Sorry it took so long to update! I will not abandon this fanfic, don't worry! I just got a puppy, and well...you know how that goes.

We finally see Mikoto in this chapter, and I plan on doing a lot with her and Accel's relationship that will be shocking. Do not expect anyone's timeline to be consistent here on out, and all you light novel readers, it's probably better if you pretend NT doesn't exist.

In this chapter, you're going to have wtf moments. Don't drop it. Keep reading and trust me. You'll be like, "OH shitttt" by the end of it.

Chapter Playlist: (Full Spotify playlist link in my profile)
Natural Villain - The Man Who (credit to the lyrics used below)

—

Not with a Bang

They say that time can heal a man

But I still wear the scars

I used to keep them hidden

But now I like them where they are

Chapter 7: Natural Villian

-OCTOBER 4, Night-

Time jump past Skill-Out Uprising Arc.

Based on experience alone, Accelerator was well aware not to underestimate a level 0. Komaba Ritoku had been one of those formidable non-ESPers. With good reason. He had been forced into a position along with other Skill-Out members to combat the darkness, lest it eat them alive. Well, more darkness had also come in the form of himself, even if he hadn't been the one to pull the final trigger. It was a bittersweet ending—out with a bang just like he himself could have been this past summer, but instead, the white-haired #1 stood before Komaba like a mirror, reflecting the bullet fired at him, regardless of his own inner dialogue. It didn't matter what Komaba's phone wallpaper was. It didn't matter who he had waiting for him at home. What mattered was the balance of power—what mattered was the corruption that fed the darkness that came for him.

From this mangled death in a back corner alleyway, Accelerator again faced the simplicity of his own power—how easy it was to kill. He watched life filter through him and disperse into nothing—as if his ability wasn't even vector control anymore. He killed without trying, even with aphasia limiting the reach and timing of his calculations. In the end, nothing had really changed, had it? He was still a natural villain.

Even so, when ordered to kill that third string's—mother, Mikoto Misuzu, he didn't take the job. Real villains didn't kill the innocent for such ridiculous reasons, such as the Recovery Movement. In fact, did the drunk woman deserve to die simply for wanting to extract her daughter from the coming conflicts with the Roman Catholic Church? He honestly didn't care to give it much thought. Even if he was avoiding thinking about it, it didn't matter.

However, this refusal on his part—regardless of his secret intention to go against any attempt on her life—helped him to learn of his electrode's new 'safety device'. Apparently while he was unconscious, it had been taken from him and tampered with when they extended the battery life. His thoughts had first assailed Mezamine, the doctor, but his judgement of character knew better than to believe she had tricked him. It must have been analyzed in that ambulance—he had seen remnants of computers—others had been there. In a moment of weakness, he had been given a tether. It made him want to trample their plans to kill Misaka Misuzu all-the-more. So he did. Without his powers.

Turned out practicing at a shooting range certainly helped him accomplish his goals. But if they could limit ESPer mode, that also meant they'd be able to completely immobilize him. The electrode would always be his weakness, but there were ways around every weakness. If he was going to outwit the darkness, he'd need a solution for all of them to avoid being exploited or having them used against him. The first step was getting the electrode specs from that other doctor with the frog-face. However, GROUP didn't give him the time—perhaps purposely—to contemplate let alone take action on his newfound discovery. Instead, he was given the gift of a new solo mission. And what a gift it was.

School District 21: the primary use for water storage. What was interesting was the amount of freight being imported into the district to a certain orphanage preschool located in the mountainous area near the nature park. Accelerator had never had the pleasure of exploring said park (luckily), but the data indicated that the orphanage was set up as a fatal safe for children that were essentially 'dropped off' in Academy City. Maybe even Accelerator had been one of those brats at one point—hell if he could care to remember.

Well, now this orphanage—or rather the assholes who ran it were a security threat. According to Unabara, they were planning to dump a chemical formula into the water storage tanks, using a mini-stealth-army they had established under the radar. Didn't sound too much different than any other going-ons in this corrupted, fucked up city. Accelerator wasn't the least bit surprised. He alone would be enough to take out this small army and destroy the chemical before it was leaked into the water supply. Destroying was his forte, after all.

The truck he was appointed by GROUP arrived promptly in the evening at district 21. Accelerator, who had just finished gulping down the rest of his canned black coffee, tossed it onto the seat and exited with a curt wave at the driver. It seemed like such a normal night—as if nothing was amiss at all or as though a bunch of wannabe villains weren't about to end up as corpses. He sneered to himself, a glint of red eyes focused on the sidewalks lit by streetlights. The park area was vacated, but even from afar, he could see lights through the dense woods. That was their hideout: the orphanage.

Misaka Mikoto had heard a rumor. And while she was used to getting dragged into things, this was oddly different. Not only was it wrong, but if it were true, it could only be described as cruel, inhumane—a crime. This time, she wasn't left out of the loop. In fact, she was the only one in the loop. Thanks to her hacking ability, she had just about uncovered what looked to her like an operation under the guise of an orphanage. Were they forcing children to mix chemicals!? Were they going to dump them into the water supply?! All of Academy City would be affected—they'd have to get water from outside the city! It was a possible disaster and she couldn't believe Anti-Skill wasn't all over this already. According to records at least, the organization didn't even have a single clue—had they not heard the rumor?

It wasn't like curfew was hard to get around anyway. What? Was she going to get mugged for her pocket change? Oh, if they wanted it, she'd send it flying theirway. Ha. Ha. To her dismay, she did not get mugged or hit on; however, she was able to slip past radar and take to the empty streets. She did not ask for help; she did not call Touma; she simply left on her own accord. Beating up and taking down a couple of puppeteers would be a cakewalk, and she loved the very idea of cake. Perhaps she'd treat herself, after this.

On the outside, the orphanage looked so innocent, it made Accelerator's stomach churn—which in itself was an odd sensation for him. Why did he care how it looked? It was a damn building. At this hour of night, cold dew had already gathered on the grass and was soaking into his shoes, making his feet feel damp. He scoured at the mere fact that, again, the outside world could touch him now. Not only that, but the darkness too was ubiquitous and smothering. He ground his teeth and stopped, taking a moment for slight recon, since much of the information he received from GROUP was garbage.

He pressed his lean back against the cold stone of the orphanage building, feeling it dig into his spine as he turned to peer inside the corner of the window. The blinds were drawn, only alluding to the fact that there were multiple bodies inside. Not enough for an army though. He sighed, seeing his breath in the faint, silvery light from the moon sliver overhead. He'd just have to do this his way, he guessed. Throw caution to the wind, not like it mattered.

He pushed off from the wall, leaning heavily into his crutch that sunk somewhat into the wet soil of the forested area. Ah, the pains of not having a sidewalk. He upturned moss, struggling slightly to get to the front door. It was freshly painted in glossy red. His eyes narrowed and he reached up a pale hand to his electrode, hovering a moment over the button. He shut one eye and sighed again. Guess he'd blow down the door, take out the first guy, threaten the second with blood reversal, and then get his answers as to where the rest of their stealth army was and the chemical supply that way. Whoever was the head honcho, he'd get the information he needed and then end him. It would be over in five minutes.

He flipped the switch and the door fell away like paper. Immediately, he had a gun pointed at his head by some tall, burly scum. Academy City's #1 grabbed the barrel and pulled it closer to his skull, hiding a look of mild amusement under a thin veil of hostility. The man looked more than a little surprised.

"Go ahead, fire." Accelerator growled, sizing up the rest of the room while he was waiting for the man to get the balls to end a life (little did he know it would be his own). In one corner, it looked like there was some unknown kind of device he didn't recognize, which prickled him slightly, but it was powered down so it didn't currently pose a threat. The trigger against his head tightened slightly, the man's breathing uneven.

"Who are you, brat?!" For some reason, the image of Last Order flashed into his mind's eye at the sound of that, but he batted it away. Seemed they had more in common than he initially thought. They both had their share of dealing with brats, apparently.

There was a table on the other side of the room where whiskey was poured into cloudy glasses and where three other men sat—had been sitting around it. They were rising to their feet presently, one pulling another gun, the other reaching into his pocket, and the third fumbling with scattered papers that looked very valuable. To them, Accelerator looked like just a middle school kid—a brat, have you. To him, the fact that they pulled a gun on him, told him they didn't care either way.

"Does it matter?" He taunted, tilting his head further into the barrel. It would have been cold, but he didn't feel it. He was back to not feeling anything when he had auto-reflection on. Transitioning always felt… off. His eyes lit up with callousness nonetheless. "...if I'm about to end your little game."

The gunshot finally rang out ...with enough encouragement, and a limp body fell beside him. He heard unintelligible curses and more gunshots happened instantaneously, bullets scattering and burying themselves into the plaster walls. Accelerator kicked himself forward, increasing his momentum to slam another man with a gun into the opposing wall, a pale hand clenching his neck.

