Hanging in the Stars
"I fear too early, for my mind misgives
Some consequence yet hanging in the stars
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date
With this night's revels, and expire the terms
Of a despised life clos'd in my breast,
By some vile forfeit of untimely death."
- (Romeo - Act 1, Scene 5)
Aizawa had no clue what was happening. He had been grappling with the idiot, deciding whether he wanted to snap his neck or bash his head in, when a dark cloud had consumed them. He tried to fight against it, but his head was still a mess from the point-blank song attack and the migraine-inducing strobe lights.
One moment they were on the rooftop, fighting in the cold air, then they were in complete darkness, then they were…
Aizawa stumbled back, his grip on the guitarist relinquished as warm air replaced the bitter cold. He hit something at waist height and felt his knees buckle as he fell back and … slumped onto a stool.
He was in a bar?
Aizawa glanced around like a wild animal, taking in the sight of the other stools, the neon signs, the rows of alcohol, and-
His company.
The man behind the counter was an amalgam of swirling purple mist and a carefully fixed suit, while in his hand was an archaic flip-phone. "I charge extra for guests," said the bartender, his voice even and his accent formal.
"Yeah, yeah, just put it on my tab, sweetie." That voice. It was the strangest voice Aizawa had ever heard. The figure sat in the stool beside him and tapped twice on the bar, "Something strong, two of 'em." Vocal Quirk. When the blond talked, his voice shifted unnaturally, as if he were jumping back and forth between multiple voices, yet sometimes the shift came midway through a word.
The bartender put the phone away as he moved to fulfil the request, and Aizawa finally had a chance to take in the other man.
His jacket was made of fine black leather that evenly reflected the warm lights above. His belt consisted of an array of speakers, with the largest being the two on his hips, while the colourful guitar was slung on his back. He wore spiked shoulder pads, outlined by strings of insufferable neon lights in red, blue and green. The man's hair was blond, swept up with what could've easily been a store's supply of hair gel, yet was weighed down by large industrial headphones with long radio antennas attached. His face was covered by a mask, the eyes orange and triangular, while the mouth was hidden by a long metal beak, currently snapped shut.
Reason returned to him: this was the hero he was going to kill.
Aizawa's fist was flying before he knew it, but it never made contact. The black mist from before appeared around his arm, and there was an otherworldly sensation that came with the sight of his fist appearing on the opposite side of the room.
Teleportation Quirk, he told himself, thankful his Erasure wasn't active, or else he might've lost the hand.
"It's fine, hun," the blond told the bartender, unaffected, "he's new."
Aizawa drew his hand from the void and held it close, even as the bartender carefully set down two shots of absinthe, a bottle of water, and a plate with two sugar cubes atop slotted spoons.
"No fighting," explained the mist-man, "or you'll be banned permanently." Was he supposed to care? Where were they? "This place is villains only."
Villains only. Wait, that meant this annoying guy was a-
The blond placed the spoon atop his glass of absinthe, sugar cube in place as he poured the bottled water over it. "Thought maybe he was a hero, but he was trying to knife Midnight pretty convincingly. Doubt he's a vigilante. Nice mask, by the way, 'cept the mouth guard looks like a ball gag. [Totally dope though]."
His voice kept switching between pitches and tones and genders, not to mention the additional jump between Japanese and English. God, he'd never heard anything more annoying in his life.
"Pick a voice," Aizawa finally growled out, surprising the duo, "and tell me what the fuck is going on."
The blond hummed and pressed a button on his mask. The lower beak unhinged, revealing a grin full of perfect teeth. "Quite a sailor's tongue you got there. Careful, someone might bite it off~" He'd settled on a voice, but it still wasn't natural – he sounded like an old timey radio, complete with soft crackling. "The name's Present Mic, and you interrupted my song and my debut. [Congratulations]."
Aizawa sneered beneath his mask. "You interrupted my debut."
The face turned to him, and he could just make out the hint of eyes beneath the orange tint. There was a careful contemplation there and, for an unearthly moment, he was overwhelmed by a sense of intelligence. This man was studying him like a hawk. The grin reappeared, outlined by the upper beak of his mask. "You're pretty shameless, trying to ride my coattails."
Aizawa started. "What?"
"Can't plan your own big party, so you gotta steal my spotlight!" Present Mic cackled wickedly, clearly more amused than offended, and he sipped the sweetened absinthe. If the man thought Shouta would touch the other, he was sorely mistaken, but instead he finished the first in record time and dissolved the sugar cube into the second.
"I'm not a media whore – I'm an underground villain."
"Wow, you're boring!" the man called, rattling the glass bottles with his voice and earning a disapproving look from the bartender. "Where's the pizzazz? You were gonna kill poor little lady Midnight and then … what?" Aizawa stared at him in surprise. What was he talking about? Why would he need to do more? Present Mic stirred the second glass of absinthe as he glanced him over again. "Got a name?"
"Don't need one."
"I'm gonna call you Eraserhead." Shouta paused. "What, you never use a pencil before, hun? Erasure: you Erase the Quirk of anyone you look at, but the effect only lasts 'til you blink or lose line of sight."
So, the intelligence he'd sensed earlier hadn't been a fluke. Smart, yet a total idiot.
The blond snickered, his voice reaching deeper, "Keep looking at me like that. It's turning me on~"
Aizawa scowled and stood up, "You're the worst fucking villain ever."
