Dr. Chiba's Supervillain Speech, Rated 2 Stars

Miyuu’s head was pounding, it felt like her brain was attempting to escape through her eyeballs. She blinked blearily, regretting it immediately as the harsh overhead light stabbed straight into her retinas.

Strapped to a table. Great. Of all the places she could wake up.

The machines surrounding her beeped with irritating consistency, adding to her misery. She tugged experimentally at the restraints. Nothing.

You’re awake! K.A.T.O. practically shouted through their neurolink in a blend of relief and barely restrained panic.

Careful. She winced. I have a crazy headache.

Yeah, no kidding. You got clocked pretty hard. K.A.T.O. replied.

A man entered the room. Tall, broad-shouldered and wearing a wrinkled lab coat. His scruffy beard-and-moustache combo did nothing to soften the permanent scowl on his face.

“Ah, you’re awake.” He said, his voice smooth and almost polite, which somehow made it creepier. He adjusted his glasses, his gaze raking over her.

“How considerate of you to join us.” He said. “I’d hoped to study you some more while you were unconscious, but no matter.”

Miyuu blinked up at him through the pounding in her skull. Despite her body lighting up in pain, she muttered, “Study this,” and weakly flipped him off with the one finger she could still move.

He didn’t so much as flinch. He simply ignored her. How rude, Miyuu thought.

“I am Dr. Chiba Noboru.” He said.

No kidding. She didn’t need an introduction. That perpetually sour expression was a dead giveaway. “Chiba Yuzuki’s dad, right?” she asked, attempting to make some small talk.

He blinked, clearly not expecting her to be so casual about it. “Yes.” He said slowly, like he wasn’t sure if she was mocking him. (She was.)

“I can see the resemblance.” Miyuu added, shifting as much as her restraints allowed. “Delusion runs in the family.”

Noboru’s jaw tightened, he leaned in even closer, his face hovering just above hers. “Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we?” He said. “I want answers.”

“About what?” Miyuu asked.

“About you.”

Miyuu forced a smirk onto her face, ignoring the knot of anxiety tightening in her chest. “Oh, sure. I’m a Sagittarius. I can juggle. And my favourite food is takoyaki. Hey, are you writing this down? I’ll spell it for you. That’s T-A-K-O—”

Noboru slammed his hands onto the console beside her, the sharp crack of impact reverberating through the lab. “You’re not human!” He shouted.

“Not entirely, at least.” He added, his tone dropping back to normal. He started pacing with his hands flailing about. “You’re something else—engineered, unnatural. Like a biomec, but... no visible mechanical components. It shouldn’t be possible. And yet, here you are.”

“Yeah, here I am.” Miyuu said flatly. “Doing my best to keep up with your fascinating supervillain speech.”

Noboru didn’t hear her. Or chose not to. His unhinged gaze locked onto hers, an unsettling flicker of mania lighting his eyes behind his round glasses. “I’ll rip the answers out of you if I have to.”

“Oh, well, in that case...” Miyuu gave him her best deadpan stare. “I’ll be sure to send you a thank-you card when this is all over. Maybe a fruit basket. You like papayas?”

His lips twisted into something that kind of resembled a smile. “You think this is a game? A joke?”

“No, no.” Miyuu tilted her head. “You’ve made it very clear how serious you are. Very scary.”

Noboru’s pacing picked up speed, his hands twitching like they were itching to wrap around her throat but restrained by the inconvenient fact that she was a “specimen.”

“You, Tsukishima Miyuu, are a monster. A disgusting aberration. Whatever energy festers inside you, it’s unnatural. It’s vile. And when I figure out how to rip it out of you—” his voice rose dramatically, “—I’ll finally take back what’s mine. And expose Gaia for the parasite she is.”

Miyuu blinked, unimpressed. “Wow. That’s a lot to unpack. You ever thought about therapy? Or, like, yoga?”

His jaw tightened, and for a second, she thought he might actually explode. His fists curled, then relaxed, like he was forcing himself to stay calm. He didn’t dignify her with a response. Instead, he turned to the nearest console and slammed a button with unnecessary aggression.

A holo-screen flickered to life. He pointed at it dramatically. “Do you still think this is a joke? Look at this!”

