The Puppetmaster’s Gambit

In a gutted factory on the city's edge, an hideout walls rusted, floor stained with oil and blood, the air thick with decay.

All for One sat in a high-backed chair, more throne than seat, his scarred face half-shadowed, his suit crisp despite the filth.

The hum of stolen Quirks pulsed in his veins—fire, force, speed, a hundred others—each a scream of power, but none as vital as the one he sensed in Zion.

That kid, that fucking spark, carried All for One, a mirror of his own, a threat or a tool, depending on how he played it.

The plan was simple: pull Zion in, chain him as an ally or a dog, or crush him before he grew claws.

Shigaraki slouched across the room, his cracked hands twitching, red eyes glinting under matted hair, his Decay Quirk a restless itch.

He was loyal, molded by years of All for One's whispers, but he was a blunt blade—good for breaking, not building.

"Why do we need this Zion guy?" Shigaraki rasped, kicking a crate, splinters flying. "You've got me, your 'heir.' What's he got that I don't?" His voice was all edge, jealousy raw, his fingers scratching his neck, skin flaking.

All for One's smile was cold, a razor in the dark. "Patience, Tomura," he said, voice smooth, laced with menace. "You're my blade, sharp and true, but Zion… he's something else. I felt it—his power, my power, All for One, humming in his blood. He's not just a Quirk thief; he's a mirror, a second me."

He leaned forward, fingers steepled, his blind eyes seeing more than Shigaraki ever would.

"If we don't bind him—ally or slave—he'll turn, and a man with my power, unchecked, is a storm we can't afford."

Shigaraki froze, his hand mid-scratch, eyes narrowing.

"The same as you? Bullshit. He's just some UA punk, playing hero." His voice dripped venom, but doubt crept in, his loyalty to All for One clashing with his pride. "Why not kill him now? End the problem." He cracked his knuckles, Decay itching to dust something, anything.

All for One laughed, low and guttural, the sound a blade on bone. "Kill him? A waste, Tomura. His power could tip the scales—UA, the pros, the whole rotting hero world, all cracked open by two of us. But he's young, cocky, thinks he's carving his own path. We'll use that."

He stood, his shadow swallowing the room, his voice dropping. "I sent the clone to test him, to shake him. He fought, didn't break. Now we pull him in, or we bury him."

Shigaraki paced, boots grinding dirt, his mind churning. "And if he says no? If he's too dumb to join?" His fingers flexed, imagining Zion's flesh crumbling under his touch, a quick fix to his unease.

All for One's smile tightened, his patience thinning. "Then you kill him, Tomura. No hesitation. But first, you talk. He's got ambition, hunger. Feed it."

The plan was already in motion, gears turning in All for One's mind. UA's hero internship program was coming, a second stage where students scattered to agencies, Zion included.

The kid would be exposed, away from the teacher's glare, All Might's fist. All for One had eyes—spies in agencies, villains in shadows—tracking Zion's placement.

"He'll be at an agency soon," All for One said, voice a low hiss. "Some mid-tier outfit, probably Endeavor's or Hawks'. You'll find him, Tomura.

Corner him, alone. Offer him power, freedom, a place at our side. Paint the heroes as chains, the system as a lie. He's tasted their suspicion; lean into it."

Shigaraki snorted, his sneer twisted. "And what, I just walk up, say 'join the bad guys'? He's not that stupid."

All for One's voice turned sharp, a whip. "You're a predator. Find his cracks—his pride, his lust, his rage. Use his allies. Threaten them if he balks. He'll bend, or he'll bleed."

The hideout's silence was heavy, broken only by a distant drip, water hitting concrete. All for One paced, his mind a web of plans, Zion the knot at its center.

"I've seen his type," he said, almost to himself. "I was him, once, before I learned the world bows only to strength. He's got my power, but not my vision—not yet."

His fingers twitched, a stolen telekinesis Quirk humming, lifting a rusted pipe, crushing it to dust. "If he joins, we reshape the world. If he fights, he's a lesson."

Shigaraki's eyes burned, his jealousy a live wire, but he nodded, his loyalty to All for One a chain he couldn't break.

"Fine. I'll do it. Talk first, kill if he's dumb. Where's he going?" His voice was all business now.

All for One sat, his smile returning, softer but no less deadly.

"My contacts are digging. By the coming weeks, we'll know his agency, his schedule. You'll move the day the internships start.

Strike fast, no distractions."

The room felt smaller, the air tighter, All for One's presence a void. He leaned back, his voice a low rumble. "You're my heir. Don't fail me."

Shigaraki's jaw clenched, his fingers still, his nod sharp.

"I won't." He turned, boots scuffing, heading for the door, his mind already on Zion, on blood, on proving he was enough.

All for One watched him go, his blind eyes seeing everything—Zion's face, his power, his potential. The kid was a gamble, a spark that could light an empire or burn it down.

The internship stage was the perfect trap, UA's arrogance their opening. He stood, his shadow stretching, his voice a whisper that carried like a curse. "Run all you want, Zion. You're mine, one way or another."