Chapter Text
Hawk’s 5th INfect1on
Prologue
Flock of the Flu
Sniff-sniff-
“Hawks, are you paying attention?”
Said red-winged hero sluggishly blinked and brought his left arm down. The circles under his eyes made his amber-yellow orbs stand out. His hair was more disheveled than usual and his clothes were a wrinkled mess. He hadn’t said a word yet, and the lulling clock in the conference room had been slowly driving him mad. He had stood there—catching himself from teetering forward every now and then—as he waited for permission to contribute to the conversation. Hawks had to find some form of distraction from the soft carpet on the floor. But, of course, the Hero Public Safety Commission didn’t even allow their agents (or more specifically him) to gaze out the window during their meetings—no matter how long they got.
In this case, it’s been two hours of non-stop, repetitive blabbering—words that would turn into mumbles the second they entered his ears. For a speedy guy like himself, two hours—with his tongue tied and his muscles threatening to turn into jello—felt like a millennium. He’d sit if it weren’t for the fact that he might conk-out.
Typically, his keen eyes would go hazy after the thirty-minute mark, and he’d be kind of disparate ten minutes after the first hour. But with little to no sleep, his patience became thinner.
So, really, no one could blame him for tracing a mysterious smell to his own armpit in the middle of a conference. “Uh…” He closed both eyes and forced them open simultaneously. “Sorry… I was just wondering if this new deodorant even works.”
Sinking her eyelids, the HPSC president crossed her arms. Her obvious display of disapproval had gone unnoticed by the dirty-blonde hero who had—instead—lethargically looked to the side in mild annoyance.
He wafted away the air near his nose. “Apparently… the deodorant doesn’t do cra-”
“We are not paying you to talk about your hygiene-”
Hawk’s lips screwed shut as his expression sank to a poker-face. The eagerness to talk had formed in his mouth from the long-waited interaction. Even if the interaction was negative, at least he spoke…
‘If only I were just being paid rather than under a contract…’ he internally sulked. He’d often find himself wondering how his life would've been had his younger self read and adjusted his current contract’s rules. Not that a little kid would understand the implications of a contract, but— heck—maybe he could’ve.
Welp, it was way too late for that… The wings on his back fluffed and lowered along with his mood when the president continued her lecture.
“-we’re on the verge of finding out where the League of Villains are manufacturing their Nomus, and—the longer we stall—the easier it’ll be for them to cover their tracks.”
Tears pricked his eye-lids as he held back a yawn.
“So as the commission's spy, we need you to pay more attention-”
“-to which companies own big factories around Musutafu, yeah, I know,” cut in the 22-year-old. The president—who wasn’t at all phased by his rude interruption—set her hands together upon the meeting table.
A clear sign for him to tell them what he had learned…
He wanted to roll his eyes, yet he knew they’d take a couple bucks from his paycheck if he did. Misconduct was, after all, not a part of the contract. The hero waited for the president to gesture for him to speak—like he was a trained dog… which, as much as he hated to admit, wasn’t too far off…
The other three board members directed their attention towards Hawks who was finally able to share his findings.
The sooner he got to talk the quicker the meeting would end.
“Although it’s risky, it would make sense for the league to hide their factory in plain sight.” He leaned his stomach against and crossed his arms on top of a chair. “And—according to a few websites—there are at least fifty of ‘em in the city, buuuut-” The number two hero reaches a hand to his back and scratches one of his wings. “I managed to gather some intel from Bubaigawara. He mentioned that the scientist in charge uses an expensive magnet to create the Nomus.”
The board-members perked at this. Hawks’ eyebrows rose from their reaction, and he kept going.
“At first I was confused because—you see—I’m not really a scientist, but then I got into some digging and well…” He stood up once again—releasing the chair. Out of his pant pocket, Hawks pulled out a photo and tossed it to the center of the table.
The commission’s leader, and the three members sitting by the table, analyzed the image.
“This is one of the most expensive magnets known to mankind—it’s called the 45 Tesla Hybrid, and—surprisingly—there're four of them in the city…” Hawks finally let out a yawn. “...Man, ‘didn’t know how rich these companies are-”
“How do we know Bubaigawara wasn’t spitting out false information,” asked one of the board members.
