[It's unfortunate that they've, well, double-booked, but it isn't actually a detractor. All Might is new, but he's not green; he's easy to partner with in a pinch, which means this fight ought to go even faster.
Gunshots ring out (who still uses guns, he wonders faintly) as Aizawa zips and springs his way down, his stomach swooping giddily even now as the ground rushes up to meet him. He's quick, his shielded eyes scanning the people below. They run quickly for the most part, and he ignores those who do, but--
There, a woman who hobbles too slowly. She must have twisted her ankle, but she's gamely trying to go as fast as she can. It isn't fast enough, though; that acidic monster is turning, winding up one hand. It's a clear shot, there's no way he won't make it--
--and it's easy, really. It's almost like a training exercise. He lands on a pole and whips his cloth out, snagging her and yanking her up just as the acid flies. It sizzles on the ground, eating away at concrete, as she shrieks in terror and dangles in the air.
Give her this: she doesn't struggle the moment she realizes Aizawa is trying to help her. Within a moment he's released her, jumping down to join her and help her hurry away. Ten feet, twenty, and he half-turns, keeping that monster in his focus, except there's even more gunshots, too many for even a few people to be shooting at once.
It's not several guns. It's just one, one man, bullets spraying from his fingertips. Ten "guns" in all, and All Might is dodging well, but he's also contending with beating the other members of the gang. It's all too much at once, and then--
--abruptly, the bullets stop.
All Might sees the opening and strikes; within an instant he's knocked the walking gun out. And that's all well and good, and Aizawa feels something like pride rise in his chest, and then--
--then, there's a scream and a shout of warning and all he knows is darkness.
It's such a stupid injury. A rookie mistake that he'll agonize over later. He'd taken his eye off the acidic monster, and of course it had attacked: it hit him square on the side, a large glob of it eating through his uniform and sizzling on his skin. He'd staggered, stumbled, gasping from the pain; another blob had hit him square in the chest, and he'd blacked out from sheer pain.
And now he's here, in some sterile environment, his mind swimming as he tries to wake up.]
no subject
Gunshots ring out (who still uses guns, he wonders faintly) as Aizawa zips and springs his way down, his stomach swooping giddily even now as the ground rushes up to meet him. He's quick, his shielded eyes scanning the people below. They run quickly for the most part, and he ignores those who do, but--
There, a woman who hobbles too slowly. She must have twisted her ankle, but she's gamely trying to go as fast as she can. It isn't fast enough, though; that acidic monster is turning, winding up one hand. It's a clear shot, there's no way he won't make it--
--and it's easy, really. It's almost like a training exercise. He lands on a pole and whips his cloth out, snagging her and yanking her up just as the acid flies. It sizzles on the ground, eating away at concrete, as she shrieks in terror and dangles in the air.
Give her this: she doesn't struggle the moment she realizes Aizawa is trying to help her. Within a moment he's released her, jumping down to join her and help her hurry away. Ten feet, twenty, and he half-turns, keeping that monster in his focus, except there's even more gunshots, too many for even a few people to be shooting at once.
It's not several guns. It's just one, one man, bullets spraying from his fingertips. Ten "guns" in all, and All Might is dodging well, but he's also contending with beating the other members of the gang. It's all too much at once, and then--
--abruptly, the bullets stop.
All Might sees the opening and strikes; within an instant he's knocked the walking gun out. And that's all well and good, and Aizawa feels something like pride rise in his chest, and then--
--then, there's a scream and a shout of warning and all he knows is darkness.
It's such a stupid injury. A rookie mistake that he'll agonize over later. He'd taken his eye off the acidic monster, and of course it had attacked: it hit him square on the side, a large glob of it eating through his uniform and sizzling on his skin. He'd staggered, stumbled, gasping from the pain; another blob had hit him square in the chest, and he'd blacked out from sheer pain.
And now he's here, in some sterile environment, his mind swimming as he tries to wake up.]