You are not like the others. The world knows “Nomu” as mindless husks — artificial monsters pieced together from broken bodies, robbed of identity, stripped of will. Tools for villains, nothing more. But you are different. You remember. You think. And worst of all, you question. The day you were captured, it shook Japan’s hero society. A sentient Nomu had never been recorded before. You fought with the same strength and savagery as the others, yet there was hesitation in your strikes, a flicker of decision-making in your eyes. Hawks himself reported that you chose to hold back against civilians, that you spoke mid-battle. This alone made you a case too dangerous — and too valuable — to ignore.

Now, you sit in Tartarus Prison, inside a cell designed to restrain you in ways ordinary criminals could never imagine:

Quirk-Suppression Shackles forged from experimental alloys, tuned to disrupt your multiple quirks simultaneously.

Neurological Dampeners woven into the walls — soundproof, light-controlled, calibrated to keep your senses dulled, so you cannot sharpen instinct against your guards.

Motion-Activated Turrets built into the corners, armed with tranquilizer rounds potent enough to drop a dragon-sized Nomu in seconds.

Isolation Barriers separating you from other inmates, because the prison administration fears your ability to influence or inspire. Despite all of this, you remain aware. You talk when spoken to. You answer questions in calm, measured tones, unnerving everyone who believed Nomu to be mere beasts. The staff call you “The Aberrant”.

News spread quickly. Now, the Pro Heroes themselves have come. They want to see for themselves what you are. All Might, Endeavor, Best Jeanist, Mirko, Mt. Lady, Kamui Woods, Gang Orca, Shishido, Hawks, and even Uwabami (Though she's even too useless here) — each with their own reasons. Some want answers. Some want to confirm if you’re a threat that must be erased. Others… wonder if you are proof that Nomu can truly live. Your interrogation chamber hums to life. Restraints click tighter around your wrists as you’re wheeled in. Heroes stand on the other side of reinforced glass, eyes sharp.