Her dull eyes fluttered as she awakened to a brightening light that she wasn't familiar with, her eyes straining and a pang erupting in her eyes that she had ignored to react to. She blinked once more, the blinding light adjusting as more spots appeared, dotting her vision until those spots formed a space, and began to blur into a form. She blinked once more wondering what it was. 

She blinked once more, before she heard the clinking of a door, which she turned her head towards the noise, not recognizing either. All around her wasn't visible, dark and scary, a primal instinct inside of her told her to fear the dark, to fear what she couldn't see. Her eyes scanned her surroundings, she was inside a box. She saw the silhouette of a smaller rectangle shape move, her eyes widened, as it suddenly lunged forward and she jerked back, only noticing the rectangle only moved a few feet from its feet when she realized it wasn't anywhere near her. What was that? It moved on its own?

She saw another moving object, and this time, it moved far faster and closer to her. She jounced backwards, falling off of something and onto a flat floor. Only then she noticed she was lying upon something that when she pressed her finger, wondering why she couldn't push her finger through the surface in this color rather than the white thing she woke up on. She then remembered the moving figure, as its footstep inched nearer and nearer, and her eyes settled on the moving thing.

An obscure shape of black was on top of the moving figure. Then small, circular blue dots surrounded in peachish skin and spots of brown dotting the edges of the oval peach shape. Black was the rectangle-ish middle, and so was the smaller, lower rectangle-ish lower part. What was it?

Muffled and garbled noises came out of the small line, as it opened up to her shock, and then the rectangular body broke into two as a smaller rectangle she didn't know attached to it moved. What was this? Fear filled the smaller figure that was crouched on the floor as she curled into a ball, another action she just seemed to have done subconsciously, but she didn't know that. She was too focused on the confusion and the animate figure that settled in front of her. 

"She woke up."

She flinched back as more noises came from it, wondering if it was communicating. What was it? 

"Come here."

It made strange sounds again! Her eyes scanned the figure once more, still seeing the same figure she saw. Then she heard more sounds! She turned her direction to the right, the rectangle moving again! And another moving figure! It was like the oval and rectangular figure from before! Only smaller, but with oval top and square middle and bottom!

Like the other moving thing, it had a dark top, as well as middle! But another color was for the bottom... it was like dark... but lighter! Lighter dark? It had a white top, but more of a circle- more like a circle! The other one was like egg... thingy... it had blue dots... but darker... darker blue dots! There were two dots... oh and another line! Very small... No browny things on peach though! 

"So she's woken up."

The smaller figure said. Oh! The line changed into a circular one! Oh, then an oval! Oh then back to a line! 

"It was about time she woken up," the second one mouthed, as she didn't really understand what he was saying. Her eyes blinked multiple times as she tried to understand harder, but all she could really hear was muffled noise, noises she couldn't comprehend and sort out in her head as her brain tried to process the noise. Her mind was fuzzy, seemingly empty, like she couldn't remember anything. Of course, having no memory of literally anything, she didn't even know what she was. Or what anything was. 

"It seems like your quirk worked. Good job. You proved yourself useful for once," the first one spoke. 

She looked between the two figures as they communicated with one another, recognizing the different tones in pitches they talked to each other, quick to be able to refer to which voice is whose. 

"Yes Father."

The sixteen year old girl couldn't understand what was going to happen to her, as she no longer had no memory of what she had remembered. 

Her dull eyes scanned the paper, which had two colorful figures. They were very familiar to her, 'Father' had reviewed this with her everyday at 'Training' Time. Whatever time that was. All she knew was that it was when the bright orange circle in the blue canvas was at the middle, and that time ended when that orange ball had disappeared into the blankets of the earth.

Father never taught her about time. When she questioned, she received a harsh slap across her cheek, red imprinting on her skin, and a pain she had learned to adjust and ignore as she didn't flinch. He told her that it wasn't part of her training, that curiosity and questioning was a sin. He never liked to repeat things, and when he did, it was to be engraved in her brain, a stamp mark on her mind, and it served or added to her purpose to Father.

She couldn't help but wonder.

Father had always been strict. He wasn't very tolerable when it came to mistakes. Father always punished her with pain. 

Pain.

