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There’s a girl crying on the curb.
Takami Keigo watches her cry, his pudgy little fingers holding his half-empty juice box. He’s standing on the other side of the street, fast cars separating the two of them. Keigo’s parents are in the electronics store, having momentarily forgotten about their quiet son that had previously been following close behind them as they entered through the glass doors.
They were used to their winged little angel following them around from behind like a good boy. Keigo never stepped out of line even as a baby. He whimpered for milk, but never screamed for it. He played quietly with his toys in the corner, never demanding attention. And he always followed his parent’s orders to the tee, without so much a word. His parents sometimes worried about him, wondering why their child was such a perfect angel when other children were quickly testing their powers and asserting what little dominance they had over other people as much as they dared. They worried that Keigo wasn’t very happy, that he didn’t like the comfortable life he lived but stayed quiet due to his overwhelming silence. He communicated through tugging and pointing, staring at his mother and father with his big, blank eyes and waiting patiently for them to do his bidding.
The girl is still crying.
She’s dressed in smelly rags, dirtied beyond repair and covered with scuffs and bruises. Her hair is a tangled, matted mess, and judging by the state of her being, it looks like she hasn’t had a bath in a long, long while. Her face is covered with strange pocked marks underneath her tears, giving her a hideous appearance as she cries and cries while the citizens around her keep a wide berth. It looks like they’re used to the sight. They do nothing to help soothe the child as they go about their day, minding their own business as they hurry back to work.
Keigo doesn’t like it when he sees others cry.
In the next five minutes, Keigo has crossed the street and weaved his way through the crowd to stand next to the girl, looking down at her blankly. The little girl senses his presence, sniffling as she peeks up through her choppy fringe to frown in confusion at the boy his age, well-dressed in a graphic tee, warm jacket, and cargo shorts.
Keigo stares at her as he holds his juice box to his chest.
“Why are you crying?” he asks softly. The girl hiccups, wiping away her tears as she struggles to get the words out.
“I’m—I’m hungry,” she answers. Keigo blinks then holds out his juice box.
“Do you want my juice?” he asks her.
The girl glances at the juice box then at him, wary. Keigo watches her, patiently waiting for whatever thoughts are running through her mind to finish so she could take the juice box from him.
“But…are you sure?”
“You’re hungry, right?” Keigo’s little wings ruffle slightly, but his expression remains unchanging. “It’s not food, but maybe it’ll help. I always like drinking a little apple juice if it’s not lunchtime yet.”
The girl hesitates for a little while longer before gingerly taking the juice box from his hands. Keigo lets his arm drop, stepping back a little as the girl quietly puts her lips to the straw, takes a little sip, then slurps the rest of the juice up with a hungry vigor. Keigo smiles a little when the girl finishes, watching her sigh in happiness.
“Did that make you feel better?”
“Yes,” she replies, giving him a shy smile. Keigo feels a little happiness bloom in his normally empty chest. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
“Keigo? Keigo! What in the world--?! What are you doing all the way over here?! We thought we lost you!”
Keigo likes helping people.
He doesn’t give a second thought to himself when he jumps in to save others. When there’s a group of bullies teasing a grade schooler several years above him, Keigo walks right into the center of the conflict and stares angrily at the other kids until they grow uncomfortable enough to walk away. When one of his classmates falls and breaks his leg and begins tumbling down the ravine by the school yard, Keigo trembles as he wills his wings to support the hovering boy’s weight while the adults coming running frantically down the yard. Keigo always puts himself forward when he sees someone in need of help, pushing his teeny little body to its limits so he could make sure everyone returns to their regular lives safe and happy.
He doesn’t ask for anything else.
“Kei-kun, do you want anything for Christmas?” his mother asks him one wintery day. Keigo stares at her from where he’s drawing a simple picture of a tub of his favorite chicken wings from the restaurant around the corner, processing.
“I want Chikami-chan to get that rocking horse she’s always wanted,” Keigo tells her. His mother frowns at him.
“That’s what Chikami-chan wants, baby. What do you want?”
“I don’t want anything.”
His mother gives him a troubled smile, but it’s been worn down by the monotony of this very same conversation cropping up every time the holidays draw near.
“You don’t want any presents from Santa, sweetie?”
“I’m okay. I want the other kids to get their presents, though.”
