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A plume of smoke billowed from between Dabi’s scarred lips. He clutched onto a cigarette that grounded him like a lifeline. As the smoke poured into his lungs, Dabi shut his eyes and imagined there were blue flames and ashes ranging around him.
Because that way he could at least pretend to be powerful despite how his arms felt too brittle to summon even a single spark in that particular instant.
Dropping the cigarette and crushing it beneath his boot, Dabi sighed as he stared at the gaps between the staples in his palms. It didn’t matter how powerful he told himself he was – or how bright the flames that raged around him were. At the end of the day he was as weak as his feeble body unable to withstand his own fire. Maybe that’s why he’d been unable to save Hawks when the Commission came knocking at Hawks’ door.
A failure in every way that truly counted. Craning his neck toward the yellowed ceiling of the League’s newest hideout, Dabi let out a raspy defeated laugh. Why was he even surprised he couldn’t prevent Hawks from being locked away?
After all, the second turns had emerged on Touya’s arms Dabi’s future was set in stone. He was destined to be nothing more than a failure. A disappointment. Someone who couldn’t fulfill the one thing that he’d been born to do.
The best he could have hoped for was to cast the world in flames and bring it down with him.
A breeze wafted through the room, drawing Dabi’s eyes to Toga who was crouched on the floor beside Twice going over the building layout of Tartarus. How Compress had gotten his hands on the map of Japan’s most secure prison was beyond Dabi? The only explanation that he’d given was that a magician never reveals his tricks. Which was bullshit if Dabi had any say in the matter.
Leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the room, Shigaraki raised a brow at Dabi. Like he was asking if Dabi was okay. Huffing, Dabi turned away. Of course he was fucking fine. It hadn’t shaken him. And unlike Toga and Twice Dabi wasn’t deluding himself into thinking that a suicide mission like breaking Hawks out of Tartarus was actually going to work.
Still, Dabi could still vividly recall stepping off the battlefield and into a darkened room. A red feather had shone in the dim lighting. Twice had cowered in fear as the feather approached his throat. But Hawks’ gaze had shifted from that of a bird of prey into something much softer. And the primary feather had clattered onto the floor.
A sign that the League was more than just a mission for Hawks. A sign that he could be more than just a spy. A sign that the time spent crowded at a hidden bar actually meant something to Hawks.
Against all odds Hawks wasn’t like the other heroes. For once in his life he hadn’t followed the whims of the Commission. His claws had pried open the bars of his gilded cage and let him fly free if only for a moment.
And well… if Dabi had any say in the matter his birdie would get the chance to fly free again.
Hawks had chipped away at the walls Dabi had built up just a little. He’d shown Dabi what it meant to be seen every time he looked at Dabi with those alert gold eyes. Good grief, Dabi couldn’t remember the last time someone had even bothered to look at him. With his talons Hawks had clawed a hole through the prison of his own mind that Dabi had been trapped in for as long as he could remember.
So come hell or high water, Dabi was going to help Hawks break free too.
“Hey- Dabi? Dabi, are you even listening to what I’m telling you?” Compress’ voice cut into his thoughts, drawing him back to the surface from the depths of his spiral.
“Of course I am,” Dabi snapped. But there was no bite to his words. He sounded pathetic, even to himself.
“We’re going to do the breaking out first thing tomorrow morning,” Shigaraki informed him. “And we can’t afford to have you slacking off or getting caught up in your own head.”
Well. I suppose I did zone out for quite a bit if they’ve already got a plan. Although knowing them, I doubt it’s fully fleshed out.
“We’d better have the entire plan nailed down from start to finish,” he said. “We can’t afford for anything to go wrong tomorrow.”
Tomorrow.
It was so soon.
But Dabi almost feared it wouldn’t be soon enough. Who knew what the Commission was putting Hawks through as they spoke and dawdled and planned? Who knew what kinds of horrific torture Hawks was being forced to endure all alone?
Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. But at Kurogiri’s insistence that everyone at least try to sleep in order to get some rest ahead of their mission, the League filed into their rooms at 11 p.m. sharp. The entire night, Dabi tossed and turned in his bed — the bed in the room that he had shared with Hawks. It felt empty and lonely and eerily silent without the near-constant tiny snores interspersed with chirps that Hawks would make.
