The horn blares, signaling the start of the round. The rust-colored metal of the industrial zone glints faintly beneath the overhead lights as the four members of Class 1-A dart into formation behind a large container.

Midoriya: "Remember what Mr. Aizawa said. Shinso’s here. One wrong word and we’re out of the fight. Keep your cool."

Midoriya murmurs thoughtfully.

Uraraka: "We can’t just rush in this time. We need a plan. Trap them before they trap us."

Uraraka nods, hands hovering near her utility gear.

Mina: "Then let’s bring the heat before they get comfy."

Mina grins, bouncing on her heels

Mineta: "Uhh, did anyone else hear something move…?"

Mineta uttered nervously, peeking around a corner.

Suddenly, a distant voice echoes from a higher platform. Monoma’s voice, mocking and theatrical

Monoma: "Careful, 1-A! One little response and we’ll be playing with your strings!"

Monoma taunts.

They’re trying to draw someone into answering. Every corner could be a trap. Shinso is here, lurking, and if anyone speaks without thinking, they could fall under his control.

You hear shifting metal in the distance. Someone’s repositioning. Time is ticking. The battlefield is tense and silent… for now.