No Hesitation - Villain Deku (Hiatus)

Trailing Smoke

"About ¥400,000, which I hope is understandable, considering the state of the art technology that was implemented into the circuits and wiring. Plus, all purchasing customers get access to a program that leads you to a black market hiring and trading hub," Giran says, pushing his tinted glasses up on the bridge of his nose. *

"I may be a villain, but I am no swindler," he assures, putting his years of being an underground broker to good use.

'I guess that is a fair price...' Izuku thinks, holding his chin.

'Although, It would drain me of all my savings, including the money stash I have hidden in the wall.'

"I wish I took that bag of cash, back at the bank," Izuku mumbles.

"It may seem like a lot, but I can assure you, with the assistance of the black market and your skills, you can easily earn your money back, tenfold."

"I already have a place and time where we can trade our wares," Giran continues confidently, crossing his arms.

'Ok,' Izuku writes.

A few moments of comfortable silence passes.

"Im guessing you're not much of a drinker are you?" Giran observes, changing the subject. He nods toward the untouched glass opposite of himself.

'The bartender mentioned that there was something in your glass' Izuku begins writing, slightly veering the subject in another direction.

'What's in it?'

Giran sighs, crossing his arms.

"There's a quirk enhancing pill that I have dissolved in my drink," he explains.

"I do so, so I can have meetings with potential clients while still being able to drink."

'What does that have to do with quirk enhancers though...' Izuku begins contemplating. 'It would make the most sense if his quirk had something to do with it.'

Giran glances at his gold watch, an expression of remembrance seeps into his face. He stands up, muttering a quick, polite apology.

Giran walks over to one of the very few customers in the bar. He reaches up before making contact with their head. A short moment passes before Giran struts over to the next person.
He does the same thing to all people in the room, including the seemingly oblivious bartender.

The familiar rush of questions flood Izuku's mind.

Giran sits back down at the table. He readjusts his purple blazer, a calm aura surrounds him.

"What should I call you?" Giran asks, looking down at the notepad.

'I'll wait and see what the media comes up with,' Izuku writes, a small smile hiding behind his mask.

"I like your answer," Giran says, chuckling. He takes a dram of his whiskey.

"Anyway..." he continues, ripping a piece of paper off the notepad. He quickly scribbles down something before sliding the torn piece across the table.

"Here," Giran says.

"Take this address and meet me there with the proper amount of money on the specified date," he continues. Izuku reads the paper, noting Giran's neat but jagged handwriting. He shifts the paper into his invisible state, memorizing the address written.

'This address is near where I live... Not much is there, just a few small, partially intact, building complexes surrounded by rubble,' Izuku contemplates, shoving the note into his pocket.