Riddles and Riots

.:Break Away:.

At long last the battlefield was still, all except for the patter of sand in the dying wind. With a heavy grunt Bakugo pushed himself to his feet, hissing when the burns up his arms flared with pain.
          'Damnit...' He clenched his aching fists irritatedly.
          Turning back to the clearing, he was met with a thin wall of smoke. Just barely he could make out two shadowy forms laying limp beside each other. Hopefully shitty-hair wasn't dead; not that it would have been Bakugo's fault, he specifically asked for it.
          Pressing into the smoke, the prince covered his mouth with his elbow and carefully wandered to where they lay, first stumbling upon the tamer.
          He looked like a burnt chicken. There wasn't any sign of him still being alive, but Bakugo couldn't waste the time to check, not with his hands in their condition and a hoard of enemies on the outskirts waiting to pounce. He clicked his tongue with disgust as he stepped over him, crunching his foot down on the plague mask and bending it awkwardly.
          Then he knelt beside Kirishima, who was covered in soot and small burns. Miraculously, only a few serious wounds got through his skin. He was still breathing but unconscious.
          "Of fucking course." Bakugo grumbled, slipping one hand under the redhead's back and the other under his knees.
          As soon as Bakugo tried to lift him, Kirishima's eyelids flew open and his skin hardened. He sat up so fast he cracked his head hard against Bakugo's.
          "WHAT THE FUCK! FUCKING DUMBASS PIECE OF SHIT!" Bakugo grabbed the bruise forming on his head as the hybrid's eyes went wide.
          Kirishima quickly realized who was above him and gasped. "Ah! I'm so sorry, Bakugo! It was an accident!" He waved his hands guiltily as the prince stormed off.
          "I don't want to hear it! Just get your ass up and help get everyone out!"
          "R-right!" Kirishima's head spun as he shakily brushed away the dust. He was saddened to see his new clothes were torn and ruined, but at least his pants still covered what was necessary.
          As he climbed out of the crater, Kirishima reluctantly glanced back at Overhaul, unsure of the lingering feeling in his chest. He couldn't feel the bond grabbing at him anymore, but his dragon heart still yearned for something he couldn't explain.
Bakugo's hiss snapped him from his thoughts. "COME ON!"
The dragon heaved himself the rest of the way out of the hole, ignoring the persistent tug. As he did so, he couldn't help but wonder- if Bakugo was a tamer, why wasn't he drawn to him the same way?
"We need to go. You weaklings obviously can't handle this." Bakugo said frustratedly as he approached Uraraka. She clung tight Aizawa's barely conscious form.
The witch, in her lament for her staff, didn't have the strength to defend herself. Instead she nodded, still looking unsure, as Bakugo reached for whoever lay near.
"Bakugo wait, there's no way we can carry-" A knife suddenly spiraled past her head. A group of enemies sprinted toward them, weapons unsheathed and magic at the ready.
  Instinctively, Kirishima placed himself between his team and the multitude of magical attacks. To his utter horror, his magic failed him, and his strength withered from his skin like a burning bush. The attack struck his arms and torso, bashing him against a stone building.
"Idiot!" Bakugo dropped Sero and grabbed Uraraka's arm simultaneously. He tossed her behind the ice, drawing the enemy's attention with a fiery burst.
As he tackled one and blew away another, he snuck a quick glance behind him. Kirishima still had his arms raised defensively, though he trembled with misery, leaking blood from the deepest wounds. Any sort of movement was agony for him.
Knowing he was on his own, Bakugo spat to the side, shaking the burning sensation from his fingertips. More enemies poured from the shadows as he drew a deep breath. Then, his signature sneer made its way to his lips, and he cracked his knuckles with anticipation.
"COME AT ME, FUCKING COWARDS! I'LL BLOW YOU ALL TO PIECES!"
One after the other he did just as he said he would. His heart pounded in his ears as heat swallowed him like water. His jaw clenched to distract him of the ever growing burn in his palms. Screams met his ears, only making his smile grow.
Everything flew by so fast. Anything in this moment happened on pure instinct. He didn't know how many he must have clobbered, but for every one he defeated, three more took its place. His breath grew short and the strain on his body began to show with each explosion.
Surrounded by what could have been more than thirty people, light of a million colors finally brought him to a halt. The collision was so loud it were as if a bullet shot clean through his skull. Then darkness shrouded his sight.
He immediately awoke when his back made impact with the ground. His ears rang above all other sound. His eyes wouldn't focus on the many shadows creeping toward him, reaching for his throat like the jaws of death itself.
