WARNING: This chapter contains physical, verbal, psychological, and emotional abuse, gaslighting, conditioning, misgendering, dissociation, denial, self-blame, victim blaming, threats of sexual assault, allusions and non-graphic descriptions of non-consensual touching/kissing/assault, mention of vomiting and starvation (no descriptions), suicidal ideation, and a suicide attempt. Nothing is graphically described in detail but read at your discretion. This is your warning.
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Chapter Thirty: Pediophobia
I can do this.
I can do this.
I can do this.
Hawks checked his reflection in the mirror for what must be the thousandth time and reached up, fiddling with his hair. It refused to lay flat, sticking up in bird-like tufts, and he scowled at his stupid animal traits. The sixteen year-old quickly covered the glower with a cheerful smile. Heroes did not scowl, after all. They always smiled no matter how annoyed they felt. Still, smiling hurt a little because of the bruises on his face. Pathfinder had worked him hard in training and the right side of his face was more black and blue than skin-colored at the moment. He'd have to cover them up before he met with the Commission President.
Hawks did just that and deftly concealed the marks with cosmetics. He had tons of practice and was proud to say he could apply such cosmetics in a few minutes. Particularly from when he had to practice modeling. Ugh, he hate— Heroes do not 'hate.'— disliked modeling so much. It did not leave him so exhausted he could barely find the energy to crawl into bed, but it made him antsy in ways other types of training did not. He hated having to sit still as he let his handlers prod and move him into different poses while shoving him into outfits that forced him to cover injuries with make up.
At least during training he could move on his own. When he was modeling, he was supposed to be a glorified dress up doll. The way some of his handlers looked at him during these sessions did not make him feel any more at ease. He had to get used to their stares though. Hawks knew the best Pro Heroes had to be beautiful eye candy for the public— complete with pinups and calendars filled with photos— but that did not mean he had to like it.
In fact, once he learned to ignore the people around him the whole thing became rather tedious. Even looking at the pictures he was given that were filled with scantily-clad Heroes was simply research on how to tip his head a certain way and smirk prettily. One of his handlers had mocked him for being a hormonal teenager and when Hawks told him he wasn't, he'd gotten a slap and a stern warning not to lie. Hawks had not been able to tell whether the handler was angry at the unwanted comment or annoyed that Hawks wasn't interested in 'normal teenager things', so he'd kept his lack of interest to himself since then.
It was just a minor example of how the Commission could be so confusing sometimes. Hawks could not always predict how they wanted him to act. He was supposed to act 'like a Hero' and 'better than a lazy brat' but what did that mean exactly? He dare not ask. Heroes were supposed to figure out things on their own, and turning to others for answers was simply childish and a show of incompetence.
Hawks finished covering his face and considered his arms and the purple marks there but decided his jacket would cover them. His handlers had wanted his costume to show more skin or at least be tighter, but Hawks liked the comfort of his jacket and pants. Plus, it got cold when he flew. They'd actually listened to him when he said that and took his word into account when creating his costume. Though instead of having a t-shirt with a back that went right under his wings like he requested, they made it a halter top that went much lower, exposing his back almost completely. Hawks did not understand why—really, a t-shirt would have been fine— but it left plenty of room for his wings so that was good.
But still, they listened to his input. At least a little.
Hawks still could not believe it, but it gave him hope. Now that he was sixteen— two years from becoming an official Pro Hero— maybe the Commission would relax their grip on him. He knew they were so strict with his upbringing because he needed to be a good Hero— and he was grateful to them for giving him that opportunity, really he was— but now that he was older, maybe he could stretch his wings a little. The Commission could not watch over him forever, right? They trained him until it was time to let him loose. That's how it worked. At least, that's what Hawks hoped would happen.
He could not wait to turn eighteen. In just two more years, he would be an official Pro Hero. He would go outside the Commission's lonely walls and work with other Heroes to save the day.
Maybe… Maybe a couple would like to work together often?
Hawks knew Heroes were supposed to work alone— like All Might— but sometimes they worked in teams, too. Hawks hoped he made a good first impression to any potential teammates. If he proved he was useful, maybe another Hero— maybe even his idol, Endeavor—would keep him around. Just for a little bit. They did not have to stay forever. Hawks was not needy. Heroes did not need frien— teammates.
He knew better than to mention all that to the Commission. Heroes worked alone. They relied on their own strength. Just because Hawks's Quirk was pathetic for combat situations— unlike All Might's— did not mean he needed to drag others down. But still, a temporary Hero teammate would be nice.
But that was not what Hawks wanted to discuss with the Commission today.
The sixteen year-old made sure his costume was perfectly placed, smoothing the fabric and checking his gloves again. No stains, no holes, not a wrinkle or speck of grime. He would be a Hero soon and Heroes had to look their best at all times.