Everyone is often amazed by how selfless little Takami Keigo is. But to the little winged child, he thinks this selflessness should be normal. He doesn’t understand why he sees adults sometimes screaming at each other when they get angry, or how the children in his class fight over all the toys when they could just share. He doesn’t understand why people are so mean to each other, so ignorant of others' needs, when it would clearly do everyone a bit of good to help lift and support each other.
Keigo wonders why it’s not engrained in others to help people in distress when it’s so stubbornly rooted in him.
All Might is the type of hero Keigo can see himself becoming—blindingly selfless to a fault and leaping straight into action no matter what obstacles come his way. He thinks he and All Might have the same type of spirit, that same need to help others no matter what. But what he doesn’t have is All Might’s strength or his broadened shoulders or the confidence he exudes as the Symbol of Peace. He just has these tiny little wings that can create a gust of wind strong enough to lift a kite a few inches into the air and catch a decent breeze.
Endeavor, however, is different.
Keigo watches other heroes and knows they aren’t a slave to their crying hearts for others. He doesn’t know the reasons why they fight, just knows that they do a decent job of it even if they aren’t as purely motivated as All Might and him are. But Endeavor? Endeavor seems to be striving for something more . Something bigger than himself that the others don’t dare to try to achieve.
Keigo watches through the TV screen as Endeavor once again delivers an earth-shattering blow to the latest gruesome villain in a smoking metropolis. What Keigo sees there would shock everyone with the maturity of his thoughts. Keigo sees a normal man with a powerful Quirk, desperately clawing his way across an impassable void to reach and even surpass the distant, golden back of All Might, a hero who can effortlessly carry the entire world on his shoulders.
He sees one man in a crowd of thousands, all of whom are merely impassioned slobs and afraid to strive for something bigger, pushing against all the odds stacked against him to achieve something greater, bigger, better, grander than his pathetic self.
Keigo admires Endeavor for being the spirited hard worker he wishes he saw more of in this cruel world of self-centered minds. For the first time in his meager six years of living, Keigo asks for an Endeavor doll for Christmas.
The agent from the Hero Commission finds him in the midst of one of his greatest heroic feats yet. A villainous terrorist had planted a massive bomb in his former workplace, setting it off right when most of the population was heading home for the day. The local store was in the midst of a residential block surrounded by a local business district. Apartment buildings were thrown from the force of the shockwave, and their fragile inner structures crumbled underneath their own weight. Within seconds, the entire block was facing a massive spectacle, with buildings crumbling before citizen’s eyes and various household appliances exploding and building the flames to temperatures hotter than before.
Keigo flies right into the middle of it, drawn to the sounds of helpless screams and sobs for help. He ignores the panicked shouts from pedestrians around him, screaming for the child to stay back and wait for the closest available heroes. Keigo knows that in an incident like this, time is key. And for him to stand back and let someone lose their life for the ten minutes it would take for the local hero agency to dispatch someone to their vicinity would destroy the young boy in levels the majority of the populace would not be able to comprehend.
The fires are fierce and dangerous. They reach ambitiously for Keigo’s passengers as he lifts them out of the rubble, greedy little licks of flame grazing their hanging fingers as the little boy struggles to carry the weights of adults, children, elders, and pets. The fires crackle tauntingly around him, sneering at him as Keigo pulls back slabs of granite to find still corpses and bloodied arms. They rise in ferocity when Keigo finds a survivor, saved by mere luck and taken to safety to live out a few more years of life when fire-red wings drag their paralyzed bodies out and over the flames.
Keigo horrendously finds the fires a comforting presence. He’s reminded of the heat from Endeavor’s trail the few times he’s been lucky enough to grace his presence on the streets. It feels like the hero is surrounding him, cursing and crashing against him, taunting him to push on, work harder, can you save everyone with those puny little wings? I can do better than you, small child. If you want to be someone like me, someone who’s a hero, then prove to me you can be better than what you’re doing right now. Save them! Save them all!
As he pants heavily from exertion, his wings screaming from the pain of oversensitivity as he forces them to brave the heat of the flames corroding away at the fallen building, Keigo finds his perception of gravity waning and his head taking a dizzying leap through the air. He accidentally drops his Endeavor doll, but he has no time to grab it before a clump of debris falls inches in front of him and sends him tumbling backwards from the force of the shockwave.
