Menace to Society - MidoriyaxF!𝑽𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏 Reader

by B1ngB0ngBooks

Summary:

Y/n L/n has many names, but across Japan’s underworld, she is best known as Polterheist... a young opportunistic villain with a phantom quirk who appears without warning, stealing whatever she pleases.

Candy to corner stores, weapons from black markets, and classified government files burned purely to make a statement. No target is too small, and no vault too secure. With a quirk that lets her slip through walls, Polterheist commits over a thousand heists without ever being caught.

But when Polterheist crosses paths with Tomura Shigaraki and the rising League of Villains, she’s offered the ultimate score: help bring down All Might, the Symbol of Peace himself.

It would be the kind of power move that would shake the entire world. For Polterheist, it’s simple: betray them at the last moment, steal the credit, and cement her legend forever.

But everything goes wrong when a recklessly stubborn boy with messy green hair challenges her worldview. And when faced against someone who sees her as more than just a villain, Polterheist's unhinged freedom begins to crack for the first time.

Notes:

"You want to save the world, while I want to watch it burn. We're on polarizing sides, set on taking the other down".

𝑰𝒛𝒖𝒌𝒖 𝒙 𝒗𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏

This is a slow-burn book! So don't expect a love-at-first-sight type of cliche deal.
The plot slowly diverges into an original timeline, with an OC antagonist.
Keep in mind that this is 𝐧𝐨𝐭 a redemption story. Everyone's actions have consequences. Remember this!

-----

Phantom State:

A devious power that allows its user the antigravitated ability to pass through solid surfaces. Arising from nerve activation through the user's nervous system, this causes the atoms in the skin to spread into Static Atoms.

This quirk does not grant invisibility despite its ghostly similarities.

Further Ability :

Phantom State functions as an emitter quirk, static atoms can travel beyond the skin cells through skin contact, It will take effect whether the target is organic or not. Any Items fully transferred will become weightless and intangible, allowing our ghostly touch. However, if contact with the item is lost, the static atoms will withdraw instantly and the object will become solid again.

Drawback :

While this quirk had no time limit during its activation, Phantom State transfer has a carrying capacity that parallels the user's overall hauling strength. For instance, a car cannot be transferred as the user's regular strength cannot carry such.

Chapter 1: Hesity Nights

⸺⸺---⸺--⸻-- ⸺---⸺⸺

 

 

 

 

Menace /mĕn′ĭs/

ɴᴏᴜɴ

A possible danger; a threat.

-A troublesome or annoying person-

 

 

 

...

 

 

Have you ever felt like you were chained up? Not in the literal sense, but in that suffocating way where your own mind starts pressing against the walls society built around you. Those quiet moments, the in-between pauses of life, when your brain whispers- 'what if I did this? what if I did that?'

 

And before you even finish the thought, you already know the answer: the all-seeing eyes of "Big Brother" would glare down on you, and the higher-ups would send their dogs to hunt you for sport. So, like a good little sheep, most step back in line.

 

It always starts small. Just a passing, intrusive thought. A harmless fantasy, right? Everyone gets them, so no shame in admitting it. You don't act on it, you don't make it real. It's just a flicker of rebellion in your head, so fleeting you could almost laugh it off... Almost.

 

But the thing about intrusive thoughts is that they aren't really yours, not fully. They appear uninvited, coiled serpents hissing in your ear. Sometimes they disgust you. Sometimes they make you ashamed, horrified even. And yet the more you try to ignore them, the louder they echo.

 

Why?

 

Because it's the thought that counts.

 

The intention.

 

The immoral impulse.

 

The hunger.

 

The desire.

 

The craving to do whatever the hell you want, whenever you want, no leash, no permission, no consequence.

 

...

 

And that brings us to Polterheist. The guttersnipe, the kleptomaniac with no shame, no leash, no metaphorical chains around her neck. She didn't just fantasize about freedom; she lived it. And if anyone tried to stand in her way, she stepped right over them without hesitation.

