Garm352
Bearer of the Stars of Creation
- Location
- The Void Between Stars
- Pronouns
- He/Him
This RP has a somewhat limited number of slots. If you're interested in joining you can PM me but at most I'd be willing to accept two more people at this time.
In the year 20XX, a child was born in China. A child that emitted a constant golden glow. Rapidly, more and more people around the world began giving birth to children with unusual changes to their biology...and soon children who didn't display any signs at birth began displaying abilities as well. As these children grew into adults, chaos and anarchy slowly and without pause descended across the world.
Empowered individuals took to the streets seeking justice or fortune, vigilantes and villains both. Larger country militaries clamped down on the situation as hard as they could, while smaller nations fell into anarchy. Japan, uniquely, rallied around a mysterious figure who could give and take powers with ease, before he began to rule the nation as a tyrant from the shadows.
If not for the concerted efforts of the major nations, the world's vigilantes, and the support of the masses as more and more of the population ended up empowered, these meta abilities, today known as quirks, might have led to a total collapse of society. The Professional Hero system, established and refined through government cooperation with the vigilantes, and even a number of the more principled criminals, then warlords, drug lords, and slave traders might have a far more powerful grasp on the world of today.
Even over a century later, well after the nations of the world have reestablished stable governments, things are still incredibly chaotic on the streets of most major cities and pirates and smugglers roam the seas far more freely than any time in history.
Part of the response to this was the formation of the UN Hero Force, an oceangoing international task force of heroes and heroes in training, meant to act as a means of allowing the closest thing to a neutral party to assess nations, fight criminals in international waters, and act in all UN signatory nations against threats that local parties might be unable or unwilling to oppose, such as the Meta Liberation Army led by Destro, whose international actions against governmental regulation of what very rapidly came to be called Quirks caused massive upheaval as the world was only just starting to find balance.
Each vessel typically had a core of four to five pro heroes, in addition to a full compliment of medical officers, soldiers, sailors, and support staff. These core teams formed the face of the organization, the open hand presented forward while the rest of the crew comprised the dagger driven into the back of evil on the seas and on land on rare occasions.
Only the absolute best were typically allowed on such teams.
This is the story of Unit 595, the team formed under the command of Pro Hero CAPTAIN CAMELOT!
No, this story begins in a prison. A place where those who felt themselves above the law spent their days serving out their sentences after being brought before society's justice system. Murderers and drug dealers, rapists and kidnappers, scum of all kinds - these sorts of individuals filled prisons along the western coast of America. And in these prisons, some of them even thrive.
At the moment though, our focus is on a vigilante who was arrested for his brutal methods, who clashed not just against society's ideals of heroism, but also against the very scum that inhabit the prison system as though it were their natural ecosystem. He mauled and even crippled numerous criminals comprising a human trafficking ring using the foster care system as a hunting ground.
And on the day he tore it down, he happily surrendered himself to the authorities when they came for him in the aftermath. This boy, barely old enough to be called a man, was locked away in a padded cell and restrained in a special harness to stop any chance of his Quirk being triggered.
Damien, the Flagellant. Or as many of his supporters online called him, Martyr.
The boy, however, had no intention of using his Quirk. At least, not in the prison, or on any prisoners. He had no reason to. He'd taken his sentencing with a grace and dignity seldom seen for those given eighty years in the deep dark hole known as Kessel Prison.
He gave the guards no trouble, and never said a harsh word to any of the other prisoners. And he was always smiling. Smiling this content little smile that never seemed to falter.
It was a smile of victory.
In his cell he sat, the violet haired Martyr victorious, humming an unfamiliar tune. "And through our shed flesh, shall purity be reached, and through our suffering, shall our sins be cleansed..."
The door of his cell opened, and a tall guard stepped in ahead of the others waiting in the hall, ignoring the whispering going on behind him, the banging of prisoners against the doors of their cells in this high-security containment center. "Up, up and attem kiddo. You've got a visitor."
