The Rats in the Walls are Your Friends

"Going out?" Vermillion, the fourth body, asks from where he's lying on the office couch.

"Yea, one of the cats from a while back got our office number and asked for some tips," you, the second body, reply.

"Oh, them!" Dai, the first body, chirps, looking up from the spreadsheet of your agency's finances he was looking over, "They seemed nice."

"Huh," Vermillion snorts, "tell her to start by fixing her team's costumes."

"Not gonna open with that four," you instantly reply, "If we need to deploy, I'm going to be at the cafe on fifth."

"We'll pick you up if it won't delay arrival times; you know the procedure," the fourth body waves his hand in a clear dismissal.

"Ask for the muscley one's workout routine!" Minato, the third body, barks from the kitchen as you step out the door.

"Will do," you call back as you step out the office's front door and make your way to the nearby bus stop.

While you wait, you hum a tune you used to often hear your uncle sing under his breath. A near decade later and his loss still hurt. You doubt it will ever stop being honest with yourself. He was one of a kind like that; at least, you can't think of many people who would take in their brother's cast-off child like he did.

You still remember the day your... birth father dropped you off at your uncle's hobby shop. He had been assembling a Gunpla set at the counter when your father barged in with you in toe.

"Fuck d'you want bloodsucker," he asked, only sparing a single glance up at his brother, "that bitch wife of yours finally leave you for losing too many elections? Find a different couch."

"Dai," your father had growled, "I see your manners haven't gotten any better since we spoke last."

"I don't pull punches with lizards who ditch their families to go into politics Akihiko," your uncle sniped back.

"We need to talk," your father huffed.

"We are," your uncle replied, snapping another piece of his Gunpla into place.

"Privately," your father elaborated.

"Hm?" your uncle grunted, finally taking notice of you for the first time. A million emotions flashed across the man's face before settling on a deep-set dread, "You had a kid then? Surprised you and the bitch even have sex on that glacier you call a bed. What's his name? How old is he?"

"Vermillion, he's four years old, and his quirk just manifested," your father snarled, "now, can we please take this to the back?"

"Ah fuckin fine," your uncle huffed, getting up from the front desk, "c'mon, we'll talk in the damn break room."

"Thank you, Dai," your father said with a small smile.

"You aren't welcome dickhead," your uncle grumbled, plucking an antique Kamen Rider action figure off the shelf before walking over to you, "here take care of this for me, will you kid? Just be careful he's fragile."

You nodded your head after a moment, taking the action figure without saying a word as your uncle led your father to the back. Not long after, the yelling started. You were familiar with yelling; it had happened a lot after you started talking to the rats, so it hadn't bothered you. After a bit, your father walked out with a smile and a red handprint both painted on his face. He walked up to you and, for the only time you can remember, ruffled your hair affectionately.

"Be good for your uncle Vermillion," your father said.

"Yes Father," you replied after a long moment of arguing with yourself about what to say.

With that, your father left, leaving you with your uncle, who sat back down behind the front counter and threw occasional glances at you.

Three hours later, the sun began to dip below the horizon.

"When is father coming back," you had asked.

"He isn't," your uncle replied, snapping the last piece of his Gunpla into place.

"Oh."

It's only the realization that you've arrived at the cafe that breaks you from your memories.

The cafe was as it ever was on your semi-regular visits. Sparsely populated, homely, and far enough from anything important that it would stay that way. The gentle tinkling of a set of bells breaks the silence of the establishment as you step in. The elderly gentleman at the counter looks up from his book, giving you a sharp-toothed smile as you walk up to the counter.

"Welcome back, Mister Abe," Jun'ichi Abe, the elderly proprietor of the cafe, greets you, "what'll you be having today?

"Just the usual Mister Abe," you reply, pulling out your almost painfully thin wallet.

"Tar black coffee and a cheese Danish it is," Jun'ichi nods, completing the ritual the two of you had engaged in since you first gave the man your assumed name.

Jun'ichi thought it was hysterical, and you couldn't bring yourself to disagree with the man. It was a rare thing for you, being treated like an individual. The experience was pleasant in moderation, but it wouldn't be good for you to get used to it. The last thing you needed was for the control center to think you wanted to strike out on your own.

Down that path lay only death and purgation.

After picking up your order, you sit down at your usual table to enjoy your meal. You have a good three hours until the time you agreed to meet with the leader of the Wild, Wild Pussycats, and you intend to make the most of your rare moments of alone time. Being around yourself wasn't the same as being alone, after all. Quite the opposite, really.