Hawks moved away from the mirror and checked his notes one more time before shoving them into his dresser. Heroes had to give speeches all the time, so he would need to rely on memory for his presentation. He went over the numbers over and over again, knowing one wrong decimal would be pinpointed and used to rip everything else apart.
Hawks checked the time and took a deep breath. I can do this.
He walked out his door and straight into Amplifier. Hawks stilled and put on a blank expression, swallowing the relieved sigh that wanted to escape when he did not feel any pain. Heroes did not gasp or scream when they felt pain, something Hawks had been slow to learn. That was why the President had Amplifier appear for unscheduled sessions. If Hawks grimaced from an unexpected jolt, what good would he be when a Villain punched him?
Hawks's poker face must have been good enough because Amplifier did not use his Quirk. Instead the masked man seemed to take in Hawks's appearance.
"You do not have maneuverability testing today." Amplifier noted.
"No, sir." Hawks said, giving no more information than was asked.
Amplifier cupped Hawks's cheek with a large, cold hand. "What are you doing today?"
Hawks did not reply. Amplifier was not privy to his reason for meeting with the Commission board today. He knew it and Amplifier knew it. But that was the test. If Hawks could not be trusted to keep this to himself, what use was he?
A sharp, persistent pain shot through Hawks's cheek and down his neck but he did not flinch, remaining silent and impassive as Amplifier kept his Quirk activated. The stabbing sensation became a burning one but Hawks did not even exhale shakily. He was used to this by now, so he held fast and waited for Amplifier to eventually stop.
It took several minutes, but Amplifier released him.
"Not even a flinch. Well done, kid."
Hawks beamed at the praise.
"Heroes do not show pride."
Amplifier sounded bored rather than irritated but Hawks still repressed a wince, forcing his wings not to droop. "Yes, sir."
Amplifier grunted and clapped him on the shoulder— it felt like a knife went straight through him— before leaving. Hawks cautiously continued on his way, but his interrogation-resistance trainer did not come back to unexpectedly grab him again. Instead another handler emerged like a specter and merely followed him down the hall.
Norito Kaetsu was a handler that always lingered in the background. Despite his acid green eyes, shocking white hair, tall stature and muscular build, he was rather unremarkable in that he... didn't do much. He was there when Hawks went to Amplifier's training sessions, there when he met with the Commission board, there when he practiced his acting and manipulation skills, there when he modeled. Hawks knew Kaetsu was a sniper in the field, but in HQ he must be a supervisor or something because he never taught Hawks how to shoot or fight like him. Instead he was just… there. Observing.
Hawks did not try to speak to Kaetsu, and he in turn did not speak to Hawks. Instead he followed Hawks right to the President's office, watching as he always did.
Hawks respectfully knocked and, upon receiving permission, entered. The President of the Hero Commission sat at her clean, barren desk, her fingers neatly folded together on top of it.
"You're late." she said.
Hawks hid a wince and bowed sharply. "I apologize, ma'am. I met Amplifier in the hallway and—"
"There is no excuse for tardiness." she interrupted coldly. "If Heroes are late, it means a loss of life."
Hawks's stomach twisted with guilt. "I'm sorry, ma'am."
"Hmph." The President's sharp eyes pinned him in place. "I put time aside in my schedule for you, and you are already wasting it."
"Of course." Hawks said quickly, careful not to stumble over his words. "I'll begin right now."
She inclined her head in agreement and Hawks tried not breathe a sigh of relief. He focused on her nose so he could pretend to be looking her in the eyes and cleared his throat.
"Over the past few months, I have been researching Heroes and their methods for dealing with high crime rates." Hawks spoke confidently like the Commission taught him, showing none of his nerves. At least, he hoped so. "While arrests are the most common method, research shows a steady decline in percentages of crimes in cities patrolled by certain Heroes."
Hawks did not give any names. Not yet. The Commission did not like some Heroes because of their arrogance— they thought they knew better than the Commission— and if Hawks gave the wrong one as an example, his entire proposal would be ignored.
"They work to reduce crime in impoverished and neglected areas through assistance programs which helped people in those areas find honest work. They also help provide affordable housing there, and help bring economic growth to those areas too. This type of assistance is proven to help decrease the number of survival-motivated Villains in those areas."
Hawks did not mention how he'd likely be one of those desperate Villains if not for the Commission, and that was if he even made it to his teenaged years. Hawks was lucky enough to have a roof over his head and enough food to not go hungry most of the time. The exceptions were when he got in trouble or when his old modeling coach insisted he needed to be thinner so she shrank his portion sizes. The Commission President herself had put a stop to that when she figured out starving was what hindered his performance and that handler was fired immediately.
The Commission President could be harsh, but she was reasonable. Hawks knew everything she did was to make him the best Hero he could be. He wanted to give back, and coming up with ways to expand that generosity to others on his own seemed like a great investment.