He’s barely seven-years-old when he slams against the concrete and lets go of the crying puppy in his grasp. The dog whimpers for a while, stepping all over him as it licks his face and whining for him to get up. But when a distant shout calls the puppy’s name, the puppy’s ears perk up. It leaves him without a second thought, dashing through the smoke to crash right into his owner’s arms.
Keigo lays on the ground for a minute longer, chest heaving as he listens to the chaos around him. His enhanced hearing, a trait of his Quirk that sometimes became a problem when he spent too much time in loud places, rings with an irritating white noise. But Keigo can’t hear any more calls from help from civilians trapped inside the debris. So the little boy of merely seven years allows the tension to drain from his shoulders, relaxing amidst the crumbles of the block as fires rage on around him.
I did it, Mister Endeavor, Keigo thinks childishly, struggling to breathe in the heavily cloaked smoke rising around him. I saved them. I saved a lot of people.
He takes this brief moment of reprieve to himself, taking in lungfuls of air and silently pushing the thought of dead civilians he couldn’t save to the back of his mind for thought later when he returns home to a home cooked meal from his parents.
His hands feel empty.
Keigo suddenly bolts up, panic overtaking him. His Endeavor doll! He’s lost it! Keigo scrambles to his feet and runs back into the chaos, desperately searching for his most prized possession. It’s the only thing he wants in this small little world of his. Keigo scrambles over the rubble, wings too tired and worn out from the flames and the excessive flying. He searches high and low, trying to return to wherever he had last had the doll before it was knocked out of his hands by the force of air.
He finds it sitting right below the huge chunk of roof that had come inches away from killing him.
Keigo toddles over to it, an unfamiliar feeling of intense joy and relief washing over him. He drops to his knees before it, shaky hands reaching out before he takes the doll and cuddles it to his chest. Keigo presses his cheek against it, face pink with the heat from the fires and the exertion from running around and climbing over obstacles bigger than him.
He feels content amidst the flames, happy to know he’s done his part yet again to make his world a better place for everyone to live in.
“A child? Did you say a child saved you? That’s unbelievable! Search for him right away!”
“This boy is blessed with incredible talent. He simply must become a hero!”
The Hero Commission forces him through years and years of intense, gruesome training. Keigo goes without protest, driven by a sudden greed to improve himself and get a better skillset. He picks up on all the lessons with an ease that surprises even the most capable of Pro Heroes, picking up buried possibilities and latching onto new knowledge with a greedy enthusiasm. At first, his parents had worried about the pleasantly worded child labor, fearful that their little Takami Keigo who had been soft-spoken for the majority of his life was merely being pushed around by the wills of adults and was too polite and soft-spoken to really assert his own wants. But after seeing how hard their young boy pushed himself through training, how greedily he ate the knowledge around him with an impassioned gusto they had never seen from him before, Keigo’s parents relaxed and let their son do as he pleased, happy that their little angel was finally striving for something in his life other than Endeavor dolls.
He was greedy for more than that, but Keigo never tells them that.
Keigo envisions a future. A future where he doesn’t need to be on high alert, watching and waiting for the next sniffle or horrified scream. A future where Keigo could relax on his couch eating chicken wings and watching television, only on-call for simple accidents or previously arranged charity events. He dreams of a world with no surprises, no bloodied hands on the people he sees walking around him and no devastating news headlines that make everyone sob and hold constant vigils every so often as an ingrained routine of life.
Keigo likes daydreaming about this ideal future of his as he stares out the glass walls of the Hero Commission headquarters, pushing his stamina to its limits as he pounds diligently away at the treadmills overlooking the view of the city, now a freshly minted high school freshman with a cocky smirk and a bright future heralded by his mighty wings.
He admires Endeavor for pushing through the fight. For never giving up, no matter how many times he’s beat down. He admires Endeavor for never letting the spirit of his flames wane, striving to be a better person than the man he was yesterday simply because it was in his blood. He admires Endeavor for sticking true to his name, a man who will endeavor to seek his goals no matter what stands in his path.
His borderline obsession with the Number 2 hero reaches its peak when he graduates with a professional hero license and starts establishing his own hero agency at the ripe young age of 18.
His agency is situated in a rather busy city district, where Hawks has noticed the response time of the nearest heroes lacking. The second his office is established, Hawks becomes a familiar sight on the streets, with city-goers following his speedy flights in surprise as he zips past the citizens chasing trouble on its heels. Soon enough, he becomes a popular local hero, having won the hearts of his people and becoming familiar with every single person in his jurisdiction.
