A Single Strand of DNA- Kaminari Denki's Revival

INTERLUDES 1

A/N: CLASSES ARE STILL UNDECIDED! IF YOU WANT TO CHOOSE WHO IS IN DENKI'S CLASS, THEN COMMENT YOUR FAVORITE CHARACTERS! I'll be putting them on a wheel, and every comment for a character will be another slot on the wheel for said character!
ex: if there are five "Tokoyami" comments, then Tokoyami will be on the wheel six times.

INTERLUDE ONE: Atlas' Burden.

A high-pitched scream tore through the dimly lit room, reverberating as it hit the metal walls. Haunting echoes crescendoed as the last bit of air ripped itself from a bloody throat. It pleaded, begged, whimpered, whined, cried out for someone, anyone to help.

But nobody came.

Nobody ever came.

Dried blood was made wet again as the scalpel rented into young flesh. Pale, almost bone-white arms, so frail and weak and emaciated, grew gaunter still as the red fluid dripped from them. Old bandages, too soaked in the life force of their bearer, slipped down and fell to the ground, the blood they were supposed to hold back acting as a lubricant to their release.

Limbs were revealed, thin and malnourished, crisscrossed with too-straight scars that reflected the light of the singular dim, yellow bulb. Tears dripped from an unmarked face, so pure and innocent, so fragile and frail, so beautiful and precious, mixing with the blood on the arms that the ever-present needles failed to collect.

A flash of yellow, then of white, then a sickening, vomit-inducing, abhorrent squelch announced the abrupt end of the fading wail. Red, red, so much red splattered onto the walls, the chair, the restraints, the flickering incandescent bulb. Disgusting, it was disgusting. On a back shelf, rattling beakers stilled as the vibration of the cry suddenly cut out. Dripping blood was now the only sound in the room that would make the devil balk.

A man, short and unassuming, with delicate eyelashes and pale skin, wrung his hands. Red and white, another stain. He'd have to get new gloves again, these were far too unclean. So filthy. It had no place in his home. The muck showed such disrespect to the birthplace of humanity's revitalization.

Such sacrifices must be made in the face of progress. He would sicken himself in order to further his- no, the cause.

"Eugh." Kai Chisaki, Overhaul, leader of the Shie Hessaikai, made a disgusted exclamation in the back of his throat. He could feel his skin start to bubble and boil already, his weakness to anything unclean being something even Overhaul's power could not purge.

"Trial number seventy four" Kai spoke to no one in particular, the clinicalness of the phrase standing in stark contrast to the bloodstained, dimly lit room. He did not know why he still said that phrase, perhaps it was for his own piece of mind, or organization.

Perhaps it was to keep him from realizing the true horrors of the torture.

Kai shook his head, refocusing on the quarts of blood on a shelf to the side of the operation table. Grabbing a pipet, he gathered two milliliters of Eri- no, the patient-'s blood. He squeezed the sample out into one of the last few unmarked test tubes. Two, well, one after this, test tubes remained out of the seventy-five he had first purchased. The others were either shattered, rewound to sand and flux, or simply stained with the patient's life force.

Kai selected a micropipette- five microliters should be enough- and added the isolated trigger factor into the tube. It bubbled slightly, and he backed up, accidentally stepping on a shard of bone. Kai winced.

He mixed in a lysis buffer and dripped a small amount of his own isolated quirk factor into the product. That was a new addition, he had finally perfected the amplification sequence to his own DNA, and now had a stockpile of quirk factor Overhaul. Hopefully, that would balance the solution out. If not, he'd try manually overhauling trigger and Eri's quirk factor together. If that didn't work, it was back to the drawing board.