With his wings slightly outstretched, the pro didn’t even give him eye contact as Hawks leaned back and did a Gallic shrug. “To be honest, I’m not sure myself, but it was worth a shot-” He then crossed his arms atop his chest and added, “after all… the machine is typically used for biological purposes.”
The male board member turned to the president. “I’d say that’s valid enough to obtain a few search warrants in court.”
Hearing this, the pro hero’s tiny hopes rose only to be squashed like a bug by the president’s reply. “No, we need to gather more information in order to make sure that we receive such warrants-”
“In other words, another. Cruddy. Hour. Of this meeting…” sighed Hawks in his head.
“We’ll continue discussing alternative evidence for the rest of the meeting—but first we must go over the next mission.”
‘Ugh…’
“Hawks, you’re next undercover mission will be to-”
Suddenly, the doors to the meeting room were slammed open. The young pro’s savior hung from the threshold as she exclaimed, “there’s a Nomu terrorizing downtown-”
‘What a coincidence…’
“I’m on it,” belted the pro hero. Without skipping a beat, he bolted to the nearest entrance to the meeting room—not giving the president a chance to assign someone else to the new mission. Hawks was ninety-nine percent sure that he would end up having the assignment anyway, plus it wasn’t misbehaving to instantly act on an agent’s emergency call.
Seriously, he’d have to get that lady a gift sometime this week.
A small amount of adrenaline coursed through the number two’s veins as he dashed down a hallway—nearly crashing his wings against one of the committee’s workers before he could say, “out of the way!”
Opening the door to the building’s stairwell, the hero adjusted his yellow glasses.
The wind played with his hair and feathers as he grabbed and lunged himself onto the railing. Slipping on the morning dew, he launched himself into the air, and—with his wings extended out—he gained the lost altitude from the ungraceful take-off.
‘ Dang, hopefully no one saw that…’
In the back of his mind—however—he knew that the committee sprinkled their cameras everywhere around their complex, so he wouldn’t be surprised if he came back to another one-hour scolding.
In their eyes, to be good is to look good… like a pro.
Signing that contract was basically selling his image… and life… He let himself sigh his breath into the rushing winds.
May as well make his contract enjoyable as much as it could be—right?
On his left hand, he spread his fingers out to comb the air molecules.
His glasses gleamed from the sun that peaked over puffy cotton-candy-like clouds. Birds in the distance chirped to one another. Below, the muffled cacophony—of what was known as rush-hour —created a Doppler Effect to the 22-year-old’s ears. This—and white-noise accompanied by the smell of petrichor—would always make him feel relaxed. Not relaxed to the point of napping while airborne, but relaxed.
The tepid, mid-June air licked Hawks’ clothes as he glided between Musutafu's shiny skyscrapers—gently scraping his leather-gloved hands across their gigantic windows.
A man, who was enjoying the view of the city from his suite, jumped at the sudden flash of red and yellow.
“AH-“
Hawks let out a small chuckle and yelled, “my bad!”
A lady working in a big corporate tower saw and waved at him when he flew by. He could hear her greeting from her cuticle, “hey Hawks!” So he craned his body, waved back, and gave her one of his best lazy grins. If the collar of his jacket hadn't whipped his face, he was pretty sure the gesture would’ve looked cool.
He swooped down a couple of meters, cut a few corners, and perched himself upon the corner of a rooftop that was being overshadowed by the city’s largest tower.
From the neighboring skyscraper, a woman swooned at him.
Even though his earmuffs protected his ears from the sounds of high velocities, his sharp hearing and feathers—that helped him hear frequencies—still picked up tiny noises… which meant he heard the woman, who was…. uh…. crushing on him.
Yeah… he heard her loud and clear—he just pretended not to hear her…
“Hawkssss~”
In fact, maybe he should use the other edge of the roof…
As he casually made his way over to the opposite side, some of his smaller feathers detached from his wings and began to float around him—sensing any sudden shifts in the atmosphere.
The balls of his feet planted themselves on the roof’s corner. He sat on their heels and closed his eyes.
An ant licked off the ground by a dog…
… A kid falling off of his oversized bike.
A couple hugging.
‘... where…’
Ducks migrating back to a lake nearby.
