Darkscythe Drake
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Assassin Among Heroes Ch 33
🕑 Added 2024-11-17 20:03:52 +0000 UTC“Done shopping?”
I shoot a mild glare at the burnt man’s question. “Yes. I apologize for that last-minute errand, but it couldn’t be helped.”
Dabi grunts and pushes himself from the wall he’s leaning on. “What was so important you took a detour all the way to the market?”
“New knives,” I respond, whipping one out from my left boot. “My suppliers did not have them on hand so I had to request an order. I was informed they came in just today.”
My visit to Shadow Gear was an… awkward experience, or at least that’s how I felt it was. Someone who kills criminals openly talking to a black arms dealer? I was half sure they’d gouge, if not refuse me. Despite this, the salesman treated me no differently than last time. When he gave me the knives and the repaired suit, he stated like he had a mind-reading Quirk, that ‘the business would not infringe upon client confidentiality as long as the business’s confidentiality is not infringed upon.’
Or ‘you shut up, and so will we.’ Good enough deal. It was worth dropping off the spare suit back in Hosu. Thank goodness for modern trains.
“Suppliers, eh?” He tilts his head at me, seemingly aloof yet inquisitive. “Looks sharp. You don’t seem like the type to lose your gear though.”
“The circumstances were,” I pause for a moment, trying to find the right word. “Severe.”
“Severe?” he asks. We head down the alleys, with only the shadows and roaches for company. The human sounds of the city buzz in my ears, but they are far enough to treat as white noise.
“I’m guessing it had something to do with the whole corpse message mess, right? You didn’t bug me about it for a week and I’ve been digging all over for any scrap of intel.”
I briefly flicker to him. “Indeed,” I reply. I never thought of my scarred associate as dumb, not by any stretch of the word, but his insight’s sharper than I would’ve guessed. “I found a lead and the situation escalated beyond my foresight. I had to act fast.”
He shrugs. “No problem. As long as I get my cash.” He stares forward as we head deeper into the ward. Despite my Quirk’s assurance, I can’t help but mull over the plan. I am in no way reckless here; when I went down to the Nine Rings again after so long I feared a dozen things would go wrong. It took me two trips, but I managed to overhear a grunt whining about his boss, something about moving a ‘product’ from somewhere for delivery. When he left, thankfully on foot, I cornered and…persuaded him to unlock his phone for me. The photos I saw there made me glad I slit his throat and threw his corpse in the big garbage bin a block away.
Wow. Looking back, that was brutal. But those photos…eugh, I deleted those straight away.
“You sure we’re headed the right way?” he asks while looking around. The ward we were in wasn’t a graveyard like Naruhata, but a cement mixer with some demolition trucks on a street or two wouldn’t hurt. A few of the streetlights were broken and I could see garbage strewn in some of the alleys. More talking and mumblings trickled in from the upper floors of the residential buildings, all wrapped up in their evening lives.
“Are you sure you want to be walking around like this?” he asks. “What about cops or Heroes doing a sudden patrol?”
“I did an early check. Patrols don’t pass by this area.” I didn’t, but I don’t want to reveal my Quirk. Better not show him all my cards. I pull out the phone I took from the ex-yakuza and pulled up his maps app. “We should be there in a minute, to the right of that intersection over yonder.”
Dabi nods and looks both ways, his hands still in his pockets. His posture is relaxed, but I can practically feel the loaded springs in his arms. The moment he wanted to - let there be fire.
“Who was the psycho in the end?” he asks.
“A fake priest with a penchant for mad science projects. He took over an apartment building and turned everyone there into zombies.”
“Zombies?” he turns and gives me a skeptical glance. “You’re joking.”
“If they were alive, they were better off dead,” I retort. “I don’t know what he did to them and the details are best left buried, but regardless of the how, he could command them, or at least direct their rampaging instincts.”
He whistles lowly and I briefly frown. While my Quirk has gotten better at dealing with these sudden noises, it didn’t change the fact that they were loud.
“Sounds like B-grade horror movie shit. What did he want with you specifically?”
“He had some delusion about the meaning of life through death, I was too busy cutting down the zombies to listen, not that it mattered,” I scoff. “He died like they did.”
“Extra crispy I take it?” he asks, a sharp grin on his features. “It’s kind of a recurrence with you.”
I don’t reply as we turn at the intersection and head down the new street. This seems quieter than the rest. It’s a little wider, enough for cars to park next to the curb and not on it. I check the phone again to confirm we’re moving in the right direction. My eyes flash to the time; almost midnight.
A week ago Mom would’ve pestered me for my homework.
She let up on my grounding when my wounds healed enough so that I no longer needed the bandages. There was still a light pressure if she poked the area too hard, but not nearly the same level of pain as before. It took some pleading and a solemn vow on my copy of The Silk Road never to do anything as moronic as rush into a possible villain site again for her to let up. Even Makoto-sensei, ever my kind-but-nosy teacher, gave a short yet firm lecture on stupidity to not even try things like that in her classroom. At least she commended me on completing my homework.