The four of you got along well enough most of the time, but the small differences and personality quirks that separated you from yourselves tended to grate over time. Minato was brash and quick to anger, Dai was meeker than you would like, and Vermillion was a touch too presumptuous with his position as the public leader. All of that was, of course, secondary to all of them dumping anything remotely resembling a social situation onto your lap with a speed that would outperform even the strongest enhancement quirks.

Bastards.

Far sooner than you would like, the woman of the hour steps through the door. The dull buzzing hum of irritation fills you, but you quash the feeling easily enough. Mandalay, or rather Shino Sosaki, given she's out of costume, scans the cafe briefly before stepping up to the counter and starting a short conversation with Jun'ichi. After a moment, she seats herself at a table across the room from yours to wait for her order.

She... no, it's natural, she wouldn't know what you look like out of costume, you suppose.

Sighing, you get up from your usual spot and meander over to Sosaki's table. She looks at you with wide, owlish eyes as you sit down, either shocked by the perceived audacity of a random stranger or surprised you were here even earlier than she.

"Ah, sir?" Sosaki says, her voice strained, "I would prefer to sit alone."

Perceived audacity then.

"You invited me here Sosaki," you chide, "cruel of you to cast me aside so quickly."

Silence falls between the two of you as the woman takes a moment to chew your words.

"Vermintide?" she asks after a moment.

"The second of four," you reply, propping your head up with the hand not occupied with your coffee.

"I'm sorry I didn't expect you to get here before me," Sosaki says earnestly right as Jun'ichi calls her name, "ah. one moment please."

The heroine quickly gets up to get her order, leaving you alone at the table with not but a cheese Danish and your coffee for company.

Now would be as good a time as any to figure out how you're going to frame your words as constructive criticism rather than a vicious takedown, you suppose.

Shino hadn't been able to find any sort of pictures of Vermintide 'in the wild' as it were. Social media was dry of any kind of mention of the rescue hero, the website for their pest control business only had a number to call, and even their public profiles in the Safety Commissions database only had images of the group in costume. It was like the group was made of ghosts! So, she had decided that, in light of this, it would be best for her to show up earlier than could really reasonably be expected of anyone to make sure that Asahi Abe, the member of Vermintide Shino had managed to get in contact with, would have to approach her rather than have her embarrass herself asking around the restaurant.

Only for him to have shown up even more unreasonably early than her.

She was two and a half hours early, for god sake! How long had the man been here?! He couldn't be that invested in giving her advice; no one was that invested in giving advice!

Taking a sip from her latte to mentally reset, Shino gathered up the resolve to break the awkward silence that had dominated the table since she sat back down.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me Abe," she demured.

"I needed to get out of the office," came the mans gruff reply.

The most sociable of Vermintide was still a bit of a rude recluse it seemed. Silence fell again as Shino floundered for a way to keep the conversation rolling. Maybe he would appriciate if she was blunt and got straight to the questions?

"What would you say is the most important thing for a search and rescue hero?" Shino asked after a moment.

Nailed it. Shino of course had her own answer but it was the sort of question that could tell you a lot about someone's values in a short amount of time. An excellent probing strike!

The hero across from her looked up from his coffee cup, meeting Shino's eyes.

"The peace of mind to be ready to die," came Asahi's reply, there was no hesitation in his voice, no doubt in his pinkish orange eyes.

It wasn't the answer Shino had expected. That made two times she had been caught flat footed by the older hero. Taking her momentary silence as a signal to continue Asahi continued on.

"If you aren't ready to die a thousand times to save even one more life, I won't say you're wasting your time, but you will lose people." Asahi finished.

"You're talking like losing people isn't part of the job," Shino sighed, "you can't save everyone."

"Forgive me for what I'm about to say because I understand that it's going to sound very rude," was a bad start to Asahi's counterpoint, "but even if it's a part of the job for you it isn't for me, for us. Once we arrive every life can be saved and every death is a failing."

That was a dangerous mentality for someone in their line of work. Lethal even, but he had said as much. Shino wouldn't say Asahi was suicidal but if he died tomorrow? Well so long as it saved someone he probably wouldn't see it as a loss. Even worse apparently all the members thought similarly.

"That isn't sustainable," Shino insisted, "if you couldn't reach someone in time it can't always be your fault."

"It is," is Asahi's simple reply, "we have the tools to save every life. Always. Even if it isn't true for you it's true for us."

A faint buzzing had begun to overlap Asahi's word for a moment. It sounded to Shino like the agitated hum of a swarm of bees.

"Our name wasn't chosen for no reason." the man said before bolting up ramrod straight in his chair.

"What?! What is it?!" Shino asked looking around the room for a threat.

