Requiem of the Broken

Chapter 19: Operation Blackrock

He had been walking for the last hour. He didn't know if the villains had patrols outside of their camp, so he decided to go for the last hour on foot so his vehicle didn't draw attention from being too close by. He was confident he could evade any patrols that he came across, and even if he couldn't he could probably handle anything they could throw at him.

What he had not been expecting was hero's to be close by. He had practically walked into The Jet-Black Hero: Tsukuyomi, aka Fumikage Tokoyami, as the hero was leaving the camp. If the hero hadn't been moving, he never would have noticed the living shadow moving through the moonlight between the trees. He had to admit that the hero's titles were well earned. If Tokoyami had been so inclined he was sure that he wouldn't be able to fight him in this environment. The hero would apprehend him in short order, especially considering that he was a physical quirk user. As resilient as his body was, his true strength lay in his ability to resist non-physical quirk effects. Bakugo Katsuki was a good example, he was confident he could face tank multiple high-powered explosions from the hero and emerge relatively unscathed. Paired up against a quirk like Dark Shadow, Hardening, or Creation he would have a much harder time. 

When he got to the edge of the tree-line and had a good sightline on the perimeter of the camp, he stopped. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to destroy the camp before him. His fingers itched to feel the bones of the villains snap beneath them and to impale as many as possible with his blades. The urge to bring a reckoning, unlike anything these villains had seen, burned inside his very soul. He wanted to do it, NEEDED to do it, but he stayed his hand. He was not here to bring destruction to these demons, not yet anyway. He had a more pressing goal, something that drowned out even the part of him that raged inside for violence. He knew what it was the villains wanted from this place and what it was they were doing. He had ripped the information out of a spy for Zeus sent to HIS city, and had later paired it with the information given to him by his informant in the Hero Association.

He clutched the tree next to him for support, his contrasting desires making him weak in the knees and giving him a headache. It took some time, but he eventually got himself under control. For now, he must focus on stopping Zeus's plans, he would leave the destruction to the heroes. They, after all, had no problem killing their opponents. He however could not stain his hands with the life of another. He always stopped short, the part of him that remembered better times, professed moderation, mercy, and kindness, always keeping him in check. 

He knelt in the shrubbery and just waited; two hours passed before he saw his opportunity. The shift was changing and he had but a few moments before people would be looking back out into the forest. He dashed out of his hiding spot and got into the cover of the shadow of the building. He circled around the camp before he saw what he was after. A tent-like structure that seemed to be for storage. With a shift having just occurred, the grounds were largely empty for the time being so he had little trouble charting a path to take to get the tent.

He maneuvered his way through the camp quickly and silently, cutting open a side of the tent and slipping inside. The interior was filled with crates and other various containers, some marked, some not. He stripped off the grey-green strips of cloth he had covered himself with and stuffed them into a crevice. His tactical vest for storing his gear and armor plating beneath standing out to what the mercenaries of the camp wore.

He started opening containers that were already open or could be opened without causing too much noise and after about twenty minutes he found what he wanted. A crate containing extra body armor and gear for the mercenaries stationed here. He switched out his own tactical vest for the mercenaries, grimacing at the comparatively poor quality. If this was the best Zeus could afford, then his resources must not have been as vast as he thought. He took the weapons and tactical gear from his own vest and from the nearby crates and attached it to his current outfit. His knives were well concealed and the armor plating obscured by the body armor. It was heavy but his disguise should be sufficient.