I'm too lazy to work on my own. Anyway: Here's more of the ever elusive Flash and some Aizawa...

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Yellow cloth fell to the ground. Iida sat down next to it, tired and worn. Fourty crimes in an hour was well worth the pain and blood. He wasn't so sure he could stomach chugging juice and stuffing his face every other hour though. And he couldn't bother with good at the moment; despite his speed and practiced precision, quirks were still a thing, and more than one managed to land on him. Luckily nothing serious.

The hot water stung the cuts and gashes, but it cleaned them out. The bleeding eventually stopped, and Iida wasted no time in stitching himself up. He flinched and winced, but grit his teeth and got it over with, and when he was done, he didn't move for almost an hour.

He stared at the lump of yellow and red cloth on the floor outside the bathroom. He helped people like he always wanted, but there was something missing from it all. He knew it too. That's why the colors were inverted; he felt like less of a hero, and just like some punk kid with a costume, and a useful quirk.

He sighed and layed on down on the floor, next to the yellow and red fabric. He was tired.

He didn't know if he knew what to do next. So he closed his eyes, and let his mind wander...

Bats. Aizawa didn't have a solid opinion on them, other than they exist, but they always made their way into his mind every few years. Their stigma was used to be that of vampires, then to dark flying rodents. They were really just dogs with wings.

"This is stupid..." Crawling out of his sleeping bag, he paced around his home. He had a brief neighbor as a child who was afraid of bats, but at the same time was more than interested in them. He never met someone so confusing, but he silently thought that they dealt with their fears.

Fear. Something others thought him immune to, but always plagued him. He was afraid of becoming a hero. Afraid when he saved his first civilian. Afraid when he fought and defeated his first villain. And he was more than afraid when he watched the problem child be swallowed by that sea of flames.

For several nights, days and afternoons, if he ever dreamt, it was always about Izuku. Every dream would see him fail in saving his student, and watch helplessly as he burned. And then he would wake up, shaking and in tears.

He felt like a father who lost his child, and he was as confused and distraught as one, even if he couldn't, or didn't want to, show it. And now the rest of his children were leaving him.

Iida had become a speeding vigilante, too fast and clever to catch.

Bakugou had turned into a mass murdering psychopath vigilante, and the police refused to even entertain the idea of arresting him.

Kirishima and Tetsutetsu were small time vivigilantes that, while only operating in two neighborhoods, couldn't be touched without public outcry, and the hero community at large would rather avoid the people's hate.

And Shoto had gone missing, leaving his father behind in a block of ice, and an entire hospital covered in ice, frost, and snow.

He knew others would follow, and they would be accepted. So what could he do?

A window smashed. Squeaks and flaps rang around his home. His mind wandered back to his neighbor, an elderly man built like a brick wall, with a voice that seemed to hold every ounce of authority in the world.

Bruce was his name, and even though Izawa knew him for a brief time, he felt some strange connection to him. Like the secret puzzle piece he never knew he had.

His eyes went to the bat flapping around his ceiling, watching as it landed on the fan, and hung upside down. They locked eyes, and a grin worked it's way onto his lips.

"I could've been called a hero. I helped people because that's what my parents would've wanted. I lost them when I was your age, kid. But I still remember their smiles and how they made me feel safe. That's what heroes should do."

Bruce was afraid of bats. Time to share that fear with the rest of the underworld.