Asahi didn't reply for a moment, his eyes somewhere far, far away.

"I need to go," he says, eyes coming back into focus, "emergency."

"Emergency?" Shino had known the members of Vermintide were perpetually 'on call' the website for their business said as much but how had Asahi been informed? He didn't even pull out a cellphone.

"Apartment fire. Three blocks down." came the mans clipped reply right before he bolted for the door.

Just as the hero set foot on the pavement of the sidewalk the wailing of a siren reached Shino's ears. Likely the fire department or-

A van screamed into view, drifting around a turn and nearly flipping itself with how fast it was going. Asahi leaped, the side door of the van slammed open just before it passed him, a fully costumed member of Vermintide lunging out and hauling Asahi into the vehicle.

In less than thirty seconds Shino was alone in the cafe.

She hadn't gotten the advice she came here for and while the look into the mind of one of the members of Vermintide was interesting...

She would have to set up another meeting to actually get what she wanted.

Shino sighed, drained her cup of coffee, and trotted out of the cafe to go see what all the comotion was about.

The van rattles dangerously, the old beast falling apart from the strain you were putting it under. You were going to be stuck in the garage for hours after this operation, but it couldn't be helped, and really, it didn't matter.

In the grand scheme of things, fixing a car was just advanced Gunpla.

The thought would have brought a smile to your lips if you weren't rapidly approaching a police cordon.

'Through. Don't slow down.'

The order wasn't a surprise, but two wasn't going to be happy that he was going to have to apologize to the cops on the wholes behalf again. The sound of splintering wood and shouting breaks over the rev of the engine, making three howl with excited laughter and two predictably groan.

"I'M SORRYYYYYYYYY," you scream out the open window as you speed past a very tired-looking officer.

Normally, you wouldn't have had to crash through the cordon, but you couldn't radio ahead this time. The mic got broken the last time four went on a pest control run, and the customer shattered it. It didn't help that it was a bit difficult to procure a replacement through official channels, given you'd been put on every supplier of hero gear's low-priority list. You still need to get back at the Safety Commission for that one. You aren't sure how you'll do it, but there will be retribution.

Your destination comes into view and-

'Green fire. Likely quirk-based. Expect resistance.'

A pop accompanies the front left of the van jumping into the air for a split second before metal squealing starts, and the vehicle gets a lot harder to control. That, well- it isn't ideal but it gives you an idea. A terrible, terrible idea.

Your foot slams the brakes, and your hands jam the steering wheel to the right. The effect is immediate. The effect being that you that you flip the van. The landing isn't gentle; in fact, you're pretty sure the suspension broke, and that would be the least of the problems caused by your little stunt, but you made it with no time lost, and the van is replaceable.

Yup. Definitely replaceable... you're going to be stuck in the garage for weeks. Oh well.

Killing the engine, you boot the driver's side door open right as three boots open the back doors. Even as you take off towards the burning apartment building, the rats you brought were pouring out of the van onto the cement in a roiling mass of fur and teeth.

Something or someone had barred the front doors shut, but that wasn't an obstacle. You and three shoulder-check the door with all your momentum, and the entire glass panel crashes in, frame, bar, and all. The smell of smoke and burning meat fills your nose.

No time for hesitation.

Heat washes over you; the green fire is everywhere. Only two directions are viable paths forward. Your unit of four splits into groups of two and take off in opposite directions. Immediately, you locate three civilians in need of evac. Two are pinned under a support beam while the third struggles to lift it off of them, burning himself badly in the process.

The free man disappears in a swirling tide of rats as the animals carry him out of the building. Four lifts the beam off the trapped civilians while you haul them out of the fire. You lose thirty precious seconds checking them over to make sure they're safe for transport before the tide of rats washes over the civilians and carries them away. The ground shakes as four drops the support beam but you're already moving.

You find another civilian, a woman, huddled up against a wall, sobbing and clutching a burnt book in her hands. Four blows past you as you asses the woman's state.

"Who-" the woman wheezes before her words are aborted into a hacking phlegmy cough.

"I am Vermintide; you are being rescued. Please do not resist." you recite right as you mentally clear the woman for transport.

The rats rise up and the woman screams in fear before the tide swallows her whole and rushes towards the outside. Another tide of rats, this one carrying a badly burnt man, passes you as you move into the next room.

Four is already there hauling another civilian out of the fire as the tide of rats washes over a luckier, less burnt soul. You blow past the scene into the next room. A single civilian is in the center, clutching and clawing at his face in clear hysteria.

"So hungry," he says in a low whining growl, "new start, all gone. So hungry. Nothing left, new start."

'Likely to resist transport violently. Calm him.'