"Damnit..!" He choked into the dreary night sky. His body stung all over, the worst being his arms. As if pricked by a thousand poisoned needles, they were red and charred and bleeding from open blisters and gashes. Smoke welled in his throat, making him cough and gag. His body was giving up on him, but the same stubbornness that built him into the warrior he was today kept urging him on, refusing him to stop until he at least made it to his knees.
Kirishima could only watch in helpless awe as Bakugo lift his head, pushing even further than his limit, further than he could bare, just to meet the triumphant eyes of the enemies in the smoke. Drawing from him a pained grunt, sparks continued to pop in his fingertips, but he could do nothing more.
The air became a hundred degrees hotter when the enemy closest to Bakugo threw his hood back. His skin melted and molten lava oozed from beneath its surface, setting his arms on fire.
          He knew not out of fear, anger, or familiarity, but tears came to the corners of Bakugo's eyes as the flames licked ever so close. All he could find as he searched for anything left within him was his voice.
          "I'll kill you..! I'll kill you all! Every last one! I swear on my life, you all will suffer beneath me!"
          Like an answer to prayer, from behind him the street caved under the weight of a mighty scream. A glowing shockwave uprooted the foundation, tearing away hundred year old structures and colliding with the hoard, flinging them mercilessly across the city. Those who dodged the wave were on the ground, clutching their ears in agony.
          Leaving a crumbling cave in its wake, the voice slowly died out. A battalion of soldiers on horseback galloped down the street, with none other than the tournament announcer, Mic, at the head. With a wave of his armored hand the entire squadron split into three parts, two branching off into the streets on either side, the middle remaining behind the high knight.
          They surrounded Bakugo and his team, forming a protective circle. Mic parked his horse in the center and jumped off, racing straight for Uraraka, who still supported the dark haired knight. He carefully stole Aizawa away, falling to his knees and cradling his head against his shoulder with a broken sob.
          Another soldier jumped off his horse and raced toward them, prying the helmet off his disheveled purple locks. He looked no older than Bakugo or the others. He, too, fell to his knees and wrapped the dark haired man in a careful hug.
          As if on cue, the riders corralled their horses toward Bakugo and his team, plucking them off the ground one by one. They scooped Bakugo from the middle of the street, pulled Todoroki from the rubble of a house, scrounged Mina from under a pile of wood, and safely collected those remaining behind the ice.
          When a soldier pulled his horse next to Kirishima, a sinking feeling came over him. Not because of the large stranger on the intimidatingly giant horse, but something else in the corner of his eye; something that wasn't there before.
          From a distance, Mic spotted it as well. A warp, swirling from the side of a house inside of the circle, nearly out of sight. The person that stepped out sent a wave of uneasiness through his body. The high knight has seen this hand-covered man before.
          Mic let go of Aizawa, instructing the purple haired boy to take care of him, then whistled for his horse. She galloped to his side and he swung himself atop of her, just as Shigaraki's gaze turned toward them. He preyed on the redheaded winner of the tournament, flexing his fingers hungrily, then dashed toward him.
          The soldier beside Kirishima flinched suddenly. Turning to the side, just inches from Kirishima's face, Shigaraki's hand reached out and all five fingers pressed into the soldier's leg. The poor man screamed and his horse whinnied with fright, galloping off until the rider was no more than a pile of ash drifting from the saddle.
          Another hand laced itself around Kirishima's neck, resting all but one finger. The fear he endured in the presence of Overhaul barely compared to the fear Shigaraki had over him in this moment.
The dead man went straight to his pocket for his warp scale, but was stopped when Mic raced by, swinging his sword at the arm holding Kirishima. Unable to decay the weapon before impact, Shigaraki was forced to let go.
"RUN!!" Mic commanded, swinging back around for another blow.
Kirishima hesitated, both from pain and fright, but managed to scrounge up the courage to move his feet. Pushing Shigaraki's furious hiss to the back of his head, he ran as far as he could, until another soldier galloped by and scooped him off the ground. He yanked him into the front of the saddle and escaped the bloodied street with the rest of the squad.
They looked back as another booming caterwaul escaped Mic's tongue, cloaking him in a cloud of dust. Kirishima held his breath, waiting for something to happen, only exhaling when the knight and his horse reappeared from the cloud. The look of horror painted on Mic's face was not reassuring.
"KEEP GOING! MAKE IT TO THE WALLS WITH THE WOUNDED! DON'T TURN BACK-!" He was cut short when a cacophony of wails sounded from the front of the squadron.
To Kirishima's horror, Shigaraki now stood many feet ahead, the black warp wavering behind him. Countless horses and soldiers scraped past his able fingers, all falling to disintegration. The villain's red eyes flashed, making Kirishima shudder.
