Chapter Text
It had been 3 months since Hawks was tasked with infiltrating the villains and the most he had done was get in contact with their recruiter, a nerve rackingly harsh man that went by the name “Dabi”
Now, apparently, it was just a waiting game.
A painful, horrible, waiting game.
One where Dabi would find Hawks in a random alleyway during his patrol at a time Hawks should be in bed and drill questions into him til he got annoyed or angry enough for Dabi to take some resemblance of sick pleasure in it.
And Hawks hated every second of that smug expression on that villain's face.
Now? It was Friday night, which Hawks wished meant something, but Hero’s didn’t get off days like students or retail workers, no, instead he got more patrol and another commission meeting in the morning tomorrow.
But Hawks would take refuge in his empty condo, one not too far from the commission building. His condo was at the very top and looked over nearly the entirety of Kyushu.
The condo itself was nice, that modern kind of fancy. It was made of smooth black quartz with small accents of white. It was made of three main rooms, the kitchen that was connected to a living room that was surrounded by black tinted glass.
The kitchen itself was an exceptionally expansive yet practical one, with table tops made of black quartz that probably cost more than most cars, a nice stove, a large fridge, one of those fancy ones that had two doors that made it open big with the freezer as a smaller compartment beneath it. With an island in the middle with barstools around it. It was too nice of a kitchen for one that never got used except to hold protein smoothies.
The living room was nice, it was where Hawks sat now. It had a nice fluffy white carpet with a black couch, smooth. With an expansive dark wood coffee table and a nice big TV that sat on the wall across from the couch, a wall that was also made of black tinted glass.
Attached to the living room was a small balcony, one that Hawks used as the main entrance to his condo.
The second room was attached to the back of the kitchen, it was the bedroom. A big bedroom that had black, smooth, carpet lining the floors and in the middle sat a large, fluffy, king sized bed that was far too big for one person. In this room, there was only one wall that was made of black tinted glass. And squeezed into the corner of the room was a nice wooden desk with an unused desk chair. The desk itself was crowded with papers and documents.
The desk might actually be the only place in the entire condo that held evidence that anybody actually lived there. The fridge was mostly empty, the stove was mostly unused, even the large walk-in closet attached to his bedroom was full of mostly black and white T-shirts with the occasional suit piece that were uncharacteristically folded and nicely placed.
But the desk was full of documents and paperwork and a laptop that was where Hawks spent most of his time, unwillingly.
Attached to the bedroom was the bathroom, a big one. Although, what stood out about this particular room was how it was made of white quartz instead of black, which meant nothing but was always an eyesore after existing in the darkness of the other rooms in the condo.
The bathroom had a nice sink, a nice toilet, a huge bath with a separate walk-in shower. But what always got to Hawks was the huge mirror, it nearly reflected half the bathroom, luckily not the shower but half the bath. Sometimes, Hawks took to covering it with a towel or a blanket when he injured himself during a fight, or sometimes when his eyes just looked too dull.
The third and final big room was the pool room, also connected to the kitchen by the door of the condo, opposite his bedroom door, was the pool room. A large black quartz room surrounded by black tinted-glass, and in the middle sat a large pool. It was all a luxury, a luxury Hawks probably took for granted.
Hawks had been 19 when he moved into this condo, having to finally pester the commission enough for him to leave, having finally created his own Hero agency, that was still for the most part, owned by the commission.
Because everything was.
They owned everything.
They owned the ground beneath his feet, they owned the air that he breathed, Hell, they even owned the feathers on his back.
But I digress.
When he had first moved in everything felt so special. He had come from quite a poor family, but by then the commission had mainly shaped his view of the world, but despite that, he still saw every surface of the condo as something of luxury, which was probably why he had never really moved in, and by the time the novelty had finally worn off, he had been much too busy to actually fill the place, so it stayed empty.
Hawks had swam in the pool every day when he had first moved in. He didn’t waste a single minute of his free time without pressing all the fancy buttons on the side of it to change the temperature or the bubbles. That was probably the last time he had ever touched the pool.
So for three long years it had gone lonely, without an inch of his attention.
He had had Mirko over a few weeks ago, not by choice, she had thought he was dead because he had broken his phone and the commission was taking their sweet time guilting him about it before they got him a new one.
She had noticed the pool and had spent most of her time whining over how fancy and nice it was and how it was such a waste that Hawks was neglecting such a luxury.
She had called him something along the lines of a “spoiled brat.”
Perhaps that was true.
He had fallen a long way, hadn’t he?
Or maybe he hadn’t.
At least there was an inch of him that wasn’t owned by the commission, at least he had some evidence of freedom from them, even if it was a simple delusion.
