Chapter 4: Points, Propulsion, and a Perilous Princess
In front of (Suzuki), a mass of exam participants immediately launched themselves forward, a chaotic surge of color and noise, all desperate to hunt down robots and rack up points. But he, instead of joining that frantic, leaping stampede, was waiting for something else.
But before that…
"It's time. Gear up."
The other students who hadn't yet dashed off, who had heard a distant scream they assumed was from someone a robot had swatted away, were hesitant, fearful of moving. They looked at each other nervously, then jumped in surprise at the sight of one person calmly dropping his backpack with a solid thump and starting to pull out two sets of equipment.
"What the hell is he doing?" one participant whispered, his voice tinged with confusion and a hint of scorn.
On the other side, (Suzuki) had already pulled out the gauntlets and began putting them on. These gauntlets sheathed his forearms and half of his upper arms, locking into place with a series of satisfying, solid clicks and a low hydraulic hiss. They were a matte gray, scuffed from testing, with exposed wiring and reinforced plating at the knuckles. Next, he quickly slipped on a pair of shoes. They looked like athletic trainers but with a distinct mechanical aesthetic; thick, rubberized soles with what appeared to be miniature, geared treads embedded in the bottom. He fastened the straps with a sharp snap-snap. Finally, he pulled out a helmet and put it on swiftly. Its shape vaguely resembled an inverted letter 'A', with a tinted visor that slid down over his eyes with a soft shunk.
Once he was suited up, he finally felt the weight of the other students' stares. He offered them a small, tight smile that didn't reach his eyes—a practiced expression that was more about muscle memory than emotion.
Then, he launched forward.
Because he heard the sounds he'd been waiting for.
Not the clang of metal on metal, but the sharp, human cries for help. The screams of those overwhelmed, trapped, or simply frozen in fear. That was his signal.
In one area, atop a fake communications tower, a two-meter-tall robot let out a high-pitched whirring noise, like the scream of an overworked drill, before exploding in a shower of sparks. (Bakugou) was using his explosions to fly above the robots before blasting them to scrap, his maniacal laughter punctuating each thunderous BOOM.
"JUST DIE ALREADY!" he roared, his voice a glorious, unhinged counterpoint to the mechanical carnage.
From a distance, (Suzuki) had reached the source of the first whimper he'd heard. He glanced at (Bakugou) for a fraction of a second, his expression unreadable behind the visor, before turning away to search for the cry.
It was a boy. Some rubble from a collapsed fake facade had fallen on him. (Suzuki) moved to him, his mechanically-assisted hands making quick work of the debris, heaving chunks of plaster and light framework aside with grunts of effort. The boy's body seemed to have a rubber-like quality, so he wasn't seriously hurt by the fall. Quickly, (Suzuki) helped him to his feet.
On the other side, the boy was stunned that someone had come for him. He stared at the figure in the helmet and the clearly mechanical gear. A question flashed in his mind—Are we allowed to bring our own equipment?—but he didn't have time to dwell on it.
(Suzuki) spoke, his voice filtered slightly by the helmet, calm and clipped. "Your injury isn't serious. You can move now. But be more careful."
Then, he was gone, darting towards another distress call.
When he arrived this time, he found a girl. She was trapped. It seemed she had managed to destroy a one-pointer, but in the process, had gotten her leg pinned under its wreckage. She was tugging fruitlessly at a metal limb.
(Suzuki) activated his [Hydraulic-Assist Gauntlets]. These gauntlets amplified his physical strength through a compact, fluid-based system housed within their design. It had taken him two full years of study, experimentation, and scavenging trips to the local dump—pulling parts from discarded refrigerators, eviscerated televisions, and scrap metal—to finally get the pressure ratios and power cells right. His grandmother didn't have the money to fund his tinkering; his tools were built from society's leftovers.
In a few swift moments, with a straining hiss-whirr from the gauntlets, he levered the wreckage up just enough. The girl scrambled free.
He looked into her wide eyes through his visor and said quietly, "You're not hurt. You can move, correct?"
The girl nodded mutely at (Suzuki), who didn't delay. He was already scanning for another target.
He wasn't doing this purely out of altruism. He was doing it because he was certain he couldn't rack up a high score by just defeating villains—the robots. He didn't possess the sheer, overwhelming firepower of someone like (Bakugou), who could obliterate these machines with ease. He needed different points. Points not everyone in this exam, at least at this current moment, seemed to be aware of.
Rescue points.
The points you got for saving people from peril.
