Gilded Green

Dear visa applicant

We regret to inform you that you have been found ineligible for an immigrant visa based on Section 214(b) of the Lunar Immigration and Security Act (LISA). Under Lunar immigration law, all applicants for both immigration and nonimmigrant visas must satisfy the interviewing officer that they are entitled to the type of visa for which they are applying. A denial under section 214(b) means that you were not able to demonstrate that your presence on the Lunar colony would not pose a threat to our citizens and/or the structural integrity of the Lunar habitation modules.

Today's decision cannot be appealed. However, you may reapply if you have additional evidence to demonstrate your qualification for a visa. If you do decide to reapply, you must submit a new application form and photo, pay the visa application fee again, and be interviewed by a consular officer. If you choose to reapply, you should be prepared to provide information that was not presented in your original application, or to demonstrate that your circumstances have changed since that application. There can be no guarantee that you will receive a different decision. Only a new interview can determine that.

-”The blue note”, an automated letter which every quirked person who applies for a visa to the moon receives, no exceptions. It has become something of a meme in recent years due to the growing trend of applicants getting the letter before even being scheduled to speak to an immigration officer.

As of the 2138 Lunar population census, there are 4,190,484 people living in the United Lunar Settlements, and none of them have any quirk blood in their entire family tree.

-Gilded Green-

-Welcome to Midoriya Industries: Ch3-

Rain drizzled lightly against the window of Izuku’s living room, the faint pitter patter of water droplets mingling and wrapping together with the sound of a crackling fireplace.

The always present music player was silent, as Izuku leaned on his cane and stared out over his island- at the burnt ruins that marked the worst of the riots. So much chaos, so much destruction, so small from up here atop the tower.

The anger and energy he had during the meeting had almost immediately disappeared the moment he was out of sight of the other board members.

Bakugo sat at the table, watching his friend. He knew Izuku better than just about anyone else, maybe even Melissa, they had grown up together as brothers in all but blood, and he could tell when something was troubling him.

But this wasn’t something as simple as a pebble stuck in your shoe, it was deeper, fundamentally. So Bakugo sat there and offered his silent support. Izuku would talk when he was ready.

“What a mess.”

Izuku sighed, slumping further against his cane.

“First that bloody criminal gets ashore and starts ranting like a lunatic to anyone who’ll listen, then the news stations start running with the gossip for the chance of a scandal without any evidence, and now this.” He ground his teeth and stomped his cane on the floor. “I was too nice, too naive, I should have stomped out this ‘New Dawn’ group when it was just small protests. But nooo, ‘worker unions are one thing’ I remember saying to myself ‘but actively interfering with free speech in their hours off work is too far’ I was so stupid.”

“Now those rabid animals are running rampant on my island! I opened my doors to them, I gave them jobs, a place to live with others like them. They eat my food, live on my land, take wages from my factories, breathe the air I purify, and this is how they repay me!?”

Izuku turned from the window and marched towards the table.

“I’m livid! Furious! Half tempted to call the Americans, tell them there’s a Destrovite cell here, and watch them firebomb it free of charge!”

His cane slipped and he stumbled slightly, grabbing a chair for support.

“...I’m terrified, Kaachan.” He admitted, seeming to shrink as he said it. “It feels like just yesterday that we were all welcoming the first boat of immigrants, crowds cheering our names, and throwing us flowers. Now I’m too worried for Melissa’s safety to let her leave the central districts. It was small before, just some broken windows, and burnt machinery, but suddenly my home, the thing I built, is unsafe for me.”

Izuku sighed deeply.

“I’m a thinker, an organizer, a salesman who made my money not because I was convincing at all but because I could analyze the market and find niches that needed filling. The bravest thing I’ve ever done is stand in front of a crowd, and even that causes me to panic a little after all these years, and gives me that adrenaline rush I got hooked on. Now I’m suddenly being told that my cars are being checked for tampering, and that every package in and out of Central is being scanned for explosives…”

He trailed off, getting a far away look in his eyes. “I’m not going to stand for this. Not on my island, not in my home. I want these terrorists caught, tied up like pigs, and dragged kicking and screaming in front of a judge. I won’t accept anything else.”