An adult chewing on a flower.
‘O… kay…’
Shopping bags crinkling in a cashier’s hand.
‘No… maybe over-‘
Heavy foot-steps of a panting woman in an alleyway-
Wait…
The woman screamed- those foot-steps weren’t her’s-
Hawks darted to his left in a haste. At the ledge he took flight. ‘Those footsteps have to be the Nomu’s,’ he thought as he dived towards the location.
Distressed citizens were running away from the spot he was heading towards—a sure sign that he was on the right track. That and the odd mist flowing out from between the buildings made it clear that there was a villain involved.
The teal mist seemed like it came from an ice-quirk, which meant he’d have to stay off of any surrounding surfaces...
Hawks pulled out his orange smartphone—almost dropping it out of fatigue—he opened the Pro-Sight app, pinned the location he was at, and put the phone back in the pocket of his jacket. He then positioned himself mid-air, above the alleyway, and found the lady that had been crying for help—the Nomu just a couple feet away. Its jaws were apart and it was spewing out swirls of freezing fog to the ground. Every so often, its breath sprayed over the victim’s leg. A leg that appeared frozen—meaning the woman was attached to the ground by ice… not good.
The dirty-blonde pro commanded his feathers to aid the businesswoman. The feathers—like a doctor’s scalpel—carefully severed the icy link between the lady’s leg and the concrete.
At the same time, feathers were sent out to vacate the surrounding structures—in case the villain decided to go on a rampage.
“H-H-Hawks!”
The Nomu followed the woman’s gaze up to where the hero was.
Taking this opportunity, Hawks made his feathers—that freed the lady’s leg—carry the victim to safety.
“Thank you,” the businesswoman gratefully shouted.
“No problem, just make sure to get that leg checked out,” replied the wing-hero who descended between the buildings and into the mist. He stopped descending at two feet from the ground. At this height, it was easier to analyze his opponent without getting his feet frozen. He wasn’t too fond about seeing his own breath, though…
… At least the mist smelled like pine trees…
Hawks scanned the Nomu from head to toe.
The tall, dark-purple villain was twig-like and had frost covering the majority of its purple, feminine-shaped body. The one eye in the center of its chest glowed blue, and its long, pin-prick hair and claws were in the shape of icicles. The thing was similar to that—what was that thing called again? Uh- the thing from that one movie-
It was on the tip of his tongue-
Oh!
It looked like that ugly mythical lady—La Llorona. The corner top of Hawks’ lip rose. The only reason why he knew about the myth was because he had came home and found his mother watching La Llorona. The creature was hideous, and held hostages just like the Nomu in front of him.
And just like La Llorona, the Nomu cried out in annoyance when its toy had been taken away. Its two crystal-blue eyes were still trained on the woman leaving, and it began to make a full-on sprint towards her.
In fearful anticipation—despite Hawks being there—the lady screamed.
The pro hero immediately sent out multiple feathers to pin the villain down. The majority of the feathers zipped past the dodging creature. And the ones that did pierce, and slow the Nomu down, only hindered its pace. The hair on the back of Hawks’ neck stood up as the villain swung its massive claws at the woman—missing by an inch and toppling over in the process. The Nomu shook the dust off itself, got up, and ran after the woman again. But the pro quickly swooped in and blocked its path.
The thing skidded to a halt.
“Nope,” he challengingly spread his flapping wings out. The extra feathers from the now-empty buildings returned—hovering around him and pointing at the Nomu. “You’re playing with me now.”
In response, the Nomu screeched—misty, ice particles whirled around it and brushed against the hero.
Then it charged at him.
‘So it can control the mist-’ Hawks noted while he evaded a sucker punch to his left—his jacket flowing with the movement. Another to his right nearly caught him off guard, so he flew three meters back. Exhaustion from a week of little to no sleep was beginning to catch up to the hero. Either that or the Nomu was a lot quicker than he thought…
‘Hold on, does it hav-‘ His question was cut off by the answer.
Within the blink of an eye, the creature shot down the alleyway at a speed comparable to his own. It had used the iced ground as a means of travel. Hawks crossed his arms to protect himself from the attack. He sent more of his feathers to slow the Nomu down as he flew backwards in order to get out of the fog. A glittering white layer of frost collected on him from head to toe.