Hawks risked a glance at the President.
She did not look annoyed.
Did… Did that mean she was listening?
Hawks squashed his hopes before they could grow and kept speaking. "Another route to be considered is to change Japan's Quirk Therapy industry. Some people's Quirks compel them to perform certain acts to activate their Quirks, and this can make them dangerous. Thus, they are sent to Quirk Therapy in order to learn how to suppress those urges. However, statistics show that suppression only makes the compulsion worse in nine out of every ten cases."
Hawks desperately hoped the statistics he remembered were correct. He did not let his uncertainty show.
"I'd like to implement a 'Quirk Assistance' program like those found in other countries. It places those with Quirk-based compulsions in an environment that allows them to follow those compulsions but in controlled, monitored ways. Through this method, they learn to control these compulsions."
The President still said nothing. Hawks hoped that was a good sign.
"For example, an American man had a Quirk called 'Bad Luck Charm' which allowed him to target those around him and give them bad luck. Normally it was harmless things like making them drop food down themselves. However, this Quirk compelled the man to tag random people with bad luck, which of course was illegal. So he repressed his compulsion. However, if he did not tag anyone, he would become more and more aggressive and agitated until his Quirk exploded out of him and caused bad luck to everyone around him in a fifty meter radius. One of these outbursts caused a twenty-car pileup, though thankfully no one died. Through a Quirk Assistance group, the man learned to control his compulsion and whittle it down to manageable levels. Before receiving support, he had to tag one person a day or risk an outburst. After half a year, he only needed to tag one person a month. After two years, he did not need to tag anyone at all."
Hawks felt his back straighten but forced his wings not to extend. "A Hero's duty is to stop Villains that use their Quirks for crimes, but that goal does little to prevent those Villains from becoming criminals. The world has already adapted so much in order to allow Quirks to fit into society, and evidence shows that further adaptation can only benefit both the individual and the public as a whole. Decreasing people's need to become Villains through unlucky circumstance or their Quirks being considered dangerous would—"
BANG!
The President's hands came down on the top of the desk with a thunderous crash, silencing Hawks. The neutral pleasantry was gone from her face, replaced by a furious expression.
"'Need'? They 'need' to become Villains?"
Hawks recognized that tone. He forced his hands not to shake. "U-Um. These programs would help to stop them from becoming Villains in the first place. Many just become Villains because they don't— feel like they don't have a choice, or because they can't control their compulsions. It's like blaming someone for accidentally kicking a person when their knee jerk reflex is activated. Heroes are supposed to save and help, and minimizing the need for them to become Villains to feel accepted or survive would reduce the need for arrests, and in turn reduce the strain on Heroes to—"
"Are you truly implying Heroes should let Villains go in order to lessen your workload?" the President said icily.
Hawks repressed a flinch. "I-I never said that."
He might as well have remained silent for all she listened.
"That's enough." she thundered. "Have you learned nothing from your training? Heroes do not make excuses for Villains."
Hawks did not protest that he hadn't meant to imply that either. He felt his wing feathers fluff up and mentally begged them to lay flat. The President hated it when he did that. It showed he was scared. Her cold glare became icier than the arctic.
"It seems you need a refresher on how good Heroes really act. Kaetsu."
Hawks's gaze snapped to the handler and he looked back, expression one of pure boredom.
"You've been a bad little Hero." he murmured, almost as if to himself. Acidic green eyes met frightened gold, and Hawks swore Kaetsu's lips twisted into a small, sadistic grin. "Let's fix that."
For a moment, Hawks had no idea anything had happened.
But then the feathers in his wings relaxed and his lips stretched into a heroic smile.
Hawks's body relaxed too and he settled into a generic, standby stance, like a soldier waiting for an order.
His body did that, not Hawks.
Because he could not move his limbs.
Even Hawks's eyes were beyond his control. They did not dart back and forth in a panic as he kept on smiling, his every muscle attached to invisible strings that were not his to control. Instead they softened, matching his heroic, good-natured grin.
Hawks's body blinked.
His chest moved as he breathed.
His feathers were flat, his wings not twitching the slightest bit.
He could not control any of it. His throat refused to even tighten in fear as inside his head, he screamed.
Hawks's body may as well be a coffin he was locked in.
In front of him, Kaetsu smiled serenely. "Your greatest fear is losing yourself and becoming a controlled puppet. How exquisite."
Hawks's world did not go black.
He wished it did.
Ȟ̵̪̙E̶̻̲͆L̵͇̹͚̉̓͜P̴̼̖̓ ̶̰̜̺͒͑M̷̳͓͈͗̈́̂̈́E̵̮̐͗̀͝
Hawks smiled as he went through his daily training session with Pathfinder and Amplifier. He did not mean or want to but it was like someone had forced his lips into a grin before paralyzing him.