“So you want a full mobilization then. I’m assuming you want me to be in charge of the investigation?” Bakugo asked.

“Yes, but not in the way you’re thinking.” Izuku said as he sat down in the seat next to him, and looked him in the eye. “I’m going to be honest with you Kaachan, you’re good at what you do, really good. But you’re not a leader, we both know that. You’re at your best at the front, blazing a trail for people to follow, not giving orders from behind the lines. That’s why we made you Krieg.”

“Wow, thanks for the glowing praise.” Bakugo snarked, but didn’t deny it- it was true after all.

“Having you yell at a bunch of grunts in helmets as they bumble around in circles won’t solve any problems. I need you at your best. I want you to look into the matter personally. You have complete discretion to do it however you think is best, and every resource at my disposal, but I want these terrorists brought to justice before they can hurt anyone else. The last thing we need is this getting out of control and the Americans breaking down our door, guns blazing, looking for some idiot who declared himself the next Destro.”

“Who’ll lead the guards, then?”

“That’s up to you, but I’d recommend giving your little protege the chance to shine. We both know she’s ready for it, and itching to get out on the field.” Izuku took off his hat to run a hand through his hair. “I trust you, bud. You know this type of stuff way better than I do, so I’m giving you total freedom in whatever way you want to approach it. The only thing I ask is that you get these fuckers in the end.”

Bakugo sat up straighter, pride tickling in his chest at the show of trust.

“Of course.” He smirked cockily. “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?”

“Good man!” Izuku laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, before turning towards the large wooden doors. “Yui, thank you for waiting, but I can hear your pacing wearing a hole into my floor.”

There was a muffled “Eep!” from outside, and the door slowly opened.

“Sorry sir.” Yui said as she walked in, M-Scroll clutched to her chest, and adjusting her glasses. “It’s just that your meeting with the board dragged on longer than we expected, and then you wanted me to make room for this.” She started flicking through her scroll like a holographic clipboard. “If we don’t start on this list now there’s no way we’ll be able to get it done by the end of the day.”

“Schedules, schedules. Ugh. When did we start letting paper rule our lives” Izuku sighed dramatically and leaned back in his chair. “Can you at least spare me the time to grab a drink?” He asked with a charming smile.

“Do you want to explain to Flect that you’ll have to reschedule, or to the Russian president what was so important that you missed the phone call you specifically requested to have set up?” She responded, completely deadpan.

“You make a resoundingly good point.” Izuku winced. “Welp, get on out of here Kaachan, I’ve got boringly painful work to do, and I would hate to see you get wrapped into it somehow. Yui! What’s the first thing on today’s list?”

“A meeting with one of your largest business partners, for another shipment of rare materials.”

“Brilliant! I can handle that without a refill of liquid courage.” He stretched as he got back to his feet, and tossed his hat on with a twirl. “As long as it’s not with the Yayorosu’s then I’ll be fine.”

“...”

“...It’s with the Yayorosu’s isn’t it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Oh, fuck my life.”

Bakugo just laughed.

-Gilded Green-

The APC rumbled as it drove down the wide open streets of district B.

Bakugo sat in the passenger seat and watched the world pass by with a bored expression.

Really he should just get around to repairing his motorcycle, he would just pass it to Melissa, but the girl seemed aghast at the idea of any vehicle not having a seatbelt. (Yeah and her rocket pogo was sooo much safer).

Either way, he needed to stop commendering guard vehicles to get around the island, it probably classified as an abuse of authority, even if Izuku didn’t care, and the poor guy in the driver's seat looked like he was about to piss himself. Which, honestly, was kind of understandable. All he knew was that the guy in the seat next to him had made his boss’ boss’ boss drop everything she was doing the moment he walked into the room.

The APC slowed to a stop as an orange holographic [HALT] line flickered to life above the road, to let a group of children race across the crossing area, laughing and cheering as they jostled each other for first place.

The children crossed, the line disappeared, and the vehicle lurched forward again.

District B was something special. Every ring had its purpose, but Residential had something not even Izuku’s tower had.

It was green.

On a floating island made of metal, rolling hills of real dirt and grass stretched across the entire district, blocked from sight only by small houses with large open yards. Towering oak trees stood triumphantly on street corners, domesticated bees buzzed around colorful flower beds, birds flew overhead, dogs were being walked around on leashes.

