Chapter Text
On an undetermined morning in the middle of early summer, a man dressed in prison fatigues sits in a wooden chair. He is Bakugou Katsuki, and he is about to be released from a 5 year sentence for theft and conspiracy.
“Good morning.” The release officers stood opposite him. One was tapping their foot, already ready to question Mr. Bakugou and get him on his way. The other was studying the prisoner’s calm demeanor, the way he barely broke a sweat at the way he was being questioned. Almost as if he had been expecting it from the day he had been arrested.
“Good morning.”
“Please state your name for the official record.” One of the officers began to fill out the sheet they had been given as the other asked questions.
“Bakugou Katsuki.” The prisoner’s voice was rough, but sure as he stated his name.
“Thank you. Mr. Bakugou, the purpose of this meeting is to determine whether, if released, you are likely to break the law again. While this was your first conviction, you have been implicated, though never charged, in over a dozen other confidence schemes and frauds. What can you tell us about this?”
“As you say, ma'am, I was never charged.” Bakugou smirked as he moved his hands, still chained to the wooden chair as a precaution, but the smug expression quickly smoothed back out into a suave resting expression.
The officer writing sighed as he looked aside at the notes placed before Mr. Bakugou’s request for parole. He was a model prisoner, and never committed even a small infraction on the inside. His original sentence stood for 12 years, but he was considered for parole after only 5.
Still didn’t really explain all that the state had tried to implicate him for.
“Mr. Bakugou, what we're trying to find out is: was there a reason you chose to commit this crime, or was there a reason why you simply got caught this time?” Still tapping her foot, the second officer spoke up and narrowed her eyes.
The prisoner sniffed, and his suave expression wavered for a second but never broke.
“My husband left me. I was upset. I got into a self-destructive pattern.”
“If released, is it likely you would fall back into a similar pattern?”
“He already left me once. I don't think he'll do it again just for kicks.”
The officers looked at each other before the writer spoke up.
“Mr. Bakugou, what do you think you would do if released?”
Bakugou Katsuki looked around for a brief second and wiggled his eyebrows.
“I don't know. How much do you guys make a year?”
A few more papers, and finally he is a free man. Exiting from changing back into his usual fare (a burgundy dress shirt and black slacks) he walks over to the final place he needs to go before becoming a typical American citizen again.
“Bakugou, Katsuki.” The guard manning the station digs around in the back after being given his name, and his eyes scan the area of messy personal belongings and scruffy papers as the guard searches.
Bakugou steps forth, and the guard doles out his possessions and a form certifying their return to him.
“Sign here.” The guard rifles through a bit more and pushes forward a letter, signed with just his first name and Bakugou picks it up after scratching his signature into the form.
“This came today for you. Rest'll be forwarded to your parole officer.”
He is silent as he breaks the seal and reads the letter, letting the envelope drift to the counter in front of him. The guard picks it up and chuckles lightly as he reads the return address.
“Those your lawyers?”
“Ah, no. My husband's.”
A set of papers slide out from within, and as he looks them over he smirks just a little.
“What's it say?”
“I'm a free man. That’s all you need to know.”
Stepping over to the side he puts back on a black deluxe watch and a shark tooth necklace. The last item in the pile, a gunmetal thick banded wedding ring with two stones, a ruby and an emerald, he toys with for a second before slipping it on and testing the weight on his finger.
Spinning around on his heel he flashes the guard a devilish smile and sticks his hands in his pockets.
“Show me the way outside my good man! It’s time I start my life as an upstanding American citizen.” Slightly uncomfortable, the officer points to a set of large metal doors behind him and goes to push them open.
Bakugou Katsuki smiles. It’s time to start his new life, but he’ll have to find some things from his old one first.
Although Bakugou had been arrested, tried, and imprisoned in the great state of New Jersey, it still held a special place in his heart for the beautiful and tepid casinos of Atlantic City.
Choosing among any of them was like cozying up to a fireplace, and it wasn’t hard to traipse into one and sling himself into a seat at the table. Setting three crisp hundreds on the exchange counter and coming up with a handful of chips, Bakugou chose the nearest blackjack table and sat down. He set his chips on the table and then leaned forward, his content smile quickly curling into a smirk.
“Fancy seeing you here, Sero.”
Rearing back behind the table, the black-haired dealer cocked his head and stopped shuffling. He looks startled but quickly hides it as he begins shuffling again.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about mister. I beg your pardon, sir. You must have me confused with someone else. My name is Francois. See?”
He taps the name embroidered on his vest, although he is the most Hispanic-looking Francois you've ever seen. A pit boss circles close by and glares at them both, leading both men to ruffle and settle back down. Bakugou looks at his hand and then drops it, collecting his chips.
“My mistake. Table's cold anyway.”
“You might try the lounge at the Grand, sir. It gets busy around one.” Taking his cards from the table, Sero sends a wink Bakugou’s way and the smirk returns to his face. He rises and brushes off his lap.
“Thanks.”
Heading into the lounge he orders two fingers of bourbon and spend his time reading the edition of the New York Times that the bartender has laid artfully across the top of the bar. The single whiskey turns into two as he discovers an article on the second page, top left.
His eyes move down the page and stop at a header -- "Vegas' Paradiso to be Razed; Former Owner Denounces Plans" -- accompanied by two photographs...
The first: Tan, well-coiffed developer and new owner of the Paradiso, Todoroki Shoto, with a beautiful (if barely visible) man on his arm. The second: scowling former owner, Yamada Hizashi, also known as the nightlife manager Present Mic.
“Catching up on current events?” A voice takes him out of his reading and Bakugou looks up to see Sero, now in street clothes, join him at the bar and order a beer. Bakugou lowers the paper and appraises the other man.
“Francois?”
“Glad to meet ya. Sero Hanta wouldn’t get by the gaming board.” Sero takes a sip of his beer.
“You just get out?”
“This afternoon.”
“And already turning over a new life I see.” Sero motions to the waitress for another beer.
“You’ve seen him?” Bakugou takes a sip of his own drink and sets the paper down.
“Last I heard he was in LA teaching movie stars how to play cards. Why? You have something planned already?” Bakugou swishes his glass and Sero snorts.
“You kidding? I just became a citizen again.” Bakugou grins down into his cup and Sero hits him on the back. Both of them laugh, and Sero’s expression becomes one of understanding rather than confusion.
“Jesus Christ Almighty, do I want to know?”
“It's tough now, our line of work.” Bakugou gestures with his glass and Sero crosses his arms.
“Everybody so serious. Too many guns, too many computers. Whadda you gonna do? Steal from ordinary people?”
“That would be criminal.”
“So what's left? Banks? Hah.”
“Banks got no money. It's all electronic. Only place that still takes cash is…” Bakugou trails off and looks behind him, staring out at the tables of dealers and hungry gamblers waiting to take from them.
“Casinos.” Sero’s smile disappears as he realizes what his friend is insinuating.
“Oh, no…”
“Oh, yes…”
“When?”
“Soon. Interested?”
Sero smiles. Bakugou has his answer.
Not even half an hour later Bakugou pulls a business card from his suit jacket and walks over to a payphone, checking behind his shoulder to make sure he’s not being followed. Punching in the number he coughs before holding the receiver up to his ear.
“Yes, Officer Brooks? My name is Bakugou Katsuki. I'm just out, I'm supposed to check in with you within twenty-four hours.” He listens for a moment.
“No, sir, I haven't gotten into any trouble. No drinking, no sir.” Bakugou finishes his drink quietly.He checks his pockets, which now hold a one-way ticket to Los Angeles.
“No, sir, I wouldn't even think of leaving the state.”