But then it was three a.m. and it was time.
“Get up, get up, get up!” shrieked Toga, who very much probably hadn’t slept a wink. Dabi, who hadn’t managed to fall asleep either, ignoring his aching body’s protests and rolled out of bed, pulling on his coat as he walked out the bar door to meet the rest of the infiltration team.
“All right, let’s go,” Compress said. “Kurogiri?”
Two portals appeared in front of them as Kurogiri waved a hand. “The left is the main entrance. The right is the entrance to the elevator, which will lead you down to Hawks’ cell.” He paused, waiting as they all nodded, then went on: “Recall Compress’ map from yesterday night. From the entrance to the elevator is only a few hundred feet, but the security will be heavy. Beware of the three guards manning the aboveground entrance to the elevator alone, and there will be at least 50 others as well. Distraction team, your objective is to not have to immediately be distracting. That’s a last resort — if possible we want to prioritize stealth above everything else. It’s much easier to get around when they don’t know you’re here.”
The five of them bowed their heads solemnly, none of the usual jokes or banter present. Everything rested upon their shoulders. Hawks may be considered a fallen hero by the Commission now, but to them, he is part of their dysfunctional little family.
As he stepped through the portal, Dabi could almost feel goosebumps on the patches of skin he’d burned to ruin years ago. Adrenaline spiked in his veins as he trailed after Compress, who quickly marbled the security cameras before the alarms had a chance to blare.
Everything happened so fast – like a burning candle with wax that melted away a little quicker than expected. Before he knew it Dabi was standing before a steel door bolted shut. There wasn’t even a glass pane present. Probably because Hawks’ feathers were strong enough to break through glass.
He’d been trained for so many years. The Commission had honed his quirk so well – he had been their pride and joy. (Or had he just been their puppet, their disposable doll?) But now they were taking precautions to contain the very quirk and abilities they’d drilled into him.
Sirens sounded from a different floor of Tartarus and Dabi swallowed hard. The distraction team was on the move, it seemed. And soon, the guards would come for him and Compress.
Now was his chance, and he wouldn’t get another one.
Compress flinched from the heat as Dabi set his palm ablaze, but Dabi ignored him entirely. As his flames turned a vibrant blue, the metal door melted away like butter after a couple of minutes and oozed onto the floor, a pool of shining steel that was the only remotely bright spot in this dreary place. Stepping gingerly past the gaping hole he just formed, Dabi entered Hawks’ cell.
Immediately, he drew in a breath at the horrific sight before him.
Red feathers looked sullen. No longer a bright shade of crimson, they were now far closer to maroon. And between that shade of maroon feathers, streaks of an even darker red were distinctly visible. Dried blood. What have they done to him?
Hawks was shivering violently, his entire body shaking with every breath he drew in and let out.
He looked so small, so helpless, so utterly broken. All Dabi wanted to do was run over and uncharacteristically scoop him up and carry him out of there.
Hawks had curled up into a ball in the farthest corner, pulled away from the artificial light pouring into the room from the sole window, as if he were terrified of freedom, because he’d spent a lifetime being puppeteered. A lifetime of being told what to eat, who to date, what to think, who to be.
You don’t have to do this anymore.
But he did – the Commission had made that clear.
But what if he didn’t? What if he went with Dabi and finally escaped the shackles chaining down his wings and keeping them from spreading to the fullest extent?
Biting into his lip, Dabi could imagine how hard taking that leap of faith would be. Especially if it was anything like the day he’d set himself on fire and had gotten the gumption to run away from hope.
Stepping forward until he was in front of Hawks, Dabi held out his right hand, meeting those striking golden eyes and watching as something miniscule shifted.
Come with me, he thought and prayed. Choose the path to freedom. Please – there’s nothing for you here.
For what felt like an eternity Dabi thought Hawks wouldn’t take it – until talons gently wrapped around his fingers.
Thank goodness that oversized chicken finally did something good for his well being. The last thing Dabi wanted was to see Hawks waste away in a prison indefinitely – like his predecessor before him.
After all, wings were meant to fly.