With momentum, the Nomu struck the back of his forearms. The blow sent a shockwave of pain all the way up to the 22-year-old’s shoulders—his sleeves tearing open from the Nomu’s sharp ice-knuckles.
Hawks—ignoring the pain and the fresh blood dripping from his arms—arched his body forward to combat the strike, but he fell a couple inches back.
“Tch- damn, it’s also a speed-type.”
Not that he couldn’t out-run the villain. He could easily fly up to avoid another strike, but—in doing so—that would give the Nomu access to the streets. And—through the feeling of his airborne plumage—he could sense the rustling of civilians from the other sidewalk.
The issues of having onlookers and fans…
‘A pro or the police would be really handy right now!’ What was taking them so long?
The feathers floating around him attached themselves back to his wings. Now that he was engaged in a fight, he needed as much wing-power and feathers as he had. By the way it acted, the Nomu was definitely not smart—but it didn’t mean the pro would let his guard down. Hawks didn’t know what other quirks this villain had. If he were to lose any more feathers, his speed, and what little strength he had, would diminish—potentially giving the Nomu an advantage.
Keeping all his plumage was the safer option for both himself and the civilians behind him.
The two appendages of the pro hero flapped fiercely to give their user the strength to push back against the adversary. The bleeding on his arms increased from the pressure. And from the force of the air current Hawks was creating, trash cans, plastic bags, and pebbles hurled their way out into the sidewalk—the icy mist following the debris.
The creature tried to shove Hawks aside, but it was unable to nudge him more than a couple of inches, so it lurched its right hand to the hero’s left bicep to try and dig its claws into his flesh. Hawks suspected the move and shifted to his right just enough to avoid the hit, and—seeing another opening—the young pro kicked the Nomu in the solar plexus.
Power was not Hawks’ forte. Although Hawks did have muscles, his slightly light bone-structure didn’t allow him to be as strong as most pro heroes, so it was no surprise that his opponent only skidded three meters back before firmly planting its feet and a hand to the ground.
However, in that moment, the pro hero nailed the Nomu’s feet to the concrete using some of the feathers he had used previously to reduce the Nomu’s agility. The young pro threw in some extra feathers to form two small tents around his opponent’s feet—just for precaution.
The action firmly stuck the villain to the ground. Hawks flew close to the Nomu to make sure that the makeshift tents weren’t loose.
The creature howled, spluttering cold spit onto his face-
“Aw, gross man,” the second-ranking pro exclaimed in revulsion while receding away from the flailing Nomu. The spit formed a layer of ice on his glasses, so he took them off, turned to the side, and spat out what got onto his teeth.
The pro wiped his mouth. The leftover feathers lodged in the Nomu’s chest retreated to their dismayed owner.
Now he wished he hadn’t taken this mission…
The creature fastened its hands onto one of its legs and yanked it in vain.
Hawks simply watched, raising an eyebrow…
“SCREEEEEE-“
“Yeah, well,” he bent over and dusted off his pants, “you asked for it,” Hawks finished in distaste. He stood back up and stretched his back out. He waited for a sudden yawn to pass before putting his glasses in his pocket. He proceeded to dust off his jacket—snowflake-bits sparkling as they fell. He then wrapped his hand around the cuts on his arm as he tried to beat his wings against the pavement to get the frost off. He made sure that none of the dust particles went through his hand.
An infection would be the last thing he needed.
Barely managing to even get a few specks of frost off, he sped up the flapping.
No matter how hard he flapped his wing, though, the ice particles stayed on like glue. He let go of his arm and—with one hand—grabbed onto one of the longer plumages. With effort, he scrapped off the shiny bits.
If he could leave the frost on, he would.
But he knew that leaving it on would mean that the winds in which he soared in would solidify the frost. The spring sun wasn’t strong enough to melt it off… He estimated that it would take more than an hour of scraping… That, or he’d make a puddle in the subway train back to HQ…
Although for him to clean his feathers now would mean to awkwardly twist his torso, or remove all the feathers to clean them one-by-one… and doing either option in public would make cleaning ten-times more awkward… not that he cared much about his self-image—it’s just that the committee would lock him up for an hour.