 

Unhinged freedom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

- ⎼ ⸻-𝙼 𝙴 𝙽 𝙰 𝙲 𝙴  𝚃 𝙾  𝚂 𝙾 𝙲 𝙸 𝙴 𝚃 𝚈 -⸻ ⎼ -

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

丨-Chapter One ▬ Heisty Nights-丨

 

 

 

-ꜱᴇɢᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ - ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇɴᴀᴄᴇ-

 

 

 

ʚ▬▬ι════ﺤ Esuha City ─ 12:12 AM │

THE YEAR 2170-

┆--Y/N POV--┆

 

 

Enter Esuha City. The so-called crown jewel of Japan. The neon-laced titan that swallowed the night sky whole and spat it back out as blinding advertisements. Towering holo-screens plastered every skyscraper face, buzzing with electricity and drowned in the grins of Pro Heroes pushing every overpriced gadget, every sugary drink, every shameless piece of merchandise with their logo stamped on it.

 

 

Even that walking ego known as Mount Lady had her face on half a dozen boards, promoting everything from energy drinks to limited-edition action figures of the villains she'd beaten, no less. Imagine the gall: turning lives into collectibles. And society clapped for it... Was it any wonder people like you turned their backs on all of it? Heroes, villains, it was one big circus. A cheap game rigged for profit, draped in capes and flashing lights. 

 

 

You never cared much for the so-called hero industry. Never cared much for the cops either; just lower-paid cannon fodder who pretended their badges meant something. Villains? Strip away the theatrics, and they were just criminals or poor people in Halloween costumes. But heroes needed villains, and villains needed heroes, so the wheel kept turning in this forever war.

 

 

And if one of those attention-starved poster children ever got too bold? Well, a single bullet to the skull would serve as a reminder that natural selection still worked.

 

 

Which side were you on? Complicated question. The law called you a villain, and not without reason. Your quirk, your methods, both abused to their limits. That abuse had earned you a name, whispered with equal parts fear and irritation. You were a walking reminder that morality could sink lower than a trench and still breathe.

 

 

From the shadows of a narrow alley, you hovered a few inches above cracked pavement, weightless as smoke. Your glare flicked from one screen to the next, each glowing billboard parading another hero with that manufactured, thousand-watt smile.

 

 

"Gotta love this generation," your mutter dripped with tired venom. Every word was a scoff against the spectacle before you. Hero society, gaudy, greedy, hollow. It was a rotting house built on fireworks, and you? You had front-row seats to watch it burn.

 

 

*Bzzzzzzzzzt!

 

 

Your burner phone rattled in your pocket with an insistent vibration. The reminder you'd set for yourself glared up from the cracked screen the moment you fished it out, the numbers glowing smugly just beneath the clock.

 

 

Your lips pulled into a reckless grin, the kind that could only mean trouble. "Alright, time to do something stupid."

 

 

With that bold declaration, the welder's visor, perched on your head, dropped down with a sharp clank, swinging into place in a familiar motion. The world instantly narrowed into the hazy tunnel of darkened glass, the edges of your vision curved with thick shadows that blurred everything beyond the center.

 

 

Why the visor? Because the people loved it, obviously.

 

 

Not really. The visor had become less of a disguise and more of a brand. Polterheist's brand. And sure, you might get tired of it someday, trade it out for something shinier, but until then, it was perfect. You needed a mask, after all. If the world found out that the notorious menace Polterheist was just a teenager? Oh, that would suck. It would suck hard. But that was never going to happen.

 

 

The phone flickered with a brief orange glitch before you shoved it back into the safety of your pocket. With your grin stretching wider beneath the visor, you pulled the straps of your backpack tighter and drifted out of the alley. You had your eyes on something with a lot more shine than any advertisement in this district: the Twilight Diamonds.