A few of my classmates asked about what happened, and I gave them an even more abridged version of the truth. They were excited at first, eager to hear about whatever Villain rampaged in some part of the city, only to be apologetic when I told them I was knocked out. Yet I could pick up the slight traces of disappointment over the fact I had no juicy action to tell.
Why the hell are they so interested in what the Villain did instead of first asking me if I was okay? Isn’t that common sense?
I banished that sudden thought. I shouldn’t be too bothered; my classmates acted like any teenager our age would. Unless they were in the thick of it, Hero on Villain violence was essentially live TV for them.
Is that as messed up as it sounds?
I halt that train of thought as I look at the app again. “We’re here.”
We both look up and stare at the two buildings flanking us. Both of them looked innocuous enough, residentials with shabby walls, but one of them drew my attention.
“You sure?” he asks, raising a thin eyebrow. “Doesn’t scream ‘drug lab’, though I’m guessing it’s kinda the point.”
“From his maps records, I’d say this is the best match I have. Besides, look at the windows on the one on the left,” I point to the aforementioned windows and he follows my finger. “Blacked-out windows,” I point to the ground. “A lot of trash here. Why so many pipes for a basement?”
Dabi stares for a moment before slowly nodding. “If you say so. The smell here is also kinda off. You’ve done a raid before?”
“No, but I have my sources.”
Thank you, internet. Your rabbit hole of disturbing content actually proves useful and not mind-scarring for once.
I move my attention to the door. It blends in with the building, but it looks too new. I Conceal myself and walk to it, looking everywhere I can. No cameras out here, but it doesn’t tell me anything about the inside. I gently push down on the handle and feel it halt under my fingers. Locked, but it doesn’t look sophisticated. I crank up my Quirk and press my ear to the door, only to hear faint murmurs from…roughly ahead and below. Alright, time to strategize.
I return to Dabi and un-Conceal. “How good are you at controlling that fire?”
He smirks. “If I want it to burn, it’ll burn. Unless we’re dealing with a lake’s worth of retardant, I can incinerate anything that might come up.”
“I meant more in a confined sense. We are dealing with urban combat, and indoors to boot. We cannot afford to destroy anything in the lab or alert anyone on the outside, especially the cops or fire department. Any fighting has to be quick, lethal and precise.”
He grumbles for a bit, to which I deadpan at him. “Why the hell do you care if I blow up anything there? You’re no dealer and I’d eat my coat before you’d become one.”
“That is correct. I simply need to use that lab for other purposes,” I wonder if I should stop here, but I think it’s best to throw him a bone. “There’s something I wish to make that requires tools a drug lab possesses. Besides, I’m all but sure your paycheck is inside that room. So unless you’d rather burn away your money, I need to know if you can limit your flames.”
His irritation vanishes before he chuckles. “Heh, you could’ve just led with the money.” He looks at his hands and flexes his fingers. “Shotgun blasts, eh? Sure, I can do that. I know how not to burn down a building, give me a little credit. It’s still gonna be messy, and I hope you don’t mind the smell.”
“We worry about that later. If it gets bad, there’s bound to be gas masks in there,” From what I’ve read, the competent setups at least have proper equipment; even drug makers know not to inhale what they cook. Not to mention my mask can filter out anything nasty. “Have your phone at the ready. When the coast is clear, I’ll send you a text.”
He nods and does as I say. “Got it.”
I Conceal myself again and return to the door. I look at the lock and consider using my latest purchase to try and lockpick the door; the multitool I bought came with built-in lockpicks and I’ve gotten around to watching a few videos. It would look cleaner to the outside observer…but I can’t afford to take my time here, nor can I bust open a window. So, muttering a quick prayer to whoever was listening, I take a knife and jam it into the lock. With a quick turn, the door gives way and I look inside. Faded paint, functional lights, but most importantly, empty.
There is an upper floor and I could investigate it…but I have a better idea. I take a deep breath and feel the Valley whisper in my mind’s eye, the words coming to me with clarity.
“Sound and sight, bestow upon me thy revelations…
ZABANIYA!”
The world before me flashes in flickers of light and outlines, all throughout the building and even back outside. I navigate up the stairs, listening to every drop of leaky water, every skittering insect in every room. All the way to the rooftop I observe, and only when I trace my metaphorical steps back to me I sigh in mild relief. No tenants in the building, which makes sense. A drug lab wouldn’t want nosy neighbors complaining about the smell. There’s electricity here, but I didn’t hear any of it running to this floor outside of the usual wiring, which means no cameras, or even functioning fire alarms. Now for below…
I focus on the hallway and navigate through it and past the unlocked door to the lower left. A flight of stairs lies behind it and at its end, I ‘see’ another door, thicker and stronger than the one before it. I push my ability and ‘slip’ under the door to hear a number of people, six - no, seven - of them milling around the hidden room. They don’t speak and the rapid-fire sound of typing pings my vision. I…move? Is that the word to use here? I move through the room, pinging every shape and form I can think of. I keep going until the map of the room is firmly etched in the back of my mind.
