Chapter Text
Glass crunched under his boots as Hawks moved through the abandoned alley. Shards were everywhere, scattered about like some kind of post-apocalyptic warning system. Which, actually, was exactly what he was hoping it was.
He didn’t bother trying to walk silently or creep. The attention was a good thing in this case. The intel he had received told him that this alley, close to an old supermarket and on the outskirts of the city, was a likely place to find his targets. They would be looking for supplies and safety while trying to stay out of sight.
He just hoped he didn’t spook them into running away.
Yesterday evening he had been leaving a meeting at the makeshift police headquarters when he had been approached by Yokumiru Mera, the current acting president of what remained of the Hero Public Safety Commission. Everything in him wanted to bolt. He had finally broken away from the Commission thanks to how they had completely fallen apart after getting attacked during the last war. Their destruction had meant his freedom.
If he talked to Mera, he knew he might get sucked back in. It was what he had been conditioned to do. Receive the orders, follow the orders, come back for more orders. Listening to Mera could throw him right back into that pattern, but it was like he couldn’t stop himself. Not after all those years with the Commission.
It didn’t help that Mera had waited until he was on his own, away from Jeans and Endeavor or anyone else. It was like he had been waiting to catch Hawks alone. There was no one to stop him or help him or even be mildly curious about what was going on.
Mera had gestured for Hawks to follow him down a hallway, and Hawks’ feet moved on their own to keep up like a good little soldier.
“I have a question I need to ask you.”
Hawks shrugged, picking a nonchalant smile out of his arsenal. “Shoot.”
Mera sighed. The ever-present bags under his eyes looked even darker. Hawks hadn’t spent too much time around Mera, it wasn’t like the man had been his handler, but he was familiar with him. He had been around since Hawks was ten or eleven. Hawks knew him well enough to know he wasn’t as bad as some of them. Didn’t mean he was going to be winning congeniality awards anytime soon; he was the old president’s right hand after all.
“Look. This is awkward. But if you could go back and stop yourself from joining the Commission, would you?”
Tension and memories wound Hawks’ shoulders tight, but he kept his expression calm, borderline amused. Careful. Be careful. He hadn’t really joined the Commission so much as he had been sold into it, if he was honest with himself. And sometimes it was really hard to be honest with himself. He lifted his eyebrows. “Why exactly are you asking?” Currently, unless something had changed, time travel wasn’t a thing.
“I’m just the acting president, so I don’t have the clearance levels for every Commission project,” Mera said. He stifled a yawn, his head leaning to the side. “But I have heard about four kids who have been sighted in Eislee, where we used to have a satellite base. And the Commission is more invested in finding them than they should be.”
Four? They still had the program? Four of them? He thought it had ended with him. Hawks struggled to hide his shock. “What kind of satellite base?”
“A small training one,” Mera said. “It took heavy damage during Machia’s rampage. But like I said, I don’t have a lot of information.”
“Are you sure they’re even a part of…that, then?” Hawks asked, frowning. He would go look for them no matter what, that was a long time for kids to be on their own in this kind of world, but—he should’ve been the last one, they didn’t need more. He was only twenty-three and he had never really fought them on anything. With Lady Nagant as an example, he knew better than to ask for a way out, and asking meant signing someone else up for his spot. That’s why he had been sort of glad (man, he was an awful person sometimes) when the HSPC had been attacked.
Mera rubbed at one sleepy eye with his palm and then gave Hawks a steady stare. “You were considered an incredible success even before you became a top pro. Charming, intelligent, rarely rebellious, even when you were a teenager. High ranking, agreeable, merch deals, photoshoots, commercials, fan clubs.” He ticked off Hawks' "good points" on his fingers. “I’m really surprised there’re only four in the program."
Hawks tried to stop the awful tingling feeling that buzzed under his skin. When he had gotten older and started to realize how screwed up his so-called childhood was, he had hoped that by doing well he could keep other kids from being used the way he and Nagant were. But now it was possible that it was his fault more kids—
“How old are they?” he asked in a rush. “They’re older, right?”
“No idea. I wasn’t given descriptions, but I doubt it. The former president thought your age had a factor in your obedience. Among other things. But I don’t know.”
The remnants of his wings fluttered unhappily, betraying his emotions.
“I have to clear some agents to go find these little objects of interest, but I’m putting it off since we have a lot of work to do.” Mera glanced away, back toward the way they had come from. “It’d be too bad if they weren’t there when the Commission shows up.”
“Why’re you telling me?”
