“You’ve got an awful lot to say for a stranger.  Usually people at least start with that shy act:  ‘oh, um, you see...’  you know?”

Eɴᴏᴄʜ ᴡᴀs ᴅᴇsᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴇ.

Hᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ admit that, but there was something about the way he worked as of late - something about the loss of his god, the loss of his life, the uncertain limbo by which he now lived that was bringing him to scramble in an attempt to pull it back together. To heave the guts of his life previous back into himself like he had thousands of years before, to stand on shaky legs born anew and sway with the pouring rain.

Hᴇ'ᴅ ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ wind of a few shady characters around the isle, slick and sly to bring about the chaos he once reveled in, longed to embody once more. And so, with a bit of hubris tucked beneath his now powerless belt, he made move to seek out those of like minds, of like murder, of like bloodshed to steep the world.

Tʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀs something about Spirale's back alleys that drew him in, drew others to him, true villains and roughhousers alike to thrive in the hazy backwoods of the four wards. There, Enoch came to find one he'd heard of, one he'd sought after, a desperate plea to return to a smidgen of his former glory hidden beneath the slick voiced lies of Tiamat's severed head.

" Shigaraki, right? "

Hearing rumors of a man that wandered around Cotes Ward whilst wearing severed hands on his person certainly piqued Neopolitan’s interest. Were they fake hands, or real ones? Where did one even get severed hands if they did not cut them off themselves? She had questions, and was quite intent on getting answers.

So, here she sat in one of Cotes Ward’s back alleys, waiting for someone interesting to show up. Whether that happened to be a man covered in freaky hands or no, Neopolitan supposed she would handle that when the moment arose.

She considered herself a patient person, so the considered the time waiting as something productive. When someone finally came across her path, Neopolitan swiftly extended her parasol to block the man from going any further. 

Upon getting her bearings straight, the villain took to exploring the city sprawled out before her. Certain that at least one of her comrades, or even some sort of familiar face, was also roaming this new terrain, Himiko took to the streets. She wandered about for hours, looking all over for something or someone to recognize. 

This city was unfamiliar, only making her search all the more difficult. She continued her search, however, despite her aching frame and feet. She considered stopping time and time again, only to finally see a familiar sight of grey and black in the distance.

“Tomuraaaaa!”

Her sudden shriek being the only warning, Himiko lurched forward until she had wrapped her arms around the other villain, not caring about Shigaraki’s necessity for personal space.