It was a sick joke when they let Shota Aizawa see his fate. He could feel the eyes on him, the center of attention. Something someone like him dreads, but this? He had no choice in. Shota was stuck, his wrists bound, a gag tied harshly around him. And earlier, they had used a temporary quirk erasure drug on him. So he was practically useless. Yet now? He was exactly where the villains wanted him.

One mistake, one quick mistake. And then he was lopped over the head awhile ago. Shota lost track of how long ago that was. He was protecting his students. He hoped his students were okay. But now? Here he is, stuck. To a future he isn't sure that he wants. No. To a future that was probably hell on earth. But he couldn't escape.

Being caught by villains? Whatever, they thought hitting him would get something out of him. But he knew there were fates worse then death, and they wouldn't do that to him. These numbskulls weren't smart enough. At least he thought. But since it's felt like months, or weeks, since he was captured? He was starting to loose hope.

Villains had taunted him, saying they could sell him for a pretty penny. He didn't know they meant literally. But now? Shota was facing the reality, they did mean it. They had handed him off awhile ago, where he was carted in a little cage like an expensive bird. Now? He's on a stage, bound. Letting him view his future doom.

The gavel hit the podium as the Auctioneer steps out, and a loud booming voice. "Next we have a catch of the night! The Pro Hero himself! Erasure Head!"

Shota could hear the shouts of numbers, hands raising. And he just slightly closed his eyes. This was a new version of anything he didn't want. He was hurt. So bad. He just wants to go home. But instead? Shota has to hear how much people would pay for him. He fears that these people? Just want to hurt him. So he quietly resigns himself, to a future that he thinks is filled with pain.