He reached down and grabbed the boy by the shoulders, pulling him up to his feet, then brushing his shoulders off and frowning as he examined the boy's hair. "I'll see if I can convince the Warden to let you have a haircut and an earlier shower sometime this week. It'll start to get irritating soon, I imagine. Almost down to your eyes."
This guard, a middle-aged man with a fatherly air to him, scratched at the salt-and-pepper hair running on the sides of his head with his rough, leathery hands. His whip-like tail cracked the air, getting the attention of the gossiping guards standing outside the cell. "Pipe down younguns! C'mon boy, let's get a move on. Cafeteria's making yer favorite for dinner tonight. Chef was ranting about you bein the only one to appreciate his cooking, the old coot. It'll almost be a shame when he gets out in five years."
"He is? Oh how wonderful!" Damien beamed. Not even the straightjacket could hide the scars that reached up to his neck. "I haven't gotten any visitors besides my followers in a long time, I do wonder who it could be." He theorized, eagerly following the older guard. He didn't seem to mind the itchiness of the confining straightjacket, nor it's maddening restriction on his movement. He'd felt far worse, for certain. "Are we going to pass by Cell Block C today?"
"Not today, need to avoid anyone getting any funny ideas. A new guy got moved in today, things are a bit loud. Under control, there's no fighting going on last I heard, but loud. Lots of shouting. Some celebrity or another." The two guards fell in line behind them as they walked down the hall, and as they moved away from the special cell block things began to quiet down. The noise of the alleged shouting could be heard in the distance.
"That charity that got opened up in your name is focusing their money on helping better equip the police in some of the rougher areas of Detroit, apparently. Thought ya might enjoy that." They passed into the center of the prison, heading for the visitor center off to their right. "You ought to do your best to be polite, this lady is apparently some government agent or sommat. Warden wouldn't say, but since he felt the need to tell me himself she's probably a big deal."
His smile slightly twitched at that. "Government? Why would they care to send someone now, after all that has happened?" Damien looked thoughtful at that. "Oh well, I hope she isn't here to kill me!" He said eerily cheerfully.
"I doubt that, kiddo. I highly doubt that. If they wanted ya dead they'd never have bothered arresting ya, or let All Might poke his nose into things." The older guard came to a stop just outside the secured visitors room. "Remember yer manners, kid. And try not ta be...too weird."
He opened the door and waved the kid into the room, where a table sat with two plain chairs on either side, all bolted to the floor with rounded edges. "She'll be in shortly, we need ta secure yer legs first. You know the routine by now."
Eager to meet the newcomer, Damien sat down on the chair and allowed the guards to chain his legs. He didn't mind. The chafing of the cold iron was almost...comforting in some strange, twisted way. It reminded him of long nights spent on fire escapes and behind dumpsters, staking out warehouses in the rain. Looking towards the other side of the room, he did his best to restrain his curious excitement as he waited for his...visitor.
The door at the other end opened as the three guards settled against the wall behind Damien, there to provide likely unneeded security incase the boy became aggressive. The woman who strode in, movements and posture powerful, predatory, in a distinctly unsettling way, was definitely young, with blonde hair pulled up in a bun and green eyes glimmering like gems that skipped across each person in the room for only an instant. Another two guards took up position on either side of the door she'd come through, closing and locking it behind her. The dark blue suit she wore seemed well-tailored but ill-fitting, something that looked good but wasn't what she should be wearing at the same time. She settled into her chair and stared across the table into Damien's eyes for a few moments, silent.
Damien smiled back, eyes mostly hidden behind shaggy, violently dirty and uncut hair as he leaned forward slightly. The boy, now in proper lighting, was unkempt, thin, and small. With his surroundings and his current clothes, he was obviously considered quite a dangerous prisoner. Especially given his documented powers and the hatred and violence he was known to have inflicted upon many criminals.
But now? He showed this woman no hatred, no slavering aggression. He was perfectly calm, almost relaxed even. Opening his mouth, he gave a simple greeting. "Hello! What's your name? I'm sure you know mine."