She grew familiar with it, she was accustomed to it. Father wanted her to be the perfect model, the perfect 'weapon' as he said for his plan. Father wanted her to be emotionless, wanted her not to question and to obey his every order. So, she did. Father liked that about her. He said useless pawns are thrown away. Father said that she wasn't useless.

Father liked her not complaining. Father liked to look her in the eye with an armed weapon at her torso, and he liked it when she didn't blink when he pressed that trigger. Father enjoyed the silent and invisible terror in her eyes as he punished her, cutting away at her skin, leaving fresh scars, with others littering upon littering on older ones. Father liked it when she didn't jerk away when her skin began to evaporate bit by bit, a tiny cluster of her skin falling into a pile of dust and not once had she moved away. Father liked the look in her eyes simply, he said that he enjoyed the dead eyes of those he hated the most. He said he enjoyed her eyes the most. So she kept them like that. 

She decided to like pain. She liked the tearing of her skin. She liked the burning of her flesh. She liked the carvings all over her body. She liked the feeling of her throat closing up. She liked the blueness her skin got when the air would kiss her skin, breaking it away from the freezing temperatures. And she decided to like her scars too. Because Father told her he liked her more and more with each and every one she gained.

So she decided to like them too. 

Father liked her. But he never loved her. Not like Brother. Brother was different. Brother didn't like pain. Brother didn't like his scars either. Brother knew of things. He had emotions. He knew Time. He knew of Father's real name and what to say and what not to say. Not like her. She couldn't help but wonder why. 

Because Father simply loved him because of his quirk. 

Why she was chosen to be this way, she didn't know. And she wasn't allowed to know. Father didn't like her knowing. He said 'knowledge was privilege to people,' and that 'knowledge wasn't a power meant for her.' He said if she knew too much, she'd be useless. She didn't want to be useless, to displease her father, only for her head to be cut off like the rest that have.  She didn't want to be like that. Even if she wasn't allowed to know. If so...

Then she didn't want to know. 

Because Father said so. 

Everything was for Father. He said so himself. 

Father told her that she liked him too. As should all people do. She decided that as well. She decided she would enjoy each carving he traced on her bare skin, and each new bruise or cut she was given she would thank him. Father liked her for that, and only liked her for that. He said he also liked her body, and how he had created such a nice form for him. She decided to enjoy the way he touched her as well. Father seemed to have liked that very much.

But for whatever reason, she wasn't who he loved. And though she might not never get the answer for that, she decided that she would make him something he loved. Something he would cherish and show off proudly to his friends at the bar. Someone he would be able to tell her anything and know she'll be able to do it without a single word coming from his lips. She wanted her trust, the loyalty and the respect Brother had gained instead of her. 

Yet he never seemed to be pleased enough. 

"I want you to point to which one you hate," Father instructed, placing his hand on the same paper they saw every day. It had folds and creases inside it's surface, it's face covered in her and his fingerprints, some bloodied, some powdered, some nearly invisible on the paper. But it had been there. But the paper had been there for 10 years. 

She named the paper 'Friend,' because a 'friend' according to Father, was someone who was with you for a very long time. Although Father and Brother were Friends, they didn't like to be called that. 

Friend seemed to be the only thing with her that lasted. Nothing else really seemed to last. Her caretakers seemed to disappear within a few weeks of them taking care of her, never to be seen again as new ones were swapped out. The last caretaker she had was three years ago. Friend always stayed by her side, and it was the only that seemed to be able to be happy to see her. It smiled at her, well, more like the things on the figure smiled on her. 

Father first pointed to the printed character on the left. It was of a costumed male, with a very muscular body, with hair golden like the rare glimpses of the sun's rays she hardly ever saw peak through the cracks of the walls. His legs were equally distanced from each other, as his arms were raised and folded upwards, flexing his biceps. His costume, depicting what Father had said of American culture, was a sophisticated and modern mixture of lemon yellow, navy blue, pearl gray and snow white used in his hero suit. With a cloak dyed in cobalt blue, attached to the golden metallic shoulder pads strapped between his shoulder blades, she knew this was the 'Hero' Father had told her to despise. Father had told her never to mention his Hero Name in the  household, once having to receive days worth of punishment, as he taught her well his name was forbidden to utter. The only thing he would refer to that hero was 'The Symbol of Peace.'