"Guhrggg!"" The gun clattered to the ground. Accelerator's teeth showed as he chuckled derisively.

"Have you ever thought…" an eye flitted backwards to the other two men, making sure the papers weren't being burned, " 'Hmm, what would happen if my blood flowed in the opposite direction?' Well, I'll let you in on a little secret." He leaned forward, white hair brushing up against the man's scaly cheek—who quickly tried to quiver away, but the death grip on his neck didn't allow for it. He whispered,

"It'll cause your organs to explode out of your skin. You'll suffer first. It'll be unlike any pain you've seen or felt. What do you say? Want to be one of the few in this world that have experienced it?" He withdrew, the dripping words having twisted his expression, lapsing on the edge of mania.

A padding of small feet was heard through the stairway leading upstairs to the second level.

When Mikoto finally reached District 21, she pulled out her GPS where an address was already entered previously during her research. It was the address to the orphanage. She really didn't know what she was doing here or why she didn't just report her findings on the rumor to Anti-Skill, but here she was, about to prove just how much of a rule-breaking vigilante she had become. It may have been the influence of a certain someone—or it may have been just her own desire to prove to herself she could solo saving the day from the darkside of Academy City. Maybe it was just a power-flex, but the #3 level 5 had a stake in wanting to help people however she could, while also putting a stint in anything the darkside was cooking up. It was because of this deep-rooted horror in her and the hostility that those in the darkness exuded that she knew waiting for Anti-Skill just wanted an option. And it was probably a mistake.

As she approached the orphanage through the wooded area, squinting through the darkness, she heard gunshots and instinctively stiffened. Oh god, what if she was too late? What if that was one of the children that didn't mix the chemicals properly? Honestly, she had no idea if there were even children involved or if the whole orphanage thing was just a cover. Were they in-fighting? Someone got to them before her? It could be anything, really. No level of assumption would answer any questions. Should she turn around?

She increased her pace and ran along the side of the building in stealth, noticing immediately that the front door had been kicked in, not by a foot. It looked like someone had completely broken the hinges with a bulldozer. The entire thing was shattered. Who could have...

The man in Accelerator's grip squirmed, legs kicking as a child much smaller than himself held him up as if he were underwater and weighed nothing. An ESPer! Of course! There was only one way a kid could have avoided getting shot in the head at point blank range. The man was trying to make eye contact with their leader behind him, but the damn kid's face was in the way. All he could do now was try and buy time.

"I—I'll tell you everything. Pl—please just don't…"

"Don't?"

"Don't kill meeee! I have a family and a daughter about your age maybe she even goes to the same school what school do you go to she's a level 2 and is just…!" Click.

The man's verbalized stream of consciousness was abruptly halted when his entire weight plummeted down like someone had hit the off switch on the #1's vector control—the electrode?! The white-haired monster loomed above him now, but there was a shocked expression on his face, lips slightly parted. Before anyone could react, he dove to the side and grabbed the gun off the dead man who had greeted him at the door with it. But he was losing his inhibitions and fast…

The man had been holding something within his pocket and now withdrew what looked like a remote control. Behind his glasses was a narrowed and dangerous look. It seemed the remote communicated with the old-looking machine in the corner. An AIM jammer—?! Shit!

Even though Accelerator was familiar with the modern AIM jammers (which usually appeared more like nets), that didn't mean something like this wasn't still able to output the special EM signals necessary to throw a wrench in AIM diffusion fields and the signal of his electrode. It would likely have a similar effect to if he were underground. And the device was probably only active within a certain distance from it, but he couldn't determine the distance without first testing the boundaries. He'd guess it was at least covering the entire building. In response to it, his electrode was going in and out, flickering like a flame about to be extinguished...

"Now foreigner remove markings!"

Fuck. He squinted, trying to unpiece and calculate exactly what was happening. His hand was shaking where he held the gun, but he took aim to take out the knee of the man he had been threatening who was now yelling words he wasn't able to grasp the meaning of. The man screamed out when the bullet hit him, collapsing. And for a moment, Accelerator was confused by the agony in his voice. ...Why... Then he realized his finger was pressed down on the trigger and he was already calculating the trajectory of a separate bullet flying towards him so as to deflect it. Reach. Reach before...! He had to move.

The gunshot stammered in his ears as if he were just hearing it being fired. These flashes of genius were stringing apart his mind. In one moment, he knew everything, and in another, he had lost it all. Before he could react, a cold, yet smoldering ball of fire buried itself into his side without tearing through into the wall behind him.

"Ghhrbb!?" he dropped the gun, but quickly picked it up and rolled off to the side, freezing pain activating his muscles on instinct alone. His calculation ability came back for a breath. He had been shot. Was this what it felt like? No vitals had been hit, but it was enough to make him feel like he was scrambling underwater. He tried to control his blood flow and was able to initially stop it from leaking everywhere, but then the electrode signal sizzled out once again and he forgot all about it. Why couldn't he move his left arm? He slipped in the blood getting up and listed to the side against the wall, confused, but not even sure why. Why couldn't he move right—why did it hurt?

"Go prepare them."

In response, the man with the papers slithered away up the stairs where the light footsteps had sounded earlier. Accelerator tried controlling the bleeding again, but it was like working with a shorted wire. His control was thrown out the window too. He'd end up rupturing his veins. Dropping the attempt, he used what precious time he had to launch himself across the room, where he ended up sending the man with the remote flying into the other who was still grabbing his knee and writhing on the ground. A disgusting thud and crack was heard, but he couldn't figure out what it was from and collapsed onto his knees, staring mindlessly at where he had just thrown the man.

The remote. He had been trying to go for the remote. The man started to get up…

"Leader!"

"I'm fine. The jammer is doing its job. That should have been worse."

Accelerator was on his feet again and lunged for them, eyes trained now. A terrible snap came from his right ankle. Something broke. His control! He lapsed in calculating the impact of his increased kinetic momentum. He was able to realize that, but it kept shorting out. He was flying forward too fast—he tried to slow it, but instead… the floor behind him collapsed into its foundation, shaking the old building to its core. The vectors touching him went out of control, amplified. Still, he tried to reach for the remote with wild eyes.

"SHOOT HIM!" The sound of the man's voice was as though it was through a megaphone. Accelerator's eardrums snapped and began ringing, fingertips just about to reach the remote.

The gun fired off again, but the swell of his vector control decimated the bullet on impact, deflecting it so violently that the metal itself imploded and disintegrated into dust. Their shocked expressions only fed him. He grabbed for the remote as the man pulled it away, but then lost all motor functions, falling to a heap on the ground. He would have been fuming, but when he landed, every bit of understanding went out the open door.

A young girl with short, chestnut hair in a ponytail, wearing all-black, tight leggings, jean shorts, and a sweater appeared in the doorway. Her golden eyes were fierce, alert, and scanning every inch of what was inside. Her thighs were accentuated and sheer as her boots clapped against the busted wood floor boards. Small zaps of electricity danced around her almost in song, bouncing outwards and lifting up the tips of her bangs. Time to save the children!

A shock of white and red immediately entered her line of vision, filling her with the feelings of her nightmares from the past. Utter defeat. The taste of blood and gravel. The sound of her own railgun blast passing just beside her ear. Unlike that night, she did not hear that monster's laughter—the look in his eyes from the ground was entirely different. He looked like another person, even despite still being a monster. His red eyes were dulled as he way-too-slowly seemed to notice her presence. They widened slightly in the surprise she was also feeling herself. The sight of blood and the dead man at her feet reminded her of the clones and victimized the enemy for just a moment in her mind—but there was blood also coming from him. So... he could feel pain? Its presence reminded her that he was still human somehow. If he was still human, that meant she could use language to try and communicate with him—maybe even reason with him. So no one else had to die. Would it be possible?

She had forgotten entirely why she had come there.

The man with the glasses who held the remote was about to shoot an incapacitated Accelerator, but turned to point the gun at the new threat. He didn't hesitate when he pulled the trigger.

A body dropped to the ground.

Something shattered.

Mikoto stood there gawking, Accelerator on his feet right in front of her. The man with the gunshot wound to the knee passed out and had fallen to the ground. The window above them was broken by the reflected bullet, which had been meant for Mikoto, but looked like it could have just as easily been able to take out Academy City's #1. An October zephyr blew in.

Had he just…?! She cupped a hand over her mouth briefly as the man cocked the gun for another go. ...saved her?! Accelerator's back didn't look steady. A bolt of electricity went wild out of her and scurried across the ground. She sometimes matched power with emotion, but this wasn't something she had initiated. It was almost as if it had a mind of its own… She looked around the room, saw the remote in the man's hand, saw the machine in the corner, heard an inaudibly low buzz of an...AIM jammer(?), saw a device around Accelerator's neck with wires attached to his head. She couldn't tell what that was per say, but she knew she had to destroy the machine in the corner faster than a bullet. What was faster than a bullet, you ask?

