At it, Again

The classroom in the Professional Hero Academy was unusually quiet. The Super Squad sat in their seats, tense and expectant, their gazes flicking toward the door every few moments. This was their first official report meeting, the mid-month assessment that was meant to be routine. But there was no doubt in anyone's mind—this would be anything but routine.

OctoMan drummed his fingers against the desk, his usual easygoing demeanor dampened by the weight in the air. Retro sat beside him, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her expression unreadable. Myco picked at the fabric of her sleeve, avoiding eye contact. Germination sat upright, but her grip on the edge of the desk was tight enough that her knuckles turned white.

The door swung open, and the atmosphere cracked like glass under pressure.

Professor Pollen, Mr. Hideki in this formal occasion, entered first, his usually gentle face lined with exhaustion and something colder—disappointment. Behind him was Ms. Kotai, the Head of the Hero Academy's Southwest Division. Unlike Pollen, she didn't carry exhaustion. She carried fury.

"Don't bother standing," she snapped before anyone could move. The sharpness in her voice made Umbra flinch. Myco froze mid-motion. The air felt too thick to breathe.

Ms. Kotai strode to the front of the classroom, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her gaze swept over them, her lip curling in disgust.

"I don't know where to begin," she said, her voice dangerously calm. "Disappointed doesn't begin to cover it. You are a failure of a team. A disgrace. The worst-performing group in this entire academy."

No one spoke. There was nothing to say. The words cut deep, because they weren't wrong.

Ms. Kotai's eyes burned into them. "I hope you have a damn good excuse."

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

OctoMan swallowed hard, then straightened in his seat. "Good morning, Mr. Hideki and Ms. Kotai." His voice was steady, but forced. He clasped his hands together on the desk. "I'd like to begin by saying we take full responsibility for our mistakes. And we're truly sorry for the consequences of our actions."

Ms. Kotai's brow twitched. Mr. Kotai remained silent, watching.

"We only ask," OctoMan continued, his tone careful, measured, "for one more opportunity to prove we can do better. We understand we failed, but we want to correct our mistakes. We won't waste this chance."

His words hung in the air. Ms. Kotai's expression didn't soften.

Mr. Kotai sighed. "OctoMan, it's a little late for apologies." His voice was quieter than Kotai's, but there was no kindness in it. Just cold, tired resolve. "We've already come to a decision. The Super Squad is to be disbanded."

The room plunged into a deep, suffocating silence.

Germination's breath caught in her throat. Myco's hands trembled in her lap. Umbra looked down at her desk, her nails digging into the wood. Needlepoint's face went blank, like he'd been struck but refused to show the pain.

Ms. Kotai crossed her arms. "Each of you will be reassigned to different teams. More competent teams. We need to see if any of you are even capable of being heroes when not weighed down by each other's failures."

The weight of it settled in their chests. They were done. Everything they had worked for—gone.

Germination shot up from her seat. The sudden movement made Kotai's sharp eyes snap to her, but she held her ground. Clearing her throat, she spoke, her voice firm despite the tremor of emotion underneath.

"I have two reasons why you should reconsider."

Mr. Kotai, her father, raised a brow. "Do you?"

"The people need us," Germination said, her voice steadying. "If we're disbanded, it could take months before a new team is assembled to cover this sector. The people who rely on us—who have already suffered because of our mistakes—will be left completely alone."

Her dad remained unreadable. Ms. Kotai didn't react.

Germination took a breath and continued. "And second, I've gotten close to our informant, Hal. I've built a connection. I have half a foot inside Oriken's network." She lifted her chin. "That's an opportunity you won't get again."

For a moment, neither professor spoke.

Then Ms. Kotai exhaled through her nose. "Fine," she said. "You have until Friday."

A flicker of hope passed between the squad members.

"But," she continued, her voice like a whip crack, "if another student gets hurt like Umbra did, you're done. Not just reassigned. Expelled."