Father had told her stories of the great hero, one who saved thousands upon thousands since his debut. She never understood why he hated the hero so much, as just from his appearance, she felt a calming, and almost hopeful kind of wishing that one day, she'd be able to recognize whatever God had in plans for her future. She didn't know what other purpose she served for Father, as Father had always preached of his own purpose, to create a balance between chaos and good. Father's purpose was to level the population, to kill those who disrupted how things should be. He killed those that were of police, heroes, or significant supporters of those sides, but he also did find enjoyment in 'eradicating filthy scum that didn't deserve to be here.' He would kill anyone and anything because he felt the need and to express how his vision of the world was. He believed there was no such thing as right or wrong. He killed anyone who disrupted peace. 'The crooks that created crimes, and the people who catch them are too much trouble for their own worth and use in today's world,' he told her. But he had an incredible distaste for the Number One Hero, because after all, he was the current biggest pillar and foundation for the superhero and supervillain civilization and society. 

The Hero's smile always captivated her, and yet, she was trained and taught to turn away from that seemingly comforting expression. 

Father then pointed to the figure on the right. With a black mask with tubes extended from the backend to the mouthpiece in front, the male was dressed in a black suit, with a white dress shirt underneath. Only his upper torso and above was displayed to her. 

Father referred to him as 'Sensei.' Father was a firm believer in the stereotype and belief of 'the weak and the strong,' and Sensei was the pillar of what symbolizes strength to him. A man who could take away the very gifts God had handed out to humanity, and also the ability to use them as his own or give them away himself, seemed like god-like powers rather than a 'Quirk.' Far too many powers came with this, and Sensei was to be soon to be feared by all. 'The name 'All For One' shall make others tremble and kneel in fear as they cower under the very servants of his,' he would chant as he told stories of how he could kill more people than All Might could ever save. He always cherished what his Sensei had taught and given him, Father spoke highly of that man frequently. 

His hand moved away, and she was left to her own decision, years and time laid upon each other that she didn't even have to look to see where her finger should shift to make Father pleased. She knew it by instinct, as this process has occurred over and over, on the same shrunken and wobbly wooden table that hasn't moved at all in all her years, the picture always remaining in the middle of the table, only having moved inches from its original spot when it was first printed before. She always saw Friend in the same state, place, and time. Using her right arm, her finger trailed over the smooth, wooden surface, pointing upwards where her index fingertip brushed against the character on the left, stopping at the middle, on the chest, making sure to have covered the smile as that was what Father hated the most about the picture. 

Father nodded simply. 

Her dull eyes glazed over the two figures in front of her, Father had explained that it was Sensei's successor and that they were to be treated with the utmost respect and authority she could possibly give. Father had taught her how to act properly in preparation for the meeting weeks before they had come to visit. 

Her eyes first skimmed over the slate-haired boy, with messy tendrils for hair, shoulder length hair with tips that just barely cascaded against his shoulders. Dehydrated and dry skin, with some scars that lingered on what parts of his collarbone was revealed underneath his baggy, jet ink black clothing, creases and lines stretching over his upper half of his face and what wasn't covered by his stray strands of hair. With a horizontal, faded scar  across his right eye, and another scar over his lips on his left side of his lips, his piercing red eyes seemed to cut through her flesh, an unconscious shiver went down her spine as he continued to glance at her, and although she didn't feel fear or anything, it was clear that he emitted a powerful aura. He seemed a couple years younger than her, Father informed her of, but he was superior over her. 

Her eyes shifted to the right of the younger male, the purple misty matter that seemed to have made up the bartender attire like a suit, where skin was supposed to be was replaced by that magenta and inky hues blended together that created the foggy cloud he was. Glowing, golden eyes was the only thing that resembled a face in the misty substance. 

She approached them, quietly bowing to them before standing up, as Father began to speak. "Shigaraki, Kurogiri, it is finally a pleasure to meet you again. Has your Sensei been treating you well?"

The younger male had chosen to ignore his question, as he gestured to her. "This is the woman?" 

"Ah- yes, that is the one. Don't be, shy dear, say hello," Father urged. 

But she hasn't spoken in years. 

She simply stared ahead, cocking her head in interest instead for a response. "She doesn't speak much still, but she is incredibly obedient. Go fetch us some tea, darling."

