Snippet #2677588

This is absolutely absurd. What kind of school just lets students almost kill each other? The morning so far made no sense to Castle. If anything, these students had already shown off their quirks during the exams. It would’ve made more sense for the teacher to give them physical tests or something in order to reveal the current limits of their quirks… or something. This show-and-tell nonsense was simply a big fat waste of everyone’s time and Castle’s. This show-and-tell was irresponsible, and also quite dangerous considering the methods these students are calling upon. Castle moved out of her chair to make her way to the hole in the wall.

The muscular student who was sent through by the Doctor clambered and stumbled back inside the classroom. He was clearly dizzy, with a bloody gash visible on the young man’s forehead. Castle grasped the young man’s arm and lay a root-like hand on the young man’s face. “Hold still,” she said kindly, “I’ll patch you up.” Senseless morning aside, she was still a hero, damnit. The students and faculty of another class stared in befuddlement through the hole from the opposite side. The teacher appeared to have a quirk that allowed them to reshape the components of the wall, basically patching the wall up as good as new. No doubt the teacher of Class A-4 would receive some harsh criticisms from the principal in the near-future.

That was out of Castle’s root-like hands, however. She kept her grip, and the young man’s wound began to heal more rapidly, to the point where the bleeding stopped, and a perfectly healthy scab was layered over top to prevent further bleeding. Castle knew she’d need more time in order to fully heal the wound, but introductions in the class were bound to end soon and everyone would need to be seated in their desks. In the meantime, she kept by his side. “Thank you…” the young man said as he wiped the excess blood with a handkerchief, “you…” he seemed to forget the girl’s name.

“It’s Castle,” the young girl replied with an easy smile and a giggle, “Aspiring hero, but that’s what we all are, eh?”

Thank goodness the teacher decided to get his stuff together. With an air of authority, he told the students that he would lead them to the dormitories.

But Castle did, in fact, drop off her duffel bag in her dorm room. She already knew where her dorm room was. It was in House Iota, as Mr. Unbreakable announced. There was a common room with a single TV. The entertainment area had foosball, tables with chairs, sofas, and a billiards table. Billiards, thank goodness. Castle loved Billiards. Living in a hobby shop allowed the young girl to understand many a game. She also knew many different accepted house rules.

Regardless, Castle knew she left her duffel bag on one of the two beds, but she never got to unpacking. She didn’t imagine Mr. Unbreakable would like her to spend this entire homeroom unpacking, so Castle simply strolled to the stairs with a spring in her step. “Hiya!” she chirped as she passed by Mrs. Gunderson.

Inside her room, her duffel bag was exactly where she left it. There was no sign that it had been tampered with. “Well, odd start, but hero schools aren’t exactly known for standard procedure…” She spoke to no one in particular. Mr. Unbreakable probably wouldn’t approve of most people unpacking, but Castle did not pack much. Only clothes and some memorabilia. A framed photo of herself, the Werewolf, and the Falcon Fortress.

Shoved into the corner was a picture of a young man. On the back, the name attributed was “Logan Wolfe”. Castle knew Logan lived here. Maybe next time she was off-campus, she’d pay her cousin a visit.

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“Horace!” Logan called as he ran. “Pat! Horace!” The Quirkless man glanced up and down alleys as he ran. Many pedestrians gave him concerned looks.

“Something wrong, Logan?” one asked.

“Jerry, you see Horace?”

“Just a moment ago. They were taking a shortcut.” Jerry jabbed a thumb at the second alleyway ahead.

“Thanks,” Logan broke out into a sprint toward the alleyway. “Horace, I just found somethi-“

His speech cut off as he rounded the corner.

Horace was coughing up blood. The hard light shield Horace projected was cracked, and pierced effortlessly by an ancient-looking blade. Pat was trying to scream, but a slab of ice completely covered her face. Through the transluscent freeze, the woman’s face was turning blue. She was trying to slap the rings, cause some sort of noise. The rings were frozen in place. There was no sound coming. Soon enough, the arms went limp at her sides.

Logan’s feet felt glued to the ground. His eyes met the masked and heavily clothed individual. He then eyed the blade. Something was terribly familiar about it.

The figure’s head jerked around, having just noticed Logan the witness. “Oh shit.” Logan took a step back. “Oh shit oh shit oh shit!” The quirkless man turned tail and ran. “HELP! SOMEBODY CALL THE POLICE! SOMEONE CALL A HERO!” Logan burst out of the alleyway, eyes wide and quivering. He crossed the street, passing honking cars. Pedestrians shrieked at the man who was flipping out.

As it turned out, the killer did not give chase. As soon as the police and some heroes assigned to Excelsior arrived, they found nothing but the murder victims. One officer with a sharp teeth quirk offered Logan a hot coffee. “Can you tell us what happened?” His voice rumbled like tremors.

“Yeah, of course,” Logan replied. He was not unnerved by the harsh voice. The officer was, in fact, a kind-hearted man. “Horace and Pat, they dropped their car off at my shop. Soon after they left, I found the problem with their vehicle.” His hands shook as he fumbled with his phone. “I snapped a couple pics. The nature of the damage looked like sabotage. I then ran after them to tell them… but by the time I got there…” Logan put his head in a calloused hand. “I didn’t get a good look at the guy- He was covered with lots of layers- but he had this sword…”

“A sword?”

“Yeah, Horace could project hard light, but the sword cut through his shield,” Logan replied, “I could’ve sworn I saw that sword before…”

“From another murder?”

“Yeah…” Logan knew this for certain. The sword was undeniably ancient and unique in it’s design. A serpentine, flesh-coloured blade with a stone-like texture. It almost looked like it was forged out of a dismembered limb. “At least, I saw photos from the reports. It was at Perry’s… I mean, the Falcon Fortress.”

The officer’s pencil lead snapped. The officer glanced around to make sure no civilian heard. His voice lowered to a serious growl. “… Just so I’m hearing you correctly, you’re suggesting that the Crumbler is back after ten years?”

Logan did not answer. He didn’t want to say so in the public. He was afraid of causing a mass panic. The officer seemed to sense that. “Would you be able to come with me to the station? The Chief would want to hear about this.”

“Yes, of course,” Logan replied with a nod.