The Yokohama Chief of Police was having a very bad day. In fact, in his 24 years on the force, he couldn't remember a worse one. Excluding the great YPD prank war dark ages, but he wouldn't get into that. God, there'd been enough peanut butter on the walls to last a lifetime - seriously, he couldn't see a container of the crunchy kind without shuddering.
Anyway.
Several city blocks had been reduced to rubble, All Might was retired, the number of casualties sat at an estimated 2,000 and were still rising, while petty criminals, always opportunists, wreaked havoc in the rest of the ward unopposed. It was about to get even worse because he was standing outside a shabby hospital door with suspicious dents, wondering how the world could come to this.
He'd been sorely tempted to get one of the lackeys to deliver the message - a detective from Musutafu and several intelligence officers were already inside - but that just wasn't how these things were done. The least he could do for the girl was have the decency to break bad news in person.
The Chief rapped warped wood with his knuckles and it took a few heartbeats for the sound of temporary security measures to be put in place. Swinging open, the door revealed a wall of surprisingly well dressed muscle.
"Ah, hey Chief. Long day?" Gang Orca rumbled, needing to bend slightly in the doorway. His blood-red eyes quickly surveyed every detail of the newcomer's appearance and bearing, unintentionally scathing as usual.
"You could say that. Nothing compared to some other poor sods, though. How's she doing?"
The pro hero fully stepped out into the hall, swinging the door shut behind him until only a crack remained, before shrugging his gargantuan shoulders and sighing, "She was bad when we first brought her in. The drugs hadn't fully worn off yet, so she was delirious, muttering all the time. I think right after, she couldn't process it all, so just followed normal routine with healing Best Jeanist. I still have no idea if we should have let her. The girl saved his life, but at what cost?"
"It's a shame we've needed to butt in like this, only every hour we leave questioning is more time for the bastards to wriggle further out of our clutches."
"Maeve understands that, though it's put her in an... Interesting mood. Once her father arrived, she seemed to pull herself together with a will of iron, honestly, I don't know how someone can put THAT much trauma to the side. She let her nurse friend run some tests, so we've got DNA samples, though she washed beforehand when she was still in shock. Not sure how much we lost."
The Chief raised his eyebrows. If it had been any other case, and any other victim, he would have, pardon his french, lost his shit. That was invaluable evidence gone, quite literally, down the drain. However, he managed to keep calm.
"How are her witness statements?"
The killer whale hero merely chuckled softly and shook his head in reply. It either implied he was too awed for words or was laughing about a hopeless case. The Chief really wasn't sure which, so he decided to see for himself and pushed through into the rather cramped hospital room.
"Wait, you said that? Those exact words?" Detective Tsukauchi giggled to a girl in the hospital bed, notebook sitting forgotten in his lap.
"Yeah. A large portion of my friends are vagrants with terrible facial hair, I was telling the truth. It was already obvious he had a developed Jehovah complex so, at the time, I felt I needed to begin some psychoanalytical profiling. By saying 'the only thing Jesus and I have in common are a tendency to hang out with bearded homeless men,' I was inviting All for One to open up about his own narcissism and potential weaknesses, while simultaneously making myself appear less of a threat and putting him at ease with my sparkling sense of humour."
The Chief blinked repeatedly at the peculiar yet captivating creature huddled over a steaming flask of coffee in starched bedclothes. Living in a superhuman society meant accepting strange bordering on grotesque as a part of everyday life. One of his neighbours was half squid and made contemporary art by squirting ink over entire rooms and forming them into tentacles, which wasn't even on the fringes of what he found weird any more. He didn't want to think about all of the nutcases who'd been through the precinct in the span of his career. Quirks that affected mental acuity weren't common, but there'd been a few. In his eyes, they were by far the most dangerous subclass.
He remembered a horrific case where a three-year-old, having just developed an IQ of 150 overnight, stole their father's credit card, burned their nursery to the ground as a distraction, hijacked the car of a family of mice people next door, drove to every supermarket in the precinct and bought so much stock they created a baby food shortage. The kid got off scot-free, because who wants to give a toddler a criminal record? If he had to choose between going up against whoever that baby grew into or Endeavor, there was no question who he'd pick. They had a surplus of fire extinguishers in the offices anyway.
The chief had heard of Recovery Girl, of course he had, but nothing could've prepared him for her in person. She didn't look like much at a casual glance. The surgeon had the distinct bobblehead look of those struggling with either eating disorders or famine, with a wide brow weighing down an increasingly skeletal body. Her grey hair had streaks of white and was tied in a messy bundle at the back of her scalp. Pallidness in Dr Aizawa's face only served to contrast with dark shadows cast by hollowed cheeks, bags under her eyes and an ugly bruise on her right cheek. There was a scar on her forehead he seemed to remember her gaining in the USJ building attack earlier that year.
Yet her flimsy, beaten physicality almost served to make the girl more intimidating. His memories randomly jumped back to ancient Greek lessons decades ago and learning about the ancient oracles of Delphi. Maeve's consciousness felt as much of a physical, separate entity in the room as the spirit of python possessing young women back then. Her husk of a body merely served as a vessel for a mind so vast it felt alien. It made him incredibly uncomfortable.
