"Sometimes you climb out of bed and you think,

I'm not going to make it.

But you laugh inside-

Remembering all the times you've felt that way."

-Charles Bukowski

(Did I mention how much I love this guy? It doesn't really have anything to do with the chapter, but oh well. ;3)

The room was alight with fraught tension, smoking with disdain, animosity, and arrogance. The main source was two men; one with a peculiar shade of white hair, the other with darkened, perhaps burned, patches of skin accentuated with piercings of steel. They had only just met, and yet they had a rather distinct dislike for each other. But if one merely only paid attention to those two, they would find themselves at the sadistic mercy of the python lurking in the dark.

She was a girl with blonde hair, pinned up in a messy bun. If you only looked at her outermost appearance, then many would have called her the picture of innocence; just a bubbly schoolgirl on her way home from school. Yet, this seemingly adorable, harmless girl would not hesitate to stab you if she thought that for whatever reason you'd look good in blood. Your own blood, to be precise.

The gray-haired, middle-aged man behind her didn't seem to have any combat ability, but it didn't seem to matter with him. He built his safety on money and intelligence, a more faulty aspect to sustain oneself on than sheer combat ability, but it was a lifeboat all the same. The craftsmanship of his boat, in fact, seemed to be more intricate and well-designed than that of many people who lived and died on their ability to kill.

The final member was noticeably different from the others in the room, whether it be in appearance or presence. He was quite literally made of fog, except for a few select locations on his body, with an almost invisible quality to his presence. He wasn't domineering, disdainful, or slightly crazy, he was just there. But this invisible quality had an edge to it; he wasn't to be taken light of either.

All in all, if these people were gunpower, and their dislike for each other was the fuse, there likely wouldn't be a room to be in. The man with burns and eyes as blue as sapphire was the first to strike the match mockingly against the powder, yet it didn't explode.

Not yet anyway.

"So it's you, huh? I saw a picture of you, but you look gross in person."

The girl with a messy bun started to talk immediately after, unknowingly (or maybe she did know) smothering the sparks.

"Wow, the hand guy! You're friends with the great Stain, right? Right? Let me join, too! The League of Villains!"

The white-haired, white hand wearing man did not take well to their statements.

"Kurogiri, get rid of these guys! Everything I hate came together in one set. A brat, and a rude guy."

"They came all this way to visit, so let's at least hear them out, Shigaraki Tomura. That big info broker brought them, after all. Most importantly, he is currently on his way. It would be prudent to at least wait until he has come to make a decision-."

That was the wrong thing to say, considering the white-haired man's hatred with the one about to arrive. If his dislike towards the burned man was a candle, his hatred of him would be a fiercely burning torch. Ever since he had come, he had respectively intimidated, awed, and enraged by him in equal portions. He completed every mission successfully, and if he did fail, it wasn't because of his personal failings, but rather a problem with the plan itself. He was a bastard that no-one could break the composure of, with a heart as cold as ice. Not even promises of death or intimidation could crack him. He was incredibly manipulative, knowing just exactly the right strings and pitches to pluck on the human heart, convincing them that their actions were for themselves, but in reality, they benefited him the most.

Most importantly, he was incredibly similar to... Sensei. It was like they were a carbon copy of each other: intelligent, strong, and charismatic... Even the way they talked was similar! Sometimes it seemed like he was his successor, not him. The one who was officially recognized by Sensei. Hence, those words were the worse thing Kurogiri could have said, despite the logic and rhetoric behind them. If the previous attempts at making Shigaraki mad were harmless-unable-to-start-matches, then this was adding gasoline to an electric fire.

His hand landed on the part of Kurogiri that was not entirely fog, crumbling a portion of his skin off. He stopped at just a layer of skin, though. Despite the incredible rage piled up deep inside of him, he still had some degree of sanity. Not compassion for a fellow ally, but rather a cold, unemotional line of thought that knew Kurogiri's quirk would be a hard one to replace. That was the only reason.

"Since when were his opinions necessary? Just because he's a self-proclaimed strategist? I make the decisions around here, Kurogiri. And if I say to make them leave, I mean to make them leave. Do you understand?! His input is not needed beyond anything of strategic importance!"

"...Understood."

"Good."

The tension increased to a boiling point as the mood swung from its earlier fragile amiability to full-on alertness and hostility. Every person was now staring at Shigaraki like how one would stare at bomb about to go off any second. The slightly crazed look in his eye didn't help matters any.

"Well? What are you waiting for, Kurogiri? Just looking at them worsens my mood further."