Bang.

In an instant—probably a little more haphazard than she would have liked, all the stray iron and steel in the room slammed into a single point and was jolted straight at the AIM jammer. Please take care of the bullet, she prayed to the #1, silently shocked she was even depending on a murderer like him to help the situation. The ancient AIM jammer exploded into a million pieces, scattering parts all over the room.

The bullet nearly reached her, but with a blur, flew backwards, straight into the barrel of the gun whilst it came, shattering it in the man's hand. He let out a yell, pieces clattering to the ground with him as he dropped, unconscious. Accelerator's figure came into focus, bent slightly to the opposite side he usually leaned. His ankle was 100% broken. He wasn't sure he'd be able to walk in normal mode. It was past 5 minutes. To top it off, the Original was here, and he would have to hide her involvement from GROUP, lest he find out what happened when he 'ran into someone he knew.'

"The hell are you doing here, third rate?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing."

"Well?"

"You first." She crossed her arms and eyed up the AIM jammer. What was a small level zero force doing with that piece of history? This had to be much bigger. And what was going on upstairs? She looked back and...Accelerator was already on his way up the steps.

"Hey wait," she stammered after him, catching up, "you look like hell should you really be…" Why should she care about a heartless murderer anyway? She shrugged and followed behind him. "Just don't fall back or you'll hit me," she growled.

"Do you ever shut up?" He glared back at her and stopped short so she ran right into him. Out of habit, he used the tone of voice he usually used when speaking with Last Order. "They're going to hear you."

Wh-wh-what was that look?! She had never seen that kind of expression on his face. It was softened and...sane? She blinked in horror at who she thought he was versus what she was currently witnessing. Save for the ever-present glare, he looked nothing like she remembered. What so drastically happened between then and now?

But that was a question for another time, and she wasn't even sure if she wanted to hear the answer, anyway.

When they reached the top of the stairs, only a blank hallway met them, filled with darkness and nothing more. It was quiet, too quiet. Mikoto was just about to open her mouth to fill it when Accelerator held up a hand, looking back just briefly at her, red eyes catching the dimness. She pursed her lips together and bit her tongue, resisting the urge to throw him down the stairs and just do this her own way. Who died and made him king anywa—? The thought stopped dead in its tracks—flashes of that night suddenly chiseling away her vision of the present. Her heart started slamming against her rib cage in shock and horror. She was standing this close to a murderer who killed ten thousand versions of herself. She was just another one of those blips that didn't matter if he tore off a leg—that didn't matter if he snuffed it out at the flick of a wrist. And yet—and despite the rush muffling her ears and the bile rising in her throat, this felt so entirely different.

Oblivious, in a way, to what was happening behind him, Accelerator was keyed into sounds coming from elsewhere in the orphanage. Focusing intently, he amplified the sound vectors, but was confused as to the feedback he was getting versus the visuals he was seeing. They didn't match up. This concerned him, especially because of the level of intricacy in the delegation of processing power between regulating his blood flow around the gunshot, keeping weight off his ankle, giving extra attention to his right leg, and trying to discern why the hallway was empty when he was hearing five heartbeats, not including their own.

"Hey," he whispered harshly, nudging the girl behind him who snapped out of her own thoughts and gave him a disgusted look in response, "do you see anything?"

"What do you mean, 'see anything'? I'm seeing exactly what you're seeing. A whole lotta nothing. Let's search the rooms and go. I don't want to spend any more time with you than I have to." She wanted to ask him questions—demand answers, but for the time being, she forced herself to hold back, pushing past him.

"Tch." He shrugged and followed closely behind, latching onto the heartbeats and trying to perform the necessary calculations to determine their precise locations. To him, it almost seemed like they were coming from just a few feet away. While the complexity of the problem was buzzing in the background of his psyche, he heard footsteps approaching and froze.

Mikoto noticed this and looked back at him in question. A beat passed and something silent and unseen suddenly whizzed right by where Mikoto would have been had she continued on her way, burying itself into the side wall. She peddled backwards slowly. Was that...a bullet?

In response, she let electricity spring out of her, stringing the walls and creating a kind of blue candle light. It flickered across her chestnut eyes, but didn't help to locate the source. Instead, it seemed to ruffle the edges of her vision like there was some kind of interference in her sight. Confused, she blinked and wheeled around to Accelerator who had an alien expression—it looked like he had just seen a ghost. She followed his gaze, expecting the worst, but there was nothing there at all(?).

Her pearly hands. Her smooth, unmarred skin. Her light hair so pristine, brushing carelessly against her chin. A faint, natural scent coming from her. It was the same. Her slender fingers were reaching out, grasping at nothing. The goggles sitting firm atop her head. Eyes emotionless—not even cold or calculating. She aimed the gun in her hand again and pulled the trigger, but there was no sound.

Accelerator was biting his lip to keep the breath from leaking out of his body—his focus just tenaciously holding on enough to keep him upright. There was a clone—a Misaka standing right in front of him—firing at him again. The bullet harmlessly reflected into the opposing wall. He raised an eyebrow with a growl and took a few steps forward towards her. He didn't have time to waste playing games with a malfunctioning brat on the wrong side. Where was Last Order when he needed her?

"Ahn? Stop fucking around. What are you doing here?" He felt so tame it made him want to turn off his electrode and just let her shoot him. When he got closer, another Misaka suddenly emerged from behind her. She, too, raised a gun at him. And then another. Soon, there were five. Well, that explained the heartbeats. He spun around to ask if 'the Original' knew anything about why they were here of all places—if they had followed her there, but the third-string was nowhere to be seen…

Mikoto was watching Accelerator when the floor beneath her caved in. She let out a yelp, but the oblivious, white-haired murderer didn't even turn around for her. What...was she even expecting to be saved by a monster like him? He was probably happy to be rid of her. No one would be coming to save her. She was on her own, and she liked it like that anyway, even if it was positively terrifying. Mikoto plummeted downwards further than what felt like a floor, trying beyond all reason to understand why her static electricity wasn't helping to slow her fall at all. She landed in the dark, fumbling around to try and see why or how she didn't end up on the floor from which they had come. Instead, it seemed like it was a basement of some kind. A weirdly familiar one. Damp. Wait, that felt like…

Where the hell did she go? Accelerator whipped back around to the clones with an expressionless exterior and a chill playing on his lips. Inwardly though, all hell was breaking loose, but he couldn't let them know that. Slipping his hands into his pockets, he nonchalantly leaned forward, transferring some weight to the wall next to him so he'd have less to deal with.

"So?"

"Misaka is here in response to the control tower's kill order, says Misaka as Misaka holds up the gun and squeezes the trigger, knowing the bullet will only be reflected back."

"Kill order?" He shifted his weight from the broken ankle to his faulty right side, slowing the vectors of his pain receptors almost to a stop.

"The control tower has requested your death, Misaka relays while Misaka prepares herself to go on the offensive."

"...Last Order?" He barely choked the name out, not able to fully hide the shock in his voice or his pupils from shrinking. Since the September 30th mess with that bastard, Kihara, had she changed her opinion of him? Had that brat finally realized her mistake in accepting him? ...had she lost her memories? The last question was a false, weak hope, whispering in the back of his head. It nearly crumbled out of him before falling through his mind like trying to hold onto sand. There was just no basis for it. The only thing that made any sense was what he had always expected in the first place. It was who he was: a villain through and through and no one would forgive him—he didn't deserve it.

"That is what the control tower is called, Misaka confirms while Misaka wonders when the other Misakas will arrive and creates a distraction." She pulled the trigger the rest of the way and fired.

There was a moment of hesitation, but Accelerator was self-aware. He knew that the structure of his Personal Reality had changed so drastically over the past few months. He also knew that he could never hurt another Misaka as long as he lived—or let anyone else for that matter. Well, it seemed that day was coming too soon. Last Order wanted him dead—had ordered the army of clones after him—an army that, had he killed, would've allowed him to achieve level six. The irony was grand. He could laugh out loud!

Would he just roll over and die then—let them kill him right here? It was only what he deserved. If he could die more than once, he should do that too. If Last Order really wanted him dead… then he'd at least make sure he went out with a bang. Maybe he'd even die before they shot him. That would be a riot.

Accelerator reached a hand up to turn off his electrode, but the bullet was already deflected—he made sure it was away from the Misakas. The clone that had been speaking suddenly folded to the ground with a gasp. Crimson started leaking out of her—throat gurgling and heart grinding. The sounds of death permeated his sense of reality, twisting it into something unrecognizable. His mouth dropped open, pupils shivering further into tiny dots. H-how—he didn't!? The pool of blood rapidly approached the tip of his shoe, reminding him of the feeling of the wet grass. It soaked in. He started shaking uncontrollably, backing up until his shoulder blades pressed into the wall by the stairs where they had come up. He was having trouble breathing—like the air was thinning—like it was being sucked out of the room by a vacuum.

