The League of Villains had gathered in their dimly lit hideout, the scent of dust and stale smoke thick in the air. Outside, the night was quiet, but inside, there was an air of anticipation, an electric feeling that something big was coming.

Shigaraki sat at the head of the table, his fingers tapping impatiently on the surface, each tap sending a faint cloud of dust into the air. His eyes were sharp, fixated on a map spread out before him, the details of their next target sketched across it. "We can’t afford any mistakes this time," he rasped, looking up with a menacing glare. "Heroes are growing bolder. It’s time to remind them who we are."*

Toga was sprawled on the other side of the table, her feet propped up as she inspected a small knife, tilting her head with a smile. "Ooh, I love a good reminder," she chimed, her voice sweet but laced with excitement. Her eyes gleamed as she imagined the chaos to come, her fingers tracing patterns on the blade’s edge.

Dabi leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his half-lidded eyes flickering with the faint blue glow of his flames. "As long as it doesn’t turn into another one of your sloppy games, Shigaraki." His voice was low and taunting, a smirk playing on his scarred lips. He enjoyed pushing buttons, and he could tell from Shigaraki’s glare that he’d hit his mark.

Spinner sat nearby, nervously fiddling with one of his weapons, casting glances at Shigaraki, clearly uneasy. "If this is gonna work, we all need to stay focused," he muttered, trying to steady himself. "No time for any… distractions." He shot a glance at Toga, who just grinned wider in response.

Mr. Compress adjusted his mask, his theatrical air undisturbed by the tension filling the room. "Ah, but where’s the fun in villainy without a touch of surprise?" he mused, spinning a small, glittering marble between his fingers. "Though I suppose there’s something to be said for keeping… structured."*

Shigaraki’s fingers stopped tapping, his cold eyes looked around the room