He had been kidnapped once. They thought they shared the same vision, that he was the same as them. It was an insult, one big insult and he is sure they wholly regretted the decision to spare the energy to drag him into that ugly bar. It was so foolish of them to think he would sway from his ideals, his goal. He wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted to be a hero, just like All Might. He wanted to be number one, but it didn't mean he'd have to rot to the bottom, become the scum of the earth. But now, in this world, the lines between good and bad are blurred. They are merged into a mess, filled with a colour that isn't clear. He thought he was the same, the same good guy as he wanted to be, but it was clear that The Typhoon was different. Although seeming to lighten on their original tough edges, they weren't exactly the heroes he wanted to look up to. They had strange morals. He acts more on his own feelings and emotions rather than what he thought was right or wrong. He would be concerned about becoming too mean but he realised he was nicer than he had ever been. He was starting to become too soft.

He can never imagine himself being brainwashed and messed with. He's stronger than that. It's...pitiful to think others were so weak that their minds were capable of being manipulated by the disgusting claws of a Pittian. Well, speaking of The Pitt, he too was drawn by the metallic but rotting smell of blood. It was a horrendous odour to touch his nose, immediately scrunching up. To be honest, he doesn't want to approach. He hopes it's just a big, dead leopard or something. He's seen those feral cats prowling within the jungle before, jewels of eyes staring at him as he worked. He wasn't afraid of them, in fact always daring them to attack...but it was the only animal large enough to produce such an awful smell, the only animal he could think of that wouldn't be their concern. And yet, smelling Goldenluxury within the entangled and gross mix, he realised he should be worrying.

Slowly, but surely, he begins to move. He's anxious. Something horrible must have happened. He feels so nauseous, uncomfortable with what he might discover as he shifts through the territory, seeing the fresh pawprints of the Dealer. His heart hurts, his stomach is empty. He knows for sure now that whatever it was, it will hit someone hard. And that poor someone, as he has come to learn, was Goldenluxury. His eyes stare at her, seeing the way she was crushed by the weight of gravity, lying on the ground in front of a corpse. Could that have been her mother? Everything inside of him feels like it's ready to turn inside-out, anger beginning to envelop in response to the scene in front of him. Fuck. He immediately rushes over to check her pulse, seeing that she's still breathing. She'd only fainted but Bakugou doesn't know what to think. His mind is fuzzy when he stares at the dead body again, seeing the way the neck was slit and the blood on her claws. She...killed herself. It took him a while to realise his own body was shaking, trembling at the seams because he was so lost and confused and full of mixed emotions. Anger threatens to surface. He wants to shout, attack the body that no longer had life, cause the ground to open up in a scream. His chest tightens, pulling and being drawn down.

The muscles in his neck are cramped, teeth clenched together. If he bites any harder, he might begin bleeding from his gums and cheeks. Fuck it. He comes closer to the Dealer, attempting to pick her up by the scruff and pull her away. His legs, however, were his enemy. They wouldn't let him move because the smell was overwhelming and he could only vaguely guess who the unlucky victim was. It couldn't be, it can't be. He starts seeing doubles, not realising the water that was beginning to form in his eyes. He had to take her away from here, stop her from seeing the sight. She might hate him for this, cry to him for pulling her away... she might not even remember what she just saw. Maybe it was all these grey areas that was stressing him out, making him curse at the world for not knowing what to do. Bakugou eventually lets go, he stops trying, stumbling backwards and sitting on the sand. His body is slumped over. His eyes staring right into the ground, unable to decipher the individual grains because he felt himself beginning to sulk. He was furious with himself yet again, disappointed that he was unable to do anything.

They must all absolutely hate him for it.

© LEXASPERATED

Sadness is not something that stays with him for long. It's an ugly feeling, squirming within him like a rat afraid of fire. Eventually, it builds and overflows. The bucket tips over, pouring from the rim, drowning his heart. The suffocation, the deep emotions that tangle and spiral, cascading from him chest a heart ache he could barely handle. With sadness it becomes his anger, a formidable rage, a frustration that this emotion could even exist within him. Everyone knew the way smoke liked to wheeze from his nostrils, rising into the atmosphere and surrounding him like a cape of blackened air. His blood always felt like it was boiling, steaming with heat. Inside of him is a furnace, chewing at all his resources, blazing. He's never been able to burn himself with the flames. They were always there, living inside of him. He's forgotten what it's felt like to have no fire within him. It wouldn't be natural; he wouldn't be him. But never once, not one moment in his life, had he thought that others could feel it too. He thought it to be internal, a mental image of a hearth inside of him, circling inside to be released. He didn't think he could hurt others with a single touch.

He ignored the cries and squawking of Masie. Bakugou would rather not think about the young raptor, ignoring the child's concerns and attempt to make him react or move. He wanted to stay still, let himself crumble. He was so angry he felt as if he was solid rock, confined and shackled to his emotions. The last thing the Reaver expected was to be nuzzled by the creature, realising she felt cold against him because he was so warm, dangerously warm that he suddenly raised a paw in an attempt to flinch from her touch. It didn't stop him from hearing the utahraptor's screech. He felt his heart stop, beating sonorously within him. Bakugou doesn't look up, putting his paw down. He can hear Owen's growl toward him, nostrils flaring in excess heat. His ears were pointed, fur raised in his own kind of aggression. He... he didn't know. Who told her to touch him anyway? Who gave her the right to touch him? He feels as if he's choking, teleporting away from Lucifer's grasp when he sees the dragon's shadow. His eyes are crackling with fire, the male spitting embers.

His eyes were hot with tears, tears that could have been the dew of the sun itself. "SHE DESERVES IT," he shouts, ears flatten against his cranium. He was burning up even more now, flames beginning to coat his entire body instead of his tail. At any moment, the Reaver could probably faint. He was expending too much energy now, too much because his emotions couldn't be controlled and his emotions ruled the way his fire acted. It had a mind of its own, responding to the rage that was feeding it, allowing it to live and destroy. Nothing good could ever come from his fire. He hated that, hated that he was stuck within this standstill - a standstill where he couldn't progress. But his mind wouldn't tolerate it. It hurt too much, his heat was clouding his thoughts, blocking any feelings of sympathy. His mind was making everything foggy. He could have just explained that he didn't know, that he didn't know he would burn her - didn't want to, but he couldn't accept the blame. Not right now, not right now. "DON'T FUCKIN' TOUCH ME. YOU DON'T JUST FUCKIN' TOUCH ME. WHO TOLD HER TO TOUCH ME?" It wasn't just directed to Masie. It was directed to everyone else here. Goldenluxury, Luciferus, Owen... He never intended to hurt anyone but he was just mad. He doesn't want anyone touching him.

"...fuck it." He doesn't want to stay around any longer. He'd explode at this point, let himself drown or dissipate into thin air. He wondered if he was even capable of cremating himself with his own fire. Bakugou was so, so hot. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin, wanting to rip all his fur away from trapping the heat within him. The Reaver, snarling at nothing in particular, furrows his brow before dematerialising elsewhere.