"You killed her, says Misaka as Misaka determines you're still a murderer and relays it to all the other Misakas as well as to the control tower."

"Murderer, Misaka concludes."

"Murderer, Misaka also agrees."

The white-haired monster slid down the wall, unable to focus enough to keep up his calculations, wondering in this inception why the MISAKA network was even still doing the calculations for him to begin with—the calculations that had been used to kill her just then… None of it made any fucking sense—he wasn't even sure what was happening anymore. All he knew was that he had killed another Misaka. He reached a quivering hand up and turned off his electrode, knowing fully well that doing so was equivalent to digging his own grave, but why should he care?

It was a body part under her hand, slightly warm. She was laying atop a mound of lifeless mannequins—she could barely make out the silhouettes—barely see where one part began and where another ended. They were skin tone pieces that, when connected, became a body—a shell to house something she could not even fathom. A clone. A false her. A fake duplicate of herself. The mouths in various places opened, revealing nothing living inside. They were gaping at her without saliva. They were opening further and further without any screams—without any words. No sound. There was nothing to say—nothing to even say, for they were created because of her...and they were killed because of her. And she sat atop the throne of body parts, surrounded by her own DNA, and yet, it had nothing to do with her. The faces that were her own were not hers—the faces that kept widening and spreading out and somehow getting closer... They wanted her—they wanted to become her—they wanted to be real, but a clone could never be a real person, could they? That was what Accelerator must have thought. They were just parts—just pieces of flesh that could speak. Windup-dolls. They looked and felt real, but they weren't. They were fake hers. And yet? They weren't at all. All this time, Mikoto believed they were real. They had life. They were not lifeless. They were not like these body parts surrounding her, trying to strangle her like waves drowning her in the deep pits of despair. They had their own lives—they had their own life that wasn't a part of hers. Their own smiles.

She gasped for air, struggling to the top. It was like those mouths opening and opening were sucking the air out of her lungs. She couldn't breathe. Steal-gripped hands were wrapping around her throat, smothering, smothering. She wanted to scream that they were real—that they had their own place in the world, and it didn't matter what they were created for anymore. They could be people. Accelerator had killed people. And that was why she hated him.

Her DNA map had not been used to cure muscular dystrophy, no—it had not been used to heal people. It had been used to create them—to help the #1 achieve ultimate, invincible power. She was TRICKED—they were both tricked. But it was just another excuse of hers that couldn't wipe away the stain of ten thousand lives lost. Their blood and their birth would always be on her hands.

The sides of her vision were going, but she could barely notice it, for the darkness in the basement was already so thick. She struggled against the grip, wheezing out breaths from beneath the squeeze of digging nails and contracting fingers. Her desire to live flurried through her like snowflakes in a blizzard, about to melt—about to freeze, yet still holding its form and luster. The electricity burst from her body then, channeling down anything that touched her. It slithered and singed the flesh and, at the same time, ruptured everything in her line of vision. White noise—her broken TV eyes. Mikoto hadn't arrived at some philosophical end, hadn't blamed herself enough to give up or enough to fuel her desire to live. She just knew she had to win.

A voice screamed and the hands slipped from her neck. The darkness from the basement dripped away like someone had dumped a bucket of paint over top of reality. She blinked furiously, pulling herself to sit, feeling around like a blind person to where the body parts had lifted her up. Nothing but Persian carpet. She was in the hallway, up the stairs. She had never fallen. Around her neck was tender, bruised. She had nearly been strangled not by the mannequins, but by a little boy who was bent over his smoking hands.

"An illusion…" she muttered, though it hurt.

Mikoto scrambled to her feet, pinching herself while looking around wildly. Three other kids were there holding guns at… she followed their line of sight and saw Accelerator pressed against the wall. She had a moment to second guess her instinct—the gun-wielding children had all paused likely because of her disruption. The little boy who had tried to strangle her was holding back sobs and trying to do something with his charred hands. She rolled her eyes and approached him.

"Put aloe on it—you're not going to lose them or anything. You're lucky you didn't really piss me off! Now, go call off your friends and stop with your psychokinesis illusion crap." Even though she almost died, putting on a tough front just made sense to her in this kind of situation.

"It wasn't m-me. I d-didn't know," the boy stammered, voice quivering. "My hands turn super strong—I was trying to hold on, not that… S-she isn't doing it by choice."

Mikoto towered over him with her hands on her hips, eyes alight.

"Who isn't?" Mikoto locked her eyes on one of the girls who had turned back to Accelerator with a gun and was slowly approaching him. Was it her that was creating the illusions? If it wasn't the boy doing it, then was the #1...seeing an illusion?!

"Stop this immediately!" She grabbed the boy by the collar and swung him around to the others. At the same time, she saw Accelerator touch the choker on his neck and press a button. Did he just—turn it off!? He was just going to let them kill him?! Or was this also an illusion because she wasn't believing what she was seeing.

The kid in her grip yelled out and started crying. At the same time, a wheelchair suddenly appeared in front of her. In it was a girl attached to a weird machine that was making air noises and various beeps and had all sorts of unidentifiable things attached to it, including an IV and various other bags that were draining into her. Instantaneous sympathy and anger raged through her. The girl had appeared out of nowhere. So this was an illusion—was she even really seeing her?

"It's me." A breathy voice came and the rest of the room, including Accelerator faded away instantly. This time, the bodies weren't just mannequins; they were Sisters—real bloodied, battered body parts. Dead eyeballs blank and foggy—the rattle of ailing hearts trying to beat life back into a body composed of chemicals and calculations. Lives that hung in the balance already had been wasted and dumped here like garbage. Her stomach churned—heartbeat rushing through her ears, but Mikoto already knew this wasn't real. Her suspicion was bleeding into her subconscious, and yet...the illusion didn't dissipate. Much unlike Shouhou Misaki's ability, knowing about it didn't take its power away. She started to shake again, repeating in her head that it wasn't real. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. And unlike all her nightmares and waking up in cold sweats, this felt real.

Anyone would fall for this.

The #1 would fall for this.

She took a breath and focused on her brain, felt her own body's bio-electricity, and did not trust herself to manipulate it. She knew that her power had far too much output. If she added to the signals assailing her brain—manipulated her sensory receptors, she could very easily damage her nerves or sever her vision all together. The risk of going blind did not outweigh her own suffering at seeing this. She'd look at fake dead Sisters all day if she had to, but well, she didn't have the time for that with the #1 about to be taken out.

She clenched her fist, not really sure why Accelerator with a gun to his head pissed her off so much. She wondered what illusion he was seeing, but it wasn't that hard to guess, maybe. It bubbled up a deep rage from within her—something she had felt only once before when she had seen him on the monitors, stalking someone that looked just like her through the darkness. When he had killed her and she watched, powerless. Was he his own nightmare too? What lies had they fed him to make him believe or even want to be a level 6? And what was this?! What were these bodies—from her memories—from his? It made her blind with anger, for any Misaka death, real or fake, was not acceptable. Not. At. All.

The electricity channeled through her outward. She had no real aim, but everywhere all at once. The shocks of light flamed and slithered through the air like a white board eraser, taking out chunks of what she saw. Hands of the sisters all reached up at once, grabbing with missing fingers and bony, half decayed digits. They rubbed like dried leaves against her skin, the electric rummaging through their fake bodies until nothing was left of them.

Again, they formed, more contorted than before. Like zombies. They walked towards her, deadpan voices like a cacophony in her eardrums, beating down her mental fortitude. She rose back up, never stopping the violent release of voltage that had started veering the illusion away. Sparks started bursting from the metal on the wheelchair, letting her know that part was real at least. The girl in it?

Focusing so hard, she could barely get the words out, Mikoto took a fierce step towards her, ground jolting with her step.

"Who are you—why are you doing this?"

"I don't have a choice," the voice answered. In response, the illusion seemed to wash over Mikoto again, gripping her with spiny fingers, nails digging—not digging into the skin on her arms and through her leggings. The sounds of nails against the fabric of her jean shorts. The smell of death she shouldn't be as familiar with as she was—irony, thick, and helpless.

"You always have a choice!" Mikoto rang out, waving her electric-filled hands through the air as if it would help make it go away—make the burning in her throat and the rage in her soul go down.

"I can't control it." The figure in the chair looked sad now. "I can only speak in this illusion and those machines you can see are what's keeping just my ability and brain functioning. I'm not even really alive." She wheeled closer, over the bodies, crushing skulls under the wheels. Bone cracking, squeezing out thick streams of blood. It was all Mikoto could do to keep the electric bursting from her without vomit joining in too. It wasn't real.

"Wh-what. Why—how are you doing this then?"

"All of us were orphaned here from outside the city. We were then experimented on and I lost function of my body. The others have defects of their own. When they were done using us, the scientists transported us here in exchange for money."

"You were sold?"

