Threshold Fever

The one thing Kuroko never expected out of a run-of-the-mill chase was a trap, especially from a random hooligan acting aloof on the street. In hindsight, "hooligan" might not have been the appropriate means of describing such a foolishly dressed crook. He was no random hooligan if he was wise enough to corner Judgment's own teleporter Kuroko Shirai and computer-wiz Kazari Uiharu. Such applied especially to the latter, whose voice rang behind the earpiece glued to the former's head.

"Take a right down that alley, Shirai! I'm sorry, but that's the farthest I can see. Beyond that there're at least a dozen blind spots, so you're going to be on your own."

Focusing on the message delivered by her voice made it difficult for Kuroko to concentrate on traversing her terrain, but, nonetheless, she remained headstrong and managed to sprint as she hesitated for an answer.

"Got it, but there's no need to worry. I've done this a million times, and I can do it a million times more."

"As expected. Be careful."

"Roger."

She took a swift turn down the designated corner and delved into the world that was hidden from the sun: a land of gray, filth, and uncertainty, but little did it daunt one who had emerged from alien status. What made her pause was how it led to a shallow dead end with a missing criminal. Face scrunching, Kuroko treaded carefully inside at a mild pace, eyes attentive and prepared. Her teeth ground against her fragile lip upon arriving where the road ended. She softly kicked a stray trash bag. No human was hiding in there unless their body felt like loose garbage.

"I have a problem, Uiharu: the alley leads to an end, and the target's nowhere in sight," she grumbled beneath her breath. "We might have an esper on our hands. Maybe a physics-canceler?"

"It's possible. If he is, he could've easily used his power to run up the walls and throw us off his trail."

"Blast. I'll give the skies a look as soon as-" She yelled when a line of pain erupted behind her head. It was not enough to to put her out of service, but it was certainly enough to send her stumbling. She rolled on the ground to set herself back on her feet, turning around in the process. Behind her stood the once-missing crook. He bore a smile as he rhythmically beat a metal bar across his open palm.

"Nowhere to run now, Miss Judgment," he taunted. There was much to process: the man, the pain in her head, the fear of being unable to teleport, countermeasures if she could not teleport, and Uiharu's exasperated tone.

"Shirai!" she exclaimed. "What's wrong? What's happening?" There was little time for Kuroko to answer, as there were far more pressing matters longing for her attention. She coped with the repetitive stinging that erupted in the site of the blow by tensing her muscles to flaunt her armband.

"As I've said before, sir..." she growled to the man. "I am Kuroko Shirai of Judgment, and I'm here to arrest you for-" The man interrupted her by taking another swing, but she had sharp enough reflexes to avoid it with a weary sidestep. The man showed no signs of cooperation whatsoever, she realized, so she concluded that a bout of conflict was the only resolution to their encounter. She rushed forward with a short burst of energy and swung her leg out in hopes of sweeping him off his feet. He was awfully sturdy, she realized with fear, and rushed to calculate dodging an imminent counterattack.

Her first impulse was to teleport behind him, but when she tried to concentrate, all she could feel was the enraged wound that refused to leave her alone. Horror took her captive, especially as her eyes darted upwards to witness the man winding his arms into the air. With his metal bar, his hands came crashing down toward her.

As if time slowed, Kuroko was given time to think.

"Come on, Kuroko. Just this once! Forget about the pain and concentrate! Concentrate! Concentrate!" Her heart fluttered at the all-familiar pitch that followed the use of her power, but also grew troubled at the sound of a heavy blow against something soft. She was teleporting, but not fast enough; her foe registered an additional, and lucky, strike to her head right before she disappeared.

Hers was a poor turn of events, as she feared the trauma would throw her calculations askew. What was once a fear turned into reality, for within the moment of a blinking of an eye, she was away from the fray, but somewhere far worse. She became enveloped in darkness and a material that constricted every part of her body. She could not struggle to get free, just as she could not plea for her lungs to breathe.

"Please tell me you're all right! Answer me, Shirai!" Uiharu pleaded through her ear. Kuroko's eyes widened, and her heart panicked when she realized the pocket that held her captive was not large enough to allow her to open her mouth.

"The ground! I teleported into the ground, Uiharu! I can't speak, and there's no room for me to breathe!" Teleporting was out of the question.

No teleporting.

No help.

No breath.

Kuroko was doomed to the fate of remaining still, silently accepting her fate of being claimed by the fearsome powers of suffocation.

But it felt like when her lung hurt the most, she could finally gasp and release. She did not hesitate to free her well-needed breath as a bellow, a bellow that followed her eyes as they shot open. Her stomach curled. Sitting up, she began panting, feeling sweat as it dripped down her face. One river in particular dribbled down the bridge of her nose and took the plunge off its tip, a sensation she used to calm herself until her shivering died.

Calm. Calm was all she felt soon, for her fearful eyes finally decided to dart around to observe their surroundings. Glossy wood politely greeted her, as did the manila shade of the comforter shielding both herself and the bed. A delightful ray of sunlight spilled into the room despite the protests of thin-threaded curtains. Subtle chirps of birds and the distant scent of freshly-ground coffee tattled of morning.

Morning. It was just morning, she realized with relief. With a hand still quivering, she took her forehead captive, mopped away sopping bangs, and rested her head with a sigh. Despite any lingering sensations of terror, she felt a soft smile tug at the corner of her lips. The most she could do was lightly resist.

"Must've been a pretty rough nightmare," sounded a voice. It was not Uiharu's as it had just been. Instead, it was a voice that was far more pleasing to Kuroko's ears. A voice that caused wings to sprout from her shoulder blades as she ascended into sweet-smelling clouds. A voice that had her eyes glisten as she turned to meet the source: the spotless face of Mikoto Misaka, her roommate that was strewn across her own bed on the opposite side the room. Shoulders relaxing, Kuroko gardened a warm smile.

"Nightmares? Me? I don't get nightmares," she lied effortlessly, brushing a strand of hair over her shoulders to its rightful place.

"Are you sure? That's what you've been saying the past five nights."

If Kuroko corrected her, Misaka would have known that the matter was under intense scrutiny. If the matter was under intense scrutiny, that meant something was dreadfully wrong. The reason it was wrong was because, as Kuroko herself claimed, she did not get nightmares... At least, not until the past six (not five) nights.

And there was no clear reason why.