That had the duo starting to feel the bubbles of irritation within them, although it didn't show up on their faces. The white-haired man child had been outright dismissing their presence the entire time, and being forced to listen to his taunts time and time again would have made even the most saintly person alive irritated, let alone these two 'outlaws'. Well, perhaps the girl was an exception. In the background, the silver-haired middle-aged old man heaved a sigh, before deciding to take a tiny risk.

High risk meant high rewards, after all. He was sure Kurogiri would mind coughing up a few extra pounds if he solved this problem.

"You can make the decision yourself, but shouldn't you let them introduce themselves first? I can guarantee their combat ability. That is what you're searching for, right? Surely it wouldn't be too much of a bother to listen to them before they go."

"...Fine."

It seemed like he had come back to his senses, just a little, going from over the edge back to irritated.

"First, this cute high school girl," His hand waved around like he was introducing an auction product to an unenthusiastic audience. "Her name and face were kept under tight wraps by the media, but she's on the run as the suspect in a series of deaths by blood loss."

"I'm Toga! Toga Himiko! It's hard to live! I want the world to become an easier place to live in! I want to become Mr. Stainy! I want to kill Mr. Stainy! So let me join the League of Villains, Tomura-kun!"

The older man coughed a bit to disperse the awkward atmosphere.

"I don't get her. Is she crazy?"

"She can hold a conversation for the most part. I'm sure she'll be of use," His head swiveled over to the man with burns, and it felt like the next item in an auction was being announced. "Next, this guy over here. He hasn't committed any flashy crimes, but he holds fast to the Hero Killer's ideology-."

"I'm uneasy about this. Does this organization really have a just cause? You just skinned your friend over there. All he did was raise a valid point, although I don't have very much hope for this 'him' you're talking about with the average sanity level being like... this."

The person in question didn't even really get offended by the contents of the insult; it was a perfectly normal thing to do in his mind. It was an entirely natural thing to punish someone when they've wronged you, wasn't it? That was his thought process. What he did take offense to was his tone and the fact that he did not tell him his name.

"You-! You can't even do an introduction correctly, huh? Give your name first. You're an adult, right?"

"I currently go by Dabi."

"That's not what I want to know. What's your real name?"

"I'll tell you when it's time. Anyway, I will carry out the will of the Hero Killer."

The air turned incredibly menacing in a split second.

"...You don't have to say what you haven't been asked. Jeez, everyone's so hung up about Stain, Stain... I don't like it."

Everyone in the room felt a chill travel down their spines at the next words he uttered.

"I don't feel good... You're all no good!"

He sprung forward with arms poised and ready to corrode. His one visible eye had more sclera visible than actual iris; blood vessels enlargened and wiggled in an attempt to circulate more blood, resulting in a visible pink-tinted white color. Alongside the original red color of his eyes, he looked like an invincible, mad demon ready to feast on the flesh of his enemies. The intimidation factor was incredible, but they showed no signs of being affected; Dabi ignited the barest hints of blue fire, shielded by smoke, and Toga whipped out a knife with incredible speed and finesse. In fact, she looked like a crazed demon of her own making as she ran forward with a smile on her face.

However, in the end, they didn't even cross blades instead finding their own attacks funneled into a purple, foggish portal.

"Shigaraki Tomura, please calm down. If what you wish is to come to pass, then we must increase the organization's numbers. We should not be rejecting them, but receiving them," His head extended far beyond the boundaries of the human physique as he whispered in his ear. "I believe you gave the go-ahead to mention him when speaking of strategic importance; this is what he told us about from the beginning. We just failed because our numbers lacked strength. But these people... They have the strength. You must use it, all of it... Or else the dream you aspire to will not come to pass."

He waved Kurogiri away, and with a hoarse, soft voice that might as well have been a scream, he said:

"Shut up."

No one called out to him on his way out, likely not wishing to be lashed out at. Once could be a momentary loss of control, but twice was indicative of a person's personality. Unless that person was a masochist of some kind, they wouldn't go out of their way to provoke an uncontrollable biting dog. They'd just ignore it until it pissed someone off, and sealed its own fate. There were many in this world that had a higher standard of power than a dog, after all. (What was sad was that most of the residents of this world were comparable to ants.)

The door slammed behind him with a bang, only to be opened once more a split second later. It wasn't Shigaraki.

It was a green-haired, red-eyed, tall teenager with an aura of wisdom and intelligence.

Many know him by the name, Deku, but no one knows his true name. (That wasn't quite right; there was one man and one teenager who knew the truth. But who's counting?) No-one ever bothered with the task, brushing it off to the side in favor of his skills. He was just Deku.

Just a villain.

"Ah, Shigaraki has done something again, hasn't he? You have my sincerest apologies. My name is Deku, and I assume you two are the potential recruits? I am the strategist of this little rag-tag group. If you wouldn't mind my saying so, would you still be interested in joining?"