Hawks' personal phone rang and part of him died inside. Just withered, there and then, probably never to recover.
"Hot as a fever, rattling bones
I could just taste it, taste it-"
He flashed a painful smile to the gorgeous woman sitting across from him and knew that if he picked up the mobile this may be his shortest first date on record. Which, the winged hero had to admit, was saying something. The painful irony of having just theatrically turned off his work phone as a show of engagement was not lost on him.
"If it's not forever, if it's just tonight
Oh, it's still the greatest, the greatest, the greatest-"
When Hawks made a move to turn the phone to silent the brunette held his hand back, raising not one, but two perfect eyebrows at him. They were so beautifully sculpted he wondered whether she'd been sponsored by Nike.
"And you, your sex is on fire-"
Well-groomed heads turned from every direction to locate the fuckwit who thought setting personalised ringtones was funny. Hawks finally muted the call, wings twitching behind him. Like usual, he'd kept the bulk of his feathers gathered on the restaurant's roof to give himself room to manoeuvre without knocking over tables and priceless statues. Even so, a marble cherub had been staring at the hero with a reproachful expression ever since he accidentally swept his extra limbs into it a couple of minutes ago arriving quarter of an hour late. He should've properly tipped it over when he had the chance, the creepy bugger wasn't doing the world one ounce of good.
The cooling systems in his bodysuit were working on overdrive and still weren't enough. Hawks hadn't even had time to ditch his hero costume after working late, so was sweltering in a fur jacket on one of the hottest nights of the year and attracting unwanted attention as the pro who wanted to show off their hero status to a 'future conquest.' It was that or strip down to a skin tight, halter necked body suit in one of the snobbiest restaurants in the city. Could put in a dance routine for good measure; he'd always considered working as a male stripper if the hero gig didn't work out.
Still better than the fucking ballet.
"Ringtone's a joke. Listen, I'm so sorry Megumi. I wouldn't normally take it, but this call is unexpectedly important," he admitted, shrinking down in his fur collar and wincing with anticipation for well deserved comeuppance. She was staring at him across the table with a neutral expression, which would've sparked true fear in his gizzard if he had one.
"Okay. I don't think this is going to work out, so I'm going to go... I'm sorry you made the effort to come," she replied, shaking back mahogany hair so glossy Hawks swore he'd seen his reflection in the back of her crown as he'd hurried to find their table. He ran a hand through wiry blonde chunks, acutely aware of other tables who had abandoned their own conversations to listen in, and the phone continuing to buzz on the table in front of him.
At least people had enough decency that they hadn't started filming yet.
"Megumi, I'm sorry, it will only be a minute and then I'll buy you the whole menu if you like-"
"No, thank you. I run my own multi-million dollar sustainable makeup line, I'm happy to pay for my own food. I just know that I need someone who puts me before their work, and Mirko made it sound like you wanted to step back from hero stuff, but that clearly isn't the case. For someone who claims to not give a damn, you cancel a lot of plans for your career. Or something else, but clearly you have places you'd rather be. We have different priorities at the moment, which is fine. Give yourself a few years to slow down and you'll get it," She shrugged, adjusting a strap on her elegant dress.
"It's been an unusually hectic couple of weeks-"
"I don't even know your real name," Megumi gently interrupted, smiling sadly at him. Hawks took that in, and nodded to her in understanding.
"I'm sorry. Truly. For everything," he sighed, picking up a phone that was somehow still buzzing and got up to take the call.
"Next time just say you're not interested instead of cancelling four times. I haven't been laid in ages because of you," she smirked, matching him to stand up and put on her coat. Hawks raised unruly eyebrows at her hopefully and she laughed.
"You're never getting close, bird brain."
"Mm, my mother used to tell me never say never," Hawks grinned brightly, edging out on to a wide balcony overlooking the ocean. He was a complete disaster this evening; the extra hours were catching up to him for once.
"Allo?" He asked, finally able to breathe in the open air.
"What took you so fucking long?"
"Listen, this isn't an amazing time," Hawks replied, considering running back after Megumi. This was the one night off he'd let himself take in three weeks.
"You wanted an assignment to show your loyalty to the league. I have one for you," the icy voice continued through the speaker, and Hawks swore internally, pushing sliding glass closed behind him. He hadn't expected Dabi to reply to his initial contact at all, let alone within a couple days, so hearing Kings of Leon was nearly as much a surprise for him as everyone else.
"Aw, I almost think you miss my voice. I'm glad you've come around-"
"Get to 53 Akanmachi Street in the next two minutes."
"You're joking-"
"Does it sound like I'm joking?" Dabi hissed, and the down feathers on Hawks' shoulder blades prickled.