Amazingly, a serious case that’s a step up from the usual purse thieves and bank robbers drops right into his lap. Hawks had been pursuing a fleeing armed vehicle being driven by the latest cocky goons that thought it would be funny to challenge the hero’s capabilities as they ran out of a newly opened jewelry store with the owner’s life savings. Hawks brought them to a stop without much effort, popping their tires and safely directing the out-of-control vehicle to a low-standing brick wall with no injuries. As his sidekicks finally arrive at the scene to take them under custody, Hawks catches an interesting remark from one of the criminals.
“When the big boss finally gets all the funds he needs, he’s gonna crush your puny little wings, birdie!”
After some mild persuasion—Hawks denies anything his sidekicks say about sharp feathers to the neck—Hawks finds himself invited to join a hero team focused around the downfall of yakuza drug lord Shark Teeth, a villain who’s been a pain in the ass for several heroes dealing with problems in their city’s underground. When Hawks walks into the meeting room, everyone stops and stares at him, sizing him and his crimson red feathers up before returning to their conversations, occasionally glancing at the mystery teen hero the Hero Commission had suddenly entrusted an entire hero agency with. Hawks has never been in the presence of so many pro heroes on an actual, bona-fide assignment, so he feels a little bit of his past shyness drive up and curl into him as he goes to stand next to a familiar face—thank god the Hero Commission stationed his handler here for the meeting—at the back of the room. Although he’s too shy to talk to anyone, Hawks feels an incessant trill of excitement coursing through him as he waits excitedly for a certain someone he’s heard would be attending the meeting to walk through the cheap wooden doors.
Hawks has to try and keep himself from bursting into excited screams as his lifelong childhood hero Endeavor walks into the room, following All Might to the front of the conference room and speaking in lowered voices with his sidekick, the famous Flaming Sidekicker Burnin’. His wings give away his excitement, however, a tell he’s still working hard on controlling as they shiver and shake with his delight. His mentor and practically secondary parental-figure who raised him through the Hero Commission notices his glee and smiles at him.
“If you’d like, you can go say hi,” they tell him.
But no, Hawks decides as they begin the meeting. His eyes zero in on the projector screen, sharp ears taking in every little detail that breathes within the room. Right now, he’s not ready to meet Endeavor. Right now, he has a mission to do. People to save. And a name and reputation to build before he can stand before his role model and proudly exclaim to him his hero name.
I am Hawks. The man who goes too fast for his own good.
Hawks has grown accustomed to people disappointing him that he’s used to doing everything by himself. His sidekicks are too slow. His high school peers were too distracted. His parents are too engrossed with their elevated standard of living. Hawks knows that there are a few heroes who are miffed by his golden child standard, but he knows they cannot deny the impressive record he’s built. Although he’s mainly a ranged combat force and a heavy support hero, Hawks has made a mark for himself in the hero rankings.
He’s the fastest and the youngest to make it into the top ten. He’s one of the most popular heroes with a strong and loyal fanbase, with a demographic mainly centering around young generations and young adults. He’s young, and popular, and full of endless potential as one of the most capable heroes of the newer generations.
And yet, Hawks knows that his time here at the top will be short.
“Hawks. You’re to gain the favor of the League of Villains.”
It’s not like he’s never done the government’s dirty work before. Even when he still only had his provisional license, Hawks had been getting real experience in covert work under a highly-classified file. His operations were never even given a codename. The field agent himself was never labeled or connected with all the incidents he had been behind. He was mostly used for intelligence gathering, but on the rare chance someone managed to see his wings while he was in hiding, the government would order an immediate hit on them. They didn’t want their precious golden child to have any witnesses to his deadlier feats before he had even made it into the world of pro heroes, after all.
Hawks was not…averse to killing. But it did leave a bad taste in his mouth. It helped if he could see the immediate benefits of his kill right after he shed the lifeblood. Perhaps a saved mother and child, or a halted villainous project on the verge of being perfected. But Hawks has always been looking farther, a further distance towards a life on his couch with a tub of chicken wings, watching the most frivolous of shows as his emergency pager lays silent on the table.
Hawks has always been looking at a dream, an endeavor. A little blood on his wings won’t stop him from reaching out for it.
“You’re not concerned with fame or prestige. You focus only on the long-term goal, and take action accordingly. We feel that there’s no one more suitable for this job than you.”