***
Maeve had both Thomas the Tank Engine theme song and Schoenberg in her head. It wasn't helping the situation. But God, the coffee tasted good. It was already working its magic, seriously, she was on fire with the interview. The girl allowed a small sliver of hope that the police weren't going to hold unlicensed quirk use against her. Nobody had mentioned it.
Oh, nevermind, the Chief of police had just waddled in and it didn't look like he was impressed. Fuck. His penguin body was unquestioningly adorable. Gang Orca, his natural predator, had led him in as well, oh the joke opportunities were scrambling.
***
The Chief really didn't want to be the one to break it to Recovery Girl. He completely understood why the Commissioner was commanding it, and agreed, but still.
"Good evening, everyone. I hope that reliving events of the last few days isn't too stressful?" He asked Maeve, who was watching him with an unexpectedly wry expression. The galactic intelligence behind her eyes was replaced with something cheekier.
"Oh, trauma and I already have an intimate relationship, nothing new. If we tried to split up at this point the divorce proceedings would be too much trouble to be worth it," she chuckled, taking another sip of coffee.
"Ah, well, um. Glad to hear it?"
Awkward small talk continued for several minutes, skirting around the real issue at hand. Maeve seemed to become increasingly amused by their trepidation, while everyone who didn't know her well settled into a floundering state of discomfort. Rape victims weren't supposed to act as if nothing had happened, weren't supposed to seem perfectly in control. She'd snapped back so quickly from a sobbing wreck it almost gave them whiplash. Eventually, it was Maeve herself who pushed things forward.
"As much as I enjoy people emphasising from every possible angle how terribly mistreated I've been and secretly worrying whether I've taken the morning after pill yet, shall we acknowledge the elephant in the room?"
Maeve shot a crooked grin towards a secret service agent who had tusks extending out of a mouth twisted with concentration. He didn't seem amused. She continued.
"What have the higher-ups decided regarding my punishment?"
The Chief sighed, fidgeting for a moment.
"I wouldn't say 'punishment' is the right-" Maeve cut him off with a look alone. He got to it.
"Well, the first thing we had to work out was whether inducing sleep in others counts as harm. Quirk ethics experts ruled that it does."
Maeve exhaled through her nose and closed her eyes as if she already knew what was coming. The way governmental figures handled this particular case was as much of a political statement as distributing justice. Recovery Girl had skyrocketed into the position of public darling while in villain custody, which, coupled with her new status as a rape victim who saved All Might's life against a powerful villain, meant they had to be incredibly careful. Letting her off too easily sent a message that vigilante behaviour was acceptable, but acting too harshly would ruin trust with citizens already strained by losing their symbol of peace.
All their issues stemmed from the fact that Maeve wasn't a hero.
Her parents were villains, which would most likely be leaked with her newfound fame. That wouldn't be a problem in itself, but with her refusal to get a hero license and clear anti-heroics views, it became dangerous. Then there was the baby. If she was pregnant and didn't get rid of it, suddenly they had a public role model, who happened to be a villain's child, RAISING a villain's child, spouting controversial opinions. Not ideal.
"If your quirk use against All for One had been before you escaped, it would most likely be ruled as self-defence. Eraser Head's order to do exactly that was still technically in place. You were also under the influence of narcotics, which helps your case. However, you chose to go back. I assume by that point you were aware enough to know what you were doing?"
If someone had told him in that moment Maeve was an elderly woman, he'd believe them. Her face was painfully haggard.
"Yes, I knew."
"Then, unfortunately, all non-consensual-" she winced reflexively when he used the word "-uses of your quirk after the escape count as violations of your contract. That includes putting two of your students to sleep, healing Best Jeanist and, of course, downing All for One."
"Todoroki and Yaoyorozu signed consent at the beginning of the school year," Maeve shot back, gloved hands tightened around her flask.
"The agreement was that you would use your quirk in their best interests. No judge would accept your actions tonight as within those ethical confines, which is a large aspect of your quirk license. The freedom to decide how to operate within minimal constraints was a show of trust in your professionalism from the commissioner. You can't just use your quirk for self-serving actions."
Tsukauchi, who'd been sitting listening since the Chief came in, coughed and commented quietly, "Her actions were a lot of things, but I'm not sure 'self-serving' is a good way to describe them even in this room."
"No one is questioning whether Maeve's intentions were noble, but the fact is that she harmed people who were getting in her way. She's never earned the right to act like a hero, so we need to take this seriously," The Chief replied, stroking his whiskered beak thoughtfully. Maeve merely gazed out a small window during their exchange, as if some answers to her dilemma were written in the stars.
"There have also been a couple of incidents recently that give us cause for concern in regards to Maeve's decision making. You misjudged your reserves and collapsed during surgery a week ago, leading to the death of your patient, is that correct?"
"Yes."
"During the summer camp where you were prohibited from using said quirk, we've been informed that you imitated dysmenorrhea in a male student, and continued even when he was screaming?"
Maeve winced and her 'yeah' was quite pained.
"Dysmenorrhea?" One of the agents queried.
