Chapter 63: Convoy Ambush

The armored convoy rumbled down the rural road just outside the city limits, tires crunching over cracked asphalt. A cold wind swept through the skeletal trees lining both sides, carrying with it the scent of winter and distant smoke. Overhead, thick gray clouds loomed low, casting an ominous shadow over the five-vehicle convoy.

Inside the lead transport, two pro heroes sat tensely. The driver gripped the wheel tightly, knuckles pale, while his partner kept a steady eye on the surroundings, a communicator pressed to his ear.

"This route was supposed to be secure," the driver muttered, eyes darting to the mirror.

"HQ lost comms four minutes ago," the other replied, his voice clipped with tension. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

The lead vehicle adjusted speed, checking its spacing with the others behind. Behind it followed an escort car, two prisoner transports, and a trailing security vehicle bringing up the rear. Snowflakes began to fall lightly, melting on contact with the warm steel plating.

Inside the reinforced central transport, Overhaul sat alone in the maximum-security cell. His body was heavily restrained—both arms shackled in specialized quirk-nullifying cuffs bolted to the seat. His torso was wrapped in layers of reinforced restraint gear. His head leaned back against the cold steel wall, eyes half-lidded, face pale but burning with silent fury. The remnants of his cracked mask clung to one side of his face.

The radio in the lead vehicle suddenly crackled to life.

"Unit Two, report your status. Unit Two, do you copy?"

Only static replied.

The driver looked over at his partner. "Try again."

"Unit Two, confirm position."

Silence.

The partner reached for the emergency band. "We've lost contact with the rear. I'm requesting—"

BOOM.

An earth-shattering explosion ripped through the air. The last vehicle in the convoy erupted in flame, flipping end over end before slamming into the ditch. Fireball and debris soared into the air. The shockwave rocked the other transports.

"Rear's down! It's an ambush!"

Up on the hillside, half-buried under frost-covered underbrush, Shigaraki Tomura watched with a slow, satisfied grin curling on his lips. He lowered the rusted scope lens and stood upright.

"There he is," he said, voice calm and eerie. "Time to return the favor."

Beside him, Dabi sparked a fire at his fingertip. Flames hissed to life across his arm.

"We taking him alive or in pieces?"

Shigaraki didn't look away from the smoke billowing over the convoy. "Alive. But he won't be much use after I'm done."

Twice paced in the brush, eyes gleaming beneath his mask. "Ready! Duplicates are in place! Time to stir the pot!"

Spinner kicked his stolen motorcycle to life, revving the engine with a grin. Toga crouched beside him, twirling a blood-stained dagger, her eyes wide with delight.

"Let's go! Let's make it fun!"

In the chaos below, the remaining heroes scrambled from their vehicles, shouting orders.

"Secure the prisoner transport!"

"Form a perimeter—watch the trees!"

Dabi leapt from the ridge, landing in the middle of the road with a blast of blue fire. A wall of searing flame separated the convoy, isolating the rear and middle transports.

"It's the League!"

Twice's clones poured from the treeline, overwhelming the guards. Spinner's motorcycle slammed into the side of the second escort vehicle, sending it skidding. Toga darted in behind him, cutting down tires with surgical strikes to disable movement.

A hero launched a blast of wind, dispersing some of the smoke—only to be tackled by a clone from behind. The battlefield was total chaos.

Inside the prisoner cell, Overhaul slowly lifted his head. The sudden boom had shaken the floor. He knew that sound.

The steel door was torn from its hinges.

Shigaraki stepped into the compartment, dust drifting from his fingertips. He was calm, composed, and radiating menace.

Overhaul's eyes widened. He tried to shift, but the restraints held.

Shigaraki stared at him for a long moment. "Remember me?"

Overhaul gritted his teeth. "You—"

"You took something from me," Shigaraki growled. "Now I'll take everything from you."

He raised his hand—fingers trembling with rage and decay.

And reached.

His palm hovered over Overhaul's restrained arm.

Overhaul flinched for the first time.

Shigaraki's voice dropped into a whisper. "Without your hands... what kind of overhaul can you perform?"

His hand moved down.

The moment before contact—

End of Chapter 63

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