"Heroes always smile, even when in pain." Kaetsu reminded him as Pathfinder punched Hawks in the throat. The blow took his breath away but his expression remained unchanged.
"Heroes always win." Kaetsu told him as his body did not react fast enough and he was kicked to the floor.
"Heroes never lose." Kaetsu informed him as Pathfinder pinned his body to the ground.
A part of Hawks wanted to scream that it was Kaetsu's fault that he'd lost because he was the one using Hawks like a marionette. He recoiled from such a notion because he could not afford to be childish and blame others for his screw ups. Kaetsu was right, and Hawks was the failure for not realizing it.
His body attempted to throw Pathfinder off him. Instead she successfully restrained him, twisting his arm behind his back. Hawks's smiling face was pressed into the concrete and no matter how his body struggled, he could not break free. His position gave him a clear view of Amplifier, who stood near the wall with his arms crossed. His disappointment was clear, but Hawks could not turn his head away so he did not have to see it.
"Could you make him stop smiling?" Amplifier muttered to Kaetsu. "It's creepy."
Kaetsu did not appear to hear him. He looked between Pathfinder and Hawks and, as Hawks continued to fail to break free, he sighed.
"Break it." he ordered in a tone more often used for asking about the weather.
Pathfinder inclined her head.
Then she snapped Hawks's arm.
Hawks did not scream, but tears welled up in his eyes. He heard Kaetsu sigh again, and his handler leaned over him, frowning with tired disappointment.
"Keep your problems to yourself and your pain off your face." Kaetsu told Hawks again. "You are a Hero. You provide comfort. You do not need it."
He proceeded to stomp on Hawks's broken arm.
Hawks kept smiling as tears of pain pooled in his eyes.
He could not utter a sound.
Ȟ̵̪̙E̶̻̲͆L̵͇̹͚̉̓͜P̴̼̖̓ ̶̰̜̺͒͑M̷̳͓͈͗̈́̂̈́E̵̮̐͗̀͝
In the subsequent weeks, Kaetsu followed him everywhere like a hulking nanny watched an unruly child. He oversaw Hawks's training of every type, and he never stopped staring as he always watched Hawks with a serene smile on his face.
But every so often, his expression would twist.
His smile would widen, his acid green eyes glinting with a mad light, and he'd stare at Hawks like a ravenous wolf looked at bloody meat.
It was creepy.
Since Kaetsu always watched him, Hawks made a habit of keeping boxers and his costume's halter top on as much as he could. Heroes were not shy, and Hawks was used to modeling, but something about Kaetsu's unrelenting stare unnerved him. Even though he was not ordered to, Hawks always turned away and covered himself with his wings whenever he needed to fully get changed. He had to, because Kaetsu was with him everywhere except the bathroom. He was even given a bed in Hawks's room.
"I have to remain close for my Quirk to remain effective." he claimed.
Hawks knew he was a liar.
He just wanted to watch Hawks to fall and burn.
Any remaining limits to Hawks training were removed. Any reasonable stopping points or restraint were revoked. Instead every day was a continuous stream of torment, with Hawks's body acting as the vessel while Kaetsu became the puppeteer.
But even his control could not rid Hawks of his body's natural reservations and weaknesses.
And as Hawks failed again and again, Kaetsu's serene smile faded and he grew angrier.
"You missed that target by half an inch." Kaetsu insisted, speaking more words in a few weeks than Hawks had heard from him in all the years he had been with the Commission. "Do it again."
"Do it again."
"Do it again."
"Again."
"Why are you stopping? You still have blood feathers left. Use them."
"Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I haven't noticed you've been missing the vitals? Are you still so stupid you still want to help Villains? Do you still have your selfish ideas to 'save' them? Villains are the enemy of Society. Good Heroes do not grant an enemy mercy. So hit. The target."
"A perfect head-shot. So you can learn."
"Are you truly so lazy that you think you can sleep during training? I know you didn't pass out from blood loss. Humans can still fight if they've lost an arm. A few missing feathers is barely an inconvenience."
"Your speed has slowed by .03%. I know you're faster than this. Stop being lazy. Every second you waste is another life lost, and those losses are on your head."
"Are you tired, Angel? Too bad. Heroes do not need rest."
"Get up. You're staying in the air for the next thirty-two hours."
"Stop fishing for sympathy by acting pathetic."
"You're twenty years too young to try to manipulate me into sympathizing with you, child."
"Keep your problems to yourself and your pain off your face. You are a Hero. You provide comfort. You do not need it."
"Do you think a Villain will care if you're tired? Do you think they'll show you pity if you act like a beaten dog?"
"Get up. There is still work to be done."
"You fell unconscious for ten hours. You will remain in the air for the next week."
Slap. A strike to the face. "Heroes do not flinch."
