All Might's appearance over in Japan sure didn't go unnoticed, as it created waves through the medias all the way back to the USA; and at U.S.J most of all. As a hero Academy founded by the number one hero himself, U.S.J was the target of media attention for a while after All Might joined U.A's teaching staff. A few weeks went by, however, and eventually things calmed down for the School and everything went back to normal.
By that time, the school's semester was at it's third week. U.S.J students did their tests, were accepted or refused, split into groups, met their classmates, homeroom teachers and got to studying. Up until now, except for a few physical tests and activities, the classes had mostly been academic. Today, at last, the class would be taken to one of the school's many complex for a proper, practical Hero training exercise. Real action.
By the beginning of the afternoon, they arrived.
The complex was a closed one, with a dome for a roof. It span the size of multiple football fields, but once the group was finally inside... it was completely empty. A whole lot of space, nothing more. Ignoring the puzzled looks on the faces of his students, Mr. Hayes - Class A's Teacher - turned away from the students.
Mr. Hayes was a very serious looking man. Most of the time he would be seen wearing clean, but comfortable three piece suits complete with tie. The only part of his appearance that could be considered less groomed was his constant look of tiredness and boredom, which might have off put students at more than one occasion. Hayes was known to be dedicated to his students, but he had a tendency to approach teaching with a very disciplined approach. For this, he was nicknamed 'Redcoat' by students before, teasing at his near-obsession with discipline, and his English origins.
"Everyone gather." he said without looking back at his class. As he did so, Hayes walked over to a lone console close by the entrance, working on it a bit before finally facing his students.
"Welcome to your first U.S.J Hero Combat Practice. This place is simply called the Sheltered Training Area, or STA. Now, this might not be the only existing building of the type; but it might just be the more advanced." and with the click of a final button, the ground over by the large, empty space began to open and, slowly, the life-size replica of a city the size of a few blocks, at least, rose from the ground.
"Today's training will consist of both combat and rescue. When the timer starts, everywhere inside that training area will appear various different objectives such as; fires; robberies, traffic accidents and villains. All victims and enemies will be represented by various robots. You are all expected to stop and solve as many of these incidents as possible in the given time limit, while causing as little destruction and saving as many lives as possible. How you do so depend entirely on you."
Hayes raised his arm, holding a command of some sort, and pressed a single button on it in the direction of the city. Immediately, noises of explosions, cars crash and general chaos could be heard coming from the fictive streets. A large screen in the middle of the ceiling of the complex, facing four directions, displayed a timer: 20 Minutes.
Such events most often struck at random time, giving pro heroes minimum time to react or plan to them, after all. "Good Luck."
By that time, the school's semester was at it's third week. U.S.J students did their tests, were accepted or refused, split into groups, met their classmates, homeroom teachers and got to studying. Up until now, except for a few physical tests and activities, the classes had mostly been academic. Today, at last, the class would be taken to one of the school's many complex for a proper, practical Hero training exercise. Real action.
By the beginning of the afternoon, they arrived.
The complex was a closed one, with a dome for a roof. It span the size of multiple football fields, but once the group was finally inside... it was completely empty. A whole lot of space, nothing more. Ignoring the puzzled looks on the faces of his students, Mr. Hayes - Class A's Teacher - turned away from the students.
Mr. Hayes was a very serious looking man. Most of the time he would be seen wearing clean, but comfortable three piece suits complete with tie. The only part of his appearance that could be considered less groomed was his constant look of tiredness and boredom, which might have off put students at more than one occasion. Hayes was known to be dedicated to his students, but he had a tendency to approach teaching with a very disciplined approach. For this, he was nicknamed 'Redcoat' by students before, teasing at his near-obsession with discipline, and his English origins.
"Everyone gather." he said without looking back at his class. As he did so, Hayes walked over to a lone console close by the entrance, working on it a bit before finally facing his students.
♫
"Welcome to your first U.S.J Hero Combat Practice. This place is simply called the Sheltered Training Area, or STA. Now, this might not be the only existing building of the type; but it might just be the more advanced." and with the click of a final button, the ground over by the large, empty space began to open and, slowly, the life-size replica of a city the size of a few blocks, at least, rose from the ground.
"Today's training will consist of both combat and rescue. When the timer starts, everywhere inside that training area will appear various different objectives such as; fires; robberies, traffic accidents and villains. All victims and enemies will be represented by various robots. You are all expected to stop and solve as many of these incidents as possible in the given time limit, while causing as little destruction and saving as many lives as possible. How you do so depend entirely on you."
Hayes raised his arm, holding a command of some sort, and pressed a single button on it in the direction of the city. Immediately, noises of explosions, cars crash and general chaos could be heard coming from the fictive streets. A large screen in the middle of the ceiling of the complex, facing four directions, displayed a timer: 20 Minutes.
Such events most often struck at random time, giving pro heroes minimum time to react or plan to them, after all. "Good Luck."
Alcatraz; a now completely abandoned building, more than half of it reclaimed by the rising waters of San Francisco Bay. Rather, almost completely abandoned. With a little ingenuity, funds and manpower the few remaining chambers were turned into the perfect hideout for the branch of the League of Villains operating in San Francisco. To be more precise, the branch that will be operating.
Picture; a room with a long table in the center and a few chairs scattered about. Lit only by a few light sources on the ground, their wires running to the many generators laying about. At one end of the table, an amalgam of screens, keyboards and computers forming one big console, papers scattered across it. On the papers were profile of certain individuals. Individuals which had been invited at this very location, at this very moment. A meeting which would be hosted by the presently only present member of the league.
Sat on the chair as the end of the table was a woman. She had long, dyed purple hair and deep purple eyes you could lose yourself into. Her skin was extremely pale, yet she did not look sick. At most, she had a lazy, but serious, look about her. Dressed in loose clothing and wearing a hood, the most prominent feature about her was the gas mask she was wearing. The woman seemed to be contemplating a potted plant which was laid on the table. Removing one of her glove, she gently ran her fingers across the bulb of the flower, and down the plant's body all the way to the tip of a leaf. Slightly following the movement of her fingers was a change of colour in the plant pigment, followed by it's swift death. Putting the glove back on, the woman brought both of her feet onto the table, kicking the pot away in the same movement, sending it crashing down on the floor.
It was about time everyone arrived.
Picture; a room with a long table in the center and a few chairs scattered about. Lit only by a few light sources on the ground, their wires running to the many generators laying about. At one end of the table, an amalgam of screens, keyboards and computers forming one big console, papers scattered across it. On the papers were profile of certain individuals. Individuals which had been invited at this very location, at this very moment. A meeting which would be hosted by the presently only present member of the league.
Sat on the chair as the end of the table was a woman. She had long, dyed purple hair and deep purple eyes you could lose yourself into. Her skin was extremely pale, yet she did not look sick. At most, she had a lazy, but serious, look about her. Dressed in loose clothing and wearing a hood, the most prominent feature about her was the gas mask she was wearing. The woman seemed to be contemplating a potted plant which was laid on the table. Removing one of her glove, she gently ran her fingers across the bulb of the flower, and down the plant's body all the way to the tip of a leaf. Slightly following the movement of her fingers was a change of colour in the plant pigment, followed by it's swift death. Putting the glove back on, the woman brought both of her feet onto the table, kicking the pot away in the same movement, sending it crashing down on the floor.
It was about time everyone arrived.
