Thar

So... with enough willpower and drive to achieve a goal, Deku can manifest the quirks of everyone who's also had One-For-All before him.

That's... completely insane.

Tell me more.

The grass was unusually green in the yard surrounding the Hotel. The wind flanked the hefty building, whistling tunes of how deserted it was, especially after the crash that took place involving Broken’s malfunctioned space pod. The pod was gone now, for Broken had it craned out and trucked back to his base of operations. The hole remained, but the banner was in ashes after the readers of Trio of DEF 2 revolted against its non-worthy hype.

A scrap of broken wood fell from a beam that stuck out as a splintery section of wood. The scrap was influenced by the wind, landing in the only place in the yard where the grass was not green. The scrap was practically camouflaged with the rest of the roughly-shaped wood that lied in disorganized piles alongside a sizable tree that shaded it. Elevated by the tree was a rough wooden frame that was intended to be a house. A treehouse.

Directly below this frame sat a chubby guy that wore hipster-esque glasses and a brown hoodie that said “DUCKS” across the chest. He wore jeans that hugged his legs and appeared to look like skinny jeans despite the fact that they would fit barely loose on an underweight man. He had no shoes on, and his white socks were covered in grass, pebbles, and dirt.

Striker had a confused and frustrated look on his face. He looked up at the frame that he started, but had no plan on how to work with it. After the crash on the hotel, the Treehouse took collateral damage from the scrap that fell, leaving nothing but that frame that he pondered to rebuild from. He sighed, holding a hammer but not having a clue what to do with it. Beside him sat a box of nails about half full. He picked one up with an index finger and a thumb, positioning the head towards him as he gestured the hammer to hit it.

“Wait, I know what to do!” Striker perked up, grabbing the nearest board of wood he could find, and projected it where he intended to put it. He grabbed the same nail he had but dropped earlier, putting the tip against the wood in preparation for it to be hammered. Sitting against the tree was a ladder, which Striker grabbed with his hammer hand and set up just under the frame. He climbed up, on the way catching his button on one of the steps and loosening the waist of his pants, causing them to drop. Out of reflex, he attempted to grab the dropping pants, but failed, losing his balance and falling backwards with the wood board against his head and the nail stationed in the wood with the hammer on the head.

The impact made him black out.

---

After a few minutes, Striker woke up to the blinding sunlight, which was vaguely blocked out by the head of someone looking down at him.

“Striker…” the voice came from her. It was soft, and comforted Striker, “Are you okay?”

Striker responded with a whiny groan, feeling the sharp pain on his forehead as if he had just ran into a brick wall. He went to feel what was on his head, and nearly panicked at the feeling of a wood board nailed to it. Striker passed out again, this time seeing white.

“Striker!” the voice was stern this time, and Striker flung upwards only to feel impeccably dizzy. He almost passed out once more, but Alice came up to him and slapped him across the face a couple of times to wake him up, “Striker! Get it together!”

“What the hell is your problem?” Striker whined, pushing Alice away.

Alice gasped at the gesture, “How rude, pushing a lady away when she’s trying to help you.”

“Help me? You’re slapping me!”

“You complain too much,” Alice coldly replied, slapping Striker again after he went in another daze, “You did a pretty good number on yourself by nailing that board in your forehead.”

Striker couldn’t help but notice the board was still there, and that he was still holding his hammer, “…and you didn’t remove the board because…?”

“Because I find it amusing,” Alice snickered, “It looks perfect on you, actually.”

Striker frowned, “Thanks for the insult.”

“Insult?” Alice tilted her head, “It was no insult. It was a compliment.”

“Compliment, my ass.”

Alice gasped, “Watch your language!”

Striker was about to shoot back at Alice, but Alice gave a snarly smirk that told him it was best not to. He sighed, attempting to pull the board out but failing, “Damn, this thing is really in there.”

“I’m surprised you’re not dead. That nail must have dug into your brain.”

Striker paused at the thought, “Wow, luckily I have a small brain.”

Alice coughed, “Yes, you do.”

“What was tha-?”

“Nothing!” Alice was red in the face, but the redness disappeared, “Anyway, what were you building?”

Striker looked up at what was still the frame of what used to be the Treehouse, “I was trying to rebuild the Treehouse. Broken’s space pod thing crashed into the Hotel and the debris fell down and tore it down.”

“And you were climbing that ladder to nail that board into place, only to fall backward and nail it into your skull.”

“Pretty mu-” Striker choked on his words when he realized that he was in his briefs. He looked down at them, exposed like the sun on a clear day. Alice chuckled, causing Striker to turn red in the cheeks.

“I-I-uh…”

“Are you embarrassed?” Alice shot a devious look at Striker, making his face redder. His heart started beating harder; it felt like his entire chest was vibrating. Alice crept closer, and Striker made an effort to back away, but did not move.

Alice stopped, “I can smell the virginity on you, chubby boy.”

Striker scoffed, “C-chubby? I’m not chubby, my bones are just big is all.”

“That’s good to hear.” Alice scooted closer, not so much as raising her butt more than an inch off the ground. Striker began to shake as Alice was practically on top of him.

