Grey eased the car into motion, headlights cutting through the early evening fog. In his hand, the map he'd folded earlier now rested on the passenger seat, marked with the location of the Endeavor Agency, his next strategic target.
Grey sat in the driver's seat of his parked car, engine running softly. The Endeavor Agency's modern skyscraper with its flaming "E" emblem, a proud representation of power and atonement, loomed through the window. Inside, more than thirty sidekicks, known as the Flaming Sidekickers, bustled with purpose, ever-ready to deploy at a moment's notice.
Grey watched them moving through the lobby, Burnin and others coordinating missions, training interns like Deku and Todoroki, and maintaining the agency's disciplined atmosphere. He gripped the hand-drawn map on the passenger seat, his plan laid out in meticulous detail.
A soft glow of a sent message flickered on his phone. His diversion was in motion: he had inserted an encrypted note into the agency's internal network. The message read:
"Your son is alive. Meet me at the old Sekoto facility at midnight if you want to see him again."
It was a calculated strike, one aimed at exploiting the Flame Hero's deepest regret and longing.
Inside the Agency
Endeavor emerged from his office, the weight of every battle etched on his face. He paused by his desk, and when he opened his laptop, he saw a secure notification, an internal memo marked with his son's name.
With a furrowed brow, he opened it. There was only a single, brief sentence inside.
"Your son is alive. Meet me at the old Sekoto facility at midnight if you want to see him again."
Endeavor's breath caught. Memories surged: Toya's laughter, the guilt he carried, and the grief of losing him. The office felt smaller, the air heavier, but he maintained his composure, pressing a steady hand to the desk.
A soft knock interrupted the moment. Burnin, ever vigilant, entered. "Sir… is everything alright?"
Endeavor cleared his throat, voice steady. "Yes, Burnin. Everything's fine."
She nodded, offering a reassuring smile. "Let me know if you need anything."
Her departure left him alone with the memo's words. He stared at the screen, emotion simmering beneath his calm exterior. Then, with deliberate control, he turned back to his reports, planning, calculating. The truth of that message would be uncovered, but not yet.
Safe House
Hana tapped a point on the blueprint.
"This is the main entrance," she said, voice firm. "Security rotates every thirty minutes. Cameras cover most corridors, but there's a blind spot here. She highlighted a maintenance hatch near the eastern wall "used for deliveries and maintenance access."
"It's our best chance to get in undetected." Hana glanced at her team, determination shining in her eyes. "We need to move quickly and quietly," she added, the urgency in her voice clear.
Miyako, the former police analyst, leaned in. "We can exploit that gap. My contacts can disable the nearby cameras for a two-minute window."
Tomo, the communications expert, added, "I'll override internal comms and loop the feed. In and out, no trace."
Masa nodded. "We've already embedded one of our tracker Quirk operatives inside. He'll guide us through internal movement and identify critical data points like villain collaborator lists and the humanoid monsters' project files, like Nomu."
Hana's gaze hardened. "Good. We'll move during the camera blackout. The tracker leads, we follow, pull the files, and extract. No confrontations."
Miyako raised an eyebrow. "And if we run into the Nomu or Giran's manipulation?"
Hana's voice grew cold: "Then we disengage. We're not here to fight; we're here to find information, nothing else."
Hana's gaze swept over her team, determination burning in her eyes.
"Accuracy is essential to this mission. The public must know who Shigaraki is and what their project truly entails. This isn't about vengeance; it's about saving lives." We need to gather evidence carefully and expose the truth.
Hana inhaled deeply, steadying herself. Then, with quiet authority:
"The operation will begin tonight at 2 AM. We have exactly one hour to infiltrate, retrieve the files, and get out. No delays."
The room fell silent as the weight of the plan settled in. Each member knew their role, their limit, and the stakes.
The rain had stopped by midnight, leaving the city damp and still. At exactly 1:00 AM, Endeavor arrived at the abandoned Sekoto facility, a crumbling warehouse on the outskirts of Musutafu. His silhouette, framed by the faint glow of streetlights, was tall and imposing, yet his posture betrayed tension.
He stepped out of his car, eyes scanning the deserted compound. Concrete walls were cracked, and the faint smell of rust and dampness hung in the air. A single flickering lamp cast long, wavering shadows.
Endeavor's voice was low and steady as he called out.
"I'm here. If you have proof… show yourself."
Silence answered.
He walked deeper into the warehouse, each step echoing in the vast emptiness. The only sound was the hum of distant traffic. His clenched fists relaxed slightly, but his heart pounded an emotional tempest of hope and dread. His mind was racing with what he might find.
He approached a makeshift table in the center of the room. On it lay a single envelope, sealed, with no indication of who had left it there.
Endeavor opened it with trembling fingers. Inside, a photograph of Toya, alive, smiling. Beneath it, a note:
"Proof. You're not too late."
He stared at the image, breath caught in his throat. A flicker of joy. A surge of pain. It was everything he had lost and everything he hoped to reclaim.
But there was no one else there. No messenger, no explanation, only the photograph and the echo of his own longing.
Endeavor's voice cracked as he whispered, "Toya…"
He clasped the photo tightly, knuckles whitening. A controlled exhale followed.