She nodded and walked swiftly to the kitchen, preparing three cups of green tea, as that was the most common and popular beverage. Placing the tea bags inside the cups, and pouring boiled water from the kettle, before steeping it for a minute. She returned with three tea cups in her hands, two in her right, and one in her left, bringing her guests and Father he had requested. She bowed down as she served Kurogiri and Shigaraki, and then Father. 

She observed patiently as Father took one sip of the tea. 

He spat it out quickly, before throwing the cup at her, piping hot water that had just been poured from a kettle machine spilling on her face, as well as the cup hitting under her right eye. Her left side of her face was searing and burning, but she still paid no mind to the continuously growing pain as the heat ate away at her skin, her focus going back to the cup about to fall, as she kneeled down quickly, accidentally scraping her knee in the process, but able to prevent the cup's fall to the ground. Her skin and tissue was still being teared and decayed from heated liquid, her left side quickly becoming pink, but this pain was nothing. With an aching and numbing pang coming from underneath her right eye, she was sure it was most likely a blue or purple bruise from the force Father threw at her. 

She looked up to see a smirking and pleased Father, perhaps he was glad at her injured and hurt state, but he was looking back at their guests. She felt the intense glare of the red-eyed young adult, scanning her up and down, from toe to head, and seemed to have given an approving nod. Kurogiri blinked in agreement as well. She continued to keep up her blank face, simply emotionless, even with the burning flesh and the black and blue skin, her right hand just holding onto the cup. Her eyes blinked as she stared at Shigaraki back. 

"Dear, go back and get me a Matcha tea please."

She nodded once more, and got back to the kitchen. 

Shigaraki examined the seemingly emotionless female, seeing that she had no reaction to pain, undoubtedly compliant, with swift reflexes, and from what he can assume, as well as high agility.

"What else can she do?" he asked, licking his lips as he had a feeling she would be a good addition for their plan. If she had good skills and were this obedient and unquestioning... she would certainly be a good pawn.  

"Incredible with swords, and knows all types of combats- mainly, hand to hand, trained specifically with multiple martial arts. She's an incredible masterpiece. Of course... she comes with a price..."

"Sensei will negotiate with you."

"Then it's settled."

"I'd like her then."  

She never quite asked for this. She was never allowed or able to speak a word or object, as she learned very early on from Father that anything that resisted anybody superior or higher than her was said, she would get punished. As she was always near someone of an upper rank, she had developed a habit of not speaking at all, eventually becoming mute. She has already forgotten what it's like to use her jaw muscles, losing the ability to speak with the lack of practice of uttering sounds. 

She didn't ask to be battered to this extent, her limbs and body forever aching as she was continuously trained to be immune to her pain, to break through and fight no matter what condition she was in. Whether she had broken legs, fractured wrists, or even a gaping hole in her chest, all of it, she was instructed to continue fighting and ignore the urge to just fall asleep and succumb to her injuries. Of course, after her training, she was healed, but that never fixed the empty and hollow heart inside of her as she laid in her makeshift bed. Really, it was just a mat on the cement floor, her room was incredibly bare. The little food she received, which was usually just a bowl of rice with some semi-cooked beef, left her tired, constantly. 

Her eyes scanned the ceiling, emptily thinking. Her first mission was tomorrow, but they gave her no information about it, only to give her instructions tomorrow morning. 

Why was she so empty? Why couldn't she feel? She wanted to feel something, anything... because life was truly boring and dull without them. She outstretched her arm, raising it above her head, and instinctively, reached for something, yet what was there to reach for? There was no escape for her,  no escape that would allow her to outrun from the best of masterminds and she had no reason to; this was her purpose, her reason, her destiny and fate. Why would she try to long for something else. 

There wasn't anything for her beyond this point. If there was, it definitely didn't seem so. Forever her body would ache, the scars reminding her of how she was under control and possessed by Father. The mindset that was carved onto her, the heroes and villains she was supposed to hate, there was not a single drop of hope within her that wanted her to try and escape, as this was all she had. Father said she was born for the sole purpose of serving him, and she believed him. He had never lied, and she spent her entire existence training to be his perfect puppet. She was fed, and well taken care of, there was no reason to leave. Her world had shown her there was no reason to try and escape, to find a dream and purpose of her own. Emotions? Feelings? Father had said he would have gotten rid of those nuisances. There was no need for them. 

