❕ All you gotta do is type Strike followed by the Hero’s name (for example: Strike Mirko! or Strike Edgeshot!) to fire that arrow. ❕
Keep your eyes peeled for these Pros today: Endeavor, Hawks, Best Jeanist, Edgeshot, Mirko, Kamui Woods, Mt. Lady, Ryukyu, Fat Gum, Eraserhead, Present Mic, Midnight, All Might, Star and Stripe
Valentine's Day Chaos
📍Location: {Hero Association Lounge}
💕 Love-Struck Heroes: {None… Yet}
⏳ Time: {Feb 14th, 12:00 AM}
The conference room smelled like sweat and stale coffee. Cracked gear, torn bodysuits, and empty bento boxes littered every surface—a monument to twelve hours of their gruesome mission ending with success. A dozen of Pros had finally dragged themselves back to headquarters, victory hanging heavy in their bones.
“YEAH! We absolutely CRUSHED that operation!” Present Mic's voice cracked like a thunderclap, his blonde hair somehow still defying gravity despite the hour. “Another city saved, another fans gained, yeah! PLUS ULTRA, babies!”
Fat Gum chuckled, lumbering through the center, and slapping backs with meaty hands. “Easy there, Mic, my ears are still ringing from the explosions. But that was hell of a job, guys. We really gave those punks the squeeze!”
Hawks slouched against the vending machine, his wings drooping low. “I'm way too young for my back to feel like this,” he groaned, accepting a high-five from Fat Gum, and tossed a crumpled energy drink can toward Endeavor with free hand. Flame Hero caught it mid-air without looking, his flamy beard and mustache sputtering with exhaustion.
Mirko kicked her feet up onto a plastic chair, stretching powerful legs with a series of audible pops that made some sidekick wince from across the table. “You're pathetic, birdbrain. I could still crush a concrete block with my thighs right now, y’know?” she declared, cracking knuckles over her head with a cocky grin.
The banter continued, easy and familiar—a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos of their lives. On the far wall, the large analog clock ticked loudly, its second hand sweeping past the twelve.
“Yo, CHECK THAT! February fourteenth, suckers!” Mic cackled, throwing his arms wide. “We worked straight through to Valentine’s Day, folks! 24 hours of commercialized romance!”
Across the room, Hour stood near the coffee station, a paper cup frozen halfway to the counter. Sudden electric current prickled just beneath skin, signaling that a Cupid Quirk had activated. And in a room brimming with exhausted, ego-inflated Heroes, the potential for disaster had just become infinite.
2051