The order rattles in your skull like a carelessly shot bullet. Calm him down?! How?!

"Sir! Come this way!" you try, "The rats will take you to safety!"

"Burn. Better. So hungry. Leave. All gone," the hysterical man snaps, sitting up and turning to face you on a dime.

Puffy red eyes hung over a gaping, face dominating maw glare at you through the smoke. The man daring you to try and take him from his desired death.

"I'm sorry sir, I can't leave you here," even if he's costing you too much damn time, "you are being rescued. Please do not resist."

"Burn. Hungry. HUNGRY!! HUNGRY!!!" the man screams, throwing himself at you mouth first.

Your arm comes up to ward the man off. Every one of your instincts screams at you to throw your assailant or pin him to the ground, but you can't do that without harming him. It's that moment you spend fighting yourself that allows the man's teeth to sink into your arm.

Thick amber ichor explodes into the civilian's mouth as his teeth snag on in the tangle of your muscles and keep him from biting clean through your arm. The man's head snaps back as if he was struck.

"...not...not hungry?" the man mutters, "who?"

"Vermintide," you reply, readying yourself for the man to continue resisting his rescue.

"Vermintide. I go. Live. Find you." the man says before the tide of rats washes over him and carries him to safely.

One hand shakily grips your fresh wound.

"owwwwww," you hiss.

One has a chunk missing out of his arm when you all convene at the stairs to the second floor. Hysterical civie, nothing worth talking about there. All told, it took you and Two three minutes and some change to clear the south side of the building. Fast but not fast enough. You could have done it in half that if people had just stopped struggling and let the rats take them.

This whole operation was pissing you off from start to finish, and you don't even have any wasps to commiserate with. Stupid people, stupid entrance, stupid fire, stupid fucking villain starting it. At least you hadn't lost anyone yet. You might have snapped like a dry twig if people resisting rescue cost someone their life.

Control center nearly marked you deviant last time you went off. 'Father' had paid a visit to try to get some leverage on you, and really, the less said about how you reacted, the better. You still don't know what four pulled to save your ass that day, but you were grateful for it.

Even if he could be a punk-ass bitch sometimes.

Snorting, you boot open the door to the stairwell and bolt up the steps of the curiously fire-free staircase as fast as you can without risking a fall. The rats kept up the best they could, but even enhanced as they were, the vertical challenge they faced still meant that you reached the door before they could. Luckily, the heat-weakened hinges of the door aren't rated for six and a half feet of pure anger and muscle shoulder checking them at top speed and give way with an ear-piercing shriek.

Before the door even finishes its fall, the others are through with the rats in toe. One and Four bolt to the left after taking a moment to assess the situation. You and Two, though. You have a more pressing issue.

The crying of an infant, audible even over the crackle of the flames.

'Right. Top priority. Rats to the others.'

Not that you wouldn't do it anyway, but with the Control Center forcing the issue when you and Two hurl yourselves into the burning corridor, it's really out of your hands. You and Two slam into the apartment door with all your strength. It buckles but doesn't give completely. The melting sole of your boot nearly makes you miss a step, but the two of you rear back once more, and this time, the door explodes into so many burning splinters and matchwood.

"Hush, hush," a voice from deeper in the apartment tuts, "daddy's here, Koji, daddy's here. I won't let them take you."

You rush deeper into the room and the sight that greets you. It makes you snap.

"Not the CGC, not your bitch mother, not your grandparents," the man is turned away from you denying you a good look at his face but the green flames cloaking him alone would have been enough for you to dive in guns blazing even if you hadn't been able to hear his words, "and certainly not ANY HEROES!!!"

The bastard turns to face you, a vicious snarl painted over his heavily tattooed features. A wall of fire erupts between you and him, hotter and more intense than any of the flames running rampant through the rest of the building.

"THAT'S MY HOTTEST FLAME HEROES!!! IGNIS FATUUS!!!! YOU'LL NEVER BE ABLE TO REACH ME!!!!!" the villain cackles.

You step into the flames, Two close behind you. Your mask begins to melt, fusing painfully to your skin, your coat ignites, and the steel toes of your boots burn red hot. But you get to the other side of the flames.

"You?!" the villain screeches, taking a step back from you, "Are you insane?!!"

"Disposable." is your curt, painful reply.

Just moving is agony, but that isn't important. Not to you and certainly not to two, given he immediately lunges for the fire wielding bastard, and snatches the baby from his hands before he can recover from his shock.

"KOJI!!!" the villain shrieks hysterically, "YOU! YOU!!! I'LL KILL YOU!!!!"