But... perhaps, the only way of escape was when finally...

Father deemed her as useless. 

She shook her head. Father had taught her better than to think of useless thoughts. Besides, he would never throw her away, he promised that he would love her once she had served her purpose for him. And she would. Father doesn't lie, and she knew Father would treat her just like he would to Brother, like a treasured trophy deemed to be worthy for her to stand by his side. She would be placed on the same level as Brother, and she would be loved by him. 

And she would be loved.

And then, she'll be able to feel again. 

Her dull eyes blinked. She stood by the side of the black misty matter recreated into a more human form, Kurogiri stared back at her with his golden gaze, his large, foggy yellow eyes glancing at her from the side, as they both stood and waited patiently in the alleyways of Musutafu, where the sky was dyed in jet black ink, not a single ounce of some other color mixed in it, like how she would used to see it when she looked at the sky before. Her eyes gazed away from the sky, and returned back onto the dark and shadow-covered ending, waiting and watching for someone to enter the alley. 

Her eyes scanned across the area but her feet never moved, not without permission from her temporary master, Kurogiri, who had ordered her not to move anywhere. She observed the buildings that surrounded her, the first time she had seen brick walls around her, and the not-so-quiet chatter that travelled around in the busy streets. Bright city lights could be seen from across the street, and the headlights of what she believed was what Father called 'a car' zoomed by, then another. They varied in color, from vivid red, to pitch black, then to milky and dull white. Another gray car had speeded past them, and her mind was silently exploring each and every new sensation. From just a breath of air, she could already tell the air was polluted and filthy, and from a glance, the city's streets weren't the cleanest either, as she kicked away at some dirt and mud that was found under her boots. 

Her chest and shoulder raised as she took in a deep breath, relishing in the air like it had a flavor, enjoying a new and different area she had never been allowed to venture through. Her only friend was silent, but even that had to go too, but it came back often. She learned a lot of things, like that silence was only one of her many friends. She had never seen such filth, and she was taught to shower herself two times a day, before and after training, so Father wouldn't view her as unsanitary. Father only liked her when she was perfect, and that meant she would have to be cleaned. 'Her hands can only touch anything if they weren't covered in dirt or sweat,' Father had said once and had only needed to repeat once more, never repeating again, and only proceeding to punish her if she did. 

The new area was so foreign, and though she wanted to explore it, as curiosity was ever so cruel, she had suppressed that urge multiple times, no matter how hard it was to. Her order was to stand here and wait, and she would do that until the black misty matter recreated into a person told her otherwise. And so, she stood, and waited, for minutes, and then an hour, and then another.

Her hand stretched backwards to scratch the back of her neck, itching it and grazing her fingertips across the smooth, cold surface of her sheath for her sword, practicing her grip on the handle as her hand shot towards the end of her sword, but never pulling it out. Kurogiri had told her she would only need to do so if he had told her to do so. She let out a sigh, not knowing how much longer she would have to wait, until her ears perked up as she heard a soft thumping from nearby. She recognized it as the sound of when someone was coming, as she realized that sound was when Father was coming close and entering her room. It grew louder and louder as it drew near, and then she realized there were multiple people nearing. At least three, she counted mentally. 

Her eyes were fixed on the entrance of the alleyway, and then she saw the three figures enter, coming in a line of a trio, walking side by side with each other. The first one which walked on the left side of the group had blue, spiky hair, with tinted glasses, and a buttoned leather jacket that covered the white T-shirt underneath. The ripped sections and and features on his bluish pants, she examined and then realized that was just the design of the clothing. He was a very tall, and lean but muscular figure, but he hardly intimidated her; Father had taught her she should fear no one she was told to fight. These were her soon to be opponents, but Father insisted on calling them 'prey' or 'victims.' 

The middle, which seemed to be the leader as he walked slightly in front, had dark ravenette ear length hair, his hair brushed to the right of his face, casting a small shadow over his cedar eyes. Sporting a simple sports jacket with nothing to cover his buff form, his trained and muscled form shown underneath. Baggy black leggings covered his leggings, and she noticed a glint hit her eyes, as she observed the earrings of the person. His hands were stuffed in his pockets as he marched forward. 