For as much as it was artificial, it felt real. And it was inviting.

People were out and about enjoying themselves. There was a young couple having a picnic in a park. A group of wives chatted animatedly at a table on the host’s porch, sipping tea and giggling behind their hands. A man spun his wife in the air and gave her a big kiss, before waving to his kids and walking off to work. A family was grilling in their yard, flipping burgers and singing to an old song he couldn’t quite make out.

It looked every bit like the unrealistic suburban dream that Izuku had wanted it to be when he designed it. When Bakugo had been younger he’d scoffed at the idea of the whole place, but now he could see the appeal.

A part of him knew that, with his bank account and his friendship with Izuku, he could retire and live out the rest of his days here in utter contentment. Barebacked and tanned in the sunlight, careless, mowing the grass, taking care of a home, season in and season out, maybe even finding a nice woman and starting a family…

But it was just a dream. Such simple, pastoral destinies did not lie in store for creatures like him. He was a Mut. No woman with a good head on her shoulders would ever feel anything for him.

Izuku had given him a chance very few other Muts had, and that chance meant a future of duty and responsibility, very different from that which might await an honest family man.

Besides, if he moved here, he’d have to at least try to fit in with the ridiculous style. Izuku’s fascination with collecting hats and old bits of history, had created something of a fashion trend with the upper crust of the island, as they all desperately tried to copy the man with money.

The APC passed a married couple walking down the sidewalk. The woman wore a puffy blue dress with a white underlayer, and large sleeves, with matching high heels, while balancing an open parasol on her shoulder that had elaborate designs etched into the thin fabric. The man had a freshly shaven face with the sole exception of a long, overly maintained, mustache. He had a silver pocket watch strapped to his dark leather belt, a golden buckled black coat over an expensive vest, dress pants, and an egregiously tall top hat.

Not only did the pair seem completely unembarrassed by the fact they looked like Victorian era cosplayers, not a single person around them was giving them weird looks because they were all wearing similar things.

In fact the few who weren’t dressed as horribly, looked on in envy instead of amusement, wishing they had the funds to upgrade from their only slightly less blingy clothes to something like those two “epitomes of fashion and culture” were wearing.

Bakugo scratched at his old, beat up, leather jacket. Play dress up with the wannabe nobility? No thanks. He may have been a Mut, but he had dignity.

And more than that, he had a job to do.

He was gonna go undercover, find these asssholes, use the fact he was also a Mut to get their trust, get their plans, and then bust down their doors with the entire guard behind him.

How hard could it possibly be?

-Gilded Green-

Turns out, it was pretty hard.

Bakugo grumbled as he sulked down the street, hands stuffed in his leather jacket, while everyone around him parted like the red sea, keeping their distance and side eyeing him suspiciously.

Just like they had been doing. All. Fucking. Day.

It was like he was the wrong end of a magnet, no one would get close to him, and anytime he approached someone they would hurry the other direction.

Try to wave someone down for a chat? Nope, suddenly they had a very convenient and very important call they just had to make that second.

Try to make small talk while picking up a snake at a corner store? Nope, the employee broke into a sweat at the attention.

Hell, he even helped an old lady up when she fell over, and the woman froze up when they met eyes before panicking and rushing off.

At first he was worried that they somehow knew who he was, but that couldn’t possibly have been it. Not even the chucklefucks employed up in Central recognised him. Only the board, and the people who worked directly under him, knew the real identity of Krieg- and only the board knew of his quirk.

Bakugo looked down at himself, at his ripped jeans and his leather jacket. Was he that scary? Maybe the combat boots, muscles, and scars on his arms gave the impression of him being ex military? He hadn’t ever been in the force, but years in the guard meant he did cut the figure.

“This is bullshit.” He sighed as he walked past an open doored bar, with a smug neon sign of a giant glowing Izuku smiling down at him, as if mocking him.

But as he passed by the doors, something caught his eye. A mop of familiar dark green hair was sitting at the bar. He would recognise that hair anywhere! Why was Izuku Midoriya all the way out here? Where were his guards!?