With a mental pull, the outlines disappear and I’m back at the hallway’s entrance. I take a few deep breaths to adjust myself; the sudden loss of my enhanced senses isn’t kind to my skull, and unlike the Araya affair, there’s no adrenaline to block it out. Once I‘m back in sync, I pull out my work phone and text Dabi.
We’re clear in the main hallway. Get in and stick to the door on the far left.
Putting the phone away, I creep to the door and gently open it. It lightly creaks, but otherwise gives no resistance. The stairwell’s two lamps bathe it in a faded, almost sterile glow. At the bottom, I see the steel door and understand why it sounded different. No lockpick was going to open it, and even if I could jam my knife there, it would take too long to remove. I need to get their attention and open the door.
I quickly text my accomplice. When I give the signal, charge. You’ll know.
I hear him in the hallway shuffling in place. I walk down the stairwell until I’m almost touching the door. Time to cast the reel.
Using the stolen phone, I pull out the thug’s boss. From what he jabbered on while drunk, his supervisor was also in the lab. A paranoid bastard who liked to micromanage his minions. I’ve kept him from suspecting anything by sending out periodic text messages of my supposed status and saying it was better we didn’t directly talk. The guy actually bought that, to my surprise. Let’s see if it still holds up.
I’m outside. Need help with package. Urgent.
I send the text and brace myself. I told Dabi this needed to be a delicate operation. Time to see if I can hold to my own words.
I step back as the door unlocks and a man with thin tentacles growing from the sides of his head and wearing a facemask steps out the door. He walks past my invisible form and up the stairs. The moment he slips past me, I sneak into the lab. It’s rather spacious, bigger than my hideout. Several people wearing a mixture of hazmat suits, facemasks and gas masks mill around the area. Most of them pack small vials and bags of white powder into cardboard boxes while one washes a set of chemistry equipment and paraphernalia. The far left of the room is partitioned away and through the curtains, I see the silhouette of a figure pacing around in an office space.
The muffled scream and sudden roar from upstairs promptly remind me that I can survey the room later. Without waiting for them to react, I throw my knives right at two of their necks. Right as the blades sink through their suits and into their flesh, I dash to them and pull them away from the tables with the potentially hazardous equipment.
“Shit, BOSS! WE’VE GOT COMPANY!”
I turn to the shouting thug, summon back a knife, and throw it between his eyes. I pull him away as well, right as Dabi comes running through the door. The remaining two thugs try to run, but he grabs them and throws them through the entranceway. With a deformed grin, he runs after them and for a moment the stairwell flashes a bright blue.
“What the fuck is this!?” I turn again, this time to the shouting would-be boss. His face is scrunched with palpable rage toward the door and he grips a bowie knife tightly.
Dabi steps out of the doorway, hands aflame, and stares lazily at the head goon. “Your new cleaning services. Drop the knife unless you wanna end up like your cronies.”
The boss snarls and gets ready to charge, but I lunge and wrestle him to the ground. He struggles briefly but the sensation of a knife at his throat silences him, leaving him breathing haggardly. “I would rather you listen to my associate,” I say into his ear. “I prefer to do this cleanly.”
“Who-wha?” he stammers and his panicked eyes dart to and fro. He wiggles again, but a firm press of my blade stills him.
“I have some questions and I’d kindly ask you to cooperate. Third-degree burns are hard to treat, even in this day and age. Isn’t that right, Dabi?”
Dabi raises his arm and engulfs it in blue flames. “Sure is. I’m the walking example.”
The thug gulps and I see the terror spreading through him. “Wh-what do you want?”
“This lab, does anyone outside of your ex-minions and yourself know about it?”
“N-no, the b-bosses don’t want anyone tracing them. A-as long as t-they get their product, they don’t check.”
“And who are these bosses of yours?” The man pauses and then swallows. His expression turns stony and he sneers at Dabi, despite his quivering lip.
“Fuck you and-”
I move my dagger to his nose and lightly press upwards. He chokes on air as the resolve vanishes. “Language. If it makes you feel better, I just want to know if they’re in a group.”
“Ha-Hassaikai! Shie Hassaikai!” he stammers. I raise a brow. Where did I hear that name? Wait!
“Yakuza, right?” he nods like a bobblehead. “Small world. Second question, you seem like a shrewd one. No doubt you have an emergency cash supply here. If you’d be so kind as to tell us where it is, I’ll convince Dabi here to spare you.”