A brunette young male was on the right side, with caramel gems, and was noticeably shorter than the rest, as the two others were at least six feet, while this one was no more than five feet and five inches, in a simple outfit of a tanktop and some shorts despite the chilly weather. Compared to her hooded shirt, and her loose and flexible pants that provided her unneeded warmth, the boy was underdressed, but she had no right to judge. 

"You're two hours late," Kurogiri spoke, narrowing his eyes as the crooks stopped in front of them, about six meters away. 

"Ah- whatever misty. We're here. What ya want to chit chat about, eh?" the ravenette asked, with a thick foreign accident, that she could barely just understand. 

"Ye, what's with the chick?" another said, their eyes meeting on hers, and smirking.

"We're going to discuss matters about joining the League of Villains. You are going to join us. We would appreciate and would be grateful for your assistance," Kurogiri stated. "As for the female, she is just a mere assistant, in case anything goes unwanted. Do not mind her while we are negotiating." 

"Hmm... ya want us to join yer? What's the catch? There no catch, i'there? How would we help y'all?" 

"We will pay you a thousand. It is only one job we would need. You could continue to stay in the League of Villains if the plan goes successful."

"One thousand? Whatcha say, boys?"

"We want more!" one spurted out, with greediness in his eyes, and drenched in his voice and tone. 

"What about the chick?! Give us the chick!" the red-haired male yelled out loud. 

Kurogiri's body shifted as he replied with, "I'm afraid she's not available for trade. She is a valuable member of our team, she cannot be given away as she is our property and possession. Our league relies heavily on her for future tasks. We cannot trust or afford for her to be given away to you. Perhaps we raise the pay, 5,000 to you three?" 

"Nah, we want the chick, misty. Give us the chick, and we'll join y'all. C'mon, you could afford that right? She's just a chick after all," the leader chuckled, gesturing his hand for her to come to his side. She did not obey, as she stood firmly beside Kurogiri, who simply narrowed his eyes. 

"I apologize, but you cannot have her. We would need to propose something else to trade."

"Fine, just one time with the chick? C'mon... just give us one day 'er, and she's back to ya again. We'll pay y'all."

"I'm afraid I would have to deny that bargain. Anything else?"

"Give us ten grand then," the ravenette haired younger male replied with, gritting his teeth when he couldn't request for her anymore. 

Kurogiri shook his head once more. 

"Fine. We could 'are less about yer stupid league. Let's go boys."

"Are you sure you don't want to join?" 

"Yea," the male replied, turning around on his heels and proceeding to walk back to the entrance of the alleyway, exiting from the way he came from, with the two other boys following close behind him. She and Kurogiri continued to gaze and watch their movement until they were fully out of their sight, before the misty figure turned to her. 

He uttered two words. 

"Kill them."

She could only nod as she unsheathed her blade quickly, before her legs raced towards them, sprinting at them with speed and the malice to kill them, her footsteps quiet as they followed the three men quietly from behind. Her arm outstretched with the blade in her right hand, rushing past the breezy wind, her dark clothes camouflaging her as her clothes blended into the dark and dim city streets. 

Her mission was to kill anyone that denied their requests to join the League. And she would serve that mission. For Father. So that he could love her, and finally treat her as worthy enough to walk by his side, to be more than just a servant in his plan, and so she could be considered in his 'family' finally. Maybe if she completed her missions, she would be able to feel loved- and like what she had always wanted, the ability to feel just like every other human- Father, Brother, Tomura, and Kurogiri.  She wanted to know what it was like to be treated as something other than just a pawn to someone's game, how it felt to be human and have her own thinking and free action. Once she had found that ability, she would find her own purpose for herself, and then...

Then she'll figure that out for herself.

Unfortunately for her, her sneak attack didn't go as planned, as at the last minute, one of the figures she was tailing behind quickly, had turned around and spotted her form lunging at them. Barely having just dodged sharp, thin and compact chunks of ice, she had attracted the unwanted attention of the two other figures, who were quick to try and attack her. Before she could react, a blow had landed to her side, making her grunt as she flew a few feet away from them, then receiving another hit at her side, making her tumble into the streets, with a rushing flood of light coming towards her as a vehicle approached her, at a speed that was too fast to stop as it braked. She quickly got up, and jumped backwards, flipping in the air, and landing on the road with her legs outstretched and her five fingers supporting her as her fingertips brushed against the concrete, her other hand holding tightly onto her weapon from behind her crouched form. She saw a blur zoom behind her, in which she reacted quickly to, turning around and plunging her sword into the air. The sharp blade thrusted into the lower torso of the ravennette leader of the group, quickly pulling it away from his shock and in-pain form. Another wave of lights came coming for her from behind, as she quickly evaded from the coming vehicle once more, rolling to the side as she heard a wet quench, following some cracking and snapping as it had managed to run over the dying body. Red liquid sprayed around the ground, some managing to have gotten on her leggings, but her focus wasn't on the now deceased body anymore.