"You can call me Mordred," she replied, her voice carrying a lilt to it. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Damien. Especially since it seems the reports I've read about you being a model prisoner are quiet apparently accurate. After all, why else would a guard be here whose Quirk would be able to trigger yours for you in a heartbeat?" She stared directly at the older guard's whip-like tail, smiling lightly, before turning her focus back to Damien. "I'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind?"
"Why of course, Mordred!" Damien agreed readily. This was the most interesting thing he'd had happen in months, having someone who wanted to actually ask him things.
"When you were out there, leaving that bloody swath across this coast, what was driving you? What made you feel it needed?" She leaned forward, resting an arm on the table. "And why did you surrender?"
He gave a hum, thinking quite intently as he considered the answer. "...I saw evil." He says, looking to the ceiling. "And I saw none who would step up to eradicate it. The Heroes I so wished would rip it up from the roots did not seem to care if scum were not robbing banks or threatening to blow up power plants."
He softly spoke. "They were too busy fighting the giant monsters that sook to flatten the cities, or the Supervillians who wished to force all before them to bow and take what they wished, that they did not see the common rapist dragging some poor victim into an alley, they did not see the traffickers clasping people in chains to be sold for unspeakable fates."
"But I did. And so I would save that would be rape victim, I would free those people bound for unknown fates, and their aggressors I had make peace with their...Sanctification." He looked back down at Mordred. "As for my surrender...I saw no way to escape without harming those Policemen in the process. And I could not even consider harming those who stood for law and order, I could never consider killing them when they only wished to do their jobs. They were innocent. I would never shed innocent blood."
She hummed, leaning back in her seat. "And what if a Policeman was the rapist? A senator running the human trafficking ring? A doctor running a drug smuggling operation? What if they lived in places you couldn't get to, or used and forced people to commit crimes, dragged others down with them into the darkness? What would you do to those people?"
"I would destroy those corrupt figures, of course." He maintained "Their evil is uncountable, taking advantage of their position to exploit, to harm others. It is sickening."
"But those forced by those same figures, I would indeed spare, for how could I blame them for doing those things under pain of death and suffering? Not all accept pain like I. I could never smite them before God when they harbor no evil in their hearts."
"And how would you know? Would you trust them to know they can throw themselves upon your mercy? What if they can't? What if they aren't the person in danger? Do you have any means of disabling without maiming or crippling?" The questions came out fast, as Mordred tilted her head to the side slightly.
He copied the movement. "I do indeed have certain means of disabling someone without killing them. It is not difficult. I have used it often before." He says. "Using my power, I can cause a person to pass out by redirecting blood flow to and from certain areas. Though it takes a bit of time to take effect, and it can be...unreliable if a person's blood is affected by their Quirk."
"Hm. Have you figured out why I'm here yet?" Mordred bares her teeth at him in a smile, her green eyes gleaming with satisfaction. The guards shift slightly, all five suddenly vastly discomforted by the air in the room.
"...If I were to take a random guess..." He hummed lightly. "I would say...you wish to take me from here. And wished to...evaluate me."
"You'd be spot on laddie," Mordred replied, her precise words shifting into a musical lilt, a broad smile stretching across her face. "You've potential, ideals, and charisma. A good brain in yer noggin, steel in yer soul, and a reputation that can be leveraged. A lotta people up high in a lotta places even agree with your attitude, to an extent. Less bloodshed'd be preferred, but the UN Hero Force tends ta get inta some very dangerous fights so it's less of a problem for us. It would be a shame to let you waste away in prison, when you could be doing good and spreading your focus on street-level crime around. And it'd be an especial shame if some crusader Supervillain got their claws into you instead. Based on projections you can do a lot more damage than you did, so long as you go undiscovered."
The guards are all staring at her now, before one of the younger ones actually gasps. "I'm known as Captain Camelot, and I recently got permission ta put together a new team after a few years under a more experienced member's leadership. I want ta take ya on. Ye'd be on probation, and our first assignment is in Japan so ye'll be gettin some language lessons drilled inta yer head once we get underway and I finish assembling the team. So, would ye say yer interested, kid?"
Damien gave a grin that slowly grew enough that it seemed to threaten to split his face.