His eyes shift between Dabi and the edge of his office before he whimpers. “Th-there’s a safe next to the drawers. The key’s in my pocket.”
“Search him,” I say to Dabi and he gets down and digs around in the guy’s pockets until he fishes out a set of keys. “Go there and open that safe, and bring any cellphones you see. We’ll see if our new friend here is a liar.”
Still sporting that grin, my scarred partner heads to the partitioned section while I maintain my hold on the gangster. A few seconds later I hear the loud click on a lock and Dabi comes out holding a wad of bills and a black smartphone. “Jackpot!”
The man kept whimpering even as his face flushed with anger. “Now, now, don’t feel bad. All that money will go to a better cause than feasting on the vices of the masses. Final question, what’s the password on your phone?”
The red on the thug’s face remains, but he averts his eyes and replies hesitantly. “It…I don’t have one.”
…
“Huh, that’s a first. You criminal types are usually careful about your dirty secrets,” I remark. “Dabi, would you mind?”
Dabi swipes the phone screen and shows the home page. “Fuck me, he’s not joking.” He smiles mockingly at the thug. “For a moment I thought you were a pro at this, what with the setup you have here.”
I look around and spot a closet in one of the corners. “Are those cleaning supplies in there?”
“Y-yes, why?”
I finally remove my Concealment and watch as the thug’s eyes nearly pop out of their saggy sockets in terror and recognition. “I’ll be needing those soon.”
The man violently thrashed under my hold as his voice rose in pitch. If he continues, I’d wager he’ll piss himself. “WHY ME!? I DIDN’T DO NOTHING! ALL I WANTED WAS SOME CASH!”
“And you chose to sell drugs, shoot witnesses and even your men, from what your deceased deliveryman told me.”
“THAT’S JUST PART OF THE BUSINESS! IT’S NOTHIN’ PERSONAL!” he screams.
I grit my teeth as my grip on the knife tightens. “Then you won’t mind this.”
With one quick move, I slash his throat open. The red life-liquid spurts out of his jugular and stains the floor. He flounders in place like a fish, choking on his blood as it dribbles down his chin. I stab him again in the skull right through the brain. The blade leaves his skull and after a second, he falls silent.
I stand up and wipe the knife on his coat, ridding it of most of the blood and brain matter…ugh. Maybe I should’ve just stuck to the neck.
“Heh, gotta say, I’ve never seen you work up close before,” says Dabi. “You could’ve made him talk more.”
“He had nothing more to tell me,” I reply and go to the office. Inside is a desk topped with a few papers and some white lines I’m sure aren’t from chalk. Flanking it is a mini-fridge with a kettle on top and a small, open safe with a few stacks of yen bills. Jackpot indeed. I turn and head to the closet, and once I open it I take the mop, squeegee, and bucket from inside.
“I was joking when I saidw we’re the cleanup crew,” my companion says. “You always do this?”
“No, there’s usually no need. But I require this place much more than their bodies.” I spot a rolling cart under one of the tables and head over to take it out. “Help me out here.”
He looks at the leader’s body and his nose wrinkles like he’d swallowed a lemon. Really? You’re a bonafide pyromaniac and you don’t like dealing with corpses? Neither do I - hell, there’s a reason I don’t stick around them - but needs must. “What’re you planning?”
“Part of the reason I asked you to come. I need to destroy the evidence. I don’t have a barrel of acid on me, so you’re the next best bet.”
At his deadpan look I retort, “I told you the job would be dirty.”
“I thought you meant there’d be a lot of targets, not this,” he exclaims, gesturing to the mess.
I do not need this right now. “I’ll pay you an extra wad, just shut up and help me.”
Dabi grumbles for a moment before sighing and moving to another body. “Fine. Where do you wanna take them?”
“We passed by an alleyway with no windows right around here. Once we’re there, you can burn the whole lot.”
With that, we pile up the bodies into the cart. When Dabi brings back the ones he dealt with personally, I hold back my gagging. The head is a push away from crumbling into dust, and the clothes have melted into the skin from the waist down. As we lift the cart up the stairs, I spot the scorch marks on the walls ringed by dried blood under the lights. I’m sure the nausea would’ve returned full force if it wasn’t for my mask. Not that Dabi is cool as a cucumber about this; despite this being his work, he pointedly averts his gaze, and I hear him stilling his breath. We make it to the top and pile up the last body before opening the door and rolling the cart outside. My Quirk doesn’t detect any stray civilians or even the odd drunkard, so I motion for Dabi to follow as I wheel the cart down the street while he walks beside me, pushing the bodies so they don’t topple over. I don’t blame him for only touching the clothed part of the corpses.
“There’s a sink with soap down there, so don’t worry.”
