= Living in infamy = (Infamous Male Reader X BNHA)

Chapter 33: Prayer of the Refugee

Spencer: "Yeah, don't do that anymore. We don't have much to fix non essential things so congrats, you don't have a door for the length of your stay anymore. Anyway, here."

He throws me a plastic bag. Inside is a gray tank top, a pair of worn black jeans, and some underwear. Thankfully.

Spencer: "Merpy birthmas or whatever. Hank, I need your help with something. You, kid, get changed. It'll be a while before you're able to go back to Japan, so i might as well show you around."

(Y/N): "Oh, uh...thank you."

I look down at the clothing in the bag. Huh. That was nice of him.

...

Wait a minute.

(Y/N): "HOLD IT!"

I yell at Spencer and hank before they leave to do whatever it is they need to do.

(Y/N): "Did you hear what I told Hank?!"

Spencer: "Yup. And I agree. Your life sucks. But don't worry, I'm not gonna turn you in to the police or anything. I'm not exactly the most upstanding citizen either, if you catch my drift."

Ok, he's 100% killed at least 3 people.

After they leave and I get changed, I crack my neck and back. Holy tits, am I stiff, and not in the boner way. Perv. I'm still pretty sore, but it's like normal soreness after something like quirk training or sparring with Aizawa. The clothes fit pretty well, and they're clean, which is surprising considering these people's situation, so at least there's that.

Gonna need to buy a new jacket though, Which is a major pain in the ass. I already lost one by giving it to that girl with the mochi face, uh...Ochocolate or something.

Jumping down, I start to look around for Spencer and hank. At first glance, this place hasn't changed much in terms of layout from when I first looked around here, but now that it's not full of trash bag wearing homeless with improvised assault rifles and shotguns and just normal homeless people with improvised shivs and shotguns, it's a lot more...homey? Like, it's less like a giant villainous hive of evil, and more like an actual community. There are clothes hanging from clotheslines, there's a designated storage shack, there's even a kitchen building, and judging by the scent, it's probably lunch or dinner time. But not linner. They can't afford that luxury.

Spencer: "Alright, blast it."

I hear Spencer's voice, and look over in it's direction just to see hank shooting highly concentrated ember blasts at a wall, in between two sections that were frozen as reinforcement so there isn't a giant hole in the wall. When the smoke clears away, the sheet and scrap metal that makes up the exterior wall have been crudely welded together from the heat of the embers.

Spencer: "Alright, that should hold for a couple weeks, at least."

Hank: "Damn, that drained me more than usual."

Spencer: "Probably cause you helped the kid. Thanks for that, by the way. He seems like a nice kid."

Hank: "I wouldn't know. Me and him fought back in Japan, but then that Eraserhead guy got involved and I was sent to jail again."

Spencer: "Neat."

(Y/N): "Who has spoken the name of the forbidden one?"

Spencer: "...How'd you get up there?"

I look down and see that I'm balancing on a particularly thick clothesline. Just...out of habit. I don't know how I got up here either. Why am I up here? I jump down, and immediately regret it when I land. Forgot I can't really do the things I'm usually able to do, what with having been an average Chicago citizen for like 3 minutes.