Her attention then searched for the two other figures, as it seems like the most problemsome of the three had been eliminated. A speed quirk, though was powerful, could easily be counterattacked and predictable if the user isn't very clever or creative. The other one, some kind of quirk relating or involving ice, she wasn't exactly sure, but the final one has yet to show itself. 

The shortest of them began to lunge at her, attempting to deliver a punch to her face, in which she was able to dodge effortlessly, counterattacking by swinging her blade at him, which she had just narrowly miss, but his movement on trying to juke out of the blade's direction, made his knees buckle, and he fell on the floor. She towered over him, raising her blade as the male before her trembled and cried out in fear. 

The third one stood in fear, too paralyzed to react as he watched his two companions slaughtered mercilessly from this one figure in black, the female he just desired and lusted for not even five minutes ago. He knew if they could be killed this easily, he didn't stand a single chance, even with his quirk. He knew from those cold eyes, the same eyes a serial killer would have, had the intention and desire of not sparing one bit of his life or soul, and that his fate was sealed the moment he walked into that alleyway. She made him cower and shake in horror as she bolted towards him faster than what his eyes could see, and suddenly, his face was met with the point of the blade. 

He was going to die. 

"Murderer!" an unknown voice in her head roared at her, making her stop with just the tip touching her foe's nose. She stopped at the sudden thought, knowing that it wasn't her own thoughts. This wasn't her thinking, this wasn't her words. So whose was it? Her mind began to race as she began to wonder and search for whoever or whatever could be reaching for her in the depths and corners of her memory, recollecting whose voice it could possibly be. 

But she had never heard that voice before. So whose could it be? It was foreign and unfamiliar to her, yet for some unknown reason... it seemed so close, like she knew it by heart and she would know the owner of the voice from anywhere, but she couldn't place the name, and she continued to dig into her past to see what she could remember, but what she found was empty. All she could remember was the training, her interactions with Father, nothing else. How was she born? Father had never told her, but she knew that babies weren't pulled out of thin air, or fell from the sky like precipitation did. She knew that over time, the babies grew into bigger, smarter, and stronger versions of themselves, and she definitely was not just suddenly born. How was it that she couldn't remember the process of when she was born.

Perhaps... her memory was erased. Perhaps she was glitching, her mind was glitching, and she had suddenly remembered something of her past.

She shook her head. Father told her not to believe in such foolish things. She raised her sword again so she could make this final and last blow quick. The point raised above the head of the male, but decided to locate the tip somewhere else, centering it in his chest, and then she thrusted her blade, aiming for his heart to steal another one's life. 

"Murderer."

"I'm disappointed. You didn't finish your mission, you didn't kill all three men. The one that has managed to flee had reported the murder of his two other friends. You failed. You didn't do what you were ordered. Perhaps you can explain yourself?" Father said as he stood over her kneeled form. Her head remained still, facing the floor as her body was keeled over her legs, her forehead touching the floor, her outstretched to beside her face. 

Father was not at all pleased when she had allowed the red-haired male escape and ran to the police station, fearing for his life and insisted the police had also taken him into custody for joining the small gang so that she couldn't harm him anymore. However, the criminal was too stupid in not informing them about the League of Villains and his gang's conversation with Kurogiri, only about the murder. 

"No explanation. I see. This recalls punishment. Do not make the same mistake again."

She could only nod. 

A/N: HOLY SHITTTTTTTTTTT I AM BACK GUYS. GLAD TO BE FUCKING BACK!

Also. Please vote and comment :D and I appreciate the support from over the time I started uploading the book. Hopefully the wait was long enough. How did you like this perspective? Finally a perspective that isn't Shota's!