The statement does little to assuage him, but he holds his tongue until we reach the alley I mentioned earlier. I push further and dump the bodies on the ground. Throwing the delivery man’s phone into the mix, I take a few steps back and point. “Fire away.”
Dabi swipes his hand and a bright blue fireball flies out of it and envelopes the corpse pile, lighting up the alley in a flash. The heat wave flies against me and I look away from the burning heap. Concealing myself just in case I keep an ear out past the crackling of the flames. No cars, no passers-by, just how I want it.
Surprisingly, it doesn’t take long, less than a minute before the corpses disappear and all that’s left is a smoldering pile of ashes. Dabi approaches it and snuffs the fire out with a wave, even kicking them around for good measure. He turns to me and blinks in surprise before his expression settles. “You there?”
“I kept watch. Let’s get out of here.”
Cart in hand, we run back to the building, close the door behind us and descend the stairs. Once we’re in the lab, I reveal myself and sigh in relief. That felt way too close. Cleaning up the scene was way more disgusting than I imagined. I knew I’d face difficulties, but it’s not like there’s an abandoned, fully-stocked chemistry lab out there in the city. Speaking of that…
I move past Dabi washing his hands in the sink and I look at the lab properly. A row of tables lines the wall, topped with an assortment of beakers, vials, and flasks. Some lay on their trays, others hung by clamps or above bunsen burners. There were weights and even a mortar and pestle on one table. What were they making here?
“Oi, what’re you gonna do with these?” I turn to see Dabi pointing at the boxes filled with drugs.
“I would prefer they be disposed of.”
“Can I take them?” I shoot him a look and he raises his hands. “Relax, I’m no druggie. It gets tempting, I’ll admit, especially when your skin falls off the moment you look away and it itches like twenty kinds of hell. But I’ve seen what happens to the poor bastards who get hooked. That’s more than enough for me not to touch them.”
I narrow my eyes. “What will you do then?”
“Find some dump, throw them in, and then burn the lot like those corpses.”
Sounds reasonable. I mull the idea over before I reply. “As long as you don’t show them to anyone, fine by me.”
He chuckles. “Sure thing.” He picks up a bag and looks it over for a few seconds, then he whistles. “Damn, these are high-end drugs.”
“What do you mean?” I ask. He raises the bag high and points to it.
“You see the green splotches in some of the crystals?” I look closer and nod. “That’s Trigger. I’ve seen these around before, the dealers lace it with drugs to add an extra kick to the high. Seriously illegal though. Thinking about it, it makes sense they’d do it here. The lab looks too small to actually make drugs.”
Wow, that is nasty. I’ve heard of the drug and seen news reports of confiscated vials. “Will your fire cause it to react?”
“I’ll keep my distance for it not to matter.”
“Good to know.” He puts the bag back down and I go to the vault. Pulling out a wad of cash, I return and hand it to him. “Your extra pay. You can go with those drugs now.”
He takes the offered cash and looks above him for a moment. “You know what? I’ll stick around, at least until you’re done here with…whatever it is you need to do.”
Okay, that’s unexpected. “Why the sudden change of heart?”
“Knowing you, a Villain or more of those yakuza are gonna barge through that door any moment. I might as well blow off some steam.”
I look at his grinning face before shrugging. “Fine, but don’t touch anything. I’ll be cleaning all the blood and gunk away.”
He nods and heads to the office space, no doubt to sit in that chair. In the meantime, I grab a bleach bottle and a bucket from the closet and fill it with water from the sink. There’s a drain under one of the tables so after I splash the water all around, I take the mop and start scrubbing.
The first few minutes pass by in relative silence, with only scrubbing and the occasional riffling of bills disturbing it. Eventually, when I pass by the office, Dabi speaks up.
“Say, why the hell is a yakuza operation this complex even a thing? They’re supposed to be dinosaurs in this day and age.”
“That much is true,” I concede. “At the dawn of the Heroic Age, the yakuza and many of the traditional crime families of the old world like the mafia couldn’t keep up with the influx of Heroes and Villains. It’s kind of hard to be intimidating when whoever it is you want to extort or mug can suddenly shoot lasers from their eyes and fry your men. Many of them died out, and those who survived barely hung on. That being said, the ones that did survive, like the yakuza, did so by sticking to smaller and smaller operations, like smuggling and low-level drugs. Not even bribery and corruption, though there were plenty of those. The Nishinari, Kamachuro, and Tsukimino Raids of the early century crippled the yakuza’s ability to operate on a scale like that. It’s only in recent years that they’ve been able to ramp up their operations, and not much. In short, they’re not dead, but they’re nowhere near the level of influence they once had.”
Dabi blinks and pauses his riffling. “How do you know about that?” he asks curiously.
“History is something of a passion of mine,” I reply. “It also helps to do some research on your enemies, even if a lot of sources are biased.”
