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MHA188- Fight!
🕑 Added 2025-07-29 22:55:58 +0000 UTCUnderground was a mess.
Villains running into each other, screaming orders no one followed. Nobody at the top was commanding these mindless zealots who had no brain to think for themselves. No Re-Destro. No Trumpet. No Skeptic. Just meat on panic legs.
Jeanist vaulted a tipped beam and kicked one across the room before his boots hit ground. Threads snapped out in every direction, wrapping arms, legs, mouths, dragging two dozen into the walls like duct-taped cockroaches. Kamui's branches shredded the upper floor, clearing the runners trying to slip through vents. One got halfway before a vine wrapped his ankle and slammed him into the wall like a wet mop.
Edgeshot blurred back through the main corridor, slicing through four more. Deku punched through a load-bearing wall and sent three villains flying backward into their own crew. He didn't slow, blackwhip lashing the floor and sweeping two more into a pile. His fist cracked the last one's jaw on reflex.
"Gate secure!" Gang Orca yelled. He was dragging someone by the collar who kept throwing acid backwards. Midnight silenced the hallway with a gas burst through a broken vent. Nothing moved after that.
Shemage's spores started flooding the left wing. Three down before they realized what the fuzz on their skin was.
Tokoyami broke off from the group. One second he was there, next he was airborne, Dark Shadow wrapped around him like with wings.
“No, wait-” Izuku stepped forward, hand half-raised.
Mirio stopped him, palm to his chest. “Nope. Bigger problem.”
Izuku’s mouth opened, but then the ground shook. A deeper rumble this time, like something massive was walking up from below. Concrete groaned.
They stared at the hill on two feet, walking.
It had a face like concrete left in the rain too long.
Gran Torino dropped in beside them, already breathing heavier than usual. “It is that thing again.”
Izuku blinked, as he looked towards him. “Shoto?”
Todoroki stood near Gran Torino, hand raised in a wave. “Hii, Ryuu’s brother.”
Mirio and Izuku looked at each other.
“That is not Todoroki,” Mirio said.
Gran Torino didn’t even glance over. “Focus. That is Gigantomachia.”
Before anyone could ask how the fuck Todoroki’s double was there, the thing cracked its neck like it was testing joints.
Mirio grabbed Izuku by the collar. “Now is when we run, right?”
“No,” Gran Torino said. “Now is when you buy time.”
The thing moved. Like a dump truck dragging a prison block. The ground under him cracked with each step.
Jeanist barked something. Kamui’s branches snapped forward and caught around the beast’s ankle, but it didn’t stop. Just dragged him forward like lint on a shoe. Cementoss dropped slabs in front of it. Didn’t matter. The thing smashed through them like egg cartons.
“Seal him,” Jeanist snapped.
Mudman and Cementoss moved, ground dipped, warped, concrete rolled. The bastard sank a little, knees folding. But instead of struggling, it just... leaned. The mud splashed upward.
Then it leapt.
---
Flames blazed around WEM as I dragged the bat across the floor, metal shrieking under its weight. My left side already freezing over, ice crawling up from elbow to shoulder like I bathed in a busted coolant tank.
I looked at the High-Ends circling Mirko like vultures with erectile dysfunction.
“You thought you could lay hands on Mirko?” I shifted WEM upright, bat tip spitting sparks. One stepped forward, half its ribcage blooming open like a flower of bone, twitching tendrils inside already squirming.
“That is a death sentence, bitch.”
The first one lunged.
Mirko blurred in. Her heel crushed its throat before it fully lifted off the ground. She didn't wait for the next. I moved with her, caught one rushing behind with WEM mid-swing. Mass mode engaged. Flame lit the shaft just as it connected. The bat exploded through its jaw and took the top half of its head with it.
Three more moved at once. The floor cracked from the pressure. One lit up, jets firing from its back like a living missile.
Mirko jumped off my shoulder, used the shockwave of my last swing to boost higher. She twisted mid-air, brought both feet down on its spine as it tried to pivot. The jetpack sputtered. I hit it from below and the fuel cell burst. Flaming goo sprayed everywhere. One nearby Nomu liquefied into the wall with a hiss.
“Left!”
A blur snapped toward me, arm stretching, skin shifting like it could not decide on shape. I stepped under, ducked the swipe, and jammed my free hand onto the thing’s shoulder. Ice erupted from my palm. It froze up halfway before it could change again. WEM followed. Cracked it into six frozen chunks.
Mirko landed behind me. “They adapt.”
“Then break faster.”
Two split apart, bodies expanding grotesque, arms multiplying. One belched a sonic blast. My ears rang. I staggered, vision shivering. Tiles buckled. My eardrums threatened mutiny.
“Get to Shigaraki!” I barked. “Break that pale fucker!”
Garaki popped out from behind a console like a rat seeing daylight for the first time.
“No! Stop!”
Mirko grabbed the nearest console and flung it across the hallway. It bounced once and smacked into the bloated Nomu’s side. That one didn’t even flinch, its skin stretched and pulsed like a meat balloon ready to pop.
The other came for me, arms mutating mid-lunge, three new ones sprouting from its shoulder, all claws. I ducked under the first swing, caught the second with WEM, pivoted and dragged it down, bat sparking along the wall. It tried grabbing my head with the third arm, ice bloomed from my shoulder outwards, flash-freezing its limb before it made contact.
Mirko was already airborne again, a blur of white and blood. Leapt straight onto its back, jammed both heels into the base of its neck and pushed off. It tried to slam her mid-air. She twisted, caught the incoming hand and tore, a wet rip, and landed with the arm still in her grip.