“What are you doing?”

Alice snickered, “What’s it look like I’m doing?”

Striker had a miniature panic attack, unconsciously flailing the arm that was holding the hammer into Alice’s head. Not so much as a little yelp escaped Alice’s lips before she fell over unconscious. Striker sat there, paralyzed from the shock of hitting a girl with a hammer. He looked around, seeing no one in site, and struggled to get up on his hands and knees to scuttle towards her, grab her from the waist, and carry her on his shoulder. He stood up, looking for a place to hide, and ran in whatever direction he decided on. He was still in his briefs, and the wood board was still nailed to his head.

---

Striker ran until he reached an abandoned building, which looked oddly familiar to him. He checked every window to make sure it wasn’t being used, later realizing that this was the building that the Absolute Powerforce used as a clubhouse. Striker sighed; all the harsh memories rushed into his head like a broken floodgate, but the club had been disbanded long ago, so the building was vacant. He had to retrace his steps to find the doorway again, having to adjust the unconscious Alice on his shoulder to make carrying her around more comfortable.

“Dang it, where’s that door?” Striker grunted, running his hand along the perimeters of the building until he finally found it. The door was shut, and when Striker went to turn the knob, it wouldn’t budge, “Locked? Are you serious?” Striker sighed as he put Alice down in a seated position against the walls right next to the door, backing up a dozen feet. He got into a ready stance as if to run, then pounced into a sprint towards the door, readying his shoulder for impact.

Striker was about to make contact with the door before the board on his head caught the sides of the door hinge, stopping him in his tracks and knocking him back without any result of damage to the actual door. He grunted loudly as he lied on his back after falling there, cursing at the door that remained shut and locked, not letting anyone pass. Striker got up, later noticing that he was still holding his hammer.

“Wow, of course,” he sighed, hitting his head with the bottom of his palm. He gripped the hammer, walking up to the door and bashing the knob with it. With every hit, the knob came looser until it broke off the edge of the door, leaving a splintery hole that left the door to swing open with just a light push. Striker exhaled, picking up Alice and starting to walk through the doorway, only to be knocked back again from the wood board hitting the hinge again.

“Damn it!” Striker dropped Alice and forced the board off his head. He could feel the stinging sensation of where the nail left a hole in his head. The sensation left a trail of blood down his face, which he had figured it out to have been there a while. He sighed again, looking at the Alice that he had carelessly dropped, but felt no guilt for doing so. He picked her up, again walking through the doorway but, again, being knocked back, this time Alice being the one hitting the hinge.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake…” Striker turned to the side, slipping through without failure this time. He scouted the room, which was messy with semi-broken shelves along the inside walls and dirt blown in through the broken windows. At the corner of the inside of the building was another smaller room, which also had a door. To Striker’s relief, the door was unlocked, and he walked through it. Alice’s head hit the hinge again, making Striker frantically turn sideways and slip and fall. Cursing, he struggled to get back up, sliding Alice over to the wall opposite of the doorway before dropping her again.

Alice’s eyes were just a slit open, “Whoa, what happened?” She looked around, “Where am I? Striker, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Striker shot back defensively. Alice’s eyes were wide open now, but she could barely move. Striker’s harsh response made her grow suspicious, causing a smirk to appear on her face. At this moment, she felt the pain on her head, piecing it together.

“You knocked me unconscious, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.” Striker put a hand to his forehead, which still wore a strip of blood from the nail hole.

Alice chuckled, “Don’t be sorry. I don’t blame you for having to go to such measures to fulfill your fantasies.”

Striker cringed, “I wasn’t doing sexual things to your body!”

“Suuuuuure you weren’t.” Alice winked, making Striker even more furious. She could only laugh, “You’re cute when you’re angry, you know that?”

Striker’s face turned red again, “Why does it matter? People anger me all the time, but they don’t call me cute…”

“I think you are.”

Striker looked back with a smile, “You really think so?”

“I know so.” Alice got up, albeit still tipsy from being knocked out, and walked up to Striker, holding his hand with both of hers, “I’ve always had faith in you. Everyone else is just a bunch of selfish pricks. It wasn’t your fault that you called them out like you did.”

A tear began to trickle down Striker’s bloody face, “I just… wish they were still my friends.”

“They were never your friends, Striker…” Alice closed in on Striker’s face, “…but I was.” Both of their lips touched. Alice’s legs had barely collapsed, but Striker caught her, keeping her lips against his. The blood on Striker’s face stained hers, but the taste of blood felt satisfying to her, especially his. When the kiss ended, Alice’s lips were stained with crimson like a poor lipstick job.

“You got blood on your face.” Striker claimed.

“So I do,” Alice glided her tongue across her lips, smearing the blood, “What of it?”

“Nothing.” Both of them chuckled and kissed again, this time pressed harder against the wall; little did Striker know that Alice was holding the hammer that he was holding earlier. While Striker was in a trance, Alice bashed him just above the temples to avoid a lethal blow, knocking him out cold. She let him drop to the floor, smirking.