The screen displayed... an empty table.

Miyuu squinted at it, tilting her head. “What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?”

He turned around to look at the screen, his face morphing from confusion to alarm. “Where... where did she go?” He muttered under his breath, frantically pressing buttons that did nothing but make the screen beep in protest.

Noboru boiled over. “This—this is impossible!” He snapped, slamming his hands down on the console one more time.

Without another word, he spun on his heel and stormed out of the room, his lab coat flaring dramatically behind him.

“Good talk!” Miyuu called after him.

She tugged half-heartedly at the restraints, still holding out hope for some miraculous burst of superhuman strength, but—click. The restraints around her wrists and ankles popped open, one by one.

She sighed. Thanks, K.A.T.O.

His response pinged through her neural link. No problem. Honestly, security here is embarrassingly lax. Oh, by the way, I was going to free Natsuki too, but... turns out, she already escaped.

Miyuu froze mid-stretch. She escaped? Relief surged through her, quickly followed by concern. Where is she?

Working on that. For now, I suggest you focus on not getting caught. I’ve mapped out the facility. Head left out the door, stick to the path I marked in green—zero security, minimal cameras. Basically, your best shot at not dying.

Minimal cameras? Miyuu grimaced. How many cameras are we talking here?

Fifteen, K.A.T.O. said breezily. But don’t worry, I’ve looped the feed. Unless you decide to stop and wave at them, you’ll be fine. Probably.

Super comforting, as always. Miyuu hopped off the table, her legs protesting slightly after being pinned down for who-knows-how-long. She shook off the stiffness and bolted for the door.

K.A.T.O.’s directions lit up in her mind, a series of glowing green arrows overlaid on her vision. She followed them without hesitation, her steps light and quick as she rounded a corner.

Somewhere in the distance, alarms started to whine, but they were far enough away not to be a pressing problem.

Left here. Watch your step—there’s a loose floor panel.

Miyuu dodged it just in time, her heart pounding as the sound of voices travelled down another corridor. She flattened herself against the wall, her breath catching in her throat.

Relax, they’re moving away, K.A.T.O. reassured her. But don’t linger. There’s a storage room ahead on your right—duck in there and wait it out.

She darted to the door he indicated, slipping inside as quietly as possible. The room was cramped, lined with shelves stacked with wires, spare parts, and what looked like half-disassembled cleaning bots. She crouched behind a large crate, trying to slow her breathing.

This is nice. Very spy-thriller of you.

K.A.T.O. She groaned, I swear, if you don’t—

Relax, Miyuu. I’ve got this. His voice softened slightly. You’re doing fine. Just hang tight until I give you the all-clear.

Miyuu leaned her head back against the crate, closing her eyes for a second.

The footsteps passed the door, then faded. A beat later, K.A.T.O. chimed in. Okay. Coast is clear—for now. Move fast.

.

Miyuu skidded around another corner, her chest heaving with exertion as she sprinted down the corridor. The lab seemed endless, a maze of identical hallways and sealed doors. She clenched her fists, frustration bubbling beneath her exhaustion. She’s been running around for what felt like forever. Where was Natsuki?

Another left. She’s close! K.A.T.O. directed through their neural link.

She turned sharply, almost slamming into the wall, and bolted down the next hallway. Her pulse pounded in her ears, her legs burning, but she pushed on. A faint sound reached her—footsteps? 

A figure stumbled into view from around the next bend. Pale, dishevelled, but unmistakably Natsuki. Her friend’s wide eyes met hers, and for a brief, shining moment, everything else melted away.

“Miyuu!” Natsuki’s voice cracked.

They ran toward each other, colliding in a shaky embrace. “You’re okay!” Miyuu breathed, gripping Natsuki’s shoulders like she needed the physical proof. “I thought—”

“Not now!” Natsuki interrupted, her voice urgent. “We need to—”

The sound of slow, deliberate clapping cut through the moment.

Both girls froze, their heads snapping toward the source. Noboru Chiba stood at the end of the hall with a mocking smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“Touching.” He said. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to cut this little reunion short.”

Miyuu stepped in front of Natsuki instinctively, her fists clenched. “What do you want?”

