Dead Man Walking

Part One

A/N: Many thanks to HaleyKim84, @TheSilverHunt3r, and NinjaofFire7 for the beta and support! This was a lot of fun to write!

For @TheSilverHunt3r as a (late) Christmas gift.

You do not need to know how to play paintball or Capture the Flag in order to read this!

The title, "Dead Man Walking," is paintball terminology for a player that has been eliminated and has to walk to the "deadbox" (or just off-field, in this fic's case) where they have to wait for the game to end. However, no paintball terminology will be used in this fic without explanation.

Thank you for reading!

- - - - -

Red covered every visible surface. It was splattered across tree trunks on every side of him- a dark reminder of where his teammates had met their end.

Midoriya raced through the forest on enemy territory, shots firing all around him. They whizzed angrily by, just missing his head gear.

I need to hide, and fast! He thought, heart pounding. But they're onto me. If I stop moving, they'll just pin me down. He jumped over a fallen log and almost tripped in the hidden patch of mud behind it. With One for All at five percent, full cowling, he could outrun and out-maneuver most of their opponents. It was the only way he hadn't been eliminated yet.

He glanced around for the familiar colors of blue and white training uniforms. Only the green and dark browns of the forest blurred by as he ran. Either the rest of the offense was skilled in camouflage and evasive maneuvers, or Midoriya was the last one standing.

Not good.

Especially since he pretty much had no idea what was going on.

And where did Kacchan run off to? Maybe it'd be better to try to find him instead of looking for the objective. He was too deep into enemy territory to attempt a return to friendly ground. He needed backup. He needed to find his team- or what was left of them, at least.

Kacchan would be the easiest to find, probably. His manic yells of death and bright explosions of terror were easy enough to notice from a distance. It was a good idea to start there.

They had to succeed. Termination would not only bring pain, but humiliation to Class 1-A. As one of the few left standing, he had the weight of success on his shoulders.

He couldn't let his team down.

0o0o0

Ten minutes earlier.

"The rules are simple," Mr. Aizawa was saying. "One: your Quirks are allowed, but a player must suffer a direct hit with a paintball before they're out of the game. Using your Quirks to fight and simply beat another player into submission is thus technically allowed, but not favorable since it won't eliminate anyone. The game is only fifteen minutes long, so use that time wisely."

"But Mr. Aizawa," Iida's hand shot up in protest, "that does not sound very heroic. Should beating another player into submission be allowed?"

"Try thinking of it this way. Most villains don't go down with a single shot, even if it is a direct hit. Sometimes a hero has to wear down a villain before he's able to win. If we could put the villains into custody without fighting, Pros like me would be out of a job, and you wouldn't be here." Aizawa shrugged, bored. "These aren't my rules. Just follow them or we'll dock your points."

Iida bowed, his back perfectly straight. "You have made an excellent point, sir! My sincerest apologies for the interruption. I should not have doubted the training ideology of UA. Once again, they live up to their prestigious reputation!"