"I would be honored, Captain Camelot." He agrees, before he pauses. "...All Might is from Japan." He realizes, smiling unnervingly wide. "I hope I'll get to see him again..."
"Mayhaps. He'll probably wanna check in if he's as much a nosey person as my pa has led me to think." Mordred stands up, a brilliant smile on her face as well. "Ah'll be back fer ya in a week or two. Need ta actually file the paperwork and get the gears grinding fer yer release ta my care."
"I look forward to breathing free air once more." He says, before realizing what she said. "Your...care? What do you mean by that?" He seemed genuinely confused. He'd always been on his own, even in the Orphanage, he'd always looked after himself mostly.
"Well, yer goin ta be released to my custody, as my student. Leastways till yer probation is over an' ye have yer operational licenses all sorted out in a row. I warn ye, I plan to make sure ye have some amount of fun, at least. Gotta balance that violence out with some semblance of understanding regarding the way a lot of people live." Mordred looks him in the eyes, a kind, soft glimmer in them.
"Oh my, I've never been someone's student before..." He smiled. "I shall eagerly await your return, Mordred! Knowing I will be of use to the world's people once again heartens me!"
"Ye really do remind me of some of pa's friends. Well, I'll be back for ye. Hold tight until then." Mordred winked and turned striding back to the door, which one of the guards hastened to open. As it closed behind her, the older guard walked up behind Damien and let out a low whistle.
"You've got some kinda luck kiddo."
"Perhaps it is fate, perhaps it is God's work." Damien replies while staring at the door Mordred left through. "But it seems I have a very interesting future ahead of me." He smiled.
Two weeks later found Mordred in her hotel, Yavincourt, sitting in the conference room she'd been using as her temporary office space while dealing with the enormous amounts of paperwork and red tape needed to get her new student out of prison and into custody of the UN Hero Force.
"We've been pulling shite like this since our founding and we still hafta go through this dog an pony show every gorram time, I swear ta my mother Imma burn these papers ta ash the second I can," the blonde grumbled, her hair wild from days of simple washing and little need to worry about her looks, given all the meetings and handshaking was over and done with.
In the year 20XX, a child was born in China. A child that emitted a constant golden glow. Rapidly, more and more people around the world began giving birth to children with unusual changes to their biology...and soon children who didn't display any signs at birth began displaying abilities as well. As these children grew into adults, chaos and anarchy slowly and without pause descended across the world.
Empowered individuals took to the streets seeking justice or fortune, vigilantes and villains both. Larger country militaries clamped down on the situation as hard as they could, while smaller nations fell into anarchy. Japan, uniquely, rallied around a mysterious figure who could give and take powers with ease, before he began to rule the nation as a tyrant from the shadows.
If not for the concerted efforts of the major nations, the world's vigilantes, and the support of the masses as more and more of the population ended up empowered, these meta abilities, today known as quirks, might have led to a total collapse of society. The Professional Hero system, established and refined through government cooperation with the vigilantes, and even a number of the more principled criminals, then warlords, drug lords, and slave traders might have a far more powerful grasp on the world of today.
Even over a century later, well after the nations of the world have reestablished stable governments, things are still incredibly chaotic on the streets of most major cities and pirates and smugglers roam the seas far more freely than any time in history.
Part of the response to this was the formation of the UN Hero Force, an oceangoing international task force of heroes and heroes in training, meant to act as a means of allowing the closest thing to a neutral party to assess nations, fight criminals in international waters, and act in all UN signatory nations against threats that local parties might be unable or unwilling to oppose, such as the Meta Liberation Army led by Destro, whose international actions against governmental regulation of what very rapidly came to be called Quirks caused massive upheaval as the world was only just starting to find balance.
Each vessel typically had a core of four to five pro heroes, in addition to a full compliment of medical officers, soldiers, sailors, and support staff. These core teams formed the face of the organization, the open hand presented forward while the rest of the crew comprised the dagger driven into the back of evil on the seas and on land on rare occasions.
Only the absolute best were typically allowed on such teams.
This is the story of Unit 595, the team formed under the command of Pro Hero CAPTAIN CAMELOT!