He stares at me and then pockets the bills. Was that the wad I gave him or did he just take more?
“Then you should know Trigger isn’t exactly a low-level drug. You need a lot of resources to make it, even the piss-grade ones they cook in Japan and Asia. It works in this case though, if these yakuza just wanna add a little kick to their product. Kind of defeats the point of laying low, unless they’re planning something big.”
I turn to the boxes of drugs near the door. “Maybe this group only laces the drugs with Trigger. They buy the drugs from overseas, cook them together here, then sell them for more. How do you know so much about Trigger?”
“I get around,” he retorts. “And people whisper and do all kinds of things when they think nobody’s watching. Your little side jobs actually help with that skill tree.”
“Glad to hear it,” I say in a nearly flat tone. “Then let me help you advance those skill points. When we’re done here, try and see if you can find out more about this Shie Hassaikai. I’ve met them before when they performed a rather outrageous stunt, and after this, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a bigger operation in the works.”
“Digging for info and for fossils? I didn’t think I’d be a paleontologist, but sure.” He goes silent and I keep scrubbing the floors. It takes a few good minutes, but the floor is free of the gunk and gore. Stains are still there, but that’s less of a concern. If anything, they add some character. I fill the bucket again and head to the stairwell walls. The cleaning is a little trickier due to the flaking paint, but the bleach works its properties just as well.
Footsteps draw my attention as I see Dabi lazily lean on the doorframe with his eyes closed. At my hum, he shrugs and says, “Playing with cash gets boring.”
“You could take the squeegee and help me sweep the water.”
“I could if I wanted to,” he retorts with a smirk. In the end, I sigh and keep scrubbing off the blood and ash. Then a stray thought worms its way into my treacherous mouth.
“Remember when you told me, way back when, that I had the rest of the underworld spooked?”
He half-opens one eye. “Yeah, it’s still true. What about it?”
“I’ve recently become aware my name has spread further than I thought. Do you know anything else about that?”
Since the mall trip and the little incident with the mask, I’d been tempted to go on the internet and check how much of what Jirou and her classmates said was exaggerated. But every time I tried to type ‘Shinigami’ into that text bar, I always stopped. For the life of me, I don’t know why. I don’t give a shit about what people think of my actions. I kill scumbags, yes, but I knew nobody would like it and they’d cry foul. Because Heroes shouldn’t kill.
Then, why?
The scarred man fully turns to me, though he maintains his position. “If you’re still talking about the underworld, then you’re like a boogeyman; nobody wants to say your name, and when they do, it’s under sweaty palms and in dark corners. The guy - you said he was a priest?” I nod and he continues. “The priest’s corpse letters really got people shaken, and I’m not just talking about the crooks. Everyone was waiting for another video or photo of you killing some poor bastard.”
“They figured out the hidden message? Even though the bodies vanished?”
“He wasn’t exactly discreet about it and I wasn’t the only one with their phone out. Took them a bit longer than us, but people found out it was meant for you. I even got on a chatroom and all kinds of conspiracies were thrown around. Gotta say though, none of them matched the story you told me.”
I should’ve expected that. When in doubt, conspire and make shit up; that is the motto of all forums across the internet. “Hm, it shouldn’t be too much of a problem. I found the mad priest by accident. Unless the Heroes and cops reveal it to the public, they can keep speculating. Anything else?”
“Yeah. You have the lowlives planning attacks in broad daylight. They figure going up against whatever Hero patrols the area has better chances of them winning than bumping into you.”
I nod and keep scrubbing. Serves them right. Dabi sighs and heads back into the room. I finish mopping up the walls and go to scrub the last remaining matter from the sod in the lobby. I make sure the door to the street is firmly closed and the lock is in its apparent place. Maybe one of the thug’s keys fits it. Filling another bucket and grabbing the squeegee, I clean up the lobby area as fast as I can while keeping my Quirk fully active. If it weren’t past midnight, I would’ve used Zabaniya again. I scrape the last of the water out from under the main door and head down with the tools.
Stopping in the middle of the lab, I heave a sigh of relief. This whole operation felt way too close.
I put the cleaning supplies back in the closet and enter the office space, and it’s then I see a rather odd sight: Dabi standing there, pouring hot water from the kettle into two big cups of instant noodles. It’s so out of place I take a step back. It draws Dabi’s attention and he gives me the side-eye.
“I found these in his drawer and I’m hungry as fuck. Want some?”
I nod out of reflex and take a cup from his hands, along with a pair of chopsticks. He sits on the desk and I blink in surprise. He gestures nonchalantly to the empty chair with his shoulder. I take a seat and stare into the cup. I did not expect this kind of gesture from him. I glance at him again and see him hunched over his cup and slurping away, with his back fully turned to me.
…oh.