Noboru raised an eyebrow, as if the answer was obvious. “You, obviously. But it doesn’t matter what either of you do now. You’ve already lost.”

“What are you talking about?” Natsuki demanded even though her voice was trembling.

“The bots. All those lovely, infected bots running about in Harmonia City! They weren’t just a distraction, you know. They were planting something. Something very special.”

Miyuu’s blood turned to ice. “What do you mean?”

“Voltherium bombs.” Noboru said, his grin widening as their faces fell. “Carefully placed throughout the city. In ten minutes, Harmonia City will cease to exist. And the best part? Everyone will believe Gaia is responsible.”

Natsuki’s hand gripped Miyuu’s sleeve, her fingers trembling. “He’s lying.” She whispered. “He has to be.”

“Oh, I assure you, I am not.” Noboru said, his tone dancing on the edge of gleeful mania. He summoned a holo-screen from his wrist device. The display flared to life, showing transport pods lifting off from the lab’s roof like oversized insects. Each one packed with Unity First operatives. One by one, the pods disappeared into the sky, leaving only one behind.

“And unless you want to join the city in going up in flames, Miyuu,” Noboru continued, “you’ll come with me. There’s only one seat left in the last pod. Your choice.”

Miyuu, this is bad. K.A.T.O.’s voice chimed into her mind; I’m transferring the intel to Bolts. The council needs to know about the bombs if we’re going to stop this.

Ten minutes. Ten minutes to stop an entire city from being reduced to ash. Miyuu’s blood ran cold, her brain clawing for a solution, but every possible path felt like a dead end.

Noboru kept talking. “Don’t you see?” He said, spreading his arms. “It’s the perfect plan. The communications forcefield that pesky student council deployed is the only reason this hasn’t hit the news yet. But it won’t matter. Harmonia will fall, Gaia will take the blame, and humanity will finally wake up to the truth.”

“You’re insane!” Miyuu spat.

Noboru smirked, stepping closer. “You, of all people, should understand. Insanity and brilliance are two sides of the same coin. And you’re looking at a genius.”

Before Miyuu could muster a retort—or think of a plan—a loud metallic clang rang through the hall. Noboru’s smirk faltered, his eyes widening slightly before he staggered, his balance wavering. He swayed for a moment, arms flailing awkwardly, before collapsing face-first onto the floor.

Behind him stood Chiba Yuzuki, her red hair wild, holding a dented metal tray in both hands. She blinked down at her father’s unconscious form, looking slightly stunned by her own actions.

The tray slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a resounding clatter. Yuzuki’s gaze flicked to meet Miyuu’s wide-eyed stare. “That was... unexpected.” Miyuu managed.

Yuzuki shrugged, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. “Turns out, I don’t want the city to blow up while I’m still in it.”

Natsuki peeked out from behind Miyuu, her face pale. “Wait—are you on our side now?”

Yuzuki rolled her eyes with an exaggerated sigh, clearly unimpressed. “Who do you think released you from those chains? A fairy?”

Miyuu exchanged a glance with Natsuki, her mind racing. Ten minutes. They didn’t have time to debate Yuzuki’s motives or trustworthiness—not now. “Fine.” she said sharply. “But if this is some kind of double-cross—”

“Relax.” Yuzuki waved her hand dismissively, already kneeling beside her father’s crumpled form. “We don’t have time for your trust issues.”

As Miyuu watched, Yuzuki rifled through her father's lab coat pockets. After a few seconds, she pulled out a small data drive, holding it up between her fingers.

“What’s that?” Miyuu asked, narrowing her eyes.

Yuzuki smirked, a hint of her usual arrogance seeping back into her voice. “This,” she said, waving the drive, “has the coordinates to every bomb in the city.”

Natsuki gasped, stepping forward. “You’re sure?”

“Pretty sure.” Yuzuki replied, already plugging the drive into a nearby terminal.

Can you extract the data? Miyuu asked K.A.T.O

On it. K.A.T.O replied.

Miyuu leaned back slightly, letting out a long breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Her shoulders relaxed, the tension finally easing. Yes, they had bombs to deal with—mass destruction, ticking clocks, and the usual life-or-death stakes—but Natsuki was here, alive and safe (for now). That counted for something.