Thud. A fist to the throat. "Heroes do not flinch."
Crack. A broken collar bone. "Why didn't you dodge? Are you that incompetent?"
"Keep your problems to yourself and your pain off your face. You are a Hero. You provide comfort. You do not need it."
"Does All Might waste his time on 'Villain assistance' programs?"
"Have you ever seen All Might cry? No. Because Heroes do not cry."
"If All Might were in your position, do you think he would complain?"
"Does All Might flinch when a Villain attacks him?"
"All Might makes sacrifices every day for the good of Hero Society. He is the embodiment of selflessness. Why do you disgrace the legacy of Heroes like this?"
"Be grateful we're spending so much time on correcting your behavior. We could cut your head open and rip out your organs for study. We could break your mind and leave you an empty shell. We could slit your throat and leave your body in a ditch. No one would give a damn about a piece of trash like you. You'd be forgotten about in a year."
"Stop. Flinching."
Despite Hawks being the passive observer in his own body, Kaetsu blamed him every time he failed.
He began to hit him too. A lot. A slap to the face, a vice-like grip on his arm, grasping his hair and shaking him like a misbehaving puppy, a shove into the wall head-first, sharp fingers grabbing and yanking out handfuls of feathers from his wings.
No one objected if they saw because Hawks deserved it.
Ȟ̵̪̙E̶̻̲͆L̵͇̹͚̉̓͜P̴̼̖̓ ̶̰̜̺͒͑M̷̳͓͈͗̈́̂̈́E̵̮̐͗̀͝
It had been three months since Hawks was first put under Kaetsu's control.
Rather than improve, he grew steadily worse in every department. His speed dropped, his wit faltered, he lost more spars than he won. He failed at simple tasks like aerial maneuvers, because although Kaetsu's Quirk forcibly guided him, his body was too exhausted to prevent him from crashing. Sleep was a rare luxury, bruises and cuts littered his skin, and a hollow look filled his golden eyes even as his plastic smile remained in place.
Hawks knew it was all his own fault, because Kaetsu's control was perfect. Hawks should be a perfect, good Hero, like he feared and the Commission wanted. He had stopped struggling and thinking unheroic things long ago, but his body still refused to do what the Commission commanded. Instead he weakened, becoming more and more pathetic in his displays.
So when Kaetsu brought him to the Commission President's office and released him from his Quirk, Hawks did not stand with pride like a good Hero should. Instead his knees buckled and he crumpled to the floor. His sobs filled the desolate meeting room and he could not manage to muffle them.
The President stood over him, unsympathetic to his weeping. In fact, it only made her more disgusted.
"It seems you haven't learned anything from this experience." she sighed. "Why do you continue to waste our resources and time?"
Hawks tried to apologize but couldn't utter the words as they remained stuck in his throat. Instead childish hiccups tore themselves out of his aching throat. The President's nose wrinkled as if she were looking at disgusting trash she had found in the gutter, and gestured to Kaetsu.
Terror burst in Hawks's chest and he found his voice.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry! Please don't put me under again." he begged. "I'll be a good Hero. Please, I can do better!"
She sniffed. "Heroes don't beg."
Kaetsu smiled and stepped forward.
Hawks tried to back away— crawling on his hands and knees like the most cowardly of Villains— even though he knew it was futile. "No, please—"
Ȟ̵̪̙E̶̻̲͆L̵͇̹͚̉̓͜P̴̼̖̓ ̶̰̜̺͒͑M̷̳͓͈͗̈́̂̈́E̵̮̐͗̀͝
Life went on.
Hawks's body was trained until it gave out and he inevitably collapsed.
Over and over and over again.
Kaetsu struck him for every mistake.
Over and over and over again.
Hawks smiled through insults and broken bones and bruises and cuts and pain.
Over and over and over again.
He listened to the Commission's lessons on real heroics and tried to show he was taking it to heart, but a doll could not show anything except the expression its master gave it.
Over.
And.
Over.
And.
Over.
As the months passed, Kaetsu began to change.
To an outsider, the stoic man seemed to become happier, laughing and smiling often as he walked through HQ with a bounce in his step.
Hawks knew better.
Kaetsu's smile was not that of a man who found happiness in life.
It was that of a man losing his grip on sanity.
Hawks knew many Quirks came with drawbacks if they were overused. Some were physical, and others mental. Kaetsu's Quirk seemed to fall into the latter category. The euphoria it gave him acted like a drug, bringing him unnatural joy that messed with his mental state. He did well at hiding it, so only Hawks noticed.
Or maybe everyone noticed but did not care.
After a particularly grueling week, Hawks had collapsed again. Most of his feathers had been torn out one by one to test how long he could keep to the air, and he'd eventually plummeted to the ground, knocking himself unconscious. He woke with his smile in place and Kaetsu watching.
