Meanwhile, Detnerat Headquarters, Deika City, Japan.
The studio lights dimmed the moment the live feed went dark. Rikiya Yotsubashi stepped away from the podium. The warm, solemn expression he'd worn before millions of viewers disappeared as though it had never existed. 'Hmm, that went better than I expected.' His posture relaxed, as his face carried a blossoming smile. Around him, the production crew immediately began dismantling the stage.
Cameras were switched off and microphones were removed.
Watching technicians move between cables and equipment, already preparing to clear the room as well as the reporter's disperse, Rikiya chuckled before turning to walk away.
There was no doubt that today's press conference would sweep through all of Japan like a rising storm. Especially with the majority of reporters present being liberation members themselves. With public opinion in their favor, things would develop exactly as they planned.
'I wonder how the commission is reacting at the moment.' Two members of his private security detail fell in behind him as he crossed the studio floor and passed through a set of heavy soundproof doors.
The moment they closed behind him, the noise of the production crew vanished. The corridor beyond was quiet. Rikiya continued walking.
His footsteps echoed against the floor as he descended the private staircase, passing through a series of security checkpoints that didn't exist on any public blueprint of the Detnerat headquarters.
At the bottom, he stopped before a reinforced steel door.
A small scanner glowed on the wall. Rikiya placed his palm against it. It chimed with a Ttring ... Before glowing green. The locks disengaged right before his eyes.
Following which, the door slid open. Beyond it was a private lounge that looked incredibly luxurious.
Dark wood. Leather furniture. A fully stocked bar.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the distant lights of Deika City as well as a large flat screen TV at the far wall, displaying the very live broadcast that just ended twenty minutes ago.
"Well, that went far better than we expected." A voice uttered as soon as he arrived. "Though I do still think mine would have been far better."
The voice made Rikiya chuckle once more.
"Why Kizuki, do we need to dwell on such matters?"
Chitose Kizuki sat comfortably on one of the leather sofas, one leg crossed over the other as she studied a tablet in her hands. Her eyes were hidden behind her glasses, but the grin on her face was unmistakable. "Hmm, I suppose not. But you should know better than anyone that a woman is never satisfied."
She wasn't the only one. Scattered throughout all around were numerous acquaintances. Across the room, Koku Hanabata stood with his hands folded behind his back, watching the news broadcast playing silently on a wall-mounted screen.
Tomoyasu Chikazoku was seated before a collection of monitors, his fingers moving rapidly across multiple keyboards as lines of data flowed across the screens.
And in the corner of the room, sitting apart from everyone else, was Geten. The young man had his hood pulled low over his head, his attention apparently fixed on nothing in particular.
Rikiya stepped inside, the door closing behind him.
Hanabata took off his sunglasses, a wide smile plastered on his face. "An excellent performance, Leader. Truly. I almost felt sorry for the Commission."
"Almost?"
Chitose scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself, Trumpet. You wouldn't recognize sympathy if it slapped you in the face."
Hanabata's smile twitched.
Rikiya headed straight to the lounge bar and took up a wine glass. "I would agree with Curious. Those political idiots are hardly worth any form of pity."
He poured himself a drink, swirled the glass and turned towards the group once more. "How are the numbers?"
"Wonderful." Skeptic, who hadn't looked up this entire time, finally found a moment to raise his head from the laptop
"The initial response metrics are exceeding our baseline projections by thirty-two percent," Skeptic continued, his fingers tapping a fast, rhythmic pattern against the desk. "Regional media outlets are already picking up the feed and syndicating it word-for-word. The narrative is entirely framed around our infrastructure capability versus the Commission's paralysis."
It was remarkable just how much could spread in a matter of minutes. Now barely half an hour had passed and social media sentiment in the outer prefectures was already shifting heavily in their favor.
"In conclusion, people are actively demanding Detnerat relief hubs over government evacuation camps. The rural response is especially strong." Chitose added to the conclusion .
"A predictable outcome when you offer people dignity instead of cattle cars." Rikiya took a sip of his wine. The human heart would always gravitate toward strength that protects, rather than weakness that demands compliance. This was precisely why the All Might could bring about such an era of peace with his presence, and precisely why that peace collapsed the very moment he was no longer available.
"Of course, the commission only have themselves to blame for this. It was their choices that led to this whole scenario, bringing us precisely the opportunity we needed. It's only fair we make good use of it to bring the people back to the right path."
He stood at the center of the room, a smirk plastered on his lips as he raised his hand. "To the first step."
Hanabata immediately lifted his own. "To the first step."
Chitose raised hers. Even Skeptic paused his work long enough to reach for the glass beside him.
Geten remained seated.
Amused, Rikiya glanced at him.
".."
A moment passed. Then, with visible reluctance, Geten lifted his glass.
Rikiya smiled. "Our liberation ideals are no longer buried in dusty manifestos or whispered in secret gatherings. Today, they stepped into the light of day."
Clink. The sound echoed through the room.
Rikiya took another sip, as did everyone else.
"Enjoy this moment. Because from this point forward, everything becomes more difficult."
He set his glass down, his expression hardening slightly. "With this move, we have placed ourselves directly under the microscope. Challenging the very structure that holds this society, the Hero Public Safety Commission, incompetent as they may be, are not entirely blind."
He turned his gaze to the screen.
"We should be prepared for some sort of retaliation anytime soon."
"They already have." Skeptic uttered immediately.
"Hmm?"
Rikiya glanced at him. "So soon?"
"It is faster than expected."