"Really?" He got up as well and leaned closer to him, "I've been told I'm pretty amazing at fucking, Shnookums~" Their eyes met through two sets of coloured lenses.
Something sparked in his stomach, a strange thrill, but he was too pissed to pay it any attention. "You wanna play guitar and sing? Be a musician. You try that shit again and call yourself a 'villain', I'll hang your body in the street." He had the urge to fling the blond's remaining drink to the ground, but he was too wary of the teleportation Quirk to risk messing up his bar.
The blond tilted his head forward. The upper beak hid his mouth, but Aizawa knew he was still grinning. "Oh baby, I'm more villain than you'll ever be. Tonight might've been my debut, but I've been playing this game for years. The difference between us is you 'chose' to be a villain, and that right there is a paradox."
He snorted. "You telling me you didn't choose to go out looking like a Looney Toons rip off? Could've fooled me."
Present Mic shook his head, that grin never faltering. "That's the difference between being a hero and being a villain, babe. A hero chooses the path: a villain accepts it."
"Bullshit."
Through the orange lenses, he could just make out dancing pupils. "Fine. Let's make one thing clear, Eraserhead. The only reason you're free right now is because I think you're fun. If I hadn't brought you here, Kamui Woods and Midnight would've taken you down and you'd be spending five-to-ten years sitting in prison. You've got a cool Quirk, baby, [super cool], but you can only do so much with that little knife. You wanna kill heroes?" He pulled out a business card and slipped it into the front of Aizawa's belt. "Get yourself some tech. I'm sure we could come to some sorta agreement about the payment…"
Aizawa sneered beneath his mask. "Why would I want tech from you?"
"Cause I'm brilliant," he said with a roll of his shoulders as he sat back down, "and if you could afford tech from anyone else, you wouldn't've debuted without it." Shouta pulled the card from his belt and ripped it in half. Present Mic snickered. "Suit yourself, babe, you'll know where to find me when you change your mind. Oh, and just for the record, Midnight is the one hero you're not allowed to touch." His voice grew more distorted, an almost demonic edge to it. "You touch her, and we'll have a problem."
Aizawa scoffed and turned to leave. Neither blond nor bartender tried to stop him.
He made his way to the street and inhaled the cold night air as he leaned against a wall for support. His debut had been a failure, all because of some idiot with a Voice Quirk, just like back then…
If he ever ran into the Voice Villain again, he'd gut him slowly.
-o-
Hizashi finished stirring his second drink, but didn't drink it now Eraserhead had left.
"Erasure Quirk," commented Kurogiri, "your worst enemy."
"I have ways of dealing with it," he said as he slid the full glass away.
The bartender eyed him warily. "He's put you in a bad mood," he observed.
No one else was around, and Kurogiri had closed the bar early for him, so Hizashi had no qualms with removing his mask now they were alone. "You know me so well, sweetie, but I was in a bad mood before I debuted." He unclasped the latch on the back and carefully set it down, automatically smoothing out the new small moustache on his upper lip. The twenty-two-year-old pressed his forehead against the counter as the alcohol kicked in. "Did you have to actually give me absinthe?"
"Your fault for trying to show off."
Yamada rubbed the back of his neck, but couldn't ignore the annoyance bubbling inside him. He laughed, a joyless sound that rattled every bottle and glass in the establishment. Kurogiri didn't scold him anymore for it – the blond could pay for anything he accidentally broke. "That fucker ruined my song, you know? I was up to the final chorus, and he tried to knife me! Ack, it took me forever to find the perfect time to debut…"
"Why bring him here?"
"The news'll be more interesting."
"Let's check the theory," said the bartender as he took up the remote and turned on the television. He flipped through some channels and finally stopped on one with breaking news.
There it was, his big debut, on the screen. That filled him with excitement.
"The heroes are searching the area for the two masked men whose identities are still unknown. One appears to have a Vocal Quirk while, according to the R-Rated Hero, the other is suspected to possess an Erasure Quirk, although these are yet to be confirmed." They played footage that must've been recorded by the helicopter, showing Eraserhead trying to take down Midnight, before he swapped to attacking Present Mic. Whenever he was onscreen, Hizashi jiggled giddily with joy. "If you have any relevant information, please contact the number below."
He snorted. They were no longer near the area, thanks to his teleporter pal, although his wallet was going to feel a lot lighter tomorrow. It'd been worth it though, especially since it would be a while before he found the time to debut again. At least he didn't need to squeeze in time for his boyfriend anymore, now that they'd broken up, but that only made the night bitterer.
He continued to watch the screen, his eyes focusing on Eraserhead as he launched at him with the simple knife. Damn Mic looked so cool as he dodged!
An idea crossed his mind.
"Let's have some real fun with this…" He pulled his burner phone from his pocket and dialled the number on the screen, swapping his voice to a young frightened female's. "Excuse me," he said, putting on a semblance of fear, "but I've got information on the two masked men." There was a bit of chatter on the other line as his call was redirected, and although he was grinning, his smile couldn't be heard in his quaking tones. "The one with the blond hair is a villain by the name of Present Mic! I ran into him as he was making his escape, and he almost killed me, until the guy with black hair stopped him!"
"Did you catch the name of the other man?" asked the policeman on the phone.
"Yes. He told me he's sorry he attacked Midnight – it was a mix-up. His name is actually Eraserhead," Mic could barely keep himself from laughing, "and this was supposed to be his debut!"
"As a villain?"
"No." That man was going to pay for interrupting his song. "As a new pro-hero!"