_____________________________________________
But where should the telling of this story begin? In the criminal underground of Britain? The violent and chaotic world of American Heroics? Perhaps the disaster zones in North Asia?
No, this story begins in a prison. A place where those who felt themselves above the law spent their days serving out their sentences after being brought before society's justice system. Murderers and drug dealers, rapists and kidnappers, scum of all kinds - these sorts of individuals filled prisons along the western coast of America. And in these prisons, some of them even thrive.
At the moment though, our focus is on a vigilante who was arrested for his brutal methods, who clashed not just against society's ideals of heroism, but also against the very scum that inhabit the prison system as though it were their natural ecosystem. He mauled and even crippled numerous criminals comprising a human trafficking ring using the foster care system as a hunting ground.
And on the day he tore it down, he happily surrendered himself to the authorities when they came for him in the aftermath. This boy, barely old enough to be called a man, was locked away in a padded cell and restrained in a special harness to stop any chance of his Quirk being triggered.
Damien, the Flagellant. Or as many of his supporters online called him, Martyr.
The boy, however, had no intention of using his Quirk. At least, not in the prison, or on any prisoners. He had no reason to. He'd taken his sentencing with a grace and dignity seldom seen for those given eighty years in the deep dark hole known as Kessel Prison.
He gave the guards no trouble, and never said a harsh word to any of the other prisoners. And he was always smiling. Smiling this content little smile that never seemed to falter.
It was a smile of victory.
In his cell he sat, the violet haired Martyr victorious, humming an unfamiliar tune. "And through our shed flesh, shall purity be reached, and through our suffering, shall our sins be cleansed..."
The door of his cell opened, and a tall guard stepped in ahead of the others waiting in the hall, ignoring the whispering going on behind him, the banging of prisoners against the doors of their cells in this high-security containment center. "Up, up and attem kiddo. You've got a visitor."
He reached down and grabbed the boy by the shoulders, pulling him up to his feet, then brushing his shoulders off and frowning as he examined the boy's hair. "I'll see if I can convince the Warden to let you have a haircut and an earlier shower sometime this week. It'll start to get irritating soon, I imagine. Almost down to your eyes."
This guard, a middle-aged man with a fatherly air to him, scratched at the salt-and-pepper hair running on the sides of his head with his rough, leathery hands. His whip-like tail cracked the air, getting the attention of the gossiping guards standing outside the cell. "Pipe down younguns! C'mon boy, let's get a move on. Cafeteria's making yer favorite for dinner tonight. Chef was ranting about you bein the only one to appreciate his cooking, the old coot. It'll almost be a shame when he gets out in five years."
"He is? Oh how wonderful!" Damien beamed. Not even the straightjacket could hide the scars that reached up to his neck. "I haven't gotten any visitors besides my followers in a long time, I do wonder who it could be." He theorized, eagerly following the older guard. He didn't seem to mind the itchiness of the confining straightjacket, nor it's maddening restriction on his movement. He'd felt far worse, for certain. "Are we going to pass by Cell Block C today?"
"Not today, need to avoid anyone getting any funny ideas. A new guy got moved in today, things are a bit loud. Under control, there's no fighting going on last I heard, but loud. Lots of shouting. Some celebrity or another." The two guards fell in line behind them as they walked down the hall, and as they moved away from the special cell block things began to quiet down. The noise of the alleged shouting could be heard in the distance.
"That charity that got opened up in your name is focusing their money on helping better equip the police in some of the rougher areas of Detroit, apparently. Thought ya might enjoy that." They passed into the center of the prison, heading for the visitor center off to their right. "You ought to do your best to be polite, this lady is apparently some government agent or sommat. Warden wouldn't say, but since he felt the need to tell me himself she's probably a big deal."
His smile slightly twitched at that. "Government? Why would they care to send someone now, after all that has happened?" Damien looked thoughtful at that. "Oh well, I hope she isn't here to kill me!" He said eerily cheerfully.
"I doubt that, kiddo. I highly doubt that. If they wanted ya dead they'd never have bothered arresting ya, or let All Might poke his nose into things." The older guard came to a stop just outside the secured visitors room. "Remember yer manners, kid. And try not ta be...too weird."
