CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Rio woke up with a dull ache pounding against his skull. It wasn't unbearable like the torture he had gone through earlier—just a shitty sensation, like a particularly nasty hangover.
He blinked slowly as his vision swam in and out of focus, the bright overhead lights blinding him.
"Where am I?" His voice came out raspy and hoarse, a sign of the ordeal his body had been put through.
He looked around. Metal walls. Not a single window in sight. The air was musty and dry. The only notable feature was a glass wall just beside a door.
They're watching us.
It was a one-way mirror, Rio surmised. He tried to recall the events from a few hours back… a day? He didn't really know. There was no frame of reference—for all he knew, they could have been out of it for a week.
For now, Rio was content to slow his breathing, feign drowsiness, and observe.
The sound of footsteps from across the room proved his decision correct. A cluster of them—some hurried, others confident.
Now, if Rio were the one setting up a secret room filled with kidnapped kids, he'd have made sure to soundproof the space to restrict the flow of information. They were underestimating him if they thought he wouldn't take advantage of their missteps.
The metal door creaked open.
"This batch is all high quality," one of them cheerfully exclaimed.
Researchers—their white lab coats gave away their profession.
Another scoffed. "Master will be pleased; their quirks will be worth a fortune."
Fortune. That word tripped alarm bells in his mind.
Are they working for the same person who stole Sensei's quirk?
Rio tried to tap into the well of energy within him—and failed.
The collar on his neck and the shackles on his arms painted out a grim possibility.
These are quirk-suppressing collars—advanced tech, the type possessed only by Tartarus and reserved for high-profile criminals.
These were the real deal. A controlled item, accounted for and monitored by national authorities. Even the police were only allowed to use them after signing hundreds of forms and securing a warrant.
How the hell did these guys get their hands on not just one, but seven?
How powerful were the people involved with this?
A sharp snapping sound broke him out of his thoughts.
Kiba hurled himself at the nearest researcher. He closed in on the man, teeth bared, growling—his intent to rip out the man's throat was evident.
But the researcher didn't even flinch.
Kiba froze mid-air, twitching violently as blue electric currents danced across his skin and through his muscles, dropping him like a bag of bricks as he howled in agony, twitching on the floor like a broken doll.
Rio's eyes widened as he watched Kiba howl miserably, rolling on the floor and writhing in agony. Veins threatened to pop out on his temple, but he suppressed that reaction—and with it, his rage—before it could show on his face. The researchers hadn't noticed him stirring yet. That was his leverage. He couldn't afford to waste it.
Rio tried to assess the situation as rationally as he possibly could.
He was shackled, with his hands cuffed behind his back, his ankles restrained, and his quirk sealed behind the collar. He had no inkling of the number of guards outside or even what weapons and quirks they possessed.
Shit, he didn't even know where the hell he was.
This was spawning in at hell difficulty.
For the first time since awakening his powers, Rio genuinely considered the possibility of dying. Not in some poetic display of selflessness and sacrifice. Not in a glorious battle that would decide the fate of the world. Just butchered and experimented on, while his quirk and body got sold to the highest bidder.
And the worst part?
Everyone else would die too… because he was too weak to change anything.
The fear wrapped itself tightly around his chest, squeezing every breath from his lungs. He was so young. There was so much he didn't know, so much he hadn't explored.
Shit, he hadn't even started living, and his life was about to be snuffed out.
Not only that, but the fear of letting everyone down—his mum, his grandmother, his brother, Sensei—he was never going to see them again.
He had even dragged Himiko into this mess. She could have stayed behind on the steps of the center. Her parents would be picking her up, and she'd be back home.
Then Himiko stirred, letting out a soft groan.
It was like cold water had been dunked on top of Rio's head. He finally managed to calm down and truly began to assess the situation.
Since he had decided to play at being a hero with Himiko earlier, he would see it through to the end. He would save all of them.
Rio decided to forget about the handicaps he was placed under and tried to tally his advantages.
His eyes glanced over to Kiba, who had stopped convulsing and was now sleeping peacefully on the floor.
His earlier display of speed and ferocity had shown him one crucial detail: the collars couldn't suppress mutant quirks. That meant Kiba hadn't lost his strength.
Rio turned towards Kenji, who leaned against the wall in similar shackles and was passed out. The occasional twitch of his ears gave Rio the information he needed to know—Kenji was awake, and all his bestial senses were still active.
Daiki, on the other hand, was snoring, clearly sedated to hell and back. It seemed the people who held him captive had accounted for his durability with heavy drugs. Smart, but Daiki wasn't so dangerous without his burrowing quirk.
They were the most valuable assets he had on hand.
Kenji's enhanced senses could sniff out enemy numbers and positions.
Kiba would lead the charge, taking down any enemies with brute strength and agility.
If Daiki could wake up, then he could tank anything the enemies threw at them.
Rio scanned the room again. Looking out the still-open door, he spotted a metal vent high on the corridor wall. It was small enough to fit the rest of the squad—good enough to serve as an escape route. A single armed guard was stationed in the corridor, patrolling lazily.
The researchers were visibly relaxed, chatting idly, believing all their test subjects were down for the count.
They may have gotten used to having their specimens give up hope, the shock collars and quirk suppressants seemingly like a mountain too high to scale.
That complacency would be their undoing.
Rio's plan was forming, slowly but surely. The kind of plan that would require precise timing, perfect coordination, and a whole lot of luck.
The world narrowed into focus as Rio's senses sharpened. His quirk was still dormant—commanding it to move even slightly was difficult, like his energy that had been moving as smoothly as water in a pipe had turned to thick sludge.
He couldn't access the rest of his techniques with it, but there was still one he could manage. The very first one he had ever refined.
'The World'
With it, time was basically stopped. He couldn't interact with the world in that still time, but the spatial awareness—the ability to see movements before they happened, to read intent through muscle tension and breath—remained.
The ultimate state of understanding. And with complete understanding, his plan would never fail.
He had all the keys to make it out alive. He just had to string them together.
It was time to use the power of friendship.
Author's Note: Sorry, I slept off. It's kind of a good thing though, since midnight data plans are super cheap. I can't afford data during the day. I had been working on this since Wednesday and I had been writing the outline, but I got stuck.
Rio is a smart kid—a genius, even. Sadly, I, the writer, am not. I put him in a situation so despairing that I couldn't think of any way to free him from his predicament. It was only yesterday, while taking a shit, that I came to realize: he wasn't alone. He could leverage his friends' abilities to get out.
A big win for the power of friendship, baby!