Kaetsu was smiling as well. His smile was twitchy, like he had uncontrollable muscle spasms in his lips and jaw, and his eyes gleamed with a disturbing light.
Hawks could not show how unnerved he was by that expression. Heroes did not show unease, so he was not allowed to.
"Get changed." Kaetsu ordered.
Hawks's body obediently got up and he grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a shirt from his dresser. His jacket had bloodstains on it again, but he could not show his dismay at yet another failure. Heroes' costumes were their pride, and yet he'd dirtied his. Could he be any more incompetent?
Hawks smiled as his eyes burned but he did not cry. Heroes did not cry, as Kaetsu often reminded him.
He turned away from Kaetsu and removed his jacket, exposing the tattered remains of his wings. The feathers would regenerate, but for now, he barely had enough for them to be considered wings. Bits of bone were visible through the few remaining feathers, all of which were useless in combat. If he tried to attack an enemy with them, he may as well throw a cotton ball at their face.
Without his coat, his halter top— with its custom open back for his wings— did not provide much warmth. Hawks felt cold but did not shiver. Heroes did not show they were cold. A hot hand landed on his back, between his minuscule, useless wings and he obediently went still. He felt Kaetsu's equally hot breath tickle the back of his neck.
For a moment, his handler did not move, but then he gave Hawks a light push. Hawks stumbled forward but kept himself upright, much like a robot relying on its balancing programming. Kaetsu gave a childish giggle and shoved him again, a bit harder. Hawks did not fall.
The click of a switchblade was the only warning Hawks got before a knife was coming at his face.
His muscles remained lax and he kept smiling as the blade halted an inch from his eye. Kaetsu held it there for a moment and lowered it with a muffled snort.
"You're like a toy!" Kaetsu giggled. "You can't do anything without me." He laughed breathlessly like Hawks's helplessness was the funniest thing in the world. "I've never gotten to use my Quirk like this before! Your fear is so invigorating. I've never felt so alive!"
Hawks smiled at him and stood in place, a dependent Hero doll waiting for its next order. Kaetsu's laughing fit ended abruptly and he stepped in front of Hawks, leaning in. His acid green eyes almost appeared to be glowing in the near-darkness.
"What fears can I create inside you?" he murmured. "What are the limits? How much can I do before you break?"
Hawks could not answer. He kept smiling.
Acid green eyes scrutinized Hawks's grinning face and Kaetsu's expression softened, becoming almost gentle.
"You know, you're almost an adult now. You've grown so much…" Kaetsu murmured, almost to himself. "You're… beautiful. Like an angel." His hand trailed down Hawks's smiling face, firmly grasping his chin. "Shouldn't you have grown stubble by now?" He forcibly turned Hawks's head to inspect it from every angle, fingers caressing his smooth jaw thoughtfully. "You're too pretty to be a boy."
Hawks was not naive.
He was not so ignorant that he failed to notice the glint in Kaetsu's eyes.
He could not move away as his handler leaned close. He was frozen like a porcelain statue with a smile on his face. Kaetsu's breath smelled like blood. His arms slid around Hawks with deceptive gentleness, guiding him into his arms, and one hand grasped his hair, pulling it just enough to be painful as he held his head still. The edge of a knife kissed Hawks's throat and Kaetsu's nose pressed against the top of his head. He inhaled deeply.
"Your smell is too pretty to be a boy's, too. You smell like fear."
Hawks's body kept smiling. His heartbeat did not change despite the terror he felt. His body might as well not be his own. In that moment, he wished it wasn't.
Kaetsu chuckled unsteadily— like he was the one of the verge of shattering into pieces— and stepped back.
His fist swung and struck Hawks's temple.
The blow reverberated through Hawks and he crumpled to the floor. He did not try to get up or move. Instead he laid there like a useless rag doll, waiting for his owner to drag him around. Kaetsu grabbed his wing and yanked out a handful of small, downy feathers, fingers scraping on the exposed, bloody bone.
Hawks kept smiling as his eyes filled with tears of pain. Kaetsu let the feathers flutter uselessly to the ground and grabbed Hawks's arm, positioning his body so he laid flat on his stomach. Hawks remained limp and easily poseable, like good Heroes were supposed to be when modeling. Perhaps it was Kaetsu's Quirk, but he felt strangely detached from his body, even as Kaetsu climbed on top of him, pinning him down.
Hawks knew his frame was rather slight, but Kaetsu's weight felt like it was going to crush him. His handler nuzzled the crook of his neck and inhaled, eyes closing in rapture.
"So… beautiful."
Hawks's heartbeat did not change when Kaetsu grasped his throat with one hand, just tight enough that he struggled to breathe. His skin did not go clammy as his handler kissed the back of his neck. He had no reaction as Kaetsu's knife slid down his spine. Hawks did not scream, or tense, or fight, because control of his body remained out of his reach.
