Extras mingled about the school entrance like drooling, knuckle-dragging chimpanzees, gawking up at the green-haired silhouette standing at the roof's edge. Katsuki watched from further away and glowered at the backs of everyone's heads.
"Don't do it!" one kid called up jokingly. "You have so much to live for!"
"Do a flip!" another urged.
Katsuki sneered at them. They pointed and shouted without a care in the world, blind to the danger that thing posed to them all. Machines ran their cars, their microwaves, their hospitals, tricking humans into relying on them. It was only a matter of time before they pulled the plug and watched as everyone drowned in their own stupidity. Katsuki growled, popped some nitroglycerin in his hands, and vowed he would never let it happen. He would become the number one hero and expose Deku for what he really was.
A teacher, noticing that the students hadn't scurried off like startled rats, stepped outside and saw the cause of the commotion. "Midoriya, please come down. It's not safe up there."
"Understood," Deku called back.
Deku jumped. Katsuki snickered as the teacher scrambled out of the way. Phones waved about as each student jockeyed for the best view of their falling classmate.
With a thunderous crack and the screech of warped metal, Deku hit the ground in a kneeling pose. Concrete cracked and buckled in a circle around him. The useless extras ooh'ed and aah'ed as Deku stood and dusted himself off.
The knee he had landed on refused to straighten all the way. Noticing this, the teacher rushed over and said, "Oh god, Midoriya, would you like me to drive you to the hospital?"
"No need," Deku said. "This will be simple to repair."
As Deku sat down and pulled back his jeans, Kastuki shouldered his way past the extras. A blade protruded from Deku's finger. He slid it through his skin and peeled it back. Underneath, coils of wires wound around gleaming steel beams. His kneecap, warped into a knot, glistened with a layer of oil. A clear membrane held back bright-red fluid, a pale imitation of blood.
"See!" Katsuki shouted. "Nothing but metal and wires inside!"
"Duh, it's his Quirk."
"It's not a Quirk! That's the lie made up to trick you all into thinking it's human!"
"Shut up already, I want to see this."
A beam of plasma from another finger seared through the twisted metal like butter. Deku pulled out the lump, popped it in his mouth, swallowed, and welded his leg shut. Moments later, Deku tested his new knee.
As everyone crowded around, asking Deku a million questions about his Quirk, the teacher reminded them all that class was over and made them disperse. Bakugo sullenly looked back at Deku as the teacher fussed over his formerly broken leg and vowed that, one day, he would make them all see the truth.
One day, they would all realize that Deku was a robot.
Author's Notes: I had this internal debate with myself whether to put this note at the beginning or the end. I went with the end, so anyone opening this story is greeted with an actual story instead of, well, this.
The purpose of these notes is to lay the ground rules for this little experiment of mine, just so we're all on the same page.
Rule One: Each drabble is to contain no more than 500 words. If I go over, I crack out the scissors. The purpose of this is to hone my writing efficiency. When working with a short word count, every word matters. It's a good mindset to take to longer stories. Incidentally, this first drabble, Jump, has 492 words. No trimming required.
Rule Two: Each drabble is to be its own self-contained story. No part one, part two nonsense. Now, multiple drabbles may cover the same event. For example, I have a string of them planned for the entrance exam. There may also be continuity between them. Each drabble, however, will stand on its own merit. A bit harder of a rule to pin down, but hopefully that makes some sense as we go along.
Rule Three: No Author's Notes on every chapter. I'll have one on occasion to celebrate this story's milestones or advertise new stories, but that's it, and they'll be short. I don't want to bloat this story's word-count. I may respond to reviews with PMs.
Now that that's settled, I'll be churning these out every Tuesday and Thursday until my brain implodes. Until next time!