“They should like heroes, it would be part of their training. And if the Commission was smart, they’d make sure that they want to be just like you so they'd trust you.” Mera shrugged. “Plus, I feel like you’d want the chance to save yourself, if you had the choice. This is the best I can do.”
Which meant today Hawks was searching through a decimated city at sunset for his replacements.
He didn’t have many feathers left, what with the way his wings were slowly (so slowly this time) recovering after Dabi had incinerated his back a couple months ago. While he couldn’t fly yet, he could use some to listen in and do some recon. As he made his way down the alley, he had his feathers drift in and out of broken windows and gaps in the buildings, trying to pick up on voices.
Finally he got lucky.
“—don’t like this. Why is he—”
He slowed down but kept moving and didn’t look around, not wanting to startle them. They were most likely watching him. A few more feathers joined the one that had caught the first voice. It sounded like a girl, her tone serious and unhappy.
“That’s definitely Hawks. Man, I’ve never seen him in person before. It's cool.” Another voice, more chipper, almost excited. A boy? Preteen.
“Why is he here?”
“Well, he’s Commission, too. They might’ve sent him to bring us to headquarters. It would make sense.”
Another voice piped up. Younger this time. “Why’s he so short? And his wings are little. They’re dinky.”
Oh no, at least one of them was really young. And rude. Hawks scrunched up his nose, torn between dismay at how young the kid sounded and a flash of vanity. Not wrong, but still rude.
“It might not be him,” the girl said, “It could be an illusion or someone with a shape changing Quirk. We should be careful.”
“You’re paranoid, Verie.”
“Wait, if it’s him, can’t he hear—”
The voices went silent. He could still hear them breathing, and now they were moving around. They must’ve remembered that his wings were very useful for spying. It wasn’t a fact that everyone knew about, but the Commission would’ve taught them about him. He knew a lot about Nagant, after all. It was that preconditioned appreciation and respect for predecessors that he was hoping to use to his advantage.
Hawks stopped. He nudged the toe of his boot against some green and clear glass. “Sooo, just so we’re all on the same page, I did hear you guys.”
“I told you,” hissed the third voice, the one that sounded the youngest. “I know stuff.”
“Shh.”
“Someone from the Commission did send me,” he said, looking around at the buildings. It was the truth, essentially. He knew they were in the warehouse to his right. That’s where the feathers had caught their voices. “Do you want to come out here and talk?”
“No,” said the girl’s voice, raised so that he could hear it without using his feathers, “You should leave.”
“It’s Hawks,” said the preteen voice. “You can’t just make him leave. And weren’t you complaining about hot food an hour ago? He might know where to find that.”
“I do, actually,” Hawks said, thinking of U.A. And storing away the fact that none of them had fire-based or heat-based Quirks.
“See!”
“Shut up...”
“Fine, you sit here and starve, I’m going to talk to him.”
He overheard a quiet scuffle, probably the girl trying to grab the older kid, but a side door to the warehouse opened. Hawks raised a hand in greeting as a boy a few years younger than Tokoyami stepped into the deepening twilight. Thirteen, twelve? He wasn’t all that great at judging the ages of children.
“I’m interested in hot food,” the kid said with a bit of a smile. “I never thought I’d say it, but we’re getting tired of junk.”
He was a few inches shorter than Hawks’ intern. His clothes were a mishmash of scuffed up jeans and an oversized Edgeshot t-shirt paired with hiking boots, and the fingerless black leather gloves he wore were hard to miss. Neon green hair fell slightly over his green-on-black eyes, similar to Tokoyami's classmate Ashido's eyes. There was an odd patch of something metallic on his cheek. It looked like a computer circuit board.
“I bet,” Hawks said, smiling back even though his chest hurt. Replacement number one. Now…how to finagle this. He needed all four of them, he couldn’t leave one behind for the Commission agents and, well yeah, he wasn’t abandoning them. He had to convince them all to come back with him, and once they did, he’d figure out what he was going to do next. Unlike most of his careful plans, this one was a cluster. What was he supposed to do with four kids?
“How long have you been here?” He gestured to the warehouse.
“We’ve been moving around the city since that monster guy came through,” the boy said, “We weren’t sure where to go, but we knew we shouldn’t go too far.”
Because it’d be easier for the Commission to find them.
The boy’s eyes suddenly grew huge, and his mouth fell open as he spotted something over Hawks’ shoulders. Or someone. Two someones. If Hawks had been paying more attention, he would’ve noticed the company before it arrived.
“More civilians?” Jeans asked, curious eyes peeking over the waistline of his denim mask. “I thought this city was already cleared.”
“I told you guys to wait in the car,” Hawks said, frowning at Jeanist and the intimidating form of Endeavor right behind him.