Should I take the risk? I at least have to lift my mask if I want to eat. I switch my stares to the cup and Dabi’s beck and I hum in resignation. I can Conceal myself in a snap if it comes down to it. I gently move my mask so it’s resting on my temple and my face is exposed. I still don’t know how exactly the mask stays on my head without a strap - even when I wear it normally - but I don’t care. It’s convenient. Still, I pull down my hood for insurance.
I take the first bite and let the taste of beef wash my tongue. Yakiniku and…soba? Yes, soba. It’s mid, not that I expected much from cup noodles. I soon find myself slurping down another scoop.
“Tastes like crap,” Dabi comments. “There’s a soba stand near Takoba that beats this shit by a landslide.”
I take a moment to answer. “It’s just cup noodles. What did you expect, a gourmet meal?”
He pauses then shrugs, still turned back. “Not really, but it’s funny. All this technology and they haven’t improved cup noodles since the day they were made.”
I idly nod. “Why fix what isn’t broken? It’s cheap, quick and palatable. It might actually be decent compared to the past, we don’t know. At least the trains are better.”
“Trains, huh? That’s how you get around? But how - right, you’re invisible. Guess tickets don’t concern you.”
“You almost sound disappointed,” I say.
He waves his chopsticks in the air. “I dunno, I thought you swung like Spider-Man with that grappling hook of yours.”
“I like my arms in their sockets, thank you,” I retort. “You have any idea how tiring it is to use a grappling hook, even with the motor? Trains are faster. The fact that people can’t see me means it opens up easier ways to get into places.”
“Unless there’s water on the floor,” he replies cheekily.
How did he -? Right, our first meeting. I grumble and shove more noodles into my mouth aggressively. “It’s still a better way,” I grumble between bites.
I swallow and look at Dabi’s back. I bite my lip and try not to let my voice drop into a whisper. “What do you do? When you’re not gathering intel?”
His chopsticks stop mid-air and he looks up with a hum. “Not much. There’s this warehouse I train in, far away from any prying eyes. How do you think I handled it so well here? The last thing I want is for a Hero to come and wreck my personal space ‘cause they think a kitten’s trapped inside. Other than that? Eh, there’s this library with an internet cafe where I play action games, Devil May Cry and Doom are some of my favorites.”
I focus on keeping my voice even. “DMC? Which one and what character?”
“Four and five are the best -”
“Special Edition?”
“Duh. Nero for both of them. You play it? I’m thinking you’re a Vergil main.”
I roll my eyes. “Am I that transparent?” He scoffs, but I see the upturning of his scarred lips.
“Yeah. You couldn’t scream edgelord harder if you tried.”
Oi, that’s uncalled for. “I’m not an edgelord!”
“Uh-huh. Says the guy with the skull mask, who stabs people and talks like an old-timer. All that’s missing are a few belts from your outfit.”
My brow twitches at the thought of the multitude of belts some fighting game characters wore. Mawla’s mask is intimidating! And my knives do good work! And since when do I sound like an old-timer!?
I grumble and move to eat before Dabi speaks up again. “What about you? You have anything going in your life or you woke up one morning and chose violence for the rest of it?”
This guy…
“I have a routine and an actual life. I figured I should avoid sinking into the job, if you will, for my own mental sake,” I say, avoiding any mention of Mawla or school. “I like adventure games, Skyrim is the best.”
“What, like a work-life balance? Not what I expected. You gave off a ‘this is my life and nothing else’ vibe when we met.” he asks, surprised. “Also, Skyrim? Are they still releasing that? I thought for sure it died off years ago.”
“The Nine Divines Edition gave the graphics a modern retrain and they paid modders to improve the dialogues and quests. Even some of the expansions were made into official content. I’ve seen some old playthroughs that survived the Great Crash; the streamers back then would have a heart attack by how much better the game looks.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” he replies. “Is it as buggy as the Wiki page says?”
I groan in annoyance. “No, but I’m convinced they keep those bugs for nostalgia and clickbait. I get why, but I just wanna smash the keyboard when that happens.”
He chuckles with a tinge of sympathy. “Almost makes me wanna try it, but I don’t have the patience for long games.”
“You need to learn how to appreciate them,” I say. “Games that take their time and reward you are worth the investment.”
“I would burn the fucking cafe down if I had to do more than three fetch quests,” he calmly says. “Oh, and open worlds are overrated trash.”
“You animal. Repent or be forever shamed, filthy casual,” I reply in the most serious tone I can muster. We pause and suddenly burst into laughter. I clutch myself and hold the noodle cup steadily. Where the hell did that come from?
Our giggling trails off, but I carry on with the flow of the conversation. It’s like we hit a sweet spot. “I also read a lot, though I’ve been slacking off in that regard. I should fix that.”
“What kind of books?” Dabi asks, not bothering to hide the curiosity in his voice.
“History, fantasy, sci-fi, the good stuff.”