Hawks is filled with that familiar excitement of standing next to his idol at the hero billboard chart ceremony, but this time it’s well-hidden and tampered down. The weight of his ongoing solo project for the Hero Public Safety Commission is heavy on his back. And Dabi, his first and only contact with the League, has given him a task. Villains are crafty, and he’s not sure if he can trust any of the other heroes on this stage with the job even he has very few details about.
Except for the flaming hero beside him.
“So why is it that you people, who have produced less results than me, are giving all these boring, safe answers? Please, say something a little more hero-like, would you?”
As Hawks drops from the air to hand Endeavor the microphone, he meets Endeavor’s eyes. He isn’t affected by his little stint at all, merely staring at the new Number 2 hero. Hawks recognizes the immovable strength in his hero’s eyes, and he smiles quietly at Endeavor while the mic passes through their hands.
He’s grateful that the man has never lost that confidence in himself.
“Now then, the stage is yours. Mister Number 1, with a lower approval rating than me.”
“After being provoked by that novice just now, I only have one thing to say. Just watch me.”
Endeavor has always been more of a man who proved himself through his actions.
Just as he expected, Endeavor delivers. He sends the Noumu through the grill with his final dredges of strength, exterminating the creature to a smoking crisp. Hawks hurries to catch him with a towel, joy and relief and gratefulness crowding inside his tiny little heart.
The bloody scar on Endeavor’s face gives him pause, though.
I’m going to be hurting heroes from now on, Hawks thinks just as they’re surrounded by searing blue flames. Hawks immediately goes to stand in front of Endeavor, the tiny feathers of his remaining wings trembling and giving away his emotions once again, fear managing to take root in his trained, rational mind. Dabi—the fucking little traitor, though Hawks guesses he shouldn’t have expected anything better from the villain—strolls leisurely towards the two of them, condescending smirk on his face as he exudes a terrifying confidence that betrays just how much of a high-risk threat he is. Hawks suddenly feels cornered, a little scared for the hero he needs to protect. There’s so much more at stake here now, with the nation’s Symbol of Peace gone and the reassuring title weakening and waning. Endeavor still isn’t All Might, no matter how much he strives to be better than him. Hawks is too caught in the web of circumstances, every tug and every struggle possibly spelling a catastrophic consequence for someone else in the nation if he fails.
When Miruko arrives with a heart-stopping stomp and forces Dabi to retreat, Hawks returns to tending to Endeavor, quietly making note to reexamine exactly how dangerous his cocky little mind could be in this delicate dance.
Hawks pays a visit to Endeavor in his hospital room.
It’s probably a bad idea, considering how shaky the ground feels. But he needs reassurance. He needs to see someone who hasn’t given up the fight, hasn’t bent to the will of the world like he’s now under pressure to do.
Endeavor greets him with a politely neutral expression and welcomes him in sulkily, miffed at his presence and bracing for a overly enthusiastic prodigy nipping at his heels.
They talk. Endeavor...is much more normal in person. He has some family issues--which Hawks knows to not even attempt to dive into--but overall, he’s a normal man. He likes Japanese traditions, and minimizes the amount of contact he has with foreign food. But Endeavor will make an exception for burgers on hero duty. Endeavor can appreciate a good piece of artwork, and is more than willing to sit down with a good book and lose himself within its world. Endeavor is known to be a no-nonsense kind of guy, but he listens to Hawks’ embellished stories and cheerful recounts of the world outside with studious focus.
When he catches Hawks staring a little too long at the massive rolls of bandages surrounding his left eye, Endeavor knocks a fist against his temple.
“Why do you look like that?” Endeavor asks. Hawks blinks and tries to regain control with a dumb smile.
“Like what?”
“Like you just saw a bird get run over.”
Hawks gasps dramatically, glaring at Endeavor as his wings puff up and twitch uneasily behind him. Endeavor’s sharp eyes catch the movement and he glances at them.
“How are your wings?”
“They’re doing just fine!” Hawks replies, jokingly reaching over his shoulder to pet the meager remnants of his feathers. They twitch softly in his grasp, and Hawks hides the fondness of his expression when he massages their aches, the phantom burns of Endeavor’s flames fanning at their soft trills. “The feathers will grow back after a couple of weeks, so that means I get an easy break from work for a while!”
“Not that you’ll be taking it.”