“Now we’re even, ya perv.” She coldly said, dropping the hammer by his side. She giggled, bending down to kiss him on the forehead, leaving a mark the color of blood, and walked out of the building.

---

Striker woke up to the sound of machinery in the background. He looked around, confused as to what was going on as he sat up to look out the window. There was nothing to be seen, but the sound was still there. He stood up, looking outside every window before the last one, which was the one that revealed the source. A wrecking ball machine drove closer to the building and began to swing.

Striker was scared stiff as the wrecking ball accelerated directly towards him. He could do nothing but fall backward, letting it plow through the old brick walls and skim his lying body. The bricks fell on top of him in a way that did not knock him unconscious, which made him physically capable of standing up and running out of the way of the ball as it made its return swing, knocking down more walls. Striker panicked as he tried to find a way out, making a break for the main doorway, but the ball was approaching straight for it, crippling his chances of escaping.

“Why does this always have to happen to me?!” Striker shouted in frustration as he dove to dodge the ball again, immediately getting back up to break for the opening. He had just barely got out before he tripped and fell on his belly, not seeing that the ball had skimmed his back, “Damn, is someone out to get me or something?” He ran around the building to meet up with the machine that guided the ball, seeing that Alice was sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Did ya miss me, sweety?” Alice’s grin was so bubbly, it was scary. Striker was dumbstruck, unaware of the ball circling around to knick him in the butt and knock him over. Alice laughed, further crushing the building.

“What the hell, Alice?!” Striker got up, “You knew I was in that building! Why did you start destro-” he paused, “…why the hell are you even in that thing?”

“Why?” Alice tilted her head, “Because I’m doing a favor.”

“Doing WHO a favor?”

“Well, I got a call from Cherry, who was out of town. She asked me if I wanted to do her the favor of getting rid of the Absolute Powerforce clubhouse so that there is more room for better buildings.”

“…of all people to ask of favors, why you? …and of all people to ask FOR favors, why Cherry?”

Alice shrugged, “Dunno, but luckily I came across this baby in the Mod Headquarters. I asked if I could use it to do Cherry a favor, and they agreed. Me and the Mods are pretty close, you know.” The ball continued to demolish, but Alice let go of the controls, “But that’s not the only reason why I took this…” She jumped out. Striker’s eyes widened as the ball came back around through shattering bricks, watching Alice jump onto it and hold onto the string.

“Alice, are you crazy?!” Striker attempted to stop her, but she was already riding the ball, “You’re gonna KILL yourself!”

“You underestimate me because I’m a woman!” Alice shouted, “Get in the vehicle and finish demolishing the building with me on it, sweety!”

Striker was speechless. He couldn’t do anything but obey her. He climbed into the driver’s seat, pondering which button and switch does what. He moved the lever in one direction, making the ball turn. Alice was singing loudly as the ball crushed through more of the sections of the buildings wall.

“I CAME IN LIKE A WREEEECCCKKIINNNGG BAAALLLLLL!!!” She continued to sing as Striker wore a wide smile, playing around with the lever and tossing and turning the Alice-jockeyed wrecking ball into more building, “ALL I WANTED WAS TO BREEAAKKKK YOUR WAAALLLLSSS!!” Striker was having the time of his life, but in his fun, he slipped off his seat to the side, pushing the lever as far in that direction as possible. The ball heaved in that direction as the crane on the vehicle began to spin a full rotation, one after the other. Alice held on tight, screaming at the top of her lungs, “WWHHHEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!”

Striker got back up and yanked the lever back into position to stop the rotation of the crane, letting the ball stop with its own momentum. Alice was laughing like no one had ever seen before, losing her grip on the rope. Striker ran out of the vehicle and over the ball just in time to catch Alice as she fell. A contagious smile crept across her face.

“Oh Striker…” she sighed with joy, “This is why I love you.”

“But I almost killed you. How could you love me for that?”

Alice snickered, “Silly man. That was most fun I’ve ever had! I doubt there is anyone in this city that would let me get away with something as crazy as that.” She pushed Striker’s head toward hers, and the pair touched lips once again, “Thank you.”

Striker sighed, “You’re welcome, I guess.”

Alice snickered one last time before wrapping her arms around Striker’s neck, falling asleep. Striker felt her warm breath seep down through the collar of his shirt, later realizing he was still in his briefs. He could hear the sound of people walking toward the building, apparently wondering what the ruckus was. The moment they made eye contact with the bottomless Striker holding a skinny girl, they charged at him.

“What are you doing to her?!”

“You pervert! Put her down!”

“He drugged her! Get him!”

Striker panicked, running away from the angry people and finding another place to reside until his name was cleared. Alice began to snore, which Striker laughed at. Not so much as a few meters away from the vehicle, the wrecking ball calmly made its way around and made it so that Striker ran into it and was knocked out cold with Alice falling on top of him. She hugged him tighter as the angry people got closer,

“Don’t worry, Strikey! I won’t let them take you!” She released from the embrace, running back into the vehicle and flinging the ball at the charging people, knocking them several feet back and out cold, “You peasants don’t know the meaning of true love!” She got back out, lying back on top of Striker and falling back asleep.

“Sweet dreams, my pet.”