Skeptic tapped his keyboard. A new screen appeared. "Multiple inquiries into Detnerat's supply chain have already been initiated. The Commission is attempting to identify the locations of our emergency facilities and determine how much stock we're holding."
Hanabata laughed. "That was quick."
"Naturally," Redestro uttered, setting his glass on a side table. "Mizore may be leading a ghost agency, but she isn't completely stupid. She knows the moment she loses compliance in the outer prefectures, her entire central authority vanishes. She will try to audit our transport manifests and hit us with regulatory roadblocks." Under normal circumstances, this would be a cause for concern. After all, this truly was a large expenditure on their part.
However, it wouldn't be long now before she realised that a large amount of information was missing on Detnerat. "Unfortunately, as of now, the Commission has no legal basis to interfere with our relief efforts. The Commission's press office should currently be drowning in media inquiries as it is."
What exactly could they audit? Canned goods? High-capacity generators? Emergency medical supplies? Every piece of gear being moved was fully certified under Detnerat's commercial licenses. If Mizore tried to block aid shipments on national television, she would single-handedly destroy what little credibility the Commission had left.
"By the time they organize a coherent response, half the country will be wearing Detnerat gear and managing their own security." Yotsubashi turned his attention fully toward Skeptic.
"Speaking of future matters, what of our 'business partner'? Has the target been secured?"
"We received the confirmation not long ago." Skeptic replied, not pausing his typing in the slightest.
"It would seem the extraction went off without a hitch. The escort detail was eliminated before a distress signal could reach central dispatch. He has set the meeting coordinates."
"Good," Yotsubashi said, adjusting his suit jacket and checking his watch. "Then we should not keep them waiting. And frankly, this will likely be the last window of movement I have before the HPSC's watchers lock onto my schedule."
Hanabata stepped forward. "Shall I organize an escort unit? We can draw a squad of liberation fighters from the regional cell to secure the perimeter."
"No," Yotsubashi shook his head. "A heavy movement of personnel will only raise flags for any hero agencies monitoring our logistics."
His gaze drifted past Hanabata and Chitose, settling on the quiet figure sitting at the far corner of the lounge.
"Geten. You will accompany me." Geten stood up. "Understood, Leader."
"The rest of you will spread out to oversee the public narrative," Rikiya instructed his executive council. "Now is the perfect time to begin seeding our ideology into the people's minds. Let's make good use of it."
Hanabata nodded. "I'll have our political offices begin reaching out to local assemblies. If enough prefectural leaders publicly welcome Detnerat's assistance, opposing us becomes politically expensive."
The core framework of the Meta Liberation Army dispersed after that. Hanabata returned to the hearts and Mind Party while Chitose returned to her publishing Media. By tomorrow morning, every newspaper under her influence would be filled with stories of isolated communities receiving Detnerat relief convoys, grateful civilians praising the company's generosity, and opinion pieces questioning whether ordinary people should truly be expected to abandon everything they had built.
Redestro and Geten soon departed an hour later as a black luxury sedan rolled out of Detnerat Headquarters, disappearing into the traffic as it left Deika City behind. Its destination lay several prefectures away.
Hours later.
Deep within an abandoned industrial port on the outer coast of the Shizuoka prefecture, the damp sea air carried the heavy scent of rust and saltwater. Giant, rusted shipping cranes loomed over forgotten warehouses.
The area had been decommissioned years ago, leaving it completely off the grid—a dead zone far removed from police patrols or hero agency sweeps. It was in such a remote place that a single luxury black sedan pulled into the center of a desolate container yard.
The vehicle came to a quiet stop. Re-Destro stepped out from the rear seat, adjusting his suit. Half a step behind him, Geten stepped into the fog, his hands tucked into the pockets of his oversized parka.
A hundred yards ahead, under the shadow of a towering loading crane, sat a single heavily modified transport truck. Leaning against its front grill was a man with a large build, taking a drag from a thick cigar.
The red ember glowed brightly in the dark fog before he exhaled a plume of smoke into the air. Surrounding him were three heavily armed mercenaries.
And tied to two steel folding chairs in the center of the open clearing were two bound figures, their heads covered in heavy black canvas hoods.
"You're cutting it close, corporate," the mercenary leader growled. His voice deep, gravelly, and entirely lacking in respect. "We had to deal with a local patrol that wandered too close to the interception site. That'll cost you outside our deal."
"An unavoidable delay, my friend," Yotsubashi stopped a respectful ten feet away, his gaze drifting past the large mercenary to scan the entire area before landing on the two squirming figures tied to the chairs.
"I would assume the target is in pristine condition, Mr. Wolfram?"
The mercenary scoffed, spitting his cigar onto the concrete and crushing it beneath the heel of his combat boot. "Do I look like a delivery boy who damages the package? They're breathing."
With a violent yank, Wolfram grabbed the fabric of both canvas hoods and ripped them off.
David Shield flinched violently against the sudden exposure to the ocean fog, his round glasses hanging crookedly off one ear. His hair was disheveled, his clothes torn at the shoulder from the struggle, and his pale face was slick with cold sweat. Beside him, Sam Scudder thrashed blindly against the heavy wire binding his torso, a thick rag stuffed firmly into his mouth as muffled, frantic groans escaped his throat.
Re-Destro studied the trembling, world-renowned scientist for a brief moment, taking in every line of panic etched into the man's face.
Satisfied, a warm smile graced his features as he proceeded to adjust his tie. "Now then. Let's talk business."