Likely not wanting to risk his child, the man lunges for you. You sidestep his first attack, your fist cracking into the back of the villain's skull and sending him to his knees. With a smoothness that takes you by complete surprise the second his knee hits the floor, the fire wielder's fist lashes out. It connects with your stomach and punches a superheated hole straight through.

You grab the man's arm just before his hand explodes in flame. To put it gently, your insides are cooked. Fire jets out of your mouth, giving you a dragon's experience firsthand and sending the bottom half of your mask flying off in motes of slag. The world goes dark as the heat makes your eyes burst like overripe fruit.

Half of you dies in that moment; you are reduced. Thoughts come slower as your components scramble to assert control.

The villain's hand starts to pull back.

Your grip tightens.

A thousand for one.

Your foot crashes into the villain's side, sending him back and forcing his arm to overextend. The snap of breaking bones fills the room as your fist crashes into the back of the fire wielder's elbow. The man's scream is cut off by you hauling him up by his shoulder and slamming his face into your knee. After that, you take him to the ground, slamming him down and sitting on his chest as you crash your fists into his face again and again.

Your skin burns, you lose more pieces of yourself, the heat ratchets up.

Until all at once, the flames gutter out. Two grabbing your fist is all that stops you from hitting the bastard more.

A minute later, the Control Center rings the all-clear.

Operation successful.

Shino hadn't known what she was expecting when she finally made it the three blocks to the apartment fire. It had only been, at best, eight minutes since she and Asahi had parted ways. In that time, he and the members of his team had rammed through a police barricade, beat first responders to the scene, totaled their van, put out the fire somehow, and cleared the building if the civilians being set to the pavement by a rolling tide of rats were indeed the last of them.

Honestly, it was terrifying.

Shino was certain her team wouldn't have been able to manage it even if they were in a position to respond. Even with all of them on top form, it would have taken them twenty minutes at minimum to clear the building. There was a reason their specialty was mountain rescues.

Ambulances arrived just as the first and fourth members of Vermintide exited the building. They made for quite the sight, surrounded and covered as they were in an ever-shifting mass of rats. One made a gesture with his hand, and the roiling carpet of rats exploded towards the group's totaled van, disappearing into the back of the vehicle in the blink of an eye.

Divested of their rodents, the two link up with the EMTs and direct them towards high-priority patients. Things go smoothly for a while after that, even if the members of Vermintide are ushered away from the civilians once triage is established for fear of them giving someone an infection.

Shino was going over to speak with the freed-up heroes when a scream stopped her mid-step. She feared the worst she really did, and that fear wasn't far off. The two missing members of Vermintide had exited the building.

One, Asahi, if Shino wasn't mistaken, stood tall, a baby cradled in his arms as he steadily walked toward the EMTs. The other, the third member, limped at his side with an uneven gait. A man in handcuffs was slung over his shoulder, and to say he had been brutalized would be putting it gently. One of his arms had been broken in two, and his face was more bruise and welt than it was clear skin. More horrifying than that, though, was the state of Vermintide's third member. The exposed skin of his face looked melted, visibly fused to what was left of the man's mask, the lenses of which had cracked and fallen out, exposing the empty eye sockets beneath to the open air. Despite that, despite the gaping hole in the man's stomach that had visibly been cauterized by whatever punched through him, despite the wobble in his step caused by his melted boots, the only outward sign the third member of Vermintide gave of his pain was a scowl that exposed the remaining teeth in his lipless mouth and the unsteadiness of his step.

"If you aren't ready to die a thousand times to save even one more life, I won't say you're wasting your time, but you will lose people."

That wasn't hot air. They really all did think like that. Why? What could drive an entire team of heroes to go this far above and beyond the call of duty?

A pair of EMTs rushed over to the wobbling member of Vermintide.

"Get off me!" he snarled, "Off!! I'm fucking fine!!!"

"Sir!" one EMT tried.

"No! Help someone that needs it!" the belligerent hero hissed, "In fact, here!" he pulled the man off his shoulder and blindly shoved him towards the EMTs, "Set this idiot's arm and make sure he's stable, then fucking sedate him! He started the fire."

"On purpos-"

"Yes, on purpose!! Now take him and fuck off!!!" the third member of Vermintide shouted.

The two unoccupied members of Vermintide appeared on either side of their badly injured compatriot; Shino had been so focused on the third she hadn't even seen them move. They each took an arm and ushered their teammate into the back of their totaled van. After a moment of stunned silence, Shino moved to check on them but was interrupted by Asahi sitting down on the back of the van and blocking her path.

"Still want that advice?" the hero's muffled voice asks.

How- how was she supposed to respond to that in this situation?