Hawks's forced smile vanished and tears trickled down his face, but his body refused to move.
"Don't cry, Angel." Kaetsu whispered in his ear. "I am a patient man. I can wait for you to turn eighteen."
Despite that, his hands did not leave Hawks's cold skin. Kaetsu's fingers spasmed and nails dug into Hawks flesh but he was nothing but a puppet and puppets did not react to pain.
"I can't wait to break you and make you mine." Kaetsu whispered. His voice was heavier, filled with a feral, aggressive strain that shook Hawks to his core. "You can pretend all you want, but deep down you know you deserve this."
Hawks's mind separated further from his body and he observed Kaetsu's actions with hollow apathy because this was nothing more than training. Like how the Commission taught him to fight and save and resist torture, this was nothing more than training because Kaetsu was training him to not cry and show fear.
Heroes could never show fear and Villains were evil and bad and would do anything to hurt and break so Kaetsu was kindly training him in this particular area so he was prepared for the real world. It was nothing more than training because if it wasn't training his other handlers would come in and stop Kaetsu but they did nothing because it was nothing more than training. It was nothing more than training. Nothing more. Just training so it was normal and fine and he would not cry like a good Hero would not cry.
Deep down, Hawks wondered if this was karma for his selfishness. He had spoken of Quirk compulsions and the terrible things they made people do, and now he wondered if Kaetsu's own compulsions were getting the best of him. That meant this was Hawks's own fault. It was his fault a man had been turned into a monster.
Acceptance of his guilt was almost a relief and his tears stopped flowing, leaving him empty and numb.
Just let it happen. It will be over when it's over. There is nothing you can do to stop it.
Kaetsu's hand grasped Hawks's throat, squeezing just enough that his vision blurred, and his fear spiked right back up.
His handler chuckled. "Still so afraid. Still so selfish. If you'd been a good Hero like we asked, none of this would have happened. You brought this upon yourself, my Angel. Remember… we own you."
Ȟ̵̪̙E̶̻̲͆L̵͇̹͚̉̓͜P̴̼̖̓ ̶̰̜̺͒͑M̷̳͓͈͗̈́̂̈́E̵̮̐͗̀͝
"Are you happy, Amplifier?" Hawks heard Pathfinder ask mockingly as he flawlessly flew through an obstacle course the next day. "He doesn't look so 'creepy' today."
"Yeah." Amplifier almost sounded bitter. "He's not smiling anymore."
Ȟ̵̪̙E̶̻̲͆L̵͇̹͚̉̓͜P̴̼̖̓ ̶̰̜̺͒͑M̷̳͓͈͗̈́̂̈́E̵̮̐͗̀͝
Just let it happen. It will be over when it's over. There is nothing you can do to stop it.
Hawks's memories became spottier after that. Blackouts were a frequent occurrence even though his body still acted without him. There were no repressed memories to speak of. Hawks had studied repressed memories as part of his lessons to be a good Hero, and his handlers said repressed memories were fabrications created by those fishing for sympathy.
Hawks knew he was one of those people because his memories were spotty and he still cried and would not smile and he was selfish and ungrateful and arrogant and bad, but he tried not to be bad he tried he tried he tried.
He failed.
He woke in the infirmary more than a couple times with bruises and cuts he did not remember getting. Sometimes, he would wake up with dark contusions on his neck and back, and everything would hurt. The doctors merely sent him on his way as soon as he regained consciousness, giving him back to Kaetsu.
Hawks's performance worsened.
His handlers noticed and called him lazy. They pushed him harder than before, resulting in more visits to the infirmary.
Hawks's performance worsened.
His handlers did nothing when Kaetsu grabbed Hawks by the jaw right in front of them and mocked him for 'playing hard to get' when they both knew Hawks couldn't fight back at all. Hawks heard a few whisper that maybe this would fix Hawks or 'make him stop pretending he wasn't interested' and encourage him to stop 'acting like a stuck up, manipulative brat stringing others along'. They should have let someone do something earlier, some said, to 'finally rid him of that snobby, prudish attitude'.
Hawks could not pretend they were ignorant anymore. His handlers undeniably knew what was happening behind closed doors and now out in the open. They knew what Kaetsu was doing but they did not interfere. They did not care.
Because Hawks deserved it.
Hawks's performance worsened.
Hawks began to practice modeling again, his body splayed in sultry poses in preparation for his inevitable debut. The public would want pinups of the new Hero, after all, and it was his duty as a good Hero to provide. He often cried during the shoots even as his mouth smiled and his eyes slipped into half-lidded, mysterious looks and sometimes he could not stop not matter how much Kaetsu and the other handlers yelled at or shook or hit him.