"We have a person of interest being held in a kitchen freezer with no oxygen. If they die don't bother to call again about joining our cause," the villain continued, and his voice was far more strained than last time they'd talked. No silky taunting and sarcasm, just viciousness.
"Recovery Girl?" Hawks asked, zipping up his jacket to be more aerodynamic.
"How-"
"She was sighted in Fukuoka earlier tonight. Hostiles?"
"Likely. Don't contact emergency services or other heroes. Go!"
Hawks glanced back at the perfect woman waving ironically as he pulled his headphones and visor out of extensive pockets. She was lit up like a jewel amongst the other guests, and the hero decided that they should make a statue of her. He was happy to pay for it.
Mirko was going to kill him.
***
His wings ached from an entire day swerving between buildings instead of safely gliding above, so it was almost a painful relief to calmly tip himself off the balcony and spread them to their full width. Feather stores from the roof slammed into allocated spots forming a wing shape designed for speed and nothing else. The hero was propelled so quickly he felt a familiar crack of the sound barrier through protective noise cancelling. He hurtled above neon streaks that used to be city lights. The evening Easterly off the Pacific should give him the edge he needed, and Hawks did some quick mental calculations to plot his course against the trajectory of wind currents he navigated similarly to pedestrians worrying about streets below.
One minute left.
The winged hero knew how to identify roofs of buildings more easily than their fronts. Even so, as he descended into a steep dive that caused both his back muscles and the air to scream, Hawks knew he'd need to go through a side alley for fastest access to Kurano Seafood.
The small back street was too narrow for the width his wings would need to extend to if he didn't want to make a nice tan coloured splatter on the pavement. To avoid that, Hawks flared them open in the boulevard causing onlookers to cry out his name. He slowed enough to drop into a seamless roll at the entrance and an old man in a chef's uniform ran at him with a machete. The hero could cry with gratitude. Less paper work if they attacked first, and it showed there was something the villain wanted to protect. Hawks hadn't even been confident he had the right building, so he guessed he should thank them.
"You got an angry midget with braids in there?" Hawks asked, as a contour feather hooked into the chef's collar and yanked him backwards. A wild machete swing missed the hero with a few inches to spare. Hawks gave him no heed, striding after the struggling man through an open door that up until seconds ago was protected by three padlocks. They now lay on the ground with scarlet tufts sticking out of them.
Hawks closed the door behind them, leaving some feathers outside for defence and surveillance. A lad in a waiter's uniform dropped his phone in surprise, then backed into a run towards the doors leading into the front restaurant.
"Gonna need to be faster than that, buddy," The winged man chuckled, picking him up as well with crimson feathers.
"Which one is Recovery Girl in?" Hawks asked cheerfully, indicating rows of freezers he'd identified in his initial sweep of the place. The boy just looked at him with a horrified expression, clearly not in the state to answer questions of that calibre. The hero understood. Pressure was hard.
He slammed their heads together, knocking them both out with swift efficiency.
Feathers hurried from his wings to slot into handles and yanked open every freezer in the building with a maelstrom of popping and rattling ice. One in a bottom level caught his ear with its slopping sounds and he strode over to peer inside.
She nearly didn't look real. The surgeon was submerged in water that lightly covered her mouth and nose due to thin ripples. Recovery Girl was a light shade of blue that together with her hair perfectly matched the ice, and a white dress swirled around her, illuminated from below to form jelly fish like shapes in the container.
Hawks dunked his hands in, gritting his teeth at the glacial shock. It was the kind of cold that burned and numbed at the same time, and he immediately knew she'd come out of there with frostbite at best. He managed to get his arms hooked around the girl and pulled her upwards, breeching the water's surface and causing it to spill over the side of the freezer. The winged hero dragged Japan's most beloved humanitarian unceremoniously onto the concrete floor and silently complained that someone so small had no right to weigh that much when waterlogged.
"C'mon you dweeb, you're living to see me officially become number two," he muttered, putting his ear to her mouth to check for breathing. None.
Hawks promptly straddled the doctor, tilting her head to the side. He moved to rest his hands on her stomach, then paused. Would Dabi bother to try and save the girl's life if she wasn't pregnant? Was she more or less likely to sneak all the way to Fukuoka just to see a ballet?
A darker thought invaded, which he suppressed like the many he'd struggled with ever since Dabi hissed 'person of interest' into his ear similar to a disgruntled ghost. If she miscarried, would he not need to hand her over to the league to keep his cover?
"I really don't understand why everyone is so worried about my taking the entrance exam. Oh no, Maeve, you might lose the baby! Fuck off, less paperwork than the abortion I'm planning anyway," a recorded voice snorted from his memories, and looking down at the surprisingly vulnerable face, Hawks made his decision. It didn't matter, none of it, if she was too dead to be negotiated with.