"Watch out!" The dragon tried to warn the soldier, but their horse couldn't turn in time. It breezed past Shigaraki's icy fingers, braying loudly as it crumpled to ash, tossing its riders onto the cold stone path.
"Get up, kid!" After a moment of blackness, Kirishima could just barely hear a voice through the ringing in his ears. He opened his eyes just in time to watch the fearful soldier turn gray and crumble, and Shigaraki's dusty hand shadow his vision. This time, it was stopped by a bloody scarf.
Clutching the nasty gash in his side, Aizawa leaned on the purple haired soldier, who pleaded for him to stop. The knight didn't listen, reeling his capture weapon and yanking Shigaraki away. Right on cue Mic emerged from the alley, leaping off his horse and belting another deafening sound wave.
It landed directly against his chest, sending Shigaraki crashing through many walls. The blond knight landed beside Kirishima, helping him to his feet and calling for his loyal steed once again.
He turned to the purple haired soldier and Aizawa, "Where's your horse?!"
"Dead!" The younger answered, "It turned to dust when that guy touched it!"
Suddenly Mic turned to the sound of a thousand war cries. Enemies advanced in even greater hoards at the bottom of the street. It wouldn't be long before his entire squad was completely overpowered.
"Shit." Without giving time to argue, Miv grabbed the reigns of his horse, thrusting them into the purple kid's hands and demanding, "Shinso, take them and escape, now!"
          The boy's violet eyes widened. "What about you?!"
Mic helped him get Aizawa into the saddle and Kirishima onto the butt of the horse, then he turned his back. "Just lead the troops to the walls, I'll be right behind you!"
"Be careful!" Shinso called hesitantly, hopping into the front and kicking the horse into full gallop. They watched Mic grow smaller in the distance, one man against a hundred.
The knight cracked his neck and stretched his arms. "Now that they're out of the way, let's see just how loud we can crank up the volume!"
With a lopsided grin he inhaled, more and more until he felt his lungs would burst. When the mass of savages arrived at his fingertips, he roared with all his might. Like a tidal wave it swept away any object standing in its path. Every threat was repelled, blown like a leaf in a hurricane. Even the ground stood no chance under the weight of his voice.
Slowly it died out like a screeching record. His throat burned as if he swallowed fire. Those who stood before him a moment ago lay incapacitated many yards away, bleeding from their ears.
A crackle of stone made him veer to the side, dodging the hand just inches from his shoulder. Shigaraki trembled with desperation, completely ignorant of the blood dripping from the sides of his head.
Mic tore out his sword to distance himself, widening his jaws for another scream. Shigaraki flinched and reached for his ears, still managing to catch the sword before impact with his skull. In an instant the iron sword crumpled.
Mic twist around Shigaraki's outstretched arms, now unable to keep space between them. He and the villain danced around each other like a couple of headless geese, screaming and swiping, until Mic made a predictable move that landed his wrist in the hand of the enemy.
His breath hitched and his eyes shut tight against the searing pain. Flakes of skin fluttered to the ground, exposing the raw flesh beneath. He cried out and yanked away his hand just before the decay could spread any further up his arm.
Shigaraki panted, "You're a challenge from a distance, I'll admit...but up close, I'm the one with the advantage." He lashed out again, missing by a hair. The high knight flung himself backwards, clutching his bloody wrist.
Gaging distance between them, the blond managed another ear-splitting shriek, tossing his opponent back into the dust. Just before he could take in another breath, multiple enemies flocked into view.
         Even for an experienced soldier the impact was too great, and Mic was forced to his knees with his arms raised over his head. After the final burst of color splattered against his back, the ground shook and roots sprang up, entrapping him up to his waist. They slammed him into the ground a number of times, then smashed him through a shop window.
          Everything hurt, but he rose to his feet anyway. Unable to stop him, he cursed as Shigaraki vanished into the black warp. The rest of the enemies separated, many pursuing the squadron down the street, and many closing the gap between him.
          Completely out of breath, Mic shut his eyes in preparation for the worst, when something small shot past him. It latched onto the closest enemy's tunic, dragging him off. He couldn't even process what happened when hundreds more of these tiny objects whirled past his head, carrying all enemies out of sight. They almost looked like...feathers?
          Beyond confused, Mic stumbled out of the house, faced with the backside of a lithe but well built stranger. He glanced over his shoulder, his stringy dirty blond hair swaying just above a pair of yellow goggles. He lift them to get a better look, revealing his strict golden eyes.
          "Ah, glad you're not dead." He flashed Mic a smile then faced the hoard hanging from the mysterious objects. With a snap of his fingers, the villains slammed into the ground or spun and launched far into the city. The objects returned, corralling against the stranger's back, erecting a set of massive scarlet wings.