Chapter Text
Hawks was tired. That was the only reason he stood in a dark alley, with one of Japan's most wanted criminals, asking to join the League of Villains. Hawks was tired of being used as a puppet and he wanted some form of freedom. So when the HSPC told him to infiltrate the League, he practically jumped in joy. He took the assignment and was now standing behind some run down liquor store with Dabi, the serial arsonist of the League.
"So, let me get this straight." Dabi's voice pulled Hawks out of his thoughts, the arsonist flicking through some files Hawks had brought in order to show he was serious about joining the League. "You, the number two hero, want to leave all of that behind to... what? Become a villain?" Hawks can hear the disbelief in Dabi's voice, and he doenst believe him. If the roles were reversed, Hawks wouldn't believe it either.
"Yeah. That sums it up." Hawks says, feathers rustling from the way Dabi was studying him. Whether in defense or pride, Hawks wasn't quite sure. He was so out of tune with his bird side it was fucking ridiculous.
"What about your family? You're friends?" Dabi scoffs, tucking the file under his arm. Hawks frowns. Family was a complicated topic for him.
"I have no family. And no friends." The man across from him raises his eyebrow at Hawk's words.
"Really? Hawks, the number two hero, has no loving family? No horde of friends ready to throw themselves at your feet? I find that hard to believe." Hawks rolls his eyes at the villains words.
"Then don't believe it. But it's the truth." Hawks snaps. Maybe snapping at the person who is able to let him in, or set him on fire if he wanted to, was not the best idea. But Hawks was tired, and Dabi was not helping the pounding in his head. Dabi, for his part, merely rolls his eyes and pulls something out of his pocket and holds it out to the winged man. A burner phone, Hawks realizes.
"Here. I'll contact you through this if, and only if, Handman decides to let you in." Dabi says. Hawks nods, taking the phone and pocketing it.
"Understood. Was there anything else or-"
"Get out of here, you damned over grown chicken." Dabi snarls, flames licking at his fingers. Hawks takes the cue, spreading his wings and flying away without another word.
The flight home had been quiet to anybody else, but Hawk's mind had been loud. Thoughts pounded in his head, worsening the migraine he already had. What he did, the information he handed over, was something that could land him a week in the Reconstruction Room as it was called. In reality, the damn room was a way to torture him without labeling it as torture.
Hawks was currently sitting on his bed, in a t-shirt to large with holes cut in the back for his wings, staring at nothing. The shirt was soft from years of being worn and wash over and over again, and it was Hawks' favorite thing to wear when he was off duty. The ceiling was a dull white, something the Commission had chosen when he moved out of their hero training building. Hawks frowned, flipping off the ceiling. He was tired of everything being controlled about him. From what he ate to what he wore. Even to what parts of his quirks he used to which parts he didn't. His wings? Yes. His need to eat raw meat. Absolutely not. He had to be seen as a proper human, not a 'mutation'.
His phone, his actual phone not the burner phone, buzzed and grabbed his attention. He picks it up, the light from the screen blinding him for a quick second before he adjusts to it. It was a message from Madam President, reminding him to file in some paperwork the next day and letting him know his schedule had been modified slightly to allow him more time to worm his way into the 'den of monsters' as the woman so nicely put it. Hawks scowls, shutting his phone off and dropping it back onto the nightstand.
"The only monster I see right now is me." He mutters. "I'm a two-faced, lying hero. What kind of hero kills people because someone tells him to. What kind of hero lies and cheats to win the day?" He rolls his eyes, pushing him self to a sitting position as he looked around his bedroom. It was painfully empty, devoid of any form of personalization. The only personal thing he owned was a photo on his dresser of him and his best friend Touya. The red-turned-white haired boy had died when he was 13, and when Keigo was 12. Keigo wasn't allowed to go to the funeral because his handler told him it would show a bad image if 'Hawks' mourned someone who didn't respect authority and who couldn't control his quirk. Keigo refused to train for a week.
Hawks stood up, walking over and picking up the picture. It had been taken just two weeks before Touya died by Touya's mum, Rei Todoroki. They were both holding ice cream cone, face a mess and smiles bright. Hawks remembered that day. He had gotten the day off of training and immediately went to the Todoroki household, where he had roped Touya into spending the entire day at the arcade with him. Hawks had barely gotten days off, so he always made sure to make the most of them. Hawks chuckles, setting the photo back down. Touya had always managed to make him forget about his duties, at least for a little while.
He sighs, stretching his wings out as he walks over to the door, opening it and leaving the room to go to the living room. It was dark out here, and Hawks let out a curse as he stumbles into something. He huffs, finding his way to the light switch and turning it on. Now that he could see, he made his way over to the couch and sat down, grabbing the remote and turning the TV on. He wasn't even paying attention to the channel, he just wanted some background noise. With that accomplished, he curled up on the couch and fell asleep. Who cares if his body was stiff the next morning from sleeping in some funky position on the stiff couch rather than in his comfy bed? It was his choice after all, and one of the few things the Commission couldn't control about him.