Tribute ✔

14- The Rebellion

He thought he would be able to stop being so cautious around food when he won the games, but now he had to be cautious and avoid the delicious looking tart the Avox brought him alongside his dinner. They creeped him the fuck out, with their wrapped faces and lack of voice, the way they moved silently as if trying to be invisible. But he knew they were prisoners of the Capitol, turned into slaves with their tongues cut out. 

He ate quickly, pushing past the soreness in his limbs as he feasted. Even if he felt like he could eat forever, he eventually had to stop in case he did throw up. That was a sight he didn't want to fucking see. 

The rest of the evening was spent looking out at the cityscape, wondering when he would finally return to 12. A plushy Victor's House awaited him, even if he would be the only winner there. He would probably invite his annoying mother to live with him, Deku and Inko too as their house was falling to pieces. Even though District 12 was dreary and dirty and full of starvation and disease it was his home, and he missed it. 

◢✥◣

"There will be guards everywhere."

"I am aware."

"They won't restrain themselves for you."

"I know that. I will be there, and if not you leave without me."

◢✥◣

10:58pm. Was the clock even moving anymore? Whenever he looked at the damn thing the hands had barely moved, mocking him for being so impatient.

11:59pm. Fucking finally. Only one more minute until he could get out of this bed and get his damn answers. What was going on and what was Shoto a part of?

11pm. 

Right as the clock ticked the door to his room flung open and a man rushed in fitting Shoto's description exactly. A nod was his only greeting as the man set about discharging plugs and turning off switches, connecting them to some sort of machine that kept the screen that showed his heart and oxygen rates running as normal. He practically pulled Bakugou up, and thankfully the nurse had come to give him a shirt and pants, and gave him some shoes before leading him out of the room.

"You stay with me, follow my every step. Be silent and move quickly, understand?"

Bakugou nodded, expression serious, and he began to follow Aizawa through a series of hallways and staircases, up and up whatever building they were in until they reached the rooftop. The wind was harsh and cold and Bakugou wanted a fucking jacket, but all thoughts stopped when he saw a big black jet hovering just off the rooftop ledge. A jet exactly like the one that took him to the arena.

A firm hand grasped his forearm before he could take a step back, and Aizawa settled his gaze right on him. 

"Trust in Shoto." was all he said, giving Bakugou a moment to settle before leading him over to the jet.

"What the hell is going on?" he asked, stunned once more when he saw his fucking stylist holding a hand out to help him onto the jet.

"You did good Bakugou." Yamada gave him a smile. "You're a survivor."

His stylist offered him a thick jacket which he slipped on, and thankfully it immediately sent warmth running through his body. He watched Yamada and Aizawa converse at the edge of the jet, eyes not leaving the open doorway they'd just left through.