The stretcher rolled over a bump and the doctor swore.

- Watch out for the body !

There was a flash of white lights interspersed with red patches.

The stretcher rolled straight on for twenty meters, then turned right - for five meters - and left twice - for five meters each.

One of the two stretcher-bearers went to open the heavy door, and the doctor cursed his incompetence before going to help him.

In the end, it was the other assistant - one hand on my ankle and the other on the stretcher - who had to go and help him, spurred on by the repeated cursing of his superior.

The doctor called them incompetent and returned to my level.

He put two fingers in front of my nose and felt my pulse. He leaned forward and a smell of talcum powder and something unpleasant, pungent, like rotten eggs, rose to my nose.

Sulfur.

He remained motionless for a few seconds, frozen above my body, waiting for the sign of something that wasn't coming. A drop of his sweat fell on my cheek.

The doctor stood up.

- What are you waiting for? Push that stretcher in!

The wheels screeched against the floor.

The door slammed, and I felt the two assistants push a metal cart beside me.

The doctor clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

- Put that away, we're not operating on him now.

- But with all the blood he's lost...

A very slight puff of wind bloomed on my face, and I pictured the doctor brushing off his assistant's remark with one hand.

- Nonsense! This body has survived worse. We'll just extract some of the blood All for One injected into it so it can heal a little, then leave it there until All for One is fit to take over it.

All for One's blood acts as a poison.

The doctor pushed a lock of my hair away from my face in an almost reverent gesture.

I forced myself to remain as motionless as a corpse.

- You, bring me an IV and a syringe. And you, get me a needle and sutures.

The doctor took a few steps away. There was a sound of running water, then latex slapping against skin.

The doctor returned and I imagined a surgeon's mask over his nose, his hands gloved and raised, waiting for his assistants to finish preparing the equipment.

The smell of sulfur made the air hot and unbreathable.

- Aren't we going to anesthetize him?

- Shut up and give me that

The assistants fell silent and obeyed.

The doctor placed infinitely delicate fingers on my pierced belly.

- Wonderful, truly wonderful," murmured the doctor, Not a single organ has been damaged.

I strained my ear, carefully registering the order in which he took the instruments to 'siphon' me.

The pain barely made me grit my teeth - the doctor was gentle, and I'd been through far worse.

- There, that's enough.

The doctor stepped back and I heard the sound of latex slapping against skin again - I imagined him taking off his gloves.

- Clean this up.

He left and the door slammed behind him.

A few seconds passed before the two assistants sighed together.

- Clean it up, imitated one in a nasally voice.

- One day, I swear...

There was silence, and I imagined them exchanging a knowing smile over my open body.

- We can't leave this kid with his guts hanging out to dry...

There was a sound of crumpled clothes, and I guessed the second assistant was shrugging.

- The doctor said he was strong and it wouldn't be a problem.

- I know, but look at him. What is he? Sixteen years old? Seventeen? What did he do to get here?

The other didn't answer. He moved away and turned on the tap, no doubt to rinse some instruments.

- I think we should sew him up

Astonishment would have made me look at him twice if I weren't in a state of deep lethargy.

The latter spoke in an indifferent voice:

- You know what's going to happen when the doctor sees...

- I... We can't leave a kid belly-up like that. He could die before we could do anything.

The second man murmured.

- Maybe it would be better for him

I don't think the first had heard.

- I'll sew him up.

He moved away, opened a cupboard door and pulled out some instruments.

He returned a few seconds later and placed the tools on my stretcher, next to my body.

I mentally prepared myself for the pain, tensing my muscles to keep as still as possible, clenching my teeth so tightly I could have broken them.

The assistant set to work as the pain exploded throughout my body.

*

I groaned as I straightened up, placing a hand on my stomach.

A green light burst forth and seeped, as if sucked, into my skin.

The ends of the seams melted away to become one with my healed skin, but most of the wound remained as it was.

I'd wanted to experimentally siphon off what was left of All for One's blood, but the other had stitched me up beautifully and I didn't want to risk reopening and spilling my guts on the operating table.

I groaned, the pain burning like wildfire in my belly.

Drinking like a camel from the spout of the faucet soothed my throat as dry as sand, but did nothing to soothe the rest.

I ran my forearm over my burning forehead, wiping away the icy sweat that beaded there.

My hands criss-crossed in the shadow clone's sign, but nothing appeared, not even a cloud of smoke.

My experimental version of the special Juurokuchuu Shibari had drained my energy faster than I'd thought.

I forced myself to my feet, probing my clothes until I found a few kunais they'd failed to retrieve.

I pulled two blades from my boots, grabbing them in a reverse grip.

