"Self-Hate and Self-Love

are equally self-centered"

-Mason Cooley

Muscular did not suffer a good fate by the end of the meeting. Shigaraki was not a kind man nor was he overflowing with mercy. Without another word on Deku or Muscular's part, he systematically began to use his quirk. He didn't even question Muscular further, which surprised Deku who had several contingency plans up his sleeve. It was just like he fully trusted Deku's words, but that didn't make any sense; he hated him the most out of everybody he knew. Usually, he tried to expose any and all holes, to try and mess with him, but today...

'I can only think of one thing; he's making an example. He doesn't even care if it's true or not, he just wants to put the League of Villains on a tighter leash. If it's true, then it's good; Shigaraki gets to hurt someone who dared to go against the organization. If it's false, well... That doesn't really matter either. A single combatant or a more controllable group of people around the same level. It's an obvious choice.'

Deku narrowed his eyes unconsciously, and a good majority of the villains suppressed a flinch at the sight.

Deku was certain about one thing; Shigaraki was slowly but surely growing up from his previous man-child like state. He was certain he wasn't just imagining things either. No matter what the issue was before, he'd always try to kick up a fuss like a dog with its favorite toy in its jaws. It wasn't particularly nice news, for Deku at least. The Shigaraki before was an immature brat but at least he was an immature brat that was easy to control. His reactions were easy to predict and certain words made him as moldable as putty to the experienced sculptor.

But this... This state of his was dangerous, mainly because he had no 'data' to draw from.

Now that he thought about it, Shigaraki hated Stain almost as much as he hated Deku. For him to accept all the new (fanatics) recruits without batting an eyelash or throwing a tantrum... He was growing at a scarily rapid pace. Deku continued to stare at Shigaraki, in contemplation, for the rest of the 'meeting'. He did his best to pay no attention to the figure lying motionlessly on the floor.

(He was about to kill a child, he was about to kill a child... That was what he kept repeating to himself. He couldn't deny that he had gotten soft over the past few months, but he wasn't all that discouraged about it. It meant he was regaining what little of his humanity that he had left. But it also made things like this incredibly hard. Still, it was necessary. Otherwise, all the effort that he had invested in creating his image would go to waste, as well as his plan to get out of this mess. He felt like he was betraying himself and his ideal on the highest level, but he ruthlessly swallowed down the acid trying to force its way out of his throat. Now wasn't the time.)

"Kurogiri, take him somewhere and throw him out."

"...Understood."

His eyes were a touch too wide to be fully sane, and each member got a glimpse of that madness when he looked at them. It didn't seem like it bothered them, though. Deku supposed it made sense; they were hardened criminals, after all, and had most likely seen their fair share of individuals who had a few screws loose. Kurogiri picked up Muscular's body with... disgust? It was hard to read Kurogiri sometimes, but Deku was fairly sure he was looking at the body in disgust. Although whether that was because of Shigaraki's actions or Muscular's 'betrayal' was something Deku didn't know. Shigaraki then started to talk, and Deku had a weird feeling of deja-vu. Like someone was intimidating him, but with a few awkward twists and turns in places.

"You agree with me, don't you? That incompetent or insubordinate party members should be eliminated?" His voice crackled evilly. "It only makes sense, right? We'll provide a stage for your urge to kill or your little fascination with Stain, but only if you prioritize my orders. It's a fair deal, isn't it? If you don't like it, we can always have a little... chat. It'll be fun, I promise."

'Well... That's new.'

None of the villains responded with any words, but there was a layer of caution to their stance now. Moreso than his usual mindless tantrum, or whimsical displays of violence, this was filled with intent and reason. It was much more threatening than the occasional love-corrode-your-skin-tap from Shigaraki. He focused his blood-red eyes on Compress, and the moment was over. Now, it was game time.

"I'll talk to Bakugo Katsuki, so release him."

Deku's attention sharpened to a razor fine point. This moment was crucial.

"If you don't mind, I'll give him a bit of a zap. It will work better than simple handcuffs. Although it is doubtful that he will attack considering he's surrounded by everyone here... It's better to be safe than sorry. Especially considering his rather... explosive personality."

Shigaraki looked at him with a blatant stare of dislike, but he accepted it in the end. Deku felt rather appreciative of him, really. He was expecting to have to go through a lot of trouble, but he just accepted it. It was the same with everyone else in the room, and he felt like his luck was turning around. (He missed one person though, hidden by the lack of lighting in the bar. His eyes shone with a faint hint of expectation and partially disbelieving thankfulness. He wasn't quite sure yet, but he had just been given a clue, and that was all that mattered.)

Compress flippantly rolled the marble onto the floor, and looked at Deku from the corner of his eyes before snapping his fingers as it came to a stop. His hand crackled as electricity came out to play, although he was sure its bloodlusty spirit would be disappointed. He wanted nothing more than to warn him a bit, and this was the only reasonable excuse he could think of to execute it.

Bakugo stood up, still in a daze and head pounding. He had gotten kidnapped... Kidnapped. Him.

Fuck. Damn it. Fucking weird-ass magician bastards, psycho pyromaniacs, and blood crazy bitches. He had fucking lost. Again. He was a damn damsel in distress. He didn't care whatever stupid spiel Kaminari gave him again about how 'Your opponents have only truly won if you quit' and all that nonsense. He was pretty sure there wasn't a way to come back getting fucking kidnapped. Frustration at himself and the bastards burned fiercely within his blood, but there was still a small trace of self-doubt that he was sure he had eradicated after the whole Surrendering-To-Fucking-Izuku incident.

(Seriously, what was he thinking? Just because he failed - you fucking lost! You fell short of everyone's expectations for you, you utter failure! - to win a fair match-up, he completely shut down. And it was happening again, and he didn't have time for this, the villains-...)

Right in front of him stood him. He didn't see the bastard in the forest and had been on the verge of assuming the worse, but he was here. Alive. Not hanging limply from a noose on the ceiling. Izuku Midoriya was alive. It had weighed on his mind more than he thought possible, considering that he was the dumbass that bullied him in the first place (and wasn't he a fucking joke? He caused all of that, and for what? He didn't even know). After that day... He completely changed (or maybe he just never noticed. It wouldn't surprise him).

Izuku Midoriya was strong. Izuku Midoryia was cold. Izuku Midoriya was bitter.

Izuku Midoriya wanted him dead.

So, really, it wasn't that much of a surprise to wake up and see him charging at him, a lightning bolt in hand. A part of him felt blindly frustrated at it. He was going to be the Number One Hero. He couldn't be that, or even a hero if he was dead. But another part of him, one that he had hidden deeply behind layers of arrogance, pride, and temper, was... relieved. Relieved that he wouldn't have to hold onto this damning feeling deep down inside of him. The emotion that yelled at him each and every day for making a happy-go-lucky boy (he used to be his friend) into this. A sleep-deprived, suicidal, teenage villain who had most likely murdered more than he would like to know.

Then he smiled. It wasn't filled with bloodlust, or anger, or the bitterness that had always hung around him like a cloak.

His limbs froze in place, and he felt oddly cheated.