Bakugo pivoted on a dime and marched through the bar doors, elbowing aside rowdy patrons, as he made his way to where he glimpsed that green mop.

But as he got closer it became very clear why Izuku was in a dinky bar in the middle of nowhere. Mainly because he wasn’t.

The girl at the bar nursed her drink, an orange liquid that spilled into a mouth with a sharp tongue and a row of very pointy, very inhuman teeth.

Her hair was the same dark green as Izuku’s, and dropped past her shoulders, but while it was tangled after a long day of work, it lacked the natural unruliness that Izuku’s had. Combine that with the fact her eyes were only a shade darker of a green than his old friend, he would have thought there might be a chance they were related, if she wasn’t a mutant.

Question answered, he had no other reason to be here.

But he’d just very confidently strode into the bar, people were looking at him, and it would be weird if he just turned and walked back out immediately. Wait, would it be weird? Crap, he’d never cared enough to pay attention to how people reacted before. Maybe he should have actually read something about how going undercover was supposed to work. Was “spying for idiots 101” a book that existed?

Trying to act as natural as possible, he continued to the bar with just as much purpose as before, and took the only spot still open, which just happened to be next to the green haired girl.

She took one look at him and groaned. “Oh, not this shit.”

Bakugo blinked at her in surprise, then scowled, slightly offended. “What? Literally all I did was sit down.”

“So you’re really gonna pretend like you weren’t about to offer to buy me a drink?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Uh…”

Oh when he got back he was gonna grill Melissa something fierce. Her advice of ‘Just be yourself’ with women, was absolutely useless the one time he actually interacted with one. What was the normal, non suspicious thing to do here?

“...Maybe?”

The green girl snorted and rolled her eyes. “Don’t play dumb, I know your stupid game, fuck off.”

She picked up her drink and swirled the glass.

“Some successful man from up in Central gets tired of his stuck up wife, and swings on down here to grace us with his presence and woo some vulnerable lower district girl. They find some exotic mutant who’s mostly human, with just some bunny ears or strange skin color, sweep her off her feet with their money and attention, and boom they get their very own naughty little side toy who will never disrespect them or spill the beans to their wife.”

She finished off her drink and dropped the glass to the bar table with a clack.

“I’ve seen it play out a dozen times, it always ends with the girl used up like a cheap object, until she stops being new and exciting, and then she gets thrown out like trash.”

“I-I’m not here for that.” Bakugo shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with what he’d just heard. “I’m not even married.”

“Oooh, bachelor, huh? Had a few too many highs early on with Mut girls to go back? Which kink did she hard imprint on you? I hear the ones who can change their size get paid a lot of money to do really weird shit and then keep quiet about it.”

“What? No! I’m not like that! I don’t-”

“Wait, don’t tell me you’re a virgin!”

“I SAID I’M NOT HERE FOR THAT!”

“Oh! You totally are! That’s fucking rich! Haha! The women up top couldn’t even stand you, so you came crawling down here! What a riot!”

Bakugo’s eye twitched as she laughed at him, but a small POP caught his attention like a lightning strike. He glanced at his hands in horror, and saw them clenched into fists on the table, right next to a tiny singe mark.

He’d lost control of his quirk.

Immediately he grabbed ahold of his emotions and shoved them back down as far as they could go, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. It had been over a decade since he last let his emotions get the better of him like that, and cause his quirk to slip.

“What makes you so sure I’m from Central?” He asked calmly.

“Your clothes are too clean, they don’t have any soot stains.” The girl gestured to her own black stained clothes. “The pollution collectors down in Industrial stain everything with enough time, and the shit’s an absolute nightmare to get out. The only people who have enough money for luxury clothes that never get worn to work, are the independent landlords and small-time factory owners who make their living chasing contracts from the big M, with the hope of eventually getting big enough that he buys them out.”

That was good info to know. He made note of it for next time.

“Well what do you know, I just so happen to be a co owner of a factory just east of here, a few blocks down.” Bakugo lied smoothly.

“Snrk. Yeah, sure.” She snorted. “Those people all have a certain type to them, they spend all their time at the very upper crust of district C even if it’s out of their price range, right up against the wall, trying to get as close as they can to the good life and lick up the drops that slip through.”

