan.

   Okay, I had two options: I could stay at the gates and be bitter about it all day, or I can go inside and feel worthless. While both sounded lovely, class would start, and it looked like I would have to go with the latter.

_________________________

     The towering walls of the school looked like they were designed solely to intimidate new first years. I wandered the giant hallways for a while, admiring the effort that went into it. Everywhere I looked, there were little details that were put in to make the place comfortable for people with all sorts of quirks. Massive thresholds, smoke detectors, and bulletproof walls as far as the eye could see were all built for every possible student that could walk these halls. I roamed the school for so long that I forgot what I was doing there, and where I was going. What could I say? I'm a sucker for detailed crafting.

    As I was shuffling my way through the hall, with no real destination in mind, I got rushed by and bumped into. "Hey, watch it—," I started to say before getting an explanation right away.

    "Oh, I am terribly sorry, miss. That was my mistake. Guess it was that extra cup of coffee this morning!" I'd guess that this man hit his 'extra cup' eight mugs ago. The guy that bumped into me radiated hyperactive energy from the top of his wild pastel green hair to his mismatching shoes. His glasses were so thick that I almost thought they were fake. Then there was his lab coat that only added to his cartoon-ish looks.

    "Again my apologies, it was my fault for running late," he explained.

   I brushed it off. "Oh it's fine, I should've been paying more attention."

    "Quinton Q. Qonstance," he reached out his hand while trying to continue to hold all of the papers and books he had in his arms. "Although most students call me Professor Q." He smiled and I quickly took notice of his missing tooth. This guy sure was an. . . interesting character.

    "You're a teacher?" I asked after carefully shaking his hand.

    He smiled more and nodded, "Yes ma'am I am! Speaking of, shouldn't you be in class too?" He raised a brow towards me.