Mr. Kotai nodded. "One week. That's all."

And with that, they left, the heavy doors clicking shut behind them.

The Super Squad sat in silence, the weight of their ultimatum pressing down on them like a vice.

The weight of silence lingered in the room long after Professor Pollen and Ms. Kotai had left. The ultimatum had been set—one week. One week to prove they were worth keeping together. One week to avoid total failure.

OctoMan let out a slow breath, rubbing his temples. "Well," he muttered, "that went about as bad as it could have."

Chameleon scoffed. "You think?" She ran a hand through her hair, her fingers trembling slightly. "We're one mistake away from being kicked out. Not reassigned. Kicked. What the hell are we supposed to do?"

Germination's jaw tightened. "We do what we should've been doing from the start." Her gaze moved to Umbra, who was staring down at the desk, expression unreadable. "We find out who's moving drugs in our district, and we take them down."

Umbra's fingers twitched, but she didn't respond. Retro narrowed her eyes. "And how exactly do we do that? We're already stretched thin. Our informant hasn't given us anything solid. We don't even know who we're really fighting."

OctoMan exhaled sharply, nodding. "She's not wrong. We have fragments. Pieces. We know about Oriken's remnants, but we don't have anything concrete."

Germination hesitated. Her chest ached with frustration. She knew they were right. But she also knew they didn't have time to play it safe anymore. If they hesitated, they were done.

"We need to push Hal harder," she said, the words heavier than she expected. "He knows more than he's told us. And if we don't get information soon, we're not going to be around long enough to do anything with it."

Umbra finally lifted her head. Her voice was quiet, but steady. "If we go too hard, he might disappear."

Germination met her gaze. "And if we don't, we disappear."

Silence. Heavy. Unforgiving.

OctoMan exhaled, running a hand down his face. "Alright," he muttered. "Let's get moving. We need to meet with Hal. Now."

The moment moved forward with an unshakable weight pressing down on the Super Squad. The threat of expulsion loomed, and the only way out was through.

Germination had wasted no time. She pulled out her phone and sent a quick message to Hal. Need to talk. In person.

It didn't take long for a reply. Usual place?

No. Your place.

A pause. Then: Fine. 3 PM. Don't be late.

That was settled. Now came the harder part—convincing everyone to stay on course, and, of course, getting something out of Hal.

OctoMan set up their mandatory team meeting for 4 PM, but before that, he had another battle to face—one he wasn't ready for, but one he couldn't avoid. 

A notification flashed on his communicator. Professor Pollen requests your presence.

He swallowed hard and made his way to the professor's office. Before entering he paced in the hall, mentally preparing himself for what was coming.

The air inside was thick with tension. Pollen sat behind his desk, his usual calm exterior cracked by the unmistakable edge of frustration. His hands were clasped together, his eyes locked onto OctoMan the moment he entered.

"Sit," Pollen ordered.

OctoMan obeyed. His muscles were tight, and he knew this was going to be painful.

"You know why you're here," Pollen said. It wasn't a question.

OctoMan nodded. "Yes, sir."

Pollen exhaled, his fingers tapping against the desk. "My daughter isn't speaking to me."

That wasn't what OctoMan expected. He blinked, unsure how to respond.

Pollen continued, "She won't come home. She won't answer my calls... And ever since the shooting, Umbra has been avoiding me. She refuses to acknowledge that she almost died."

OctoMan clenched his jaw. "She doesn't want to seem weak."

Pollen let out a bitter chuckle. "She's not weak, but she's reckless. And that recklessness nearly cost her life. And you—you were in charge. You let it happen."

The words hit like a fist to the gut. OctoMan didn't flinch, but he felt them. He let them sink in.

"I know," he admitted. "I take full responsibility."

Pollen stared at him for a long moment before sighing. "What's your plan?"

"To fix this," OctoMan said immediately. "We have one week. We're going to make it count."