He opened the door and waved the kid into the room, where a table sat with two plain chairs on either side, all bolted to the floor with rounded edges. "She'll be in shortly, we need ta secure yer legs first. You know the routine by now."
Eager to meet the newcomer, Damien sat down on the chair and allowed the guards to chain his legs. He didn't mind. The chafing of the cold iron was almost...comforting in some strange, twisted way. It reminded him of long nights spent on fire escapes and behind dumpsters, staking out warehouses in the rain. Looking towards the other side of the room, he did his best to restrain his curious excitement as he waited for his...visitor.
The door at the other end opened as the three guards settled against the wall behind Damien, there to provide likely unneeded security incase the boy became aggressive. The woman who strode in, movements and posture powerful, predatory, in a distinctly unsettling way, was definitely young, with blonde hair pulled up in a bun and green eyes glimmering like gems that skipped across each person in the room for only an instant. Another two guards took up position on either side of the door she'd come through, closing and locking it behind her. The dark blue suit she wore seemed well-tailored but ill-fitting, something that looked good but wasn't what she should be wearing at the same time. She settled into her chair and stared across the table into Damien's eyes for a few moments, silent.
Damien smiled back, eyes mostly hidden behind shaggy, violently dirty and uncut hair as he leaned forward slightly. The boy, now in proper lighting, was unkempt, thin, and small. With his surroundings and his current clothes, he was obviously considered quite a dangerous prisoner. Especially given his documented powers and the hatred and violence he was known to have inflicted upon many criminals.
But now? He showed this woman no hatred, no slavering aggression. He was perfectly calm, almost relaxed even. Opening his mouth, he gave a simple greeting. "Hello! What's your name? I'm sure you know mine."
"You can call me Mordred," she replied, her voice carrying a lilt to it. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Damien. Especially since it seems the reports I've read about you being a model prisoner are quiet apparently accurate. After all, why else would a guard be here whose Quirk would be able to trigger yours for you in a heartbeat?" She stared directly at the older guard's whip-like tail, smiling lightly, before turning her focus back to Damien. "I'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind?"
"Why of course, Mordred!" Damien agreed readily. This was the most interesting thing he'd had happen in months, having someone who wanted to actually ask him things.
"When you were out there, leaving that bloody swath across this coast, what was driving you? What made you feel it needed?" She leaned forward, resting an arm on the table. "And why did you surrender?"
He gave a hum, thinking quite intently as he considered the answer. "...I saw evil." He says, looking to the ceiling. "And I saw none who would step up to eradicate it. The Heroes I so wished would rip it up from the roots did not seem to care if scum were not robbing banks or threatening to blow up power plants."
He softly spoke. "They were too busy fighting the giant monsters that sook to flatten the cities, or the Supervillians who wished to force all before them to bow and take what they wished, that they did not see the common rapist dragging some poor victim into an alley, they did not see the traffickers clasping people in chains to be sold for unspeakable fates."
"But I did. And so I would save that would be rape victim, I would free those people bound for unknown fates, and their aggressors I had make peace with their...Sanctification." He looked back down at Mordred. "As for my surrender...I saw no way to escape without harming those Policemen in the process. And I could not even consider harming those who stood for law and order, I could never consider killing them when they only wished to do their jobs. They were innocent. I would never shed innocent blood."
She hummed, leaning back in her seat. "And what if a Policeman was the rapist? A senator running the human trafficking ring? A doctor running a drug smuggling operation? What if they lived in places you couldn't get to, or used and forced people to commit crimes, dragged others down with them into the darkness? What would you do to those people?"
"I would destroy those corrupt figures, of course." He maintained "Their evil is uncountable, taking advantage of their position to exploit, to harm others. It is sickening."
"But those forced by those same figures, I would indeed spare, for how could I blame them for doing those things under pain of death and suffering? Not all accept pain like I. I could never smite them before God when they harbor no evil in their hearts."
