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"I might actually catch up to you soon, I've been getting my numbers up. Then again, someone like you would have to fall pretty hard." The way Hawks so purposefully looks away, his expression easy but not exactly in the way it always is makes an interest perk inside him. Despite the lack of eye contact, Hellflame's gaze widens.
"...oh my, Hawks." He smiles, "Are you challenging me?"
It earns him a laugh, one that's just as practiced as his own. "Maybe a little. Hero rankings are always a bit of a fight, aren't they?"
Tension. In his shoulders. There's a second of decision between each one of his movements. And for his feathers to be at full volume this late in the day...Hawks is usually far more friendly around him than this, so it's easy to notice. Hellflame stares at him in their silence, the light reflecting against his visors in such a way that it hides his eyes.
"They are." He agrees, taking a step forward. "You truly think that you can rival me?"
Hawks seems stiff. Far more serious like the way he is on an important mission. He's not exactly a care free person, but the way he's being so careful is interesting. Hellflame almost feels like a curious cat staring down at him.
"You know...I like you." The only movement Hawks makes is in adjusting his posture. "You've done a lot for lots of people. Dipping down to me would be quite the feat. Attention grabbing. Controversial."
How wonderful, the bird decided to show his hand. Interest shifts into excitement, Hellflame's hands clasping together in a muted display of such, his eyes still wide and his head tilting ever so slightly. "Quite. I imagine the public would want to hear all about it. They do love a young, successful hero."
The air feels heavy. Both of them stand so perfectly still for a long moment. Hawks' mouth twitches, planting his feet in place so purposefully, indicating some internal conflict. What a shame a boy like this was wasted on the Commission.
He turns, finally, as if he'd like to say something but stops himself right before a sudden sharp pain drives itself into Hellflame's shoulder. He flinches in surprise, glancing down at the wound the feather created for just a moment. The way Hawks stands himself tall, expression alarming blank with piercing eyes that are almost like a real bird of prey. It would certainly be intimidating to anyone else.
"Hawks, I don't—" he'd continue the act were it not for the several more feathers driven into is body. Methodical, perhaps a tactic to make him surrender. Given silence perhaps to hide the way this all is making him feel. Good, that makes this all so much better. Hellflame takes each jab and slice with that same grin, periodically pulling any stuck feathers out to give his skin room to heal over. Hawks stands tall and still, the onslaught stopping but tiny sharps still pointed towards him ready to cut.
"...You're here to kill me." A sentence that rolls out of his mouth like he's always wanted to say it. "Your boss has been keeping tabs on me, have they? My, aren't you brave." Yellow eyes remain trained on him even as he reaches back and plucks out a large feather, pointing that blade towards him as well. Hellflame finds himself nothing short of delighted. "Really, I'm excited," he steps forward, so delicately grabbing the sword and pressing the tip to his chest, "you're a professional, after all. So you might actually get the job done."
Hawks' eyebrows furrow, only slightly, that same brief flash of confusion that those kinds of words usually get him, yet he doesn't seem quite as thrown off by it. The blade presses against his chest harder. An attempt at a threat.
"Do go on." Hellflame insists. "If that's your plan, I'm not going to stop you."
"...if you're planning something, I'm not falling for it."
"Right now? Not at all." He leans forward, the blade so sharp that it tears through his clothes. "I'm being honest. Just hold me in place and thrust forward. You'll be done in no time."
There's a moment of debate. The blade is moved, pressing against his neck.
That morbid...something twists inside him. The idea of death so numbing in a way that it's almost a pleasant feeling. To die right now by someone's hand is a fate he time and again finds himself wishing to succumb to. Yet every time, he's met with disappointment.
"Even better." Hellflame pressing the blade hard enough to draw blood. "Swift. If done right." It's a sharp pain that travels down to his chest and up to his jaw, blood seeping down and staining the feather. Hawks seems to be having a hard time hiding his feelings, his eyes a mix of what is almost like horror but is more liking an internal debate between the logic and the emotion.
"...don't be a coward, Hawks." His grip on the blade tightens, pushing it just slightly deeper into his skin. "You've done this before, haven't you? Kill me."
The blade does move. It's pulled away from him, leaving a searing gash on his skin before every waiting feather is driven into him from seemingly every direction. Hellflame is thrown off balance, but his expression doesn't change. It's a darkened smile no camera has ever been afforded, yet somehow a more genuine display of his enjoyment.
He can see how hard Hawks is trying. How this is meant to all come so naturally to him but being faced with someone he so deeply admires ruins that. It's a weakness the Commission seemingly couldn't beat out of him. If they didn't want him to fail, perhaps they should have sent someone else. Or perhaps they had such confidence in him that personal bias never crossed their minds. Hellflame almost pities him for it.
More feathers slash at his skin, cutting and driving in until about half of Hawks' entire supply are far to damaged to move or are stuck in skin. There's a painful sting across Hellflame's entire body coupled with the familiar pull of skin as wounds close over. He looks up at him, the tip of the blade pressed to his forehead between his eyes. "Kill me." He insists again, a flaming hand grabbing the blade. "I know you have it in you. So, kill me."
Hawks is quite young. Really, it's the Commission that have failed him - if they'd done a better job Hellflame would surely be dead already. But he still held attachments which were always so hard to set aside. That, he understands. That, he can almost sympathise with. If Father had gotten hands on him instead, surely none of that would have been an issue. Hellflame may have even liked him more.
But, perhaps Father would still enjoy a gift. He'd surely be delighted if he was presented with such a powerful quirk.
Hawks is surprisingly fragile. He's fast, but in terms of body mass, there isn't much there. He relies so completely on his quirk, it was practically suicide for him to be sent to kill someone wielding his biggest weakness. He doesn't scream as much as Hellflame thought he might. Heroes don't tend to scream, even when bones break. They are at their most terrified when claws drive into them and the threat of death looms so close.
Hellflame wishes, in some ways, that he knew what that felt like.
Blood drips from his hands. The cooling pile of flesh on the ground is unmoving. Hellflame is filled with disappointment. Perhaps he should have gone easier on him but...Father will surely praise him for this catch.