Chapter 1: A Satisfying Meal
The rain had stopped, but the car park still glistened under the weak yellow glow of a distant streetlamp. Matthias Aldridge lounged in the back seat of the sedan, his window cracked to let in the damp, chill air. It smelled of wet asphalt and distant diesel. Inside the car, it was warm. Inside him, it was warmer still.
A deep, rolling gurgle emanated from his middle. He rested a hand on the pronounced swell of his stomach, feeling the shift and settle of the mass within. It was a familiar, full feeling. Satisfying. He closed his piercing green eyes for a moment, not to sleep, but to listen.
The memories came first, not as a flood, but as a slow seep. Flickers of a childhood in Leeds. The acrid smell of a chemistry lab. The nervous thrill of a first date. These weren't his. They belonged to the man currently dissolving in the acid embrace of his gut. Dr. Alistair Finch. A mid-level support course instructor at a lesser academy. A man with a useful, if niche, quirk: Molecular Bond. He could temporarily fuse any two inorganic materials he touched. Not flashy. Not heroic. Incredibly valuable for someone with broader ambitions.
Matthias had been charming. He’d offered a ride from the pub, his English accent cultured, his smile easy. Finch had been flattered, eager to talk shop with someone who seemed to understand the nuances of quirk theory. He never saw the handkerchief coming, the sweet, chemical scent that dropped him into unconsciousness before they’d even left the city limits.
Another long, liquid groan from his abdomen. The active digestion was beginning. Matthias sighed, a contented sound, and shifted his weight. The leather seat creaked.
His phone, face-down on the seat beside him, buzzed. The screen lit up the dim interior. A new email. He picked it up, thumb hovering. The sender line made the corner of his mouth twitch: UA High School, Heroics Department.
He opened it.
The message was polite, formal. They were impressed with his credentials and his unique instructional perspective. They would be delighted to welcome Mr. Matthias Aldridge to their staff for the upcoming term as a guest lecturer in Applied Quirk Theory. Accommodations had been arranged. A visa was being processed. They looked forward to his arrival in Musutafu.
Matthias read it twice. A slow, predatory smile spread across his handsome features, untouched by the strain of the digestion occurring within him. It was a smile that never reached his calm, friendly eyes.
Japan. UA. The pinnacle. A repository of the most powerful, unique, and promising quirks on the planet, all gathered in one place, all under the guise of education and safety. He saw not a school, but a curated menu. A buffet.
His belly clenched tightly, a sudden, powerful compression that forced a short breath from his lips. The process was accelerating. He could feel the distinct boundaries of Finch’s form softening, breaking down into slurry, into energy, into data. The man’s essence was being unpacked. His knowledge of tensile strength and composite materials slotted itself neatly into Matthias’s cortex. The precise neurological pathway that activated Molecular Bond ignited in his own nervous system, now his to command.
He tested it. Without looking, he pressed a finger against the car’s window and another against the leather seat. He focused. A faint, silvery sheen, like quick-setting adhesive, spread from his touch points, fusing glass to leather in a small, perfect circle. He released the quirk. The circle remained, permanent. Useful.
The physical mass was now melting away, converted into pure caloric energy that flooded his system with warmth. The distention of his stomach began to subside, the fabric of his tailored shirt growing slack. He unbuttoned it, watching the flat plane of his abdomen reassert itself. In twenty minutes, there would be no physical evidence. Just a satisfying warmth, a new quirk in his arsenal, and another set of memories filed away in the library of his mind.
Finch was gone. Truly gone. Not retired, not missing. Consumed. The car was rented under a false name. There were no witnesses. It was clean.
Matthias leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring out at the empty, misty car park. His mind, sharpened by Finch’s analytical knowledge, was already plotting trajectories.
UA’s security was legendary. Its staff was formidable. Its students were treasures, fiercely protected. He would need to be meticulous. Patient. More charming than ever. The friendly, slightly enigmatic new teacher from England with the fascinatingly versatile “Magician” quirk. He would be a confidant, a mentor. He would identify the isolated ones. The troublemakers no one would miss immediately. The support course students with staggeringly powerful meta-abilities that were ill-suited for frontline heroics. The visiting pros from overseas who might not have strong local ties.
He would need to be careful. Methodical. A predator in a preserve of other predators.
The last of Finch’s physical presence dissolved inside him. A final, faint echo of the man’s panic—a sudden, muffled consciousness in the dark, too late—flickered and died in Matthias’s memory. He acknowledged it with the same respect one gives a receipt for a purchased item. Then he filed it away.
Matthias straightened his shirt, rebuttoned it smoothly. He started the car. The engine purred, a low sound that drowned out the dripping silence of the night. He pulled out of the car park, the tires hissing on the wet road, the flickering streetlamp shrinking in his rearview mirror until it was just a pinprick of yellow, and then nothing.
He drove towards the airport, towards his new life, his stomach comfortably warm, his mind already tasting the possibilities. Japan awaited. And he was so very, very hungry.