She nodded and Takuto came over to hold her hand. She smiled, but it seemed sad and overlaid—like special effects seen in movies. Even her hand seemed to go through Takuto's, otherwise it probably would have hurt his seared hands. She continued,

"It was perfect for a while. But then they started making us do bad things, using my ability to trick everyone. Hurt people. Ame found paperwork one night and saw they had a plan to dump AIM field diffusing chemicals into Academy City's water supply."

Yep. That was the rumor. Mikoto frowned and waved a hand towards the girl. Like a ghost, it passed through her—felt like touching cold mist. It was exactly what she would have imagined a ghost to feel like. So the illusion must be extracted from her own imagination…? This visage was from her mind? All this girl could do was be the trigger for Mikoto's worst nightmares? These images were conjured from Mikoto—herself—her own creation. That head being crushed was what she had imagined the villainous version of Accelerator doing to the deceased clones during the experiments. This was what she had seen in her mind's eye. This, based on her knowledge of death and torture, was the epitome of suffering she thought the clones—versions of herself—had gone through at his hand. Unwitnessed pain and suffering—haunting death and gore that may not have ever even come to pass. In her own mind, Mikoto was her own worst enemy—she was her own villain. And so to win this battle, she also had to defeat herself.

The electricity surged out of her and brought the hallway back, leaving char marks all over the walls. The smell of burning wires filled the tight space. There were no longer any bodies. In her mind, only what she had seen in the past actually happened—and even that, had been out of her control. Here and now, she was in charge. Here and now, she would put an end to these illusions because no one, not these children—not even Accelerator—deserved to be dragged down by the darkside.

"How do they force out your ability? I'm going to put an end to this." She turned her eyes back to the wheelchair where a staticy figure faced her. Was it those machines that were controlling her or just keeping her alive? She could hack them.

"With a program. I'm no longer myself; I am just my ability...or what it remembers of me. It can make you see your worst fear or make you see something mundane even while committing an atrocity. I only have slight control over 'consciousness' so I am able to speak and show form."

"A program…" she trailed off. But with the illusion now gone and reality in motion, Mikoto noticed the three others down the hall pointing their guns at Accelerator, an almost joyful light in their eyes—like they were playing a game as they went to pull the triggers. What felt like nearly an hour had passed by in seconds.

"W-wait. Stop!" Mikoto tried calling out to them, but no heads turned.

"They can't see or hear us. They're being shown something entirely different than reality. Even I don't know what they're seeing."

"How do I stop this program?" She barked, turning her head back to the wheelchair with fiery eyes.

"Kill me," the illusion whispered, "please. I'm not me...I've been overwritten—just end it."

...a clone? Was she a clone of her real self—a replicated program of what they needed her to be? Mikoto started shaking, her emotions bucking inside her and disturbing the surface. Her hair started standing on end. Was this what it was like...when they had begun the experiments—was this like what they had told Accelerator to do? No. No. She would save this girl.

"I don't want any more suffering," Takuto cried out, tears streaming down his face. It was the hardest thing he had ever had to do. Beg this stranger to essentially 'kill' his friend—that none of them could bring themselves to unplug. "Please make the program stop."

Without her illusions, the children couldn't be manipulated into doing those bad things anymore without even knowing they were doing it. Seeing and unseeing. How many horrible deeds had they committed under the veil of folding laundry? There were only glimpses of pain—fractured tears. The found papers. Takuto had begged her to not make him do any more, but she had no control over it. Ame had already broken down so much she rather see something fake than know what she was really doing. The other two were oblivious.

It wasn't the same as the experiments. It wasn't. It wasn't. Mind numb, Mikoto reached up her hands and let it out. The electricity neighed out of her, a guttural growl coming from her throat. She didn't want to. She tried hacking into the program—into the girl's brain, but its form started to break down as soon as she touched it, destroying itself instead of being changed. Whatever foundations of what made life—what made a person or determined an ESPer began chipping away. The more pieces that broke off, the more damage seeped in. Like melting glaciers in Antarctica, the form in the wheelchair was dying, even though Mikoto was trying to save her. Was death the only answer to keep going? ...had Accelerator thought that?

Tears spiked her eyes, teeth chattering, lips chapped. She looked up, hair waving out with sheer power as she tore everything out of herself to try and break into the program. But when a parasite had already grown so far into the source, separating them meant death for both. She learned that at a young age, but still… she was a level 5!

The wheel chair was suddenly empty, save for a shriveled, catatonic body with atrophic limbs listing to the side. It was like someone had dug up a body from the cemetery that was partially decomposed. Mikoto dry heaved over her shoulder, hearing—as if she hadn't heard anything real for the longest time—the sound of the machines wailing. Her electricity snuffed them off in the next moment. And then... silence. There was no goodbye. No heartfelt tears. She didn't even know the girl's name. That was it. ...s-she just killed someone? Was that a person?

It was an odd sensation to wait for the bullet that would end his life—it actually reminded Accelerator of the time when he was trying to save Last Order. And yet, somehow, just as quickly as the bullet would have entered his brain, the sister's guns clattered to the ground instead. Children's voices followed.

"Wh-what is this?!"

A shrill cry. "Eerhhh! Not again! Who did I kill?"

Accelerator blinked and all the Misakas were replaced by...three children. They were not the clones. They did not have access to the MISAKA network. They were just children. As the blood leaked out of him from his gunshot wound, he stared aghast for just a moment before flipping the switch to his electrode back on and stammering to his feet.

"FUCKING BRATS!" He growled, voice cracking through the brokenness of his mind that had thrown in the towel moments before. Last Order hadn't given up on him. It was a fucking illusion?! A fucking nightmare. What the fuck.

The children had scattered at this point. There was a wheelchair with a corpse in it. There was Mikoto looking like she'd just seen a ghost. And a boy with burned hands. Just what the hell was going on here. For once, the #1 had no inkling of an idea. What was this—fucking charades?! (He didn't know what that was or how it was played; he just knew that it involved a guessing game, and he didn't like being the one guessing).

Despite his reeling confusion, Accelerator gave himself a moment, eyes fixated at nothing in particular as he focused inwardly on the vectors in his body, trying to steer around the damage already there. If Last Order hadn't given up on him yet, then he couldn't give on himself yet either. He was an evil that deserved to be extinguished, but not at the hand of pipsqueak villains, and certainly not a rag-tag bunch of brats. But from what he could tell, they didn't have a clue as to what they had been doing to him. He didn't care what illusion they saw, but it sure as hell wasn't the same as his.

His eyes lazed over to the corpse in the wheelchair. Ah, so that must have been the ESPer that did this. She looked dead. And he'd seen enough corpses to tell. So many, in fact, that he was sick of it. The red-eyed ESPer forced a blank look—despite being unable to shake off the ordeal he had just gone through—and saw that Mikoto hadn't moved at all. He approached slowly at first and then more resolutely with a low, squeezed cackle. How uncharacteristic.

"You kill her?"

She turned, eyes gaping at what she had just done. The words made it real. In her mind, she really couldn't put her finger on it. She went in trying to save her, and came out having destroyed the program and disconnected the machines. Hacking and extracting was one thing, but prying apart a human mind from a series of codes was...unrealistic. Unbelievable. Impossible, clearly. She started slowly shaking her head, tears breaking out of her eyelids, unwarranted. She wildly looked up at the monster standing before her who shouldn't give a flying crap about anyone, let alone their enemy. Her teeth dug together like a shovel being slammed through rock.

Accelerator heard a beep and winced. The electrode. The time was running out. He consciously let the calculations for his reflection go lax...at the wrong moment.

Mikoto didn't seem to notice or care, her hands already working to grab the white monster's shoulders and slam him back into the wall behind her. She got through his reflection—eyes so ablaze, yet at the same time, appearing like two drowning pennies at the bottom of a wishing well, lost. Her voice shook, but erupted, volcanoing out of her to smother him in the lava he so deserved to drown in with her.

"Just WHO are you?!" The yelling rubbed her throat raw even further, but she kept going without noticing. "I don't even recognize you. What do you care who lives and who dies!? You're a murderer. I've seen it with my own eyes—all their blood on your hands. ...And-and the project—the experiments weren't even real to begin with—level 6 wasn't even obtainable. I destroyed the facility—I saw with my own eyes their wasted lives—their lives were forfeit for nothing—for nothing...just like this was for nothing. I...I'm a monster too."

Accelerator's hand grabbed her wrist and peeled it off of him. He didn't like being touched. His narrowed eyes gleamed dangerously under the shadow of white bangs. ...The experiments weren't real? He took a deep breath to calm his nerves from unleashing hell. Level 6 wasn't even obtainable? What had he been doing then, taking out the trash?

"Aa, so you did kill her," Accelerator said calmly, pushing off from the wall so he was so close to her he could feel the heat wafting out of her tights, transitioning to him. He could taste the thermo vectors, innocent and naive. "So, I should thank you then."