He swore that his ears would blow up if he took another minute of their reprimanding…
‘Looks like I’ll have to take the sub this time…’ The young pro sighed and turned around to face his onlookers—the Nomu huffing in anger behind him. ‘ Right now, though, I need to reassure these people…’
With that notion in mind, he proceeded to saunter out of the alleyway.
Along the way, his stomach growled. He frowned.
‘... Man, ’wonder if I can stop by Chick-A-Doos and see if they sell an eight-piece…’
If it were any other pro hero, they wouldn’t be thinking about food—nor walk away from the Nomu. They’d stay put with the villain until Musutafu’s police arrived. But—since he could feel his feathers keeping the Nomu in place—there wasn’t a need to supervise the villain.
Or at least that’s what he thought before he heard a swift SLIIICE-
“SSCCREEEEEE-“
“The hell-“ Hawks cursed as he spun back. No way that Nomu could’ve-
The wing-hero gapped while the crowd behind him gasped.
…Well then.
His dark-circled eye twitched.
There goes his lunch plans…
Like chocolate-chip pancakes with maple syrup, the creature’s right ankle—along with the now torn feathers—were severed off in pieces. The tibia and fibula unnaturally exposed like the bone of a chicken leg…
Great…
As if that wasn’t gruesome enough, it was about to chop off its other foot-
“Please don’t,” the dirty blonde's shoulders stiffened while he groaned. Was this Nomu trying to make him feel disgusted? Because it sure was making him feel sick.
Not wanting to see another foot be slaughtered off, Hawks directed more of his feathers to ground the villain’s hands.
Suddenly, the Nomu let out an echoing shriek. A blast of cold mist erupted from the eye on its chest. When the mist touched the airborne feathers, the feathers instantly froze-over—gravity crashing them into bits on the freezing-over pavement.
“Crap,” uttered the number two pro as he dropped to the ground and automatically hid underneath the protection of his scarlet-red wings. He then used his wings to lift his feet off the ground.
The mini squall wrapped around his appendages like a tide of water would against a peninsula-shaped, storm-surge barrier. Plums of chilly, visible gusts slipped through the gaps of his feathers and tickled his face. Between those gaps, Hawks could see the Nomu cutting off its left foot—setting itself free. He also saw that his plumage was starting to grow a layer of ice. He tried to move them to stop the ice from getting any thicker, but it was too late. There was already an inch of ice stuck in between and on his feathers—essentially giving the villain the upper-hand.
“Damn,” he swore and shivered when he tried to move his left-wing. He’s back beginning to freeze over.
Cr-crack- crack-
Hawks’ eyebrows scrunched together whilst he bit his lower lip. The icy creature faltered in its tramp towards its new toy—but it kept going as if the stubs on its legs didn’t hurt. The closer it got, the colder the atmosphere around him became. Hawks tried to flutter the frozen left limb, but his efforts were for naught. He was only able to move it by a mere five inches at best, and the other appendage was out of the question. Like the businesswoman he saved earlier, his frigid, solid right-wing was merged to the ground by ice. Even his clothing was starting to stiffen from the dropping temperature.
The creature—stifling the pain from its stubs—picked up its pace.
If Hawks had to pick his third most disastrous quirk combination, it’d be this. The second would be a wind-manipulating quirk…
And his first would be-
The Nomu reached to where the dirty-blonde hero was and lifted its claws. Hawks tried to maneuver himself out of the way, but he couldn’t. He opted instead to sweep-kick his opponent from underneath his wings. It’d be awkward—the move wouldn’t even do much—but at least there was a higher chance that those claws would miss his vital organs. He could hear the crowd of people gasping again behind him.
Just when he was about to, hopefully, knock the Nomu off its feet, flames from above doused the villain—making it stumble backwards.
“SCREEEEE-“ The villain tripped and fell backwards.
Fire.
That was the number-one worst quirk match-up he could possibly have…
The disabled pro glanced up to where the flames came from.
Good thing those flames were on his side.
Hawks rubbed his own shoulders. “Hey Endeavor, k-kinda late aren’t we,” quipped the number two through chattering teeth.
