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“Mr. President, will you stop spinning in that chair? Ms. Ridley will join the call any second now.” Mera rubbed his temples with a long-suffering groan. “I swear, you get older, but you never grow up.”
Hawks chuckled and laced his hands behind his head, leaning back comfortably, but he obligingly stopped spinning, even though the oversized leather chair was so perfectly spinnable. Stable enough to support his weight and aerodynamic enough to achieve great speed.
When the monitor in front of him flared to life, he straightened his posture, schooling his expression into professional cheerfulness.
Reagan Ridley’s brown hair was tied back in a loose, messy ponytail. She had deep circles under her eyes and wore a rumpled, most likely slept-in lab coat. She inclined her head in a polite, if stiff, bow. When her hand came into view to straighten her coat, Hawks noticed that her right pinkie finger was a prosthetic.
“Good evening, President Hawks,” Ridley said in halting Japanese.
Hawks returned her bow. “Morning, CEO Ridley.”
Ridley grimaced. “That’s my father. Just… call me Reagan. I know… in your language… surnames are important, but…” she gestured helplessly.
In English, Hawks said, “I speak fluent English, if that would be easier for you, Reagan.” He had interacted with Americans often enough to be used to this particular quirk of their culture.
Reagan scrubbed a hand over her face. “Thank you. I know I need to brush up on my Japanese or that green owl is gonna start killing hostages, but other things have taken priority.”
Hawks nodded in understanding, risking a glance at her background, a laboratory filled with half-finished robotics projects and several corkboards half-covered by red thread. “You said you’re here on behalf of the American branch of the HPSC? Is your President sick?”
Reagan shook her head and rubbed her temple in a way that reminded Hawks of Mera. “No, he’s fine. He’s just…” she sucked in air through her teeth, visibly struggling to find tactful words.
“A piece of work?” Hawks offered.
“Dolphman is good at his job,” Reagan said slowly, the strain in her voice evident, as if she was trying to convince herself. “Or he wouldn’t be here at all, believe me. And he doesn’t hold a grudge against Japan at all.”
Hawks tilted his head. “I don’t think you’re being completely honest with me.”
Reagan let out a heavy sigh. “‘Piece of work’ is an understatement, okay? HPSC USA is a subsidiary of Cognito, Inc., so we have a leash on him, but… yeah.”
Hawks’s shoulders spasmed. His wings would bristle if he had them. Instead, he got a phantom crawling sensation that made him want to roll in sand. He grit his teeth behind his smile. It was always so surreal to remember that the American HPSC was part of a corporation, not the government. Although, technically, at this point they were almost one and the same. “So, is there anything we can do to smooth things over?”
“A public apology and memorial in Star and Stripe’s honor would be a good start,” Reagan suggested.
“Already planning on it,” Hawks assured her. “She and the US military were an amazing help. I’m always in awe of their discipline and determination.”
A hint of a genuine smile crossed Reagan’s face. “I’ll pass that along.” Then, rubbing the back of her neck with a pained wince, she said, “Oh, yeah… I’m sorry. You lost a lot of good people in that war. Your Quirk.. I wish there was more we could do.”
Hawks waved a gentle but dismissive hand. “Don’t worry - you have to be Quirkless to be HPSC president, so it’s more of a promotion than anything. The US went above and beyond. You helped us more than we could ever ask for.”
Reagan sighed, hanging her head. She made tiny adjustments to her prosthetic finger. “Not just the US. You were briefed on the nature of Cognito, Inc, right?”
Hawks hummed thoughtfully, eyes drifting to the drab drop ceiling as he searched his memory. So much had happened in the few short months since he had taken office…
“You’re not just a corporation,” he said slowly, realization dawning. “That’s just a cover for a shadow government. One of several.”
Reagan nodded. “And HPSC branches around the world are closely tied to all of them.” Her mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Welcome to the conspiracy, President Hawks.”
Hawks let out a low, birdlike whistle, leaning back in his chair. “I thought that was just the kind of stuff YouTubers made up so they can make 3 hour videos for people to fall asleep to.”
Reagan scoffed. “And who do you think pays the YouTubers? What better way to hide than in plain sight?”
Hawks’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Well… now I see why everyone was so eager for me to take this position. I’ve got the undercover espionage stuff down to a science.” He chuckled, but couldn’t find any humor to add to it. The sound fell flat in the room that suddenly felt too large.
Reagan’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I watched your old broadcasts before our call, for research. I never would have guessed.”
Hawks let out a long breath, fingers tracing the whorls of the particle board conference table. “Until Touya’s little presentation, right?” His gut twisted at the memory. Shame flooded over him in a sickening wave.
Reagan flinched. “Uh… yeah. That sucked, man. I’m sorry.”
Her casual sincerity forced a pained chuckle from him. “Thanks. I appreciate it. I’m making reparations as we speak, donating money from my own salary and the HPSC treasury to Quirk counseling programs for starters.”
“How are things overall?” Reagan asked. “From where I stand, things happened super fast. How is Japan recovering?”
“We’re getting there,” Hawks said with a shrug that felt too light without his wings shifting with the movement. He rolled his shoulders, feeling a brief twinge of panic when his flight muscles didn’t activate with the motion. He rubbed his eyes, which seemed to always be bleary ever since he lost his Quirk. “Slowly but surely, as with all things around here.” He rested his cheek on his hand. “And what about you? You’re new to this whole shadow government thing too, right?”
Reagan chuckled dryly. “My old man was the former CEO. I grew up around this sh- this stuff.” She gestured broadly, her injured hand twitching slightly at the still-unfamiliar sensation of her prosthetic finger. Hawks could see the raw, pink skin at the base of the prosthetic. A recent injury. “Family business. It’s an adjustment, sure, but I’m managing. You’re the one rebuilding after a war here.” She leaned forward on her elbows. “You seem to be taking the whole shadow government thing in stride.”
Hawks gestured broadly. “Well, I’m already part of one conspiracy. What’s another, right? Kinda my lot in life, I guess.” He cleared his throat, suppressing a wince at the bitter taste in his mouth left by those words. “Maybe it’ll hit me at some point, but right now, I’m just going with the flow.”
“Just going with it, huh? No plans to change it?” Reagan arched an eyebrow, a silent challenge.
“I mean, something has to be done about the ranking system. It’s starting to get a bit outdated, don’tcha think?”
“I literally could not care less about popularity- I mean, yes, outdated, I see your point.”
Hawks smirked. “Yeah, well, I’m not one to fix what’s not broken, but the Commission could definitely use some… younger perspectives, so we’ll see where things go.”
“What’s not broken,” Reagan muttered under her breath. “And what about your undercover program?”
Hawks felt his eye twitch as he fought back a flare of indignation. Of course, now it was his program. “Disbanded, of course. All agents removed from the field. A government has to have its secrets, but there has to be a line drawn somewhere.”
Reagan’s gaze grew distant. Once again, she fidgeted with her prosthetic. “Yeah.” She let out a long sigh that turned into a yawn. “I’ve got lots more to do today. If you ever need help with recovery efforts, changing the flow, or even just to talk, you have my contact info.”
“Thank you,” Hawks said genuinely. “Take care, and have a speedy recovery.”
“What?” Reagan squinted at him. Then she glanced at her right hand, flexing her fingers. “Oh, right. Thanks.”
The screen cut to black, and Hawks was alone with his thoughts.
Maybe it wasn’t as lonely at the top as he had feared.