 

 

Now, what was the deal with those? Esuha's Grand Museum was putting on an even grander exhibition of what they bragged to be the finest diamonds in all of Japan. Sparkling treasures, framed by glass and ego. And the best part? They were dangling there under spotlights, begging for someone like you to waltz in and snatch them. Stealing them wasn't about the money; it never was. This was for the thrill, the rush, the sheer stupidity of it all. A little midnight entertainment, brought to you by yours truly.

 

 

"𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝑭𝒂𝒕 𝑮𝒖𝒎𝒔 𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒇, 𝒔𝒐 𝒖𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝑷𝒂𝒄𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖, '𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕', 𝑰 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒕."

 

 

"Not a ghost," you reminded flatly. Still, the label bothered you. 'Ghost.' It didn't fit. It felt... iffy.

 

 

The static voice crackled again, humming low in the back of your mind like the buzz of an old TV set left on in an empty room. The world called it nothing, because the world didn't hear it. You were the only one who did. You'd given it a name: The Voice. It's self-explanatory. 

 

 

What exactly was The Voice? Hell if you knew. A quirk side effect? A hallucination? Some half-baked subconscious that crawled out of your brain after ten years of loneliness and neglected mental health? Who could say?

 

 

"𝑶𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏 𝒂 𝒔𝒆𝒈𝒘𝒂𝒚, 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒐'𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌..."

 

 

Roger that. You confirmed your breath before slipping into the ground with ease. Concrete passed through you like liquid, and a moment later, the officer rolled by above, his little segway engine whining as he zipped back into the crowd. 

 

 

Phantom State was like that: slipping beneath the world, like a rumor too quiet to catch. And The Voice, whatever it was, always seemed to know when to nudge you in the right direction. Too precise to be just a delusion, too sentient to be brushed off as a hallucination. It remembered things you forgot, warned you of details you missed. Schizophrenia? Maybe. You'd Googled it once, skimmed three paragraphs, then gave up and buried yourself in a browser game instead. 

 

 

You rose up from the ground and reappeared at street level. Heads turned. Maybe it was the way you floated instead of walked, or maybe it was the welder's visor catching neon light like a bad omen. Either way, suspicion spread through the crowd.

 

 

"Alright, I'm submerging," you announced. "Be my GPS. I forgot the directions."

 

 

"𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆..."

 

 

"I said be my GPS," you snapped back with an indignant huff before your body slipped downward again, swallowed by the pavement. The ground folded around you like a cup of darkness, sealing out the city above. Bless your lack of claustrophobia; otherwise, this would have been hell.

 

 

Traveling underground had its perks. No gawkers. No cops. No idiot civilians acting like they'd seen a ghost. Just pure silence and a smooth glide through the bones of the city. Inconspicuous and efficient. Down here, there were no street lamps, no billboards, no landmarks to follow. Just walls and walls of black.

 

 

If you listened carefully, you could almost hear The Voice sigh, the sound hissing against the static hum it always carried.

 

 

"𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒆."

 

 

***

 

 

 

"𝑹𝒆𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕."

 

 

The words crackled through your skull like static instructions, to which you obeyed. Rising from the pavement, the world shifted from muffled silence into sharp sound. The city night was alive with laughter, shouts, and overlapping conversations, each voice just one story in the chaos of Esuha's sleepless heart.

 

 

You turned, weightless and casual, until the looming structure of Esuha city's grand museum filled your sight.

 

 

It stood like a titan among its neighbors, polished stone and glass gleaming under neon rain. Every inch of it screamed wealth and arrogance, banners stretching down its sides proclaiming in gold letters: The Finest Diamonds in All of Japan. You couldn't help the snort that slipped out of you. Those 'finest diamonds' were about to become glorified paperweights in your backpack.

 

 

"Okay, how am I going to do this?" you murmured, pacing in mid-air with exaggerated thought. "Thinking... thinking... oh...! Lightbulb~" In one smooth, reckless motion, your hand unstrapped your beloved revolver at your hip. You raised the weapon skyward, the polished barrel catching the moonlight, and without hesitation-

 

 

*BANG!*

 

 

"Witness me! Polterheist is HERE!" you shouted with unrestrained glee.