Pollen nodded, leaning back. "We both know thats not a real plan... You better make sure my daughter makes it through that week alive."

Back at the dorms, Germination prepared for her meeting with Hal. Myco stopped her before she entered her room.

"Are you sure about this?" Myco asked, arms crossed. "Going alone?"

Germination nodded. "It has to be me. He trusts me."

"That doesn't mean he won't turn on you," Myco muttered. "Just… be careful."

"I will."

With that, Germination went to study and later, take a shower, it was still early.

- Somewhere else

Hector sat in his makeshift office, a small backroom in the bar that smelled of old wood and spilled alcohol. Across from him sat part of his new crew—Gengis, KK, T-Bone, and Goro—the most active members of what had become known as "Big Khan."

They were in the middle of business talk. The past week had been productive; money was flowing, but not without its problems.

"We got most of the businesses on our block paying protection," Gengis said, his tone steady. "Four shops are paying up, no real issues. But there's one holdout." He exhaled through his nose. "It's KK's girl's mom's shop. She won't pay."

KK smile, slouching in his chair. "Man. I really like her. Her mom thinks I'm still some dumb kid." His grin faltered for a second. "Ain't gonna make her pay or hit her, though. I'm not that kinda guy."

Hector tapped his fingers against the desk, considering it. "Make sense, we have 4, no need to ruin your thing. What else?"

T-Bone, massive and quiet, finally spoke. "Baby ended up in the hospital. Stupid fight with some drunk asshole. Nothin' serious, but he's out for a few days."

Hector nodded, making a mental note of it. "And the money?"

Goro, always the most polished of the bunch, smiled slightly. "Better than expected. Even with the losses, we're turning a profit."

Hector was pleased. Things were stabilizing. But they needed more product. "We're out of Dustfire," he said. "That's why I'm setting up another meeting with the supplier. We need more product."

Gengis leaned forward, an interested glint in his eye. "Speaking of product… there's something you should know."

Hector raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"There's another group selling nearby. Small-time, but still. Only six of 'em. Word is, their leader is some half-bird freak they call 'Quill.' Probably easy to roll over."

KK cracked his knuckles. "We can take 'em easy, boss. Just say the word."

Hector leaned back, remembering that guy. "We'll handle them now. No waiting."

Gengis hesitated, watching Hector closely. "You mean, just us? The five of us?"

"I've got history with these guys," Hector said, standing. "It's time to finish what I started."

They moved quickly. The sun was still low, casting long shadows over the streets as they made their way to their target. This part of Tawaji wasn't lively in the mornings. Most people in the area were either still asleep, too strung out to function, or stumbling home from a long night.

Hector walked ahead, his stride purposeful. KK and T-Bone flanked him, excited, whispering between themselves about the coming fight. Gengis followed more cautiously, watching Hector's every move. He noticed something that made his stomach tighten—Hector was carrying a revolver.

Gengis wasn't used to that. None of them were. Their fights were with fists, pipes, maybe a blade. Guns changed things.

"Boss," he said lowly. "You planning to use that?"

Hector didn't look at him. "I carry what i use, dont be scared now. I like you."

That didn't reassure him.

The cul-de-sac where their targets operated was a mess of cracked pavement and neglected houses. A idiot was asleep in a folding chair near the entrance. A "Guard", Hector recognized it. The last time he'd beaten that guy half to death with a stick.

Now he was gonna finish the job.

Hector didn't hesitate. He walked straight up to the guy and, with a sharp motion, hit him across the face.

The man jolted awake, eyes wide with terror. Before he could even process what was happening, Hector grabbed him by the collar and shoved the barrel of the revolver right under his chin.

"Where are the others?" Hector asked, voice calm but cold.

The man stammered, fear choking his words. "I—I—inside! They're inside!

"And the money?"

"Money's in the back room! Drugs too! Please—"

Hector squeezed the trigger.

The bang echoed through the empty street.