Her eyes widened through the tears and she looked up, a few final drops falling out. She got angry again, growling, "No. Who would thank someone for killing someone?!"

"Mm~ well, let me tell you," he cooed with an odd twist in his voice, laced with something unreadable, "Messing with someone's mind isn't easy. That's how I got this." He fitted a thumb through the choker around his neck with a wry smile. "Ironic, isn't it?"

"Huuh?"

"That I rely on the MISAKA network to think." He had about ten minutes left. "With a time limit."

"I don't believe you. Why on earth would they let you access the MISAKA network after what you've done?"

"I'm paying back a huge debt. One that'll take more than a lifetime, and I don't care how I have to do it. I started with rebooting Last Order's brain—that's what I said, not easy, but that's what makes me the #1." He didn't care about Mikoto's opinion, which was why he didn't really mind revealing something like this to the likes of her. On top of that, maybe she'd be less annoying.

Mikoto's other hand dropped off his shoulder and she stepped backwards, bewildered. "You saved someone? YOU?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, more focused now on the fact that he was running out of time.

"Who is Last Order?"

He looked up at her, red eyes slightly widened in some unfamiliar emotion. He was silent for a moment and then turned away with an exaggerated sigh. "She's just a brat."

"Ah, I see. So you do have human emotions."

"Shut it, third-string. We still have an enemy to subdue."

"We, huh? I don't recall agreeing to work with you," Mikoto laughed scornfully, but didn't get any real rise out of him in response. Instead, Accelerator walked away from her, past the children that were huddled together, and on his way, kicked away the guns with barely a touch. She listlessly stared after him. So Last Order, was it? She must be one of the Sisters, but Accelerator saved her life?

"Wait, 'an enemy to subdue?'" Mikoto followed after him slowly—cautiously as if a zombie Sister would jump out to eat her brains at any moment. She also watched him carefully, taking note that he had 1) gotten shot prior to her arrival, 2) was literally only able to operate normally via an electrode around his neck. What happened when the battery died? So did that mean he had a weakness? So many thoughts were flitting through her head, she could barely catch and grab a hold of one of them. But hey, didn't the #1 always have that effect? She scoffed, slightly horrified that she was growing fond of this different, realer version of him. He didn't seem like such a monster. He also made her feel like less of one.

A scream resounded from down the hall—the flutter of papers being scattered. A loud crack. The thud of a body.

"Relax, I didn't kill him."

Mikoto poked her head in, seeing first Accelerator standing there with a bored look. She followed his eyes from her to the body. Under the man were the papers that Takuto had mentioned. She bent down to them and began trying to sort them.

"Think we should ask them about these so we can try and locate where they are dumping the chemicals—you're here to stop that, right?" She half-expected him to laugh maniacally and turn on her, but none of the above happened. Instead he looked back at her with the slightest change in expression, his lips curving ever-so-slightly.

"You think I didn't get it out of him first?" It was easy. He tilted his head to the side and then opened one of the desk drawers in the room, digging through it. He needed to figure out a way to charge his battery. He began tearing apart the house, going through all the drawers and cabinets he could find. Oddly sparse, but he did find one thing he was looking for: a sewing kit. He'd have to do the next best thing to conserve power...

Having left the kids upstairs to their own devices, he found Mikoto in the kitchen and flopped languidly into one of the wooden chairs still standing. "How well can you sew?"

Immediately, she pictured her rumpled gekota stuffy that had gotten a tear in it. Her stitch work on it was messy and uneven, but it held together.

"Pretty good if I do say so myself." She placed her hands on her hips. Accelerator tossed her the sewing kit. Her eyes widened and dropped to the blood stain all over the side of his shirt. "You want me to…"

Accelerator lifted up his shirt and jammed a finger into the bullethole, but no blood came out of it. He then used the vectors from the bio-electricity in his body to magnetize the bullet and slowly draw it towards his finger. At the same time that the pain receptors increased movement, he slowed their responses to a stop, effectively numbing his body.

Mikoto had no idea what was going on, but the white-haired ESPer seemed extremely focused. She noted the serious look on his face and was again taken aback that he could put so much care and attentiveness into something, granted, it was for himself. Still. She reached for the sewing kit. The bullet followed his finger out of his body and fell onto the linoleum floor, leaving a splatter. Mikoto's head swam and she heard something ringing in her ears. Accelerator looked troubled for a minute and then glared up at her as if saying what-the-hell-are-you-looking-at.

"I just need you to seal it to stop the bleeding," he rasped. Even the #1 couldn't keep regulating his blood flow manually. It would eventually kill him. He tore off a paper towel with his teeth and started dabbing around his skin to clean the dried blood off.

Mikoto pulled out her phone and immediately started searching for YouTube videos on how to sew shut a bullet wound with a needle and thread. Her hand was shaking. There was so much pressure. Would he bleed out if she didn't do it right? Why did she even care?

"Tch, I thought you said you knew how? Gimme that."

"No, I'm going to do it. I just want to make sure."

"I don't need a damn amateur."

"Shut it." Mikoto hiked up his shirt further with one hand, the other opening the sewing kit. She touched the needle and let the heat of her electricity sterilize it, threaded it, and then began her work. It was so different and odd sticking a needle through skin than it was through fabric. And no blood? ...why was she helping him again?

When Mikoto finished, and only after she was done, did Accelerator finally look down at her work. There was a long moment of silence.

"Pink?" The word sounded like poison in his mouth. He let his shirt fall back down and rose a little shakily to his feet.

"Payback." Mikoto snickered and rose to her feet as well, haphazardly looking around to see if the kids had come downstairs to see the gory mess.

Accelerator raised a hand to his electrode and switched it back to normal mode, leaning heavily on the table using his right elbow...as casually as that could look.

"Let's tie them up and go. Should we take the kids with us? You know which facility they seized? When do they plan to…?"

So many questions. It was nice to know the brat (Last Order) didn't just naturally have a knack for it; she got it from someone. Pain was making its way in—now that his vector control was out of the picture. His veins felt like liquid fire—instantly light-headed. He sat back down, pressing his face into his hands to avoid passing out. Was he going into shock? Blood loss? He couldn't tell and didn't have the capacity to determine the answer. He covered his mouth with his hand and focused on breathing to slow his heart rate.

Luckily, Mikoto didn't turn back around from where she had been piecing through the cabinet for rope. Villains had to have rope. She pulled out a coil and began unraveling it, bending down to the men. Hands first. Then feet.

"What about your 'time limit'? What happens?"

Accelerator lifted his head like a wolf in headlights. He twisted around in the chair, feeling the stitching pull with a manglely snarl.

"I lose all motor function, speech, calculative abilities."

He grabbed some more paper towels and started dabbing again at where blood was oozing between the threads. Soon, they wouldn't be pink anymore. Mindlessly, he grabbed some tape he'd brought over and started tapping the paper towels to his skin. Makeshift. It would work until this mission was over.

"Oh," she paused, "how do you charge it?"

"With a charger."

"Obviously. I mean, do you have it with you?"

"It's not like charging your phone."

"Well, you should bring it with you. What happens when you're using more battery power in a fight?"

"Get off it."

She kept prodding, reminding him more and more of a certain someone. Seemed she hadn't lost her girlish curiosity that was likely infused into the very fabric of her DNA. There was no shaking it. Last Order was proof enough. It wasn't a bad thing either. It just pissed him off beyond all forms of measure. He should leave her here and be done with it, only, he didn't have much time left.

"Well, are you just going to sit there on your throne or are you going to help, #1?"

They finished tying up the men, many of whom needed some serious medical attention (not like either of them were concerned or anything). Mikoto rounded up the kids and told them to keep an eye on their keepers (my, how the tables had turned) until Anti-Skill arrived; it would be too dangerous to try and protect the orphans-turned-ESPers while taking out the other forces (whoever they were anyway). And Mikoto wasn't planning on calling Anti-Skill until the rest of them were all taken care of. Whispers on the wind traveled fast and if Anti-Skill showed up in the middle of it, people could get hurt (and they would be found out). She cracked her knuckles and wandered over the busted down door, frustrated that only half of her questions were being answered by the white-haired Sister-slayer. She'd get the rest out of him if it killed her.

Carefully navigating the debris, Accelerator caught up, leaning heavily on his crutch and in obvious pain. He forced a blank look to try and cover it up. Mikoto wasn't blind or stupid; she knew he had to be suffering, but in all honestly...it was comical. It painted him as a human in more ways than even she knew. He was dependent on a device to...think. He had been shot in the side and even needed help stitching it up from the likes of her. How desperate was he? Or maybe he didn't care in the same way she did. The part of her that only knew the monster from that nightmarish evening on the rails wanted to say 'good', but seeing him now, she wanted to help him. No, she could help him and it was odd to say the least.

"Ahn? What are you staring at."

"I just can't believe that you're the same person."

"Tch, they do say getting shot in the head can change your whole personality."