 

 

The effect was immediate. The crowd screamed, ducking for cover. "Villain!" someone shrieked. "Get down!" Another voice cried out, "He's over there!" The block erupted in a symphony of panic, and you soaked it in like sunlight.

 

 

"𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒆, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒖𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒅."

 

 

"That's the point!" you fired back aloud with a grin. "Let 'em look! Let 'em try and stop me!"

 

 

Traffic screeched as cars slammed brakes, horns blaring while pedestrians scattered across the streets like startled prey. The scene transformed into a stampede, a predator's dream, and you moved through the chaos as if it were tall grass in your own hunting ground. Every step, every float carried you closer to the museum.

 

 

"It's Polterheist! Somebody get a hero over here, quick!" a woman cried, clutching her purse like it was her firstborn.

 

 

There it was, that delicious recognition.

 

 

As the gunshot's echo faded into the night sky, you drifted above the panicked crowd and slipped through the museum's towering archway. Steel gates had slammed down and barred the grand doors, but they might as well have been tissue paper. You phased forward, atoms unraveling and reknitting on the other side without so much as a blink.

 

 

You floated through and under the arch of an entrance, straight past its towering, chiseled pillars. The museum doors were locked down with steel gates, but that wasn't a problem for you. Said 'problem' fixed itself when you phased through it with no change in emotion.

 

 

A sharp squeak of rubber soles betrayed someone behind you. The security guard lunged with his arm outstretched, only for his body to pass through yours in a grotesque stumble. He hit the marble floor hard.

 

 

"You tried," you deadpanned, stepping, or rather, floating right over his dazed form without sparing a glance.

 

 

Surely by now, a hero or two was scrambling their way over. Esuha had plenty of those. Sidekicks, pros, wannabes, you name it. They'd arrive, pose, shout something righteous, and inevitably get in your way. 

 

 

Your revolver raised lazily whenever someone stared too long, its barrel glinting beneath the fluorescent lights. It didn't take much, just a twitch of your wrist, and they bolted, shoes squealing against polished marble as they vanished into the distance.

 

 

The museum stretched around you in pristine perfection, each hall lined with centuries of relics and exhibits. But your eyes darted past the distractions, scanning with purpose until they locked on a large map bolted proudly to the wall: color-coded floors, bold lettering, little stars and arrows for tourists.

 

 

One label drew your gaze, Aurora Twilight Diamonds.

 

 

"Hands up!" Barked a security guard who skidded into view, her taser already drawn, the crackle of blue electricity sparking across its prongs. 

 

 

You tilted your head lazily, hooded eyes glinting behind the visor. A grin curled your lips. "And what if I don't? Hypothetically speaking, of course." Your tone dripped with mockery, as if the very idea of obedience amused you.

 

 

"You'll find out, villain! Stay put!" Another guard burst into sight, mirroring his partner. His taser lifted with a trembling hand, the tip glowing blue as arcs of current snapped between the prongs.

 

 

"𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒔 𝒊𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕?"

 

 

You chuckled low in your throat. "Oh, I do indeed."

 

 

"What was that, villain?" the first guard demanded, nerves forcing her free hand to fumble for her radio.

 

 

"BOO!" You lunged forward in a blur, phasing inches from her face. The startled guard flinched and squeezed the trigger. The prongs shot out with a violent snap, a stream of blue electricity lancing through your intangible form. They zipped harmlessly through your static atoms and buried themselves in his partner.

 

 

The second guard yelped as current ripped through him, his body convulsing before he collapsed in a twitching heap.

 

 

"Oh, shit! Sorry, Larry!" the first stammered in panic, fumbling with her radio before dashing to his aid.

 

 

Poor poor sweet Larry, anyway...

 

 

"𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅."

 

 

Your grin only widened as your boots hovered inches off the marble. Alarms hadn't sounded yet, but voices began to rise.

 

 

"He's after the diamonds!"

 

 

"Someone stop him!"