With what chakra I had left, I'd only be able to improve my physical abilities or even make a Chidori or two.

I still had enough left in my Quirks to roast a few sons-of-bitches.

I smiled wickedly, thinking back to All for One and the way he'd put his foot on the back of my neck as if I were his dog.

I'm going to get the hell out of here and make sure you pay for this very, very dearly.

I'd once killed a whole squad of men with a screwdriver and a chidori.

My eyes went back to the camera in the corner, through which only my minor genjutsu could be seen.

Let's see what I can do with two knives and enough power to turn this base into an ice prison.

*

The door swung open, the hinges exploding in a spray of metal.

The four men - dressed in white - seated around a table, a deck of cards in hand, barely had time to look up.

A fountain of blood spurted from the open throat of the first as he collapsed on the table. The other three fell back in their chairs, arms flailing, eyes raised to the ceiling and mouths hanging open in unfinished prayer.

Dripping with sweat, I crouched down, scanning my surroundings and ready to throw my knife at any sign of life I missed.

Kenzei died for less.

Slowly, I straightened up, loosening my muscles slightly. I mopped my forehead with a sleeve before striding over to the table. Tucs and a carafe of water sat in the center.

If the cookies had been splattered with blood, the water, if not for the carafe itself, was unscathed.

I took it in one hand and drank the two liters in great gulps, my eyes darting suspiciously from left to right.

I put down the empty decanter, fighting the migraine that came over me by blinking rapidly. I shook my head at the black spots, trying to regain my senses.

All for one's blood acted like a poison to inhibit my senses and prevent me from healing, but that couldn't mean it would stop me doing what I knew best - killing.

Besides, it wasn't as if I needed to see the faces of those whose throats I was slitting.

My head spun so fast my neck muscles almost snapped.

Two people were walking down the corridor.

I waited, silent, tightening my grip on my blades.

The second they were too close to miss the smashed door, I sprang forward.

I could see them blink stupidly, widen their eyes, before they became frightened.

Beneath my feet, the cement wall I'd jumped on cracked, cracks spreading in all directions.

In a flash I was upright in the corridor, streams of blood dripping down my kunais.

Behind me, their two bodies crashed to the ground with a thud.

The little cart they'd brought with them creaked before rolling into the growing pool of blood.

I barely glanced over my shoulder, my attention already focused on the next step.

I still have two rooms to clean on the east and the-

And that's when, inside the cart, lying carelessly against the grate, I noticed two plastic bottles filled with ink.

My brain paused.

And then my left hand began to shake.

*

Ochaco and Neito stared at each other.

He didn't even have time to open his mouth before the girl burst into tears, clutching his T-shirt with both hands.

Monoma, eyebrows furrowed, took a step back, but Ochaco didn't let go.

- I- I went to see Denki for- for-

She hiccupped and sniffed, tears bigger than pearls rolling down her cheeks. Green snot clogged her nostrils, bubbling up with each new exhalation.

Neito, disgusted, took another step back, but Ochaco refused to let go, both because she wanted to force him to believe her and because she wished she could get rid of him if he ever doubted her.

- It's Denki! He's got- he's got-

She was flushed, both from terror and worry and because her role required it.

- I came into the room, to apologize, because Bakugo and I-

His voice broke and Ochaco burst into tears again.

- Bakugo still hasn't woken up and Todoroki has disappeared, and now...

Uncontrollable jolts shook the teenager's shoulders as she continued to close in on Neito, clutching his shirt with her clenched fist.

The blond was as tense as a bow, watching her with wide eyes.

Ochaco lowered her head, nervous that he would see through her little game, her hair falling like a curtain before her eyes.

Her heart was beating so fast it felt like her chest would explode.

- He just- I don't know what to do! Yuei wasn't supposed to be like this, I just- I just had to-

New, heart-rending sobs.

Neito looked down at Ochaco's hand on his forearm for a second before she raised her head.

Their eyes - one surprised, the other moist - met.

- Neito, you've got to help me! I'm scared and I- I- I-

Ochaco didn't know what to say, so she gripped the boy's forearm tighter. Red fingerprints stained his pale skin.

The boy blinked.

Then his expression softened.

- Of course I'll help you. We're heroes, aren't we? Now go back to the beginning and tell me what happened.

Ochaco almost jumped of joy.

*

Author's note : 

Where did Dante follow Virgile ? 

The response to this question foreshadow the most important event of the whole story.

250 power stones = sunday bonus chapter (We can absolutely make it everyone, keep it up)

If you want to support me/read ahead of schedule, you can do so on my P@treon, Nar_cisseENG

And as always, see you in the next update everyone !