The Final Trump
The air in the deepest level of Jaku's laboratory was not just oxygen and static; it was heavy, dense, as if space itself was trying to fold in on itself. Shota Aizawa made his way through the wreckage, the green glow of the emergency lights reflecting off his goggles. He searched for Nomus, for archives, for anything that would fuel All For One's war machine. But what he found was silence. At the end of a corridor that wasn't on any map, a single black chrome capsule pulsed. There were no wires attached to it, just chains that seemed to be made of solid, shadowy red light. On the control panel, cold white letters flashed: PROJECT 007.
About The Final Trump
The air in the deepest level of Jaku's laboratory was not just oxygen and static; it was heavy, dense, as if space itself was trying to fold in on itself. Shota Aizawa made his way through the wreckage, the green glow of the emergency lights reflecting off his goggles. He searched for Nomus, for archives, for anything that would fuel All For One...Read more