 

 

"Security, It's Polterheist! Where the heck are they!?"

 

 

It always amused you, 'he's'. The welding visor had done its job perfectly and let them believe the menace was some hulking shadow of a man. The truth that their terrifying villain was just a teenage girl would sting far worse if it ever came out.

 

 

Either way, it didn't matter. The world hated you. You hated it right back. They'd taken something precious, something irreplaceable, and now you took whatever you pleased in return.

 

 

"𝑫𝒐𝒘𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒔 𝒔𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒍, 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕."

 

 

Hovering above the rose-veined marble floor, you turned toward the broad staircase descending into the sublevel exhibits. The steps unfurled like a red carpet into the underbelly of the museum, rails of polished brass gleaming under the ceiling spotlights.

 

 

You pulled your arms to your sides, gliding down in a floating-like drift, perfectly in control of your momentum. 

 

 

At the base of the stairs, your eyes lit with greedy awe. The corridor stretched forward, low-ceilinged but glittering, every step lined with glass cases. Trinkets and artifacts, jewels and oddities, all of them spotlighted like stars on a stage. Each begged to be shattered, reduced to shards under your fingertips.

 

 

But not tonight. Tonight, there was a bigger prize.

 

 

Your gaze snapped to the far end of the room. Darkness pooled there, broken only by the cold gleam of titanium supports. And sitting proudly atop them, enclosed in thick, bulletproof glass... Twilight Diamonds.

 

 

Well, that was easy.

 

 

*BEEEEEEEEEEP!

 

 

The thought barely formed before the museum auidibly retaliated. Alarms screamed to life, shrill sirens rattling through the marble halls. Red emergency lights flared, drowning the room in a pulsing scarlet hue. Spotlights blinked out in perfect sync, leaving every exhibit and display bathed in that furious crimson glow.

 

 

Then came the slam! A massive steel gate crashed down behind you, sealing the staircase you'd glided through only moments ago. But your expression never changed, not even a flicker. You remained floating, bored eyes behind your visor, until the gleam at the back of the room shifted. The diamonds.

 

 

The Aurora Twilight Diamonds began to sink into their titanium pedestals, sliding downward into the floor as if vanishing into a hidden vault.

 

 

"Oi- get back here!" you snapped, shouting at the glittering stones like they'd deliberately betrayed you. You surged forward in a reckless dash. "I've never had my reward actually flee from me..."

 

 

*BASH!

 

 

The sound thundered from behind. The steel gate shuddered and then bent inward, its surface buckling like foil under pressure. From behind it, a booming voice carried through with enough confidence to fill the whole room.

 

 

"Oh no you don't, Polterheist!" The warped metal groaned as a massive shape pressed through, his silhouette cast in shadow by the emergency lights. Round. Towering. The kind of outline you only mistook once.

 

 

"𝑰 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝑷𝒂𝒄-𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆."

 

 

You exhaled sharply through your nose. "Oh, shut it. Fat Gum isn't ruining this. Not tonight."

 

 

"Bold words!" Fat Gum's figure straightened as he burst fully into the hall, yellow hood bright even in the crimson gloom. He jabbed a thickly gloved finger in your direction, his iconically wide grin steady and unshaken. "Let's put it to the test, shall we?"

 

 

Amusing was all this was. You shot him a look up and down, lips twisting into a grin, before turning on your heel mid-air and gliding after your diamonds.

 

 

That's when the lights cut out completely. The alarms choked off, and the sirens died. Even the red glow vanished. Darkness swallowed everything whole. You stopped dead, teeth grinding as your bearings evaporated. No light. No sound. Not even the faint hum of the emergency systems. You hovered there in a void, ready to curse the hero's name to hell and back... until something faint sparked ahead.

 

 

Four thin rays of light shimmered from the titanium stands where the diamonds had sunk. Soft, pale, almost ethereal. Twilight Diamonds. Fitting name. And a fitting beacon.

 

 

"𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝑺𝒕𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒅 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒚 𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒔," The Voice hummed, smug.

