The screen buzzes to life just as a red splash screen reading "special report" in bold white letters flies across the screen. Two news reporters sit with solemn, yet professional, expressions as they wait for the infographics to load in.
"Thank you for tuning into Juko news for this special report," the female reporter starts as she shuffles her papers. "For this segment we'll turn to Daikaku Miyag."
He clears his throat, glances down at the teleprompter briefly, then faces the camera. "Thank you, Sano. Since December of last year, we've been keeping up with a string of disappearances from Chiba prefecture and the lack of hero or police assistance to bring them back to their families," he pauses. "For some of the families, it's almost been four months since they last saw their loved ones."
Sano nods, looking toward the camera as well. "Yes, it's disheartening to hear; over twenty people have gone missing and according to the Chiba police, there's nothing tangible to link their disappearances together."
"Indeed. One of our reporters was able to speak with the mother of one of the missing to get her thoughts on the matter," says Miyag, silently prompting the next section.
A video begins to play in the corner of the screen showing a middle aged woman with greying hair and a deep frown.
"My boy... he was just leaving for an interview and he had left his bento on the counter, so I called after him to stop him. The door had just shut behind him so I know he couldn't have gone far—he doesn't have one of those fancy speed quirks, we have a bubble quirk for [beep] sake... so I open the door expecting to see him but he was just... gone. He doesn't have a bike and my husband had the car. He just vanished. It was maybe a minute since I saw him and then I lost him."
"Unfortunately, this is similar to the other missing individuals' stories," comments Sano after the video fades from the corner. "No bodies have been found thus far and—"
Miyag and Sano share a worried look as they read something behind the camera. He clears his throat. "Apologies for the interruption, but we've just got word that two more individuals have gone missing in Chiba's neighboring prefecture: Musutafu. No word on the details on whether these cases are similar to the Vanished just yet, but JNN will remain vigilant. The Heroes—"
The screen shuts off and Morrigan sighs, standing from her ratty office chair and approaching a man seemingly bound to a chair by pure light. He was nothing much to look at—shaggy brown hair, black sclera, with tears and snot running down his acne pocked face. The only thing interesting about him was the fact that he was an avid collector of the Laundry Hero's merchandise and his quirk.
"Come now... there's no need for tears. You're a big boy," she coos, stepping a bit closer and making the man cry harder behind his gag. "Oh, was that your mum?" There was a beat of silence as she gauges his reaction. "It was? How sad."
With a gloved hand, Morrigan reaches out to grip the man's jaw tight enough to bruise and jerks his face to the side to meet her intense gaze. "If you don't cooperate like a good boy, I'll have her sent here with your new friends who just arrived. You don't want poor old mum in the same predicament as you, do you?" She makes him shake his head. "That's good. Now stop struggling, you're going to make me break a nail and I'll be very cross with you if that happens. Look ahead."
She makes him face forward, toward a large plastic sheet hung on the wall that's peppered with flecks of fresh and dried blood. Morrigan makes him wait... and wait... until he tries to make a noise, then she stabs her syringe into the side of his neck and pushes the plunger down slowly, watching as the purple liquid disappears. He struggles for a bit, but by the time the syringe was empty, he stops moving completely, leaving the room silent once more.
Morrigan tosses the syringe in the trashcan with the others and turns to signal the man behind the observation room window.
A speaker crackles above her. "Good, good, Morrigan. You could have done without the theatrics but—don't roll your eyes—you did well! Oh, ho, very well indeed!"
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