“I came here as quick as I could,” lacklusterly growled out the number one without making eye-contact with the 22-year-old. Endeavor’s focus was on the villain that was trying to stand up. The hot-head allowed the flames on his feet to dwindle so that he could descend between the immobile hero and the villain. The blaze on Enji’s back increased in temperature—slowly beginning to melt off the ice on the wings of the pro next to him. The boy placed his feet on the ground in a crouch.
Hawks’ eyes glimmered at his childhood idol, but he covered his admiration with a halfhearted, teasing grin. “Thanks man, I didn’t kn-know you cared.”
In irritation, the older male’s eyes slid over to the younger one—or at least they tried to. The boy was barely visible under that red-iced igloo. “I’m only doing this out of courtesy.”
The struggling villain attempted to throw another blast of below-zero mist at the heroes, but the top ranker countered the arctic burst with a scorching blast of his own.
The ice on Hawks’ feathers continued to dissolve—bits and pieces of it breaking off as he budged his wings loose. Pins and needles making themselves known in his wings. “Sure thing,” the bird-like pro replied to his colleague.
Endeavor huffed as he faced and looked at the Nomu; the younger hero followed his gaze. The elder pro’s eyes somewhat widened when he caught sight of the creature’s legs.
“Did you-“
“No I didn’t,” Hawks interrupted and casted his mustard-yellow eyes to the ground, “and please don’t remind me-'' He broke off what was left of the ice attached to his appendages, and stood up from his crouch. “I’m about to eat in a bit.” Then he spread his hands towards the heat of Endeavor’s flames. “Wanna join me after my conference is done?”
“I’m not here for small-talk.”
The villain finally got back on its stubs. Endeavor stretched his right palm to the Nomu—like a certain Saiyan.
“It’s Wednesday, they got the burgers on the house, I’m sure you can fit one or two in there-“
“Just shut up and call the police,” sternly ordered the hot-head while he knocked the creature back down with another fire-blast.
Hawks gave him a casual smirk—one that held back amusement. This time, the young hero pinned all four of the villain’s limbs to the ground with his feathers. Then he fished for the orange phone in his jacket, pulled it out, and dialed in the extension that connected pros to the nearest police station.
Aside from arresting criminals, pros would often report to the police because the officers were the ones who would, not only take the villain in, but fill out documentary proof of a hero's work. The papers would be sent to the city’s town hall—where the government keeps tabs on how much money a pro, and their agency, earns weekly.
However, for pros like Hawks—who, more than half of the time, work for a committee—they earn their amount of weekly earnings based on the decisions of a committee’s councilmen.
Popularity is also an influencing factor of a pro hero’s salary. Popularity can only increase the earning interest rate of a pro’s salary, but it would only make a huge effect if the pro was really well known. The government and the councilmen would calculate a pro’s earning interest rate by their popularity ranking. It was no wonder why the top pros would often live in mansions, or be seen wearing expensive, trendy clothes.
Speaking of clothes…
While holding the ringing phone between his shoulder and cheek, Hawks examined his torn left sleeve. It wasn’t beyond repair, but it was pretty tattered—not to mention bloody…
‘Gonna have to send this back to Best Jeanist’s,’ mentally noted the pro. He wasn’t worried much about the wound on his arm—the HPSC had their own hired healers at headquarters. Now that his wings were basically thawed, he could just fly back to headquarters and get his arm healed—or he could wait for the medics to arrive. He opted for the first option as he would get his arm fixed faster if he went to HQ.
Ring-
Ring-
“Hello, Musutafu Police Station 35’s hero-line, Officer Jonas speaking. Can I have the IDs of the heroes involved?”
‘Huh, looks like they hired a new police officer…’ thought Hawks as Endeavor gave him a gesture to keep an eye on the Nomu. Even though the winged-hero wasn’t going to watch the villain, Hawks nodded and gave his childhood idol a thumbs up. He accidentally moved his wings and let out a chortle—the nerves in his wings were sensitive after having just recuperated…
The flame hero stared at him in confusion, and Hawks snickered at his expression. Endeavor scowled and began to make his way over to the crowd to check on and assure the civilians—if they weren’t intimidated…
Hawks turned his attention back to the police officer. “Hey, sorry for the wait. Nice to meet ya’, my ID’s 177013 and my colleague's is 100738.” Usually, Hawks would just say his and Endeavor’s names, but—since he was dealing with a rookie—he decided to make the newbie’s job a little easier.