"And how would you know? Would you trust them to know they can throw themselves upon your mercy? What if they can't? What if they aren't the person in danger? Do you have any means of disabling without maiming or crippling?" The questions came out fast, as Mordred tilted her head to the side slightly.
He copied the movement. "I do indeed have certain means of disabling someone without killing them. It is not difficult. I have used it often before." He says. "Using my power, I can cause a person to pass out by redirecting blood flow to and from certain areas. Though it takes a bit of time to take effect, and it can be...unreliable if a person's blood is affected by their Quirk."
"Hm. Have you figured out why I'm here yet?" Mordred bares her teeth at him in a smile, her green eyes gleaming with satisfaction. The guards shift slightly, all five suddenly vastly discomforted by the air in the room.
"...If I were to take a random guess..." He hummed lightly. "I would say...you wish to take me from here. And wished to...evaluate me."
"You'd be spot on laddie," Mordred replied, her precise words shifting into a musical lilt, a broad smile stretching across her face. "You've potential, ideals, and charisma. A good brain in yer noggin, steel in yer soul, and a reputation that can be leveraged. A lotta people up high in a lotta places even agree with your attitude, to an extent. Less bloodshed'd be preferred, but the UN Hero Force tends ta get inta some very dangerous fights so it's less of a problem for us. It would be a shame to let you waste away in prison, when you could be doing good and spreading your focus on street-level crime around. And it'd be an especial shame if some crusader Supervillain got their claws into you instead. Based on projections you can do a lot more damage than you did, so long as you go undiscovered."
The guards are all staring at her now, before one of the younger ones actually gasps. "I'm known as Captain Camelot, and I recently got permission ta put together a new team after a few years under a more experienced member's leadership. I want ta take ya on. Ye'd be on probation, and our first assignment is in Japan so ye'll be gettin some language lessons drilled inta yer head once we get underway and I finish assembling the team. So, would ye say yer interested, kid?"
Damien gave a grin that slowly grew enough that it seemed to threaten to split his face.
"I would be honored, Captain Camelot." He agrees, before he pauses. "...All Might is from Japan." He realizes, smiling unnervingly wide. "I hope I'll get to see him again..."
"Mayhaps. He'll probably wanna check in if he's as much a nosey person as my pa has led me to think." Mordred stands up, a brilliant smile on her face as well. "Ah'll be back fer ya in a week or two. Need ta actually file the paperwork and get the gears grinding fer yer release ta my care."
"I look forward to breathing free air once more." He says, before realizing what she said. "Your...care? What do you mean by that?" He seemed genuinely confused. He'd always been on his own, even in the Orphanage, he'd always looked after himself mostly.
"Well, yer goin ta be released to my custody, as my student. Leastways till yer probation is over an' ye have yer operational licenses all sorted out in a row. I warn ye, I plan to make sure ye have some amount of fun, at least. Gotta balance that violence out with some semblance of understanding regarding the way a lot of people live." Mordred looks him in the eyes, a kind, soft glimmer in them.
"Oh my, I've never been someone's student before..." He smiled. "I shall eagerly await your return, Mordred! Knowing I will be of use to the world's people once again heartens me!"
"Ye really do remind me of some of pa's friends. Well, I'll be back for ye. Hold tight until then." Mordred winked and turned striding back to the door, which one of the guards hastened to open. As it closed behind her, the older guard walked up behind Damien and let out a low whistle.
"You've got some kinda luck kiddo."
"Perhaps it is fate, perhaps it is God's work." Damien replies while staring at the door Mordred left through. "But it seems I have a very interesting future ahead of me." He smiled.
____________________________________________
Two weeks later found Mordred in her hotel, Yavincourt, sitting in the conference room she'd been using as her temporary office space while dealing with the enormous amounts of paperwork and red tape needed to get her new student out of prison and into custody of the UN Hero Force.
"We've been pulling shite like this since our founding and we still hafta go through this dog an pony show every gorram time, I swear ta my mother Imma burn these papers ta ash the second I can," the blonde grumbled, her hair wild from days of simple washing and little need to worry about her looks, given all the meetings and handshaking was over and done with.
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