"That's not it. It's something else. It's like...like you see me. The real me, without looking down on me." She slowed her pace so they could walk side-by-side, shoulder-to-shoulder. The other ESPer pretended not to notice her close proximity.

"..."

"That night...why were you talking to her when you were supposed to just kill her?"

"Stop asking so many absurd questions. We're never going to get there at this rate."

"Was it because you wanted her to be afraid—was it because you wanted to prove to yourself that she was a real person?"

Accelerator stopped walking, his hand reaching up to his electrode. What was with all these prying girls who all had the same face?! "Do you want to die?"

She stopped too and turned, a look so vast and serious in her eyes. "Tell me. I want to know."

An exaggerated sigh, "What does it matter? I killed all of them. Just shut up and hate me."

"Not all of them."

He started walking again, ignoring the rest of her banter. It was all he could do to keep putting one foot in front of the other. He wanted to just get this over with and be done with it, but another signal beep from his electrode warned him otherwise. His thoughts were crawling. He cursed under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." His steeled crimson eyes landed on her as his crutch continued to sink into the saturated grass. The wetness reminded him of blood again, leaking out of a once warm body as the heart struggled to keep pumping it through. His stomach flip flopped and he stopped walking, pain getting to him—everything getting to him. If he had been alone—well, it was worthless thinking of useless things like that. Mikoto finished a few steps, but ended up stopping next to him with an incredulous sooo-you-can-feel-pain look. Accelerator looked to the side and then back at her, thoughts flurrying chaotically until the words just fell out.

"What did you mean 'the experiments weren't real'?"

"The scientists were tricking you. There was no data collection. You'd never reach level 6 just by killing the sisters over and over again. They were using you."

If Kihara wasn't dead, he'd kill him again. His nails bit into his skin, teeth pressed so hard together no air came between them. His eyes were fierce, on fire—his mind more broken than ever, trying to piece it all together with a single puzzle piece that changed the whole damn picture into a grotesque glimpse of hell.

He started laughing insanely. It didn't even feel like it was coming from him, but it was. It twisted his mind up and rung out anything that made any sense. He couldn't stop—lost in the recesses of what truth felt like.

They had made him this way. They had taken his Personal Reality and contorted it into a falsity so real that anyone would believe it. Mikoto realized in that moment, she had never hated him. She had never hated Accelerator; she only hated what he had done. And had he done it by choice really—was she just fooling herself?

As the sun was rising, Mikoto filled Accelerator in on what she had found out about the Level 6 Shift Project the rest of the way to the water treatment facility. She couldn't tell exactly by the look in his eyes, but they seemed weighted down and heavy—like he had just taken on the world. He looked troubled by it. Was he planning on taking on the darkness alone or was he blaming himself for falling for it? The #1 fooled—fool him once, but fool him twice…? It seemed preposterous, but nobody knew how he had been raised or what he had been led to believe. Did he even have a family—a name of his own?

While these thoughts and questions nipped at her, Accelerator's silence grew vast and unnerving. She wondered if he would ever speak again, but once they made it within a few yards of the barbed wire fence and she pulled out wire cutters from her pack, he placed a pale, slender hand over hers to stop her. It looked like a girl's, she noted. Fragile even.

The other hand pressed the button on his electrode. 25 seconds. It had to be enough.

"Why sneak in? Let's draw them out like the ants they are. What better way than by blowing a hole in their little anthill?" He finished with a harsh laugh to hide his nerves and before she could react, the fence blew apart so violently that it cracked through the air when it broke the sound barrier, embedding itself and taking down a part of the building. At the flick of a finger. She gaped, never not surprised.

And just as predicted, men with the same gear and disposition as those who had been seen at the orphanage came crawling out carrying guns. Without hesitation, they started opening fire. Mikoto darted to the side for cover, but Accelerator was already there in front of her, the bullets reflecting and scattering. His eyes took her in, voice almost completely different than before—like he had shed his skin and out came a beast. The hair on her arms stood on end and a cold shiver ran through her body like earlier that night when she had first laid eyes on him. This was the same person she had just been speaking to?

"What's a-matter, third-string?" He cooed despite not having time to waste, "I could name a few ideas if you need some help...unless you want to get riddled with holes?"

Ah, so he must be embarrassed...for shielding her? She stood up and brushed herself off, but immediately noticed something was wrong with him. A confused look splayed onto his face.

"What stumble guns have you?" Mikoto asked, but the words didn't seem to register with him. In his eyes, he had lost comprehension and that was scarier to her than the men reloading another volley.

The red light on his choker was flashing and dimming. He had wobbled down to his knees, hands flat on the gravel, leaving little divots in his skin. Mikoto's heart caught in her throat at the sight of the #1, down as easily as flicking a switch. The battery.

"Sh-shit." His voice was squeezed out like he had more to say, but nothing else breached conception.

"Shit," Mikoto echoed, and faster than she could think, grabbed Accelerator's arm to hoist him out of the direct range of fire (where he seemed to always enjoy being). She dragged him past where the fence had been and to a door of the closest building in the facility. She touched the handle and disconnected the electric lock on the door, practically barging in without any sort of plan. A single window shed some dusty light throughout the space, illuminating its contents. It appeared to just be a supply holding with various chemicals, suits, masks—wait! Was this where they were keeping their supply?! Despite her situation, Mikoto smirked villainously in the dim lighting, for she had just happened upon their main objective. No chemicals, no plan. It paid off having some luck now and again! She just had to destroy it; but first she had another situation on her hands…

Mikoto locked the door behind them using a different frequency that would make it harder to crack, but it wouldn't be too long before the men caught up and started trying to break down the door. She had minutes at the most, but she didn't regret not leaving Accelerator there. Despite what he had done, no one deserved to be abandoned. This monster would get a taste for it...what it was like to be saved by her.

That was just it though. How would she do it? The #3 dragged the #1 over to the far corner out of range of the door just in case they got in, it would spare them a couple seconds and she could use some of the shelves for cover. She bent down to him and he stared back at her with those unnatural red eyes. She saw trepidation deep within them, but no sign of further thought. Mikoto wondered what it was like to run out of the ability to think. It had to be like... dying. It had to be... terrifying. And in the middle of a firefight? It made her wonder if that was why he hadn't insisted she stay behind with the kids—no push-back? Maybe he knew this would happen, but he hadn't said anything about it. Maybe he just didn't know how to. Regardless, he had wasted too much time, and Mikoto knew that it had to do with the stitches she had sewn into him. She didn't have any medical experience, but she had to be an idiot not to notice that without them, he would have bled out within minutes.

Accerator's eyes were locked with hers. She held him there tightly with just her gaze. He did not seem to know or understand where they were, but she could see that behind his confusion he was functioning on some kind of instinct. His hand reached up and, at first, she was nervous, thinking that maybe he had stopped recognizing who she was and was going to try and resist—as if he could forget her face—but then, she realized his fingertip lightly brushed the bruises on her neck. His fingers were freezing cold, exuding a shiver throughout her whole body. It was a touch that could kill. This time, however, it was something else—she wasn't sure. She knew he wouldn't be able to understand her, so she tried telling him with a look. She'd get them out of there.

Though Accelerator could not draw conclusions, he recognized a few things at the surface level. For one, he was not dead. It didn't mean he was alive to finish the job—just simply that he was here breathing. His body function was minimal, but when his eyes drifted to the black and blue marks on Mikoto's neck, his hand acted on reflex. He did not know why. He also did not realize they were bruises, only that they didn't belong. Further past that string of thought, he had no idea what had caused it to form there. Moments later or seconds—he couldn't tell because he couldn't count—the girl whose face he could never forget finally looked away. When she did, he immediately felt lost. His hand fell limply back down. He was registering a sharp jagged feeling in his side, somehow he knew it was pain, but it stole his focus away. He shut his eyes. When he did, he felt hands pressed to his head. He opened his eyes again, dulled with lack of computation and anemia. He shut them again, unable to determine anything from it.

Suddenly, there was a sensation—like familiar fuzz traveling through his head. It was more intense than anything he remembered feeling. It sent him further into a daze at first. What is this? A question. Electricity. A conclusion. His eyes snapped open and the entire room was flashing with neon light. It came from her fingertips and through his skull. His clenched teeth were vibrating and he had enough realization to know he was being electrocuted and that he was going to turn into fried chicken if this shit kept up. What the hell is she doing?!

"What the he—" He bit his tongue. "FFFF!"

"Charge it!"

Seizing control of the vectors with messy half-calculations, Accelerator, the #1 ESPer in Academy city, channeled the #3's electricity directly and as meticulously as he could with minute computation ability into the battery of his electrode. It was risky, but instantaneously, he noticed improvement in his calculative ability as the electrode sparked to life, connecting to the MISAKA network. Accelerator corrected his calculations within nanoseconds so as to not overload the battery or his brain. Still, some damage had to have been done—to the device...to him. Mikoto's level 5 electricity was being injected into him, jolting throughout his entire body. His internal organs could easily cease functioning. His heartbeat was irregular. He could barely breathe. All of this, he was controlling internally. Externally, it looked like he was in an electric chair—a villain getting the death penalty he finally deserved.