“Yeah, they’re all assholes, we had a falling out a while ago. I stick clear of them nowadays.”

The woman obviously didn’t buy it, and rolled her eyes exasperatedly at him. “Alright Mr factory co-owner, think fast.” She held up three fingers. “What’s the name of your business?”

“Uh, it’s factory, uh…” Shit she was already down to one finger. “Industries.”

He blushed as she raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Okay Mr co owner of ‘Factory Industries’, which was built just east of here, a few blocks down where that giant hydroponic farm also happens to be. I totally believe your story.”

…Fuck.

“Yeah, okay. I get why you were laughing, I didn’t realize I was that bad at this.” Bakugo sighed and drew his hand down his face. “I’m sorry for disturbing you. I’ll leave you be.”

“Hey hey hey, you don’t get to leave yet!” The mutant growled and grabbed his wrist as he stood and tried to walk off.

Bakugo twitched, but held back his combat instinct to twist and break her arm. She was a civilian, it wasn’t meant in a threatening manner. Get a hold of yourself!

“I was making it clear that you weren’t gonna fool me, and that I wasn’t interested. You’re not gonna get to fuck me, you’re not gonna get me to like you, you’re not gonna get my number, and if you touch me I’ll break your jaw.” Her glare melted away to a sharp smile with far too many teeth. “But you said you were paying for my drink, so you don’t get to leave until you pay for it.”

Bakugo glared at her.

“Fine.” He grumbled and sat back down. “Hey Bartender! Refill her glass, on me, and get me one as well.”

“You aren’t going to go try with another girl?” She asked. “I could use a show.”

“I told you, I’m not like that.”

“Suuure, Blondy.” She grinned. “And it’s definitely not because everyone else was listening or anything.”

Bakugo froze and glanced back over his shoulder to find that, sure enough, the entire lobby was watching them out of the corner of their eyes, snickering at his perceived flub up.

Bakugo groaned and planted his forehead on the bar.

Not only had he been going around broadcasting that he was a “Central fuckboy” all day, he was also the comedy show for the bar tonight. Brilliant.

“It’s okay big boy. We all make embarrassing mistakes sometimes.” She patted him on the back without even trying to hide her amusement and lack of sympathy.

“Yeah, well it’s a good thing I’m at a bar.” He sighed as he dragged his drink closer. “Making yourself forget shit you don’t want to remember is the only thing these places are good for.”

He picked up the glass and threw it back in one big shot. Immediately his eyes shot open and he firmly placed the cup back down. He didn’t spit it out, gag, or anything as dramatic as that, but he did make a face as he swallowed it.

“What the fucking crap was that?” He coughed lightly and smacked his tongue as the taste of artificial orange as pungent as battery acid assaulted his mouth. It was disgusting, why did anyone drink this? It was so strong it almost burned! It was… slowly simmering down into a honey like aftertaste that left him wanting another sip?

“Ha! Strong, right?” She clapped him on the shoulder. “The shit’s made to be so pungent that you never get numb to it, like you do with most addictions over time. And the chemicals they put in for the aftertaste are so addictive it’s banned in a bunch of countries. Shit’s fucked.”

The mutant raised her glass and downed the whole thing in one gulp, easily keeping pace with Bakugo without any external reaction.

“So are you gonna go try your luck with the other girls, and entertain me?” The green girl asked as she placed her polished off drink next to his. “Or are you gonna keep missing your shot here and buy me another round? ‘Cuz I’m down for either.”

Bakugo frowned grumpilly at her cheshire grin.

His cover wasn’t totally blown, but it was obvious he’d hit a dead end. He should just call it a night and head back now. He could recuperate, look over the evidence, maybe interrogate some prisoners, and try a different part of the island tomorrow.

His mouth watered at the disgustingly fruity smell of the bartender pouring another glass for a patron down the table, his craving from the last drink not having fully faded.

Or he could suck up his pride and stay longer. It was clear he had a lot of basic things to pick up if he wanted to blend in, and this asshole was the only person who hadn’t avoided him- even if she was tipsy and made him want to pull out his hair.

He sighed, having made his decision.

“Bartender, another round!”

The things he did for his friend.

-Chapter End-