“Huh… sorry, can you repeat those numbers? It was a little too fast.”
Or not.
The number two rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, the first one is 1-77… 0-13…”
“...Okay, got it. And the other one?”
“1-0-0… 7-38…”
He heard the novice type the numbers into the computer before tabbing the enter key. Then there was a moment of silence before the officer’s voice detonated in his ear.
“WHOA, HAWKS AND ENDEAVOR?! I ONLY JUST STARTED THIS JOB!”
“Well, get used to filing our reports, man, ‘cause we work twenty-four seven,” Hawks chuckled into the cell-phone.
“F-for sure! Uh-“ stumbled the newb as he clicked a few things. “C-can you please give a description of the criminal, sir?”
“Hawks is fine, and it’s a Nomu with both an ice-quirk and a speed-quirk. Not sure if it has any other abilities, though. It’s about seven-foot-five, and it’s pretty skinny. Has light-blue eyes—one of them is on its back—claws, and it’s missing both of its feet…”
“...”
“We didn’t do it-“
“O-okay, gotcha, anything else?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Can I get a brief summary of how the villain was arrested,” the novice asked.
Although he wouldn’t mention it, Hawks could literally hear the excitement in the dude’s tone. In a sense, the guy kind of reminded him of a hyperactive pooch that’d wag its tail at everything.
‘Looks like he’s a fan .”
But he could tell, just by how the rookie expressed himself, that the policeman wouldn’t hurt a fly. Similar to Bubaigawara…
A soft smile etched on his face.
He only wished to be that pure…
Putting more than enough detail into the summary, Hawks described the fight in less than three minutes. He did his best to keep a straight face each time he budged his ticklish wings. Once he was done, he thanked the officer, called HQ to let them know that the villain was taken care of, told them that he'd be back in fifteen minutes, and stuffed his phone back into his pocket.
Once the sensitivity in his wings stopped, he then flew his way over to Endeavor—who was calming and freaking people out at the same time. When the citizens saw the wing hero approaching them, they all greeted and thanked him. Some of them were asking if he was okay. Hawks reassured them that he was fine and returned the gestures without having the number one notice that he was there—up until he walked up to him and addressed the man himself.
“Endeavor.”
Said hero frowned when he heard the dirty blonde's voice next to him. The crowded people watched with awe at the interaction between the top heroes.
“I forgot to thank you for the save back there.” Hawks slouched over himself—adrenaline finally leaving his system.
The number one faced him—his teal-blue eyes narrowing in minor concern now that he could see the dark circles under the young pro’s eyes. Was the buffoon pulling all-nighters? “Didn’t I tell you to stay with the villain,” curtly reproached the flame hero.
“Yeah,” Hawks answered.
A simper grew on the 22-year-old’s tired face.
Seconds went by where the number one stared at the brat—waiting for an explanation.
“…”
It never came…
A vein throbbed underneath the flame hero’s scar.
“Aren’t you going to go back?”
“Nah, I came here to thank ya,’ number one.” Hawks gave him a harsh pat on the back—Enji’s flames flickered in annoyance. “Are you certain you don’t wanna join me for some chicken nug-“
“Go back and supervise that Nomu,” nearly hissed the older man in a half-whisper so that the people behind him wouldn’t hear. (He wasn’t restraining his temper to try to be soft on the kid- nope, not at all…)
The younger pro’s eyebrows rose and drew together as he let out a short laugh.
“Heh, no need to get so worked up, man.” Hawks lazily brought his hand up and waved his palm forward. “I can feel my feathers holding the Nomu down, it isn’t even straining against them anymore.” Enji dumbfoundedly glared at the boy.
The younger hero wanted to laugh again but cocked his head instead when he heard sirens in the distance. “Oh, and the police’re already here.”
“Then stop pestering me, put some deodorant on, and find something productive to do.”
Putting a hand to his forehead, and sliding his feet together, Hawks saluted the top hero. He ignored the embarrassing jab at his hygiene.
The vein in Endeavor’s head almost broke.