Mirko’s heel hit the side of the High-End’s head, but it didn’t budge. Tendons in its neck twisted like steel cables, muscles rippling underneath layered skin. It grabbed her ankle mid-swing and flung her sideways. She crashed through a containment tube. Glass rained down.
I was already there.
Flames burst from my palm and wrapped around WEM’s grip as I slammed the bat across the Nomu’s jaw. Its neck barely turned. Fucker was built like a vending machine filled with bones. My feet skidded, but I didn’t stop. Ice shot out from my other hand, speared into its knee. The joint crunched, dipped, Mirko burst out of the glass behind it and dropkicked its spine.
It roared, stumbled.
“Left arm’s fusing again,” I snapped.
“Then rip it off.”
She dove past me, slid under another one that had liquefied halfway down the hallway. Its skin drooped like wet plastic, tried to reform around her. She planted both feet, spun, and kicked upward. The entire mass of it splattered against the ceiling.
A second thudded off the ground, thrusters screaming on underpowered shoulders. I moved back, ducked under its arc as it scraped the wall, then vaulted after it. WEM caught it mid-boost, piston thrusters kicking. Impact knocked it into a data tower. Electricity popped. Its body twitched, screeched, then went quiet.
Mirko spun into my side. “I will take the left. You bait.”
I charged.
Mirko slammed an elbow into the High-End’s throat. It bent like a damn tree, but the bastard did not go down. One of its arms shifted mid-swing, bones split, twisted, reshaped into a jagged drill trying to skewer her gut.
It pinned her. Her leg coiled, braced, muscle flared, but the thing kept reforming, thick tendons twisting tighter. For every inch she forced back, it dragged two forward.
I watched her snarl, one leg braced against the wall, pushing back. Didn’t matter. The thing’s body was reforming like chewed gum. Every time she cracked something, it reattached.
“Oi! Discount hentai prop!” I shouted, charging with WEM lit up, flame crackling up the handle. “You get off my girl or I will turn your ribs into a xylophone and play the ‘go fuck yourself’ symphony!”
I launched.
WEM hit like a rave-powered bulldozer with a grudge and five unpaid speeding tickets. Arm cracked, bent, and snapped off at the socket. The bastard roared and lunged with a second, trying to grapple.
I ducked under the claws and uppercutted with the grip. Flames sparked. Mirko broke free on the opening, planted her knee into its jaw. She vaulted off the wall, spun mid-air, and brought both feet down onto its spine as I swung low again.
Crack.
It staggered, bones folding weird. Its ribs opened—literally, a whole ribcage turned inside out, tendons trying to wrap us. I backstepped, whipped out Hemothread. Sent it coiling through the mess. It caught. Twitched. Pulled tight.
“Gimme your spine, fuckface.”
I yanked.
It snapped forward, Mirko grabbed its skull mid-drag, flipped over its back, and drove both feet into the base of its neck.
I stood in front of the pile of twitching meat sacks that once thought they were top of the food chain and cracked my neck. Mirko was behind me."
“Let’s start. This is my Symphony of Destruction: Taunt Edition.”
She heard the first note and turned it into a fucking battle anthem. Gone like a war cry.
The nearest High-End snarled, one with something growing from its shoulder that looked like a tumor fucked a flamethrower. Another crouched like it was trying to fuse with the floor. I licked my lips and stepped forward.
"Oi, meat balloons. Which one of you floppy abortions wants a turn?"
One fired a blast from its mouth. Not flame. Not air. Something worse, pressurized goo that slapped the wall behind me and ate into the concrete like it owed rent. I slid under it, boot-plant off the side wall, came down with WEM across the bastard’s back. It did not scream. Just turned its neck 270 degrees and drooled at me.
“You chew drywall for breakfast or is that just your jawline?”
It lunged again. Shoulder jets firing.
I bent backwards under the swing, used the thrust to loop Hemothread behind it and yanked its arm sideways as it passed. It spun out mid-air and crashed into its buddy, the one mid-fusion. Both slid like sludge across the floor.
The third jumped.
Big one.
Didn’t aim. Just tried to crush me.
I met it halfway. Flame surged down WEM. Mass mode engaged mid-swing. Mirko piston kicked in. Impact burst snapped its knee sideways and buckled the bastard to one side.
“Your structural integrity’s worse than a Jenga tower mid-earthquake!”
Another tried wrapping around me, literally. Rib cage bloomed open, tendrils writhing like intestines trying to roleplay hentai.
I jammed WEM in the middle and lit the sonic pulse.
The scream it made wasn’t human. But neither was the splatter.
I kept moving. [Warpath] was building. Feet barely touching tile. [Endless Momentum] stacked like debt.
A High-End blocked the hall ahead, four arms, too many eyes, something like an elephant trunk hanging from its chest. It let out a sound like someone vomiting their last five regrets and charged. It swung with all four arms in a perfect, sweeping fuck-you pattern. I ducked the first, leapt over the second, caught the third on WEM’s shaft and let the fourth clock me across the ribs. Heard something pop. Didn't stop. Pain blurred. Pain Resistance just whispered “get up” with a smile.
I vaulted off its knee, brought the bat down across its temple with flame running full-throttle. Skull dented but didn’t cave. It grabbed me by the leg mid-air and flung me into the wall. I bounced. Didn’t land. Slammed flat, left side cracking something important. I coughed. Nothing came out.
[Cheat Death] redirected the attack.
I stood anyway.
“Oi, forehead condom,” I spat, wiping blood off my lip. “You miss that special school where they teach you to not look like a fleshlight that got microwaved?”
It screeched, full-on rage trigger. [Rage Bait] caught.
Two others turned toward me.
Perfect.
Mirko tore past. She was gone before they noticed. They were mine.
Comments
hector lyng
a lot of chaos, very ryuu
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