And so, he spent tonight on his couch. Draping himself over it like he had all the time in the world to watch it spin, when he knew he would get up at 7AM tomorrow to attend a meeting he did not want to be involved in.
The sound of the refrigerator humming, the sound of the air conditioning spread through the building and gently hummed in the silence that Hawks felt as if he owned.
Hawks enjoyed the silence, he enjoyed drifting. He enjoyed the pain in reflection sometimes. He enjoyed the pain in remembering that cold, cold room.
The cold, metal examination table. How young he felt, anywhere between 7 to 18 years old. Feathers plucked, wing-span measured, harsh murmurs. Being treated like a guinea pig, like he was a science experiment, no, that was wrong, like an object. That fits better.
Hands not cruel but not gentle grabbing his wings, professional. Blood being drawn far too often than he would like to admit.
He remembered feeling normally so big, he was the biggest, newest, youngest Hero.
But in that room he was suddenly so small, he was a statistic, a docile, trained, animal.
He enjoyed the way the memory made his entire body tense up in something resembling frustration and regret.
Why?
Because it made him feel human. Because without regret, he wouldn’t be human.
Because if he didn’t hate commission for that, then he really would be the object they had taught him to be.
But if he failed to fight back, perhaps he really was that docile trained little dog of theirs.
This night of reflection turned quickly into Hawks rummaging through his desk drawers for a pack of cigarettes.
Hawks didn’t smoke, he never smoked. He had smoked twice, only when offered by other Heroes that weren’t run by Commission out of pure boredom.
Why did Hawks have a pack of cigarettes on his desk if he never smoked?
Because he had stolen them from Dabi, of course. The man always kept at least three packs on him at all times.
Why?
Hawks had failed to ask that question.
Hawks had stolen one off of him for fun, simply to tease him, simply out of a petty, angry need to mess with the man who he had to suck up too in order to finish this stupid, stupid mission.
Every step, every sound Hawks made as he rummaged through the papers and pencils and unimportant trinkets that had gotten thrown and hidden on his desk, every sound echoed off the unused and empty walls of the condo.
It was an utterly horrible noise that disturbed Hawks’s silence.
Hawks always had a lighter on him. He didn’t really know why. It was another trinket he always had on him, like a pocket knife or a piece of gum.
He lit the first cigarette, coughed, smoked it anyway.
He didn’t turn on the news, he didn’t even attempt to distract himself. He took another drag, let the smoke simmer, and exhaled it. He didn’t bother to open a window.
Hawks didn’t settle into bed til around 2AM. He didn’t remember when he stopped smoking. He smoked five cigarettes, he didn’t know why.
It was too much for someone who barely took any nicotine.
He felt sick.
He kept going.
By the time morning rolled around the smell of smoke and nicotine had dissipated from the air and only lingered stubbornly on his clothes.
The sight of his apartment bathed in sunlight was nearly a cursed sight. He didn’t see much of the condo during the day. He always got home past sundown, and he was always in too much of a rush in the morning to pay much attention to it.
He woke to the sound of his alarm.
Without checking his phone for the time, without flicking on a single light, Hawks stumbled to his bathroom and took a shower.
He walked lazily to his closet, slipped on his Hero uniform.
He didn’t bother to clean the ash in his carpet from the night.
And he flew to the commission office, because he wanted to take any reason he could to fly.
Flying was free, it was the fresh air through his hair and his wings and the cold air that subtly burned his lungs despite it only being mid September. Next month, it will be Halloween.
Not like he was ever allowed to celebrate Halloween. Not like the day even meant anything to him.
A few kids standing by a bus stop wearing school uniforms spotted him and waved, one even called his name.
Hawks smiled down at them and waved.
A boy walking with his mom saw him.
Then two business men.
Then he was at commission.
His trip was much too short.
He landed by the entrance. Entered. Security didn’t check him, they just smiled and waved and let him through.
“Good morning Hawks!” A clerk greeted him.
“Good morning!” Hawks replied as he offered her a smile that was much too casual for the lingering taste of nicotine that even brushing his teeth for five minutes didn’t stop from staining Hawks’s tongue in the taste and smell that he may or may not be imagining.
“Would Japan’s number 2 Hero like a cup of coffee?”
Hawks pretended to check his watch, although he knew he had time before his meeting.
“I’d love some.” He finally replied with a grin.
She smiled so brightly that Hawks could almost forget the lingering sense of emptiness that had invaded his brain for much too long as she poured him a cup of coffee with way too much sugar.
“Unfortunately fame and fortune doesn’t make you any less in need of caffeine.” He replied as she handed him the cup.
She laughed warmly.
“Oh what a shame, I assumed being a Hero cancelled out all the pitiful needs of being human.”
“Oh yes! In fact, we’re all made of plastic and metal.”
She laughed at that.