 

 

"Works in my favor," you muttered.

 

 

Behind you, Fat Gum let out a groan, his footsteps pounding against the marble. "Well- that didn't work." His voice boomed like a disapproving parent. Then the thunder of his charge followed, each stride shaking the floor.

 

 

You dove, laughter bubbling in your throat. Bulletproof glass, titanium stands, none of it mattered. Your fingers brushed the cases, static atoms unraveling their solidity. One by one, the treasures slipped into your intangible grasp and inevitably into your pockets. 

 

 

The sound of your laughter carried, bouncing off the dark walls. "That better not be you swiping them!" Fat Gum shouted, his voice chasing you down like a lecture hurled at a wayward child.

 

 

Poor guy. He could yell all he wanted. Heroes were useless against you. All except... one.

 

 

The lights flared back to life with a sudden white-hot burn. You shot up from the stands, diamonds in hand, wicked grin stretching wide. Fat Gum stood planted at the base of a small staircase, his massive frame blocking the path, his arms spread wide as a herd of jittery police and security crowded behind him like sheep.

 

 

You dangled one diamond between your thumb and finger, letting it glint mockingly beneath the floodlights. "Looky, looky what I have~"

 

 

Fat Gum lunged, his massive hand sweeping through the air with crushing force. But your atoms unraveled, his glove sliding through nothing but static. He grunted in frustration, teeth gritting. "Gah! Your crimes will catch up with you- just you wait!"

 

 

"Wait? Oh, I'll be waiting." Your voice dripped with venomous joy as you floated upward. "Just be sure to catch up before I expire!"

 

 

Your laugh cracked through the air, sharp and sickening. Then you launched skyward, phasing through stone and steel as easily as smoke through fingers. Layer after layer of the museum peeled away until you erupted onto the rooftop, rain and night air slapping against you.

 

 

"Aaaaaand that's another heist done and did."

 

 

"𝑺𝒍𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒚, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂 𝒘𝒊𝒏."

 

 

"Criticism was not prompted, nor requested," you shot back with a wrinkling nose in mock offense. Your grin widened anyway as you drifted lazily above Esuha City's skyline. Neon bled into every color of the spectrum, billboards buzzed like fireflies on overdrive, and the streets below glowed like rivers of light. For once, the weight in your chest lifted, and your body sagged with the kind of lazy satisfaction only a successful heist could bring.

 

 

"Now this..." you sighed, spreading your arms as you floated, "this is freedom."

 

 

You emptied your pockets into your palm. Four diamonds tumbled together, glittering like stars condensed into stone. Their cold light danced across your visor as you rolled them back and forth in your hand. A bubbling laugh escaped you, sharp and giddy, almost goblin-like in its greed. You kicked your legs in the open air, swinging them playfully as if you'd just pocketed the winning lottery ticket.

 

 

"I wonder which other hero I'll make a fool out of next," you mused, voice soft and smug.

 

 

The moment lingered, but even thieves had routines. You tucked the diamonds into a small pouch within your backpack, zipped it closed, and slung the pack over your shoulders in one smooth motion.

 

 

"𝑰'𝒎 𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒅𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆."

 

 

"Oh, good, so you are catching on."

 

 

The voice sighed once again.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Underground travel was efficient, but boring. Phasing through layers of dirt and stone in the squeezing pitch-black left no stimulation but the sound of your own breathing. Eventually, you resurfaced in a shadowy alleyway at The Voice's insistence. Dawn had begun its slow creep as the sky was tinged pink, the sun peeking over the horizon.

 

 

You plopped your backpack to the ground, letting its atoms solidify the moment you broke contact. You dug through it for your casual wear, and your clothes slipped on quickly, the welding visor crammed deep into the pack last. The bag went back over your shoulders, a little shake to settle the straps snug against you. A black mask slid over your nose, hiding what the visor no longer could. Better safe than sorry, street cameras had long memories.