“You were taking too long,” Endeavor growled. “And you didn’t properly explain why we should wait or for how long or what you were doing. You ran off.”
“I didn’t ask you to come, you invited yourselves, remember?” He had tried to ditch the two of them at the warehouse where some of the pros had been temporarily living, but no dice. Best Jeanist and Endeavor had been stubborn about it. With All for One and Shigaraki out there along with the prison escapees and other villains, no one who was practically Quirkless should be traveling alone, according to them. Especially when they made a nice target like Hawks did.
Hawks couldn’t decide between being annoyed that they were trying to protect him or being overwhelmed that they cared about him and were using excuses to tag along. They didn’t even know why they were really there. Hawks had told them he needed to visit Eislee because he wanted some intel. Not that he wanted to rescue some Commission kids. Yeah, this wasn't the best laid plan…
“You’re not a good driver, Hawks,” Jeans said firmly, “You know what you’re doing but you’re terrible, like a seamstress with an unsure hand. You most likely wouldn’t have made it here if we hadn’t come along with you.” He raised a hand and waved elegantly at the boy, who was still gaping. “Good evening.”
He weakly waved back, apparently in awe. “Are you all really here? Like actually in person for real here?”
“That’s the question I’m asking,” the girl’s voice said. The door squeaked as it opened wider, and another kid appeared.
“Are you collecting children?” Endeavor asked, throwing a glance at Hawks.
“What can I say, I’m like the flying Pied Piper,” he retorted.
Jeanist’s eyebrows knit together. “Hello, little one. Are you all right?” he asked the girl.
She glared back at him. “I’m not that little, and I’m fine.” She was maybe nine? Eight? Somewhere around there. Her straight black hair was tied back in a tight ponytail, and her dark grey eyes were suspicious as she looked at all of them. Black leggings, plain black hoodie, black sneakers. It looked like she was competing with Tokoyami for the most Evanescence-inspired wardrobe. “Prove you’re all really you, right now.”
“Or what?” Endeavor asked, crossing his arms over his chest, unamused by her demand.
Whatever she was going to say was cut off before she could even begin as a blur dashed out the door. Endeavor took a step back, his shoulders catching on fire, as the small blur rushed up and hovered in front of his face.
It was Hawks’ turn to gape. The third kid had wings. Bright blue wings with black and brown edges. He also had unruly dark blue hair, freckles, and big brown eyes that were crinkled at the edges as he grinned at Endeavor. Sporting a huge t-shirt with holes torn in it for his wings and a pair of blue jeans, he was definitely the youngest at maybe seven or so.
For a moment, Hawks’ brain blanked out because there was just too much to think about (had the Commission sought out a kid with wings because of him, was that his fault, this was all his fault). He stood there staring as the kid did a loop around Endeavor like an intrigued hummingbird.
“You. Are. Humongulous. And old. Where’s your beard?” Reaching out, he touched Endeavor’s chin.
The big hero took a startled step back. “Be careful.”
“Your face isn’t on fire. Why not?”
“You shouldn’t just touch people,” Endeavor said, leaning away in case the boy tried it again.
“Okay. I’m Kes!”
“Don’t tell them your name, you don’t know them,” the girl said. She shifted from foot to foot as if she was debating running forward and grabbing the younger kid.
The blue-haired boy, Kes, dropped to the ground, his wings askew. He righted them, overbalancing onto one leg and then standing up straight. He looked like a fledgling still getting used to his wings, and Hawks tried not to feel anything because this all hurt too much. “I can’t know them if I don’t tell ‘em my name…”
“That’s not the point. They could be villains in disguise—”
“We are not,” Endeavor said, insulted.
The girl disdainfully flicked her eyes in his direction and turned her attention back to the boy. “Don’t talk to strangers. And you were supposed to stay inside!”
“You didn’t!”
The green-haired boy blushed. “Guys, you’re embarrassing me in front of the pros…”
While they argued and the eldest stepped in to try peacekeeping, Hawks focused on his stray feathers for a moment, listening for the final and fourth kid, the one who hadn’t spoken yet. He could hear soft breathing and then feet moving toward the door. Glancing over, he saw a very small hand wrap around the door frame.
“Oh.” Hawks’ breath caught.
A tiny girl peeped around the open doorway. She had wavy purple hair tied into two shoulder-length messy pigtails. Her eyes reminded him of Shouto; her left eye was dark blue and the right was honey-gold. Little fingers, still short and babyish, played with the hem of her shirt as she hid partially behind the door. Four. He guessed she was around four.
Well, hell.