Hawks smiled.
He hated the taste of the sweet milk on his tongue and regretted not telling her to make it black.
“Hawks?”
There was a voice he hadn’t expected.
He turned around to see Mirko, her long strong legs and white ears unmistakable.
“Mirko?” He questioned.
Had other Heroes been invited to this meeting?
It wasn’t until now Hawks realized he had never actually asked what this meeting was about, let alone who was going to be there. He assumed most meetings were boring updates of commercials with his name on them, another modeling job, things he could zone out too.
“Ah, so you do know my name, I had assumed you’d forgotten it.” She teased.
“Awe, like I’d forgotten my favorite friend's name.”
“You have other friends?”
Mirko laughed, Hawks faked an offended glare.
“Keep talking like that and I might replace you.”
“With who? Endeavor?”
Hawks scoffed humorously.
And off to the meeting they went.
Much to their dismay, Endeavor and many other Heroes were there too. EraserHead, Present Mic, Ryuukyuu, Best Jeanist, and even Midnight. Who for some reason, Hawks had not expected to be there.
For the most part, Hawks was correct. The meetings felt more like the Heroes PR teams arguing about publication for tweets or something boring with the Heroes there because unlike Hawks, they ran most of their campaigns themselves.
The meeting ended without a conclusion and with Eraserhead mumbling about wasting time while Present Mic had to stop him from threatening to throw a member of Mt. Lady’s PR team out the window if he mentioned sexualizing someone for clicks again.
Hawks stifled a chuckle at the situation. Eraserhead really was a dad at heart, no wonder he was such a revered teacher at UA.
Heroes filed out of the room, including Hawks. Although Hawks fled the scene like the room was on fire, the rest of them took their time saying goodbye to each other.
Hawks earned himself a nasty glare from Endeavor and protests from Mirko as he made it out without much of a goodbye.
But before he could take off from in front of the Commission building and flee to his apartment where he would sit til patrol started, he suddenly saw someone booking it into an alleyway.
It could have been a cat, the movement was so unnoticeable and quiet, but something about it irked Hawks the wrong way. So he sent a feather into the alleyway after it.
The feather slid from Hawks’s wing and quietly into the alleyway. Hawks immediately noticed the footsteps that came to a stop midway into the alley, he recognized the vibration of that horrible, horrible, stupid, chuckle, and then that voice.
“Come out and play, birdie.”
Hawks immediately found himself wandering into the alleyway as his eyes spotted the hooded figure in front of him. Seeing Dabi during the day was a rare sight. He was wearing black sweat pants, an oversized black hoodie with the hood pulled up over his hair and a black mask to hide his scars. It was scaringly normal, for Dabi anyway.
Dabi turned around to face Hawks, most of his face hidden and sunglasses that were clipped onto the neckline on his hoodie that he had taken off to reveal his ice cold glaring eyes that felt unnamely familiar from just a few moments ago.
“Wanted to see me, Hot stuff?” Hawks teased with a grin that hid the actual slight hint of relief that Dabi had come just in time to distract Hawks from going straight to his apartment to smoke another five cigarettes or do something else stupid and self-destructive.
Dabi rolled his eyes but spoke anyway.
“Yeah, I need information.”
Hawks scoffed, offended.
“Information? You haven’t even let me into the league yet.” Hawks pointed out as he crossed his arms.
Dabi narrowed his eyes coldly at Hawks.
“But you want to join, correct?” Dabi nearly spat. He was more impatient than before as he continued.
“The perfect golden boy wants to rebel? Then you better make yourself useful.”
“Fine. What do you want?”
“You Heroes have contacts with each other, right?” Dabi asked, his tone still brisk and impatient.
“Yeah?” Hawks asked, faking a bored tone like the brisk tone in Dabi’s normally calm, mocking, voice didn’t secretly raise so many concerns.
“I want Endeavors.”
“What? Why?”
“Don’t ask. Just give it to me.”
It was a quick exchange. Hawks should have fought Dabi on it, but he was awfully worn out from the meeting,
which was a lie,
He was actually incredibly fearful of causing a scene because he didn’t know how many Heroes still lingered outside of commission and didn’t know how much ruckus they could cause before one of them decided to take a look.
No,
That was a lie too.
He was really just scared of Dabi, although he’d never admit it to anyone on God’s green Earth. He was scared of how cold and harsh and cruel Hawks knew Dabi could be, even if he played calm and cool most of the time.
But just like that, the interaction was over. It was nothing more than Hawks writing it down on a piece of paper and handing it over to the man who also wore black gloves to cover the scars Hawks had memorized to a T on Dabi’s hands.
That was another secret.
But just like that he was another pawn, another useful piece of equipment.
For a few hours, Hawks had decided that he hated everything.