Like a moron, the red-winged hero pivoted on one foot, and marched his way towards the police cars that were just now arriving.
Endeavor somewhat hunched forward—the crowd behind him giggling at their exchange. He didn’t know what he did to deserve dealing with such a childish fool…
***
Having debriefed the personnel and turned the villain in—not to mention bothering Endeavor some more before the flame hero left—Hawks took flight into the sky. He needed to be at HQ in less than five minutes—otherwise, he’d get an earful from the president. Which would probably extend the currently paused meeting.
Hopefully, HQ served spicy fried chicken today… the chiefs knew he loved that and that would really help him be more alert. If they didn’t serve that today then at least he’d get to use one of the spare deodorants in the changing room… A tinge of red appeared on his cheek as a sweat-drop formed on his temple.
He’d like to forget that recent interaction with his childhood idol…
The 22-year-old rose to soar above the clouds, but—no sooner had he ascended—a flock of pigeons, taking-off from a roof-top, collided into him.
“Whaa-pfft-“
The first bird crashed into his face—giving him a mouthful of grey plumages. He reflexively grabbed the terrified bird—whose little, unfocused eyes nearly popped out of its tiny head—and tossed it aside. Spitting out as many feathers as he could, he crossed his arms in defense from the rest of the pigeons. They all fearfully cooed at him, and flapped their wings against his bloody arms.
Two took a shat on his glasses.
Another four painted his jacket with primer-white splats.
‘Nice,’ Hawks internally groaned.
One stuck itself in the nook between his shoulder and neck. Its tiny head and beak sporadically wiping themselves on his cheek.
“What the-“ He brushed the pigeon off.
There were more of them behind the first batch, so he dropped his altitude a couple feet to prevent another bird from hitting him.
He scratched his eye and rubbed the front of his head.
‘Boy, am I off today… guess that’s what happens when you sleep for two hours…’ reflected the pro.
He breathed out. He would never sleep less than eight hours a night. The only reason why he had was because he had been with the League of Villains last night.
… Having two lives was hard.
He didn’t think he’d ever understand how the other pros, like Best Jeanist, enjoyed and juggled between three : hero work, business, and normal life. Three problems mixed together…
Not that Hawks couldn’t handle it if he had three lives—he was an expert when it came to multitasking—it’s just that it’s too much effort.
It was difficult managing between being a hero and a villain as is. He hadn’t had a decent night’s rest in weeks!
He sighed.
***
“You’re one minute late,” the president immediately pointed out as their spy closed the door behind himself. He fastened the bandage wraps against the faint wound on his arm.
Then he lopsidedly turned his head to her direction. A strand of his hair blocked part of his sight. “Yeah, sorry. There was a bit of avian traffic…”
If it was a fan of his who heard that, he was positive that they’d snicker. The president, however, merely blinked at him. A dead fish stare… The rest of the silent committee did the same.
‘As dry and bitter as always,’ the young adult forced a poker face upon himself so that he wouldn’t roll his eyes.
“But I’m here now, so let’s resume the meeting, shall we?”
The president gave him a nod and she turned back to the three board members. The young pro stood where he normally would while they began the conference again.
As they were discussing his next mission, he let out a small hawk—yes, pun intended—and brought his fisted hand to his mouth to stifle it. The clearing out of his throat was ignored, but when he started outright coughing they all turned their heads to him.
He waved his right hand to them.“‘Xcuse me- cough- ‘think I got something in my- cough- cough- throat.”
The HPSC leader didn’t even bat an eye. “If you need to leave for a couple of minutes, go. I’ll keep you here after the meeting in case you miss anything important.”
“Thanks- cough -“ That final cough pushed the culprit of his hacking out of his mouth before he could leave the room. All three of the HPSC members—including their chairwoman—stared at the feather floating in front of his face.
There went his mini-break…
They all nictitate in the quietness, and watched the small plumage drift down to the crimson carpet.
Hawks’ mouth puckered as his widened eyes followed the feather… Then he looked up—eyes nearly watering when he held back his mirth at the sight of their expressions.
“... I… didn’t even know that was in there.”
The president slowly face-palmed…
*Actual photo of Hawks eating HQ’s spicy chicken nuggets*