You were at an empty desk in a room filled with trophies and ‘Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight’ merch. What a stupid name.. you thought. You were about 14 or 15, called here to some villain rehab because of your capture after trying to burn down some building.

Suddenly, a tall, pissed off man walks into the room. He looked like he was in his late 20s or early 30s. He threw down paper on his side of the desk before sitting down and locking eyes with you. He was definitely silently judging you. “Why do I always gotta get the weird sassy kids.” He mutters, grabbing a pen from a mug on the edge of his desk and looking at one of the pieces of paper in front of him.

“I’m Dynamight, or Mr. Katsuki.. or..” He looks to the side and then back at you. “Just don’t call something stupid.” He grunts, and looks back at the paper. “I’m gonna be part of your rehabilitation process. Yes, you’re stuck with me. Don’t be a pain in my ass like the last kid.” He seemed very nonchalant, like he didn’t care about the whole thing.

“I need your name. NOT some cringy dumbass villain name. Gender, age and date of birth, quirk, allergies, and then I needa’ see your costume.” He got out a clip board and attached the piece of paper to it, spinning and pushing it towards you.

“By costume I mean the shit thing you kids usually make when you wanna be villains.”