“Hmm. Yeah, I figured as much. You seem like the type.” Dabi’s tone turns introspective and I can’t help myself.
“Do you read?” I ask.
“Yeah, a little. Helps me deal with this,” he gestures to himself. “Sometimes it works better than games, getting lost in whatever world the author conjured up.”
I solemnly nod, though I’m still surprised. I never expected him to be a reader. “I understand. Long live escapism, right?”
He raises the cup high and halfheartedly says: “Hear, hear.”
Okay, now I’ve gotta dig deeper. “Do you have a favorite?”
Dabi pauses and lowers his chopsticks. A minute of silence passes as he turns it around, as though hoping to divine some answer from within the soba’s entangled patterns. I almost lean forward to catch his expression before he speaks again, his voice low and quiet.
“I found it when I was rummaging through the charity bins for a coat. The cover was eaten at the corners and the pages had stains all over them, but I could read it. It’s about a man, a sailor, and everything’s right in his life. His bosses like him, he’s got a nice girl he’s gonna marry, but his crewmate grows jealous. He can’t stand him having a good life when he should be having it. So he frames and sends the sailor to a prison island, away from everything he wanted. For years the sailor was locked up in darkness, asking why he suffered like this. What did he do wrong to deserve this? In that darkness, the despair almost crushed his will and his life.”
I sit a little straighter. The story he’s telling sounds very familiar, but the name’s eluding me.
“One day, a prisoner from a neighboring cell digs a tunnel to his cell. He’s a priest who also got thrown in the slammer and was trying to escape. He taught the sailor many things and helped find out who imprisoned him. It was his friends and neighbors, people whom he trusted and hoped would uncover his innocence. When he found out, the sailor swore revenge against all who backstabbed him and threw him away like garbage.”
He spits out the last word with such intensity that I jerk back.
“Years later, the priest dies and tells the sailor the location of a treasure. Faking his death, the sailor escapes the prison and finds the treasure. He uses that treasure to forge himself a new name, and one by one he gets his revenge. Best part is, he doesn’t just kill them; he ruins them, leaves them with nothing, and makes sure that their names are forever smeared with mud. When one of them is about to die, he looks them in the eye and tells them ‘That was me.’ One of them even shoots himself!”
I can practically hear the grin forming on his face. “Then, the friend who plotted the whole scheme? He gets left without a coin to his name and robbed, forced to pay whatever’s left of his fortune just for food and water. The sailor? He’s rich, stole his money, and has a new girl! Did it like a goddamn champ!” He lets out a harsh bark of laughter and slaps the desk.
After a moment where he drifts into silence, he resumes. “A few pages of that book were long gone, but I could piece the rest together. Heh, never thought a book would draw me in that much.”
Okay, the red flags are flying once again. “You never tried to find out what was in those missing pages?”
He shakes his head. “Nah. I mean, I know I can, the internet can find anything. I just…like it better this way. Yeah, you’re probably thinking it’s a crime against literature but…let me have this fantasy.”
Ignoring that admittedly true comment, I purse my lips as my mental gears whir. I know stories can resonate with people, better than most. But this? This is a step - no, a floor beyond that. I recall Mawla’s warning regarding Dabi and his deep thirst for vengeance. I look at his hunched form and feel an involuntary shiver run up my spine. Who the hell is the poor bastard that Dabi’s so set on killing?
“Yeah,” I say, hesitantly. “Definitely a crime. I’d be scouring the whole net for that story. Shame on you.”
He shrugs again. “Tell you what, next time I find a ruined book, I’ll let you find the complete version for me.”
“I am honored,” I deadpan. “Any other books that come to mind?”
“Do comics or manga count?” At my affirmative response, he continues. “Dungeon Seeker, The Crow, Best Served Cold…” he trails off and hums. “That’s from the top of my head.”
I sense a pattern here. A little on the nose, sure, but a good selection.
We settle back into what’s left of our meal in relative peace. As I pick through the last of the beef, a strange thought begins to drift through my head. First the spars with Shiki, then the mall trip with the hero kids, and now…this, whatever it is Dabi and I are having. None of the circumstances in which I entered these situations were normal, but everything else felt casual. Was all this really how other people my age hang out?
…three different social dynamics in three weeks. I’m unsure how to feel about that, but it feels…nice.
Heh. Look at me, eating instant soba in a drug lab with my malformed pyromaniac acquaintance. Tomorrow - I need to get ingredients - I’m gonna experiment with poisons and chemicals at the instructions of a millennia-old ghost while finding time to laugh at idiot comedians with my mother.
What in the seven levels of Hell is my life?
Comments
ChidoriM4st3r
Awesome chapter! Loved the Dabi stuff at the end. Was very funny hearing them talk about games and bond. Can’t wait to see more of that and more of Shiki :)