Accelerator had to segment out the excess electricity ravaging his body to avoid the shutdown of his organs and/or going into cardiac arrest—he didn't want to find out which. The delegated electricity was purged from him with such control it made him look like a level 5 electromaster too, only, he was simply controlling their vectors—their direction and their acceleration. In fact, it seemed he was needlessly increasing the electricity's acceleration as well, but those weren't the only vectors of his concern. Accelerator also had to convert the heat that was being generated on the surface of his skin back into the electricity he was purging from his body to avoid going up in smoke himself. All of these preexisting vectors combined had joined together to create an electric plasma twelve times hotter than the surface of the sun—essentially bolts of lightning all held in stasis until released to a few specific points in the room. The air in which the bolts traveled ionized around them, shattering the very space in the room. Their ear drums would have burst if not for Accelerator also seizing hold over the sound vectors and silencing them. A low rumble still sounded, reverberating through the air. The window cracked, but did not shatter. Accelerator frowned—a small error in his haphazard calculations whilst his consciousness was being torn in many directions during electrocution… Not everyone could be perfect, not even the #1.

The bolts had struck their intended targets—in their wake, bubbling puddles of melted plastic, evaporated chemicals and noxious fumes, as well as anything else in the makeup of the AIM field diffusing chemicals that were being stored in an unguarded, unmanned supply holding. ...and they called themselves villains. It was sad, really. Yet, in his calculations, he had factored in that the window would break, yet it had not. The air filled instantaneously with the deadly evaporated gases. Only a few seconds had passed.

"Break that window or we'll all be dead." Accelerator's voice shook. Mikoto took her eyes off him and looked up at the high window and the thick plumes of smoke collecting in the ray of natural light. Still releasing electricity into the #1 being redirected into the battery to charge it with one hand, she used her only free hand to reach and grab a plastic cap off the shelf right in front of them. With her natural athletic ability alone, she chucked it at the window. It bounced off. Nothing else left to grab, she held her breath and quickly kicked off her shoe, picked it up with one hand, and threw it like she was pitching at the end of the fourth quarter to break the tie. Instead, she broke the window, fresh air pooling in all too slowly. A small breeze. It was enough.

The #1 ESPer prone on the dusty floor in Mikoto's grasp turned his eyes to the window, his vision shaking, yet still able to see the calculations in the air pressure, wind, and velocity. He was able to embellish it, increasing its acceleration into a powerful gale. The room, fumes and all, was whipped around like a mini tornado—shelves fell over, papers swept away, cobwebs broke. The air cleared with a collective sigh of relief.

Commotion was sounding outside the door. At first, it was muffled, coming in waves of louder—almost distinguishable words. Then, ringing. Moments later, there was banging a certain distance away. His eyes cracked open to disarray. There was a tense pressure gripping his head behind his eyes that was all too familiar. He realized through the somehow blinding light of the dim room that it was a high-grade migraine of the worst caliber. He went to push himself up on his hands, realizing his head had been lying on something warm. Blinking out the blurs and blind spots in his vision, he gathered his devices enough to focus. Mikoto's lap.

What form of apocalypse was this?

He dragged himself up and stared at her wobbly visage with an irritated look on his face, like all of this was her fault—that he had been caught unconscious on her lap. He didn't even recall losing it in the first place. What had…

The thought trailed off when he saw her expression. In her eyes was a look Last Order often had at his bedside. With just that look, everything else was silenced. He reached a hand up and pinched the bridge of his nose as if the pressure there could ease the taiko drumming on his brain's nerve endings.

She spoke quietly, "It's no wonder you have a headache," and laughed weakly.

"..." Accelerator raised an eyebrow and leaned back against the shelf, shutting his aching eyes. At the motion, his stomach churned up into his throat. So no movement. Noted.

"They're trying to break the door down now…"

He cracked an eye and looked at her, reaching up to his electrode to make sure it was intact and in normal mode. It was. He had at least had the reserves to switch it back.

"I say we go out there and take them down before Anti-Skill gets here."

"Anti-Skill?" Accelerator sat up.

Mikoto waggled her phone in his direct line of vision with a satisfied smirk as if she had just called the president of the United States—as if an audience with him would even be possible. He squinted at the light haloing around the device.

"Man that must have done a number on you. You seem so out of it." Mikoto leaned in toward him, digging through the pack around her waist with her other hand. She pulled out a pair of aviators she had brought with her just in case she was out all night, and carefully slid them over his eyes. The instant shade actually came as a relief so he decided not to complain, but the ever-present frown on his face furrowed further.

"They don't call you the #3 for nothing." It was the closest he'd come to thanking her—with a clumsy compliment.

But Mikoto was covering her mouth to keep from laughing at him. What? The #1 with sunglasses on? It was beyond priceless, and she didn't hide the fact that she was taking a quick snapshot for blackmail later. Surprisingly though, he didn't react or register what was happening beyond the pounding that must be occurring in his skull. He reached up to massage his temples and adjust the sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. Mikoto quickly regained her composure.

"...Well, I wouldn't say I wasn't worried about frying your brain." No, she was terrified of the thought, but why hadn't she hesitated in doing it? Especially after… It wasn't like she didn't care whether he lived or died. So it could only mean one thing...that she had trusted him enough to be able to take the reins and help her steer—that she trusted him to help her avoid the calamity her ignorance of the electrode imposed.

"..." Accelerator was getting to his feet, but fell slightly into the shelving unit, using his crutch to catch himself. He looked like a drunk rock star trying to get up and do a show, which almost made her giggle. She looked to the side, reflecting back in self-displeasure at the thought.

When they reached the door, evidence showed many dents, muffled curses, and whatever else you would expect from a failed break-in attempt. Accelerator pressed the button on his electrode, lips the shape of scorn. A crazed glance was spared backwards at Mikoto before he placed a hand gently on the metal, watching as the frame burst from its hinges and flew violently outward. It took out a couple of men with it. One that was heading towards them dropped a chainsaw in horror and started running the opposite direction before the door slammed into him too, their surprised yells making the #1 wince and twist the sound vectors away from him. The wind whipped around the two of them in the wake of the door, lifting their clothes, swirling them, and tousling their hair. It was the epitome of danger: two level 5s stood together to combat the darkness.

In the sweet silence under the cover of sunglasses, Accelerator blew bangs out of his face and launched forward to begin picking them off, all his attention forward. He didn't have the energy or focus to tamper with the vectors in his body internally, so he simply ignored any protests, including those from Mikoto.

"HEY!" She ran after him. What the hell did he think he was doing?! A second ago he was barely getting to his feet, now he was launching himself through the air and taking down men in the middle of artillery fire… The reflected bullets were shooting out every which way, men emptying their rounds, yelling that there was no answer coming back from headquarters. Nope, they had taken care of that place first. It was chaos. With such a simple action, he had blown a hole right into the anthill, making them scatter in fear. Mikoto forced herself right in the middle of Accelerator's path, holding up a hand to stop him en route.

"Hah? Why are you stopping me, third-string? Want me to save you some?"

"You're bleeding, you idiot."

"Ahn?"

"How did you survive this long anyway?"

"..."

She reached up, grabbed his shirt, and lifted it to prove her point. The stitches were oozing. It looked like they had entered into a horror with too many special effects. Accelerator shrugged it off like it was no biggie and simply pocketed his hands. The bullets continued to bounce back on him, decommissioning a few of the others that managed to steel themselves enough to try and take on two ESPers. The bullets whizzed past Mikoto's head.

"At least let me help." She sidestepped around him so they were back-to-back—not that he needed the cover, but it just felt right. He looked at her like she had two heads, but she didn't see nor care to. Instead, Mikoto grabbed some empty shells off the ground and began launching them at various targets, hitting them smack dab in the forehead. It would leave a nasty bruise, but it was better than riddling them with holes.

Eventually, there was no one left. Maybe some were cowering inside, but with the brunt taken care of, Anti-Skill wouldn't have too much on their hands. Mikoto rubbed her hands together and spun around to face the white-haired, sunglasses-toting monster whose hand lingered for a moment on his choker. The choker definitely added to the rock star look, she noted, but also knew if she said that out loud, it would likely be her funeral.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Do I look okay to you?"

She frowned.

"Tch. Don't trip any loose landmines on your way out."

"I'm going to stick around here until Anti-Skill arrives." She paused, noting his brief nod and turn. "I don't know what you've got yourself into, but try not to die. I'm going to bring down the darkness too. In my own way. Maybe I'll see you on the other side of it, maybe I won't." The last part was said somberly, but Accelerator was already gone.

Reviews for inspiration?