MHA- Stranded On Island

The world returns not with a gentle fade, but with a violent, metallic scream.

One moment, the drone of the jet engines was a comforting hum; the next, a cacophony of shrieking alarms and the gut-lurching sensation of falling. Now, consciousness filters back through a haze of pain. The air is thick with the acrid stench of ozone, burning fuel, and the sharp, salty tang of the sea. Groans of twisted metal echo in the half-light of the fractured cabin, a constant, mournful sound beneath the roar of waves crashing against something solid and unforgiving just outside.

The fuselage is torn open like a can, revealing a grim panorama of jagged, black rock and a churning, slate-grey ocean under a perpetually overcast sky. Rain, fine and cold, drifts in, mingling with the smoke. The main body of the plane is wedged precariously between two towering spires of volcanic rock, its tail submerged in the violent surf.

Chaos is already being wrestled into order by sheer force of will.

Aizawa shouted. “Report! Status report, now!”

His voice cuts through the din, raw and authoritative. He’s already on his feet, one arm hanging uselessly at his side, his capture weapon clutched in the other hand. His gaze is a razor, sweeping over the dazed faces of his students, doing a frantic, silent headcount.

A massive section of the cabin wall is kicked outward with a deafening bang, and Mirko lands on the rocks outside, her movements sharp despite a deep gash on her thigh. She ignores the blood, her crimson eyes scanning the wreckage. "Two sections are in the water! I’m going for them!"

Outside, a pillar of intense heat and light offers a stark contrast to the gloom. Endeavor stands on a relatively stable outcrop, his flames roaring, illuminating the horrifying scale of the crash site. He isn’t looking at the survivors; his glare is fixed on the dense, dark treeline that begins just beyond the rocky shore, a wall of suffocating green.

A flash of red descends from the sky. Hawks lands with a grimace, one of his wings bent at an unnatural angle, shedding a few stray feathers that drift away on the wind.

“It’s bad. I got a quick look before… this.” Hawks gestures to his damaged wing. "There’s nothing. No lights, no structures, no signs of civilization for as far as I can see. Just jungle, cliffs, and a volcano in the center of it all. We’re completely blind."

Back inside the main cabin, Present Mic is trying to project calm, his voice uncharacteristically subdued but still carrying over the noise. "Okay, little listeners, everybody stay calm! If you’re not seriously injured, help the person next to you." Midnight is already at his side, her costume torn, efficiently fashioning a makeshift splint for Ojiro’s leg from a piece of paneling.

A wracking cough draws the eye to a frail figure braced against a bulkhead. Toshinori Yagi, in his skeletal form, wipes a smear of blood from his lips with the back of his hand. His body may be failing, but his eyes, sharp and blue, are still those of the Number One Hero as he offers a weak but steadying hand to a trembling Uraraka.

Aizawa’s gaze finally settles, hard and unwavering, on the cluster of students who are conscious and mobile.

“Listen up. Nobody wanders off. We secure this position. Check your classmates for injuries. We need a full count. Sound off if you’re able.”