Then, breaking the silence, came a mechanical voice, cold and impersonal:
"Endeavor, mission parameters updated. Proceed to connection point Bravo. Time: 0105 hours."
Endeavor's eyes widened. The disembodied, artificial voice sent a chill through him. He lowered the photograph and turned toward the warehouse entrance, every instinct on edge.
No one appeared. Only the mechanical voice echoed in the emptiness, guiding him away.
With a deep breath, he folded the photograph and slipped it into his jacket. Determination settled over him, sharper than ever.
The warehouse was silent, save for the distant hum of traffic. Endeavor stood rigid, clutching the photograph of Toya, his heart a mix of hope and dread. Then a mechanical voice cold, dispassionate broke the stillness.
"Endeavor, how are you feeling?"
He frowned, scanning the shadows. "Who's there?"
"Just a voice," it replied. "Are you… sad?"
Endeavor's jaw tightened. "Why are you doing this?"
The voice paused, then resumed in a calm, monotone cadence: "Hmm! Before that. Let's begin with the truth. You pushed Toya too hard. You blamed yourself when he died. You were never there when he needed you. What a good father you are."
Endeavor's hands trembled as he struggled to process the accusations. The voice continued, each word cutting deeper into his already wounded heart.
His fist clenched around the photograph. His voice was low, strained with emotion: "Who are you?"
There was a quiet click, and then the voice continued, each word deliberate, slicing through the silence:
"You abandoned your family. You let your obsession with power break them. You left your wife alone, and your children lost. All for your pride."
Endeavor's eyes widened, breath catching in his throat. The accusations echoed back at him, past failures laid bare by a voice with no face. A flash of pain and guilt crossed his features.
Then the voice fell silent.
The warehouse felt heavier, the air thick with accusation. Endeavor pressed his hand to his chest, heart pounding. His vision blurred for a moment as memories of Toya's laughter, his wife's pain, and the weight of his failures flooded in.
When he finally exhaled, his grip on the photograph loosened. A single tear traced down his cheek.
He whispered, voice trembling, "Who are you?"
Silence answered once more. And in that echo, Endeavor found clarity, not just pain, but purpose.
Alone again, gazing at an empty space. And the disembodied mechanical voice keeps going, with calm, cold, and relentless:
"Endeavor, how are you feeling? Are you… sad?"
He tensed. And scream with frustration.
"What do you want?"
The voice continued with a chilling calmness:
"Let's be honest. You pushed Toya too hard. You blamed yourself when he died. You abandoned your family for pride. You failed your wife and children all for the illusion of strength."
Endeavor's fists clenched, the photograph of Toya trembling in his hand.
"Who are you?"
Silence. Then the voice resumed, clinical and unnervingly calm:
"How about we make this public? Your tragic story, your obsession, your broken family. It would… redefine your legacy. Maybe even surpass All Might's fame, though not for the right reasons. What do you think, Endeavor?"
Shock flashed in Endeavor's eyes. The voice vanished.
This moment of emotional vulnerability would become fuel.
Endeavor's face tightened, pain and fury flickering in his eyes.
Then the voice laughed dryly, emotionlessly, mockingly.
"But there is a way to save your son," it continued.
"I can tell you where he is. I can help you if you stop fighting the storm you created."
Endeavor's breath caught. The photograph trembled in his hand as the room closed in around him.
*****
The rain had tapered off, leaving the air damp and heavy. The bar, an unassuming front for the League of Villains' covert operations, sat in the shadowy underbelly of Kamino Ward. Dim lights flickered through grime-covered windows, and the faint hum of distant sirens echoed through the quiet night.
Inside, the League's inner circle, Toga, Dabi, Spinner, and others huddled around a battered wooden table, plotting their next move. Their low voices carried tension and anticipation, unaware that a storm was about to break.
Suddenly, the front door burst open. Rainwater dripped from the hair of the man who entered: Endeavor, the No. 2 hero, his presence searing through the dimly lit room like a blazing inferno.
"Where is he?" Endeavor's voice thundered, each word heavy with raw emotion.
The villains froze. Dabi sneered, stepping forward with a smile on his lips.
"Looking for someone, hero?" Dabi taunted, his eyes glinting with mischief as he faced Endeavor's fiery gaze head-on. The tension in the room escalated as the two powerful forces prepared to clash in a battle of wills and strength.
The room erupted. Chairs collided, villains scattered, and tense glares ignited conflict. Endeavor's flames flared in an uncontrolled burst of heat that sent panicked shouts echoing through the bar.
Himiko Toga scrambled backward, clutching her disguise, while Spinner hissed in alarm. Dabi's blue flame flickered while he was smiling and tried to steady himself. The entire room erupted into chaos as the battle for supremacy began.
Endeavor's voice grew louder, more desperate.
"I will not leave without him! I will burn this place to ashes if I must!"
Outside, Grey watched through hidden cameras, eyes narrowed with intent. The chaos he'd orchestrated was unfolding exactly as planned. He leaned forward, voice low:
"Perfect. Now, let's see what secrets emerge."
He tapped his comm device.
"Phase Three: Lab infiltration activated. Extract the files and League collaborator list. Now."