These were the points, he theorized, that could allow someone who hadn't destroyed a single robot to pass. They were the secret metric, the hidden curriculum of U.A. So, (Suzuki) didn't delay. For a full half-hour, he became a blur of calculated motion, responding to every whimper, shout, and cry he could hear. He was a first-responder in a warzone of teenage ambition.
But he wasn't just rescuing. As he moved, a trio of one-pointer robots, the weakest of the bunch, skittered into an alley ahead of him, blocking his path to a calling voice.
(Suzuki) activated his other tool: [Acceleration Greaves]. These boots were equipped with an electric motor and a kinetic energy recovery system. The design inspiration was, admittedly, lifted from a certain detective's solar-powered skateboard, but the principle was sound. They could store and redirect energy for bursts of speed.
With a sharp ZZZRT-HUM, he jolted forward, his body a low blur. He dodged the three robots with extreme, almost contemptuous skill, weaving between them as their claws swiped at empty air. The other students nearby gaped at the speed.
In the same instant, they heard the boots emit a powerful THWUMP as he planted a foot, changed direction, and came to a stop behind the robots. But that wasn't all. He then used his gauntlets. The grip strength was enough to crush the weaker alloy of these basic models. A precise, devastating strike to a joint, a sharp twist, a targeted blow to a sensor housing. CRACK. SCREECH. THUD.
In a matter of seconds, three more points were his.
"He's really strong!" a bystander exclaimed.
(Suzuki) paid no heed to the praise of the other nearby students. He was already launching himself towards the next trapped voice, continuing his dual mission of rescue point collection.
But in that same moment, something unforeseen happened.
He heard it. A sound that dwarfed all others. Not the pop of explosions or the screech of metal, but deep, ground-shaking THOOM… THOOM… THOOM…
He turned his head, the servos in his neck assembly whirring softly, and looked toward the source of the vibrations.
It was a giant robot. One of the zero-pointers. The one the announcer had explicitly warned them to avoid.
And it was bearing down on a single, petrified figure.
A girl with short, brown hair stood frozen in the middle of the street, her feet seemingly glued to the pavement. She was staring up, up, up at the monolithic machine, her face pale.
(Suzuki)'s first, ignoble thought was to leave her. He assumed she was insane for not running. But in the same instant, his own body locked up for a heartbeat. He looked from the robot's relentless advance to the frozen girl, and a single, frustrated thought screamed in his mind.
"This is dangerous! What is that lunatic doing? Why isn't she moving?!"
It simply didn't occur to (Suzuki) that the girl was inexperienced, that she hadn't scored a single point, that she'd thought being a hero would be simpler. She was known for her bravery back home, but faced with this gargantuan robot, the cacophony of explosions, and the screams all around, her heart had simply seized. The sheer scale of the thing approaching her had short-circuited her nerves.
THOOM… THOOM…
The sound grew louder. Closer. The ground trembled. Other nearby students were scattering, fleeing, not giving the frozen girl a second glance.
But in the moment the zero-pointer's massive hand was poised to crush her, (Suzuki) moved.
It wasn't a heroic impulse. It was a calculation that happened in a microsecond: Letting her die is bad. Failing to act when I could is worse. My gear might handle it.
He shot forward, the [Acceleration Greaves] whining at their limit. He reached the girl in a streak of motion, wrapped his arms around her in a firm, mechanical embrace, and wrenched them both sideways.
SCREEEEE—THWUMP!
They tumbled across the pavement in a tangled heap, a split second before the zero-pointer's fist cratered the spot where she had been standing. The impact was a deafening CRUUUNCH that sent chunks of fake asphalt flying.
(Suzuki) rolled to his feet, pulling the dazed girl up with him. He set her down, giving her a slight push towards safety. "Run. Now."
But it was too late for a clean escape. The zero-pointer's immense head, with its glowing red sensor, swiveled. Its targeting protocol had been triggered. It had seen him move. It had registered the interference.
The giant red optics focused, not on the fleeing girl, but on the armored, helmeted figure who had stolen its target.
A low, threatening WHIRR-GRIND emanated from its chassis as its other massive arm began to rise.
The zero-pointer had a new objective.
And it was looking directly at (Suzuki Saito).
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End of Chapter.
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The zero-pointer is locked on! Our gadgeteer's strategy of stealthy rescue points has just blown up in the most literal way possible. Can his homemade tech withstand a monster designed to be unbeatable? What would you do in his place? Share your thoughts and theories below!