 

 

The first real sight of Musutafu greeted you as you stepped from the alley. Boxy buildings, crowded streets, and the faint chatter of morning commuters. "Home sweet home," you muttered with a smile.

 

 

The sunlight painted warmth across your skin. You basked in it like a plant, drinking deep. You'd dubbed Wednesdays your "Vitamin D days", necessary compensation for all the time you spent underground. The downside of your lifestyle was simple: no sun, no sleep schedule, and no patience. The alternative was fish for vitamin intake, and you hated preparing fish. The smell. The bone-picking mess. Didn't matter if it was everywhere; it was an absolute culinary nightmare.

 

 

Your phone buzzed as you checked the time. Almost eight in the morning, so you shoved it back into your pocket with a sigh. "I keep better track of vitamins than my sleep schedule..."

 

 

You popped your phone from the confines of your pocket, your eyes grazing the lock screen for a split moment before stuffing it back down. Almost eight in the morning... I keep better track of my Vitamins than my sleep schedule...

 

 

"𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏 '𝑰' 𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒗𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒅𝒖𝒍𝒆?

 

 

Don't try and take credit! You are me, and I am you.

 

 

"𝑺𝒐 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏, 𝒐𝒓 𝒅𝒐 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈?"

 

 

I... We're... Forget it.

 

 

But the irritation faded when you looked back up. The sky was breathtaking. Reds and oranges painted across the canvas of dawn, little clouds catching pink edges as the sun broke free of the horizon. "You know what? Screw the sleep schedule," you said, almost wistful. "I like mornings better."

 

 

Of course, staring directly at the sun was idiotic. The ache hit your eyes immediately. You groaned, rubbing at them with sleep-deprived hands, which was exactly when fate decided to trip you up.

 

 

*Wack!

 

 

You collided with someone at the corner. No warning. Just pain and surprise. The impact knocked you flat, your rear hitting the pavement with a sharp thud. You blinked hard, daze flooding your vision.

 

 

"O- Oh, my god! I- I'm so, so sorry!" a voice shrieked. Panicked. Young. Male. The kind of horror you'd expect from a teenage girl in a slasher flick. You looked up at the messy green hair. So... so much of it too.

 

 

Your eyes tracked downward to the outstretched hand he shoved toward you, desperate to help you up. Instinct screamed louder. You scrambled back before his skin could brush yours, then pushed yourself upright on your own.

 

 

"Chill out," you snapped sharply. "I'm fine. Look where you're going next time."

 

 

His freckled face paled. "O- Oh- o- okay, th- that's... that's good! I will, I- I promise! I'm so terribly sorry, it's just- I can't afford to be late, my school's really strict, and if I'm late they might-"

 

 

And he's rambling...

 

 

You tilted your head to the side, bones cracking audibly in your neck. The sound made him choke off his words with a terrified gulp. His mouth opened again, but before he could sputter another excuse, you slipped around him and stormed off with hands shoved deep in your pockets.

 

 

"What a freak," you muttered, shoving your hands into your pockets. "And that messy green head of hair..."

 

 

"𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅'𝒗𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒅."

 

 

I was actively debating it, actually. Ugh. Kids.

 

 

And just like that, dawn bled into morning. The heist was finished, the diamonds tucked away, and that bizarre run-in already clawing for deletion in the back of your mind. You were ready at last to collapse and sleep until the world dared you to rise again.

 

 

 

 

 

→---𝚃𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎𝚍 ---→

 

 

 

 

ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇʟɪɴᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡᴏɴᴛ ʟᴀꜱᴛ

 

 

ɪᴛ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ

 

 

ᴛᴏ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ

 

 

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ

 

 

 

━ ━━ ━━━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━━━━ ━━ ━

Don't forget to check out my other stories, like All for What! If you, lovely readers, have any criticisms, questions, or anything, then just ask... cuz comments are my lifeblood!

EDIT 2025: I did a secret revision of the entire chapter because I still wasn't happy with it. I'll probably do a few more.

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---𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤𝟜𝟛𝟛𝟚---❶