"Menstrual cramps. He was objectifying girls and making them feel unsafe, I was trying to get him to respect what they go through," she tried to explain.
"Ah."
Maeve felt quite alone being the only female in the room at that moment. The funny factor was lost completely, though she made eye contact with Gang Orca, who seemed to be hiding a grin behind one of his fins.
"Still, it seems like an extreme reaction for a 15-year-old who's made a few stupid comments? He wasn't actually a threat."
"Well, given I was artificially inseminated like a farm animal for breeding and am now being charged for just putting the guy who did it to sleep, I have no idea what you'll decide if I hurt someone who was only making a few lascivious comments," Maeve replied, voice suddenly frostier than even Todoroki's. Her patience, worn thin by days of terror and lack of sleep, was nearing its end. The men shifted uncomfortably in their seats, avoiding looking at her.
"As I've said, All for One's actions were despicable, and you have our deepest condolences-"
"Yeah, yeah. Let's rip the menstrual pad off, what have your bosses decided?"
Forcing himself not to fidget, the Chief took a deep breath and made eye contact. His beak clicked slightly when he talked, which Maeve found deeply irritating. She'd always been fond of birds, but something about him made her skin crawl. There was no good reason for it, and she wondered whether she'd be able to look at any man again without suppressing a small shudder.
"We're removing your quirk license. You'll need to continue to wear gloves at all times in public and resign from your jobs at UA and the hospital," he sighed. Maeve's face could have been carved from stone.
"My work doesn't just affect me - my patients-"
"Maybe you should've thought about them before you chose to break the law," the Chief retorted. Everyone took in a collective breath of shock. Nobody had expected the authorities to come down on Maeve that harshly, so soon after her debut.
"One of the few things I have left is my career, you can't take that away," she argued, voice cracking, "I've been working as the best surgeon in Japan and vital member of the UA staff for years, up until a week ago having a spotless record. Surely a few mistakes can't mean the end; everything I did was to help people."
"I'm sorry, just acting as the messenger. But maybe this could be a chance to take some time off and re-evaluate what you want from life. This kind of trauma takes a while to recover from-"
He was interrupted by Maeve laughing, but it wasn't a free sound. The chuckles were pained and hoarse. Yet the girl didn't cry. He wasn't sure whether it was because she was too shell shocked, or merely didn't have any tears left.
"So THAT'S it; this is all to give poor Recovery Girl a break. What's the name of the new contract, enforced maternity leave? We all agree I can't even support my own health when I use my quirk, let alone a baby's. But I can promise you something: becoming a teen mother isn't in my plans and hopes for what I want to be, and where I want to go in life. I'm not having a kid."
"We don't know that-"
"I'm. Not. Having. A kid. So what's there to worry about in letting me heal people? That I'll lose the baby?"
Maeve's sardonic tone contrasted with her hollowed appearance to jarring effect.
"We're not- We want you to get better, and yes, we believe the only way that's going to happen is if you can't use your quirk. It has nothing to do with whether you're pregnant, your body is your concern."
"You do realise you just contradicted yourself? What's this about? Is it because they don't trust me with other people, or myself?"
"Is there a way for Maeve to earn back her license?" Tsukauchi asked tiredly, running a hand through his hair. His steady voice seemed to refocus everyone except Maeve back into what the conversation was 'supposed' to be about.
"No. For now, it's an indefinite ban."
Maeve opened her mouth to issue a stream of protests and abuse, however, the Chief continued resolutely.
"BUT. There is another option, another license you could earn."
The girl narrowed her eyes at him over her coffee flask, and he could practically see her mind whirring frantically to keep up. Ah, there it was. Maeve's eyebrows shot up in realisation, and he imagined the only reason it took her so long to get there was, well, having one of the shittiest weeks he'd ever heard of.
"No."
"You've been acting like one for a very long time. Just get the license like you should've years ago and be done with it, Maeve."
"I'm not going to compromise what I believe in to appease some crusty officials who've never done anything for me," she snapped, eyes brilliant with defiance.
"Well, the other option is never using your quirk again," he replied dryly.
"What do you have against heroes?" Gang Orca asked, his tone gentle but slightly hurt. The goliath had been so quiet most members of the room forgot he was even there, jumping in their seats when he spoke.
"I need to prove that there are more ways to help people than becoming a pro. Otherwise, people forget that it's everyone's responsibility. And come on, I'm a pacifist."
"Haven't you just proven that you can defeat the most powerful foes without violence? All you need to do is touch them and they're out cold. But even if you don't want to take down villains, what you were doing at the hospital was already hero work. Helping people through your quirk is the definition of the pro hero career, Maeve. You're just too stubborn to see it that way."
"Then why is EVERY examination for a pro hero license centred around combat? I work at a hero school, I know how things work."
"Then change things!" The Chief squawked, throwing up his dark, leathery hands.
"Get the license and go back to the hospital to do exactly what you were doing before, show us all up. We don't care. But you still need to become a hero if you want to use your quirk to save people."
Maeve sat, fuming, for a few moments. She closed her eyes to collect herself, took a few deep breaths, then opened them in a cobalt blaze.
"Alright. The next provisional license exam is in a week if I'm not mistaken. I'll be there."