A Hero and a Villain

Scene 5: An Unexpected Savior

[Andeddo]

It was late into the night, and the air was filled with the unmistakable scent of dead bodies.

Andeddo exited the building with a somber expression, crimson blood splattered across his suit and mask. As he walked, he used a handkerchief to wipe the remaining gore from his blade, though it remained a grim reminder of the role he played in society. He tossed the katana from hand to hand while staring into the starry night sky, wondering how he would dispose of the bodies by morning.

There wasn't much he could do by himself except set the whole building on fire, but that would cause too much of a scene and raise suspicion. Maybe he could get one of his contacts to block off the area for a while, or he could just leave the bodies and blame it on a wild animal.....

As he contemplated his options, the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end. He was immediately on his guard.

Something's up. But what?

A muted gunshot rang out, echoing through the streets. Andeddo flinched at the sound, "What the—who in God's name is shooting off a gun in the dead of night?! Are they trying to get caught?!" He slid his katana back into its sheath and jogged to where he thought he heard the source of the noise.

Soon he came upon an old metal door in a back alley. Yes, this is where it came from. The ground was still vibrating from the shockwaves.

He rammed his shoulder blade into the area where the handle would be, busting the door off of its rusted hinges. He quickly caught it before it hit the ground and gently laid it to the side, stepping into a cold, empty stone hallway. It was eerily silent, save for some faint echoes in the background. He wandered into the hall, the light from the doorway steadily fading to pitch blackness.

Andeddo silently shuffled down the barely illuminated corridor, feeling his way by the walls. The noises steadily got louder as he approached the other end of the tunnel. Jangles of chains. Muffled cries. Indistinct bouts of arguing. A bone-rattling gunshot.

No doubt about it. Something shady business was going on here.....

When he reaches the edge of the hall, he flattened himself up against the wall and peeked around the corner. He glanced around for a moment, observing the room. He was in an abandoned warehouse of some sort. Several crumbling concrete support columns dotted the room, metal hooks and cranes hanging from mechanism tracks on the ceiling.

And the person in the middle of the room was the last person he expected to see in a place like this..........

Hitoshi Shinso—publicly known as the Pro Hero Speakeasy—dangled from the ceiling, hung by his wrists, which were wrapped in chains. It looked like he had been stripped of his gear, and had a gag tightly fastened in his mouth so he couldn't use his quirk. His hair was a dirty mess, and he was bruised and scraped all over the place. Most of all, his face was red and sweaty, and he seemed to be having trouble breathing.

A band of rough-looking thugs surrounded him. One held a handgun, two others beside him had bats, and another in the back held a large automatic rifle. Others had a pair of brass knuckles, a switchblade, and some sort of small laser gun. There were a few more, but they weren't armed. Not to mention, all of them looked like they were fresh out of prison.

The one with the handgun pressed it against Hitoshi's temple, growling, "Those were just warning shots, Mr. Hotshot. Try anything funny again, and I'll have to blow a few of your limbs off." He circled Hitoshi, poking and prodding him with the tip of the gun, "You think you're so hot, huh? Struttin' around in my territory like some sort of glorified idol? Think again, HERO. I'll make you think twice before you mess around with me again."