Hawks pauses, glancing up at Endeavor who’s picking curiously at the food on his hospital tray. Hawks makes a mental note to buy some yakitori for him the next time he visits.
“What are you talking about?”
“You act all flippant about your job as a hero,” Endeavor observes, visible eye squinting at the sorry-looking pea he managed to stab with his fork before bringing it to his mouth. Endeavor frowns at the taste as he chooses, setting his fork down with a final clink! “But I saw how detailed and thorough your rescue and evacuation efforts went. You've put a lot of thought into protecting your district. It’s very impressive.”
“Oh,” Hawks says, at a loss for words. He searches through his head, wondering why Endeavor would think it was necessary to point that out. He never seemed like the type of guy to freely deliver compliments to other people. “Thanks, I guess?”
“I can smell the hard work on you,” Endeavor continues, ignoring Hawks disgusted scrunch of the nose as he leans over to his bedside table and picks up a book. How to Resolve a Broken Relationship , the title reads. Hawks wonders just how uncaring Endeavor is about his public image if he’s blatantly flaunting his family issues in his face. Or if he doesn’t even realize the implications.
Or if he trusts Hawks enough to lay himself bare before him.
(Hawks hopes it’s not that last one. He’s already feeling a little sick from betraying everyone in his city by bringing the Noumu into town.)
“You’re still helping with the recovery efforts even if the doctors told you to rest your body. Admirable. But stupid if you’re going to be pushing yourself too far past your limits.”
“Huh.” Hawks feels a little untethered, unable to get a grasp on the correct way he should point the conversation. He hadn’t been expecting anything like this from Endeavor at all. “That’s rich, coming from the guy whose son hates him for that very same reason.”
Endeavor winces but says nothing. Hawks groans, cursing his stupid brain for not engaging his mind-to-mouth filter.
“I am so sorry, Endeavor-san! I really did not mean to offend you-!”
“You’re making it worse. Just act like the asshole you usually are. I feel like less of a failure when you do it on purpose.”
“That sounds a little masochistic, don’t you think?”
“If you’re just going to bother me, then get out!”
Fwoosh!
“Ow! Just so you know, I felt every single one of those feathers you burnt! All of them! Sammy, Matilda, Gabriel, Jackie--!”
“HAWKS!”
Surprisingly enough, Hawks feels better after talking to Endeavor. Seeing and getting to know his childhood idol soothed the doubts he had been storing in his mind, reminding him of why he does what he does as he looks at a man who escaped death to soar once more into the sky in reach of another faraway dream. As Hawks watches Endeavor travel up the escalators to catch his train, he feels the resolve in himself harden.
I’m sorry for feeling scared, Endeavor-san. I won’t look back anymore. From now on, I’ll make sure I stay on the path to securing a better world for everyone.
I’ll make sure you can make peace with your children in a safer world and give you more opportunities to become the father you want to be for them.
Several weeks later, he kills Best Jeanist.
Hawks doesn’t really feel like a hero anymore. He supposes it was stupid to entertain that childish ideal, he thinks to himself as he lugs the heavy weight of Best Jeanist’s body through the air in broad daylight, unknowing citizens finding nothing wrong with their Number 2 hero wearing a body bag as he flies over the streets. His mouth dries at how trusting his constituents are. Even when he’s betraying the people whose lives he’s saved countless times in the past five to six years. Betraying Endeavor. Betraying himself and everything he stands for.
But he’s not going to stop. He’s doing this for the sake of everyone's little meaningless lives and their world for future generations after them.
Hawks was never a hero. He was just a little boy with angel wings who was told to fly because he could. Because he couldn’t help but soar towards a cry of distress. Hawks was just a little boy with a sensitive heart who would willingly give people his entire being if it meant they would be happy.
In this bigger, crueler stage, Hawks is just a man. A man who goes too fast for his own good and looks way too far ahead to stop his hands from shedding the blood he doesn’t want to shed. A man who wants to be a hero, but is willing to become a villain to create the world where his dream could come alive. A man who just wants to rest on his couch and watch television, with a quiet pager and a tub full of chicken wings for company.
A man who just wants a world where he can rest and be happy.
“I want the world to be a place where heroes have more free time than they know what to do with.”
“If corrupting myself is enough to put everyone else at ease, then I will gladly take on this job.”
I am Hawks. The man who’s too fast for his own good.
A society where heroes have more free time than they know what to do with. I will make it a reality. As fast as I possibly can.
-- fin--