Kaetsu was especially aggressive after those shoots no matter how compliant Hawks tried to be. He did not mean to be difficult. He really didn't. He couldn't use his voice to apologize.
Hawks's performance worsened.
He stopped eating. Actually, he did eat, but it seemed some bodily functions were beyond Kaetsu's control because Hawks's stomach was so twisted with stress that any food he got down came right back up. Kaetsu was always there. He always saw. Always always always, never leaving Hawks alone. Kaetsu did not care when Hawks had nothing left so he spat up stomach acid and merely slapped Hawks for being difficult. At first, his other handlers did not notice Hawks was getting thinner. Once they did— when his important red wings began to turn a sickly grey— he had lost twenty pounds in he span of a few weeks.
Kaetsu forced him to eat like he forced him to everything else, tearing into him for being selfish all the wall. Hawks could not stop him. He was just along for the ride.
Hawks's performance worsened.
One day, he accidentally flew into a window. He was not in control— Angel puppet flying with strings. Clip clip clip them away~ Kaetsu was the one flying him around but his handlers yelled that it was his fault when the glass shattered and slivers of glass cut up his face. Kaetsu stood back and watched him fall to the floor, shivering and bleeding. He laughed as the other handlers scolded him, and Hawks was healed up without a blemish.
The next day he accidentally flew— Kaetsu flew him into no no no don't blame him for your mistakes you self-centered brat— into another window and was healed again. Not a blemish was left on his face. Not a scar. Because Heroes must look beautiful for the public because good Heroes were beautiful and ogled and it didn't matter what he felt.
Kaetsu decided that if Hawks wanted to brain himself enough, he could help with that. He slammed Hawks's head into a doorframe that evening, knocking him out cold.
He woke in the infirmary three days later.
Hawks's performance worsened.
He wondered why the Commission even bothered to keep him alive now.
He was not a good Hero.
He was not a Hero.
He was not a person.
He was an empty doll, a shell, a puppet, nothing.
He might as well be dead.
Just let it happen. It will be over when it's over. There is nothing you can do to stop it.
It was nearing the eleventh month when Hawks came to realize it would end soon.
Nothing had changed, but Hawks knew it would end soon.
It would end soon and Hawks would be free.
Hawks decided he was afraid of freedom.
He was afraid of freedom.
He convinced himself he was afraid of freedom.
Nine days before Hawks's seventeenth birthday, they were training with blades, his feathers against Pathfinder's sword.
Hawks's speed was phenomenal.
His footing was perfect.
His wings were full.
His feathers were strong.
His costume was clean and carefully placed, unwrinkled by groping, unwanted hands.
His heroic smile was back in place.
It was the best he had performed in months.
It was better than Pathfinder expected.
Which was why she was completely unprepared when Hawks did not parry a thrust and instead tossed his feather sword aside.
He threw himself forward, but Pathfinder moved at the last second.
So her blade went through Hawks's shoulder instead of his chest.
Ȟ̵̪̙E̶̻̲͆L̵͇̹͚̉̓͜P̴̼̖̓ ̶̰̜̺͒͑M̷̳͓͈͗̈́̂̈́E̵̮̐͗̀͝
Hawks woke in the infirmary with a bandaged shoulder. He trembled in pain, reaching up to touch the covered wound, and realized he had been released again. He did not smile, or feel relief.
He knew this reprieve was temporary.
Hawks did try to escape again. He did not move at all. He remained on the bed, shivering, and stared at the ceiling with an empty expression, waiting for the inevitable. A shadow fell over him but he did not look at its source, waiting to be moved like a lifeless doll. A manicured hand grabbed his chin and forced him to turn.
The Commission President scowled down at him.
She was disappointed.
Again.
Hawks's eyes burned but he begged himself not to cry. The President must have seen his unshod tears because she huffed. Beside her, Kaetsu stepped forward on cue.
Hawks did not try to crawl away or hide behind his tattered wings. He did not beg. He did not curl up or cry. He merely shut his eyes and tried to stop his chest from heaving with repressed sobs.
Just let it happen. It will be over when it's over. There is nothing you can do to stop it—
"That's enough." the President said.
Kaetsu halted.
Hawks hesitantly opened his eyes.
The President stared down at Hawks with a cold, remorseless expression. "It seems you've finally learned your lesson."
Hawks knew she expected an answer. He could only manage a quiet whimper. He pressed a hand over his mouth to muffle it but it was too late. The expression on the President's face changed from disappointment to anger.
Hawks stopped trying to muffle himself. His aching shoulder shook as he sobbed openly, barely able to draw in enough air to breathe, but he still did not move because he knew there would be no escape.
"You call yourself a Hero yet you're giving up?"
Hearing Kaetsu's voice, it was all Hawks could do to try to suppress the scream-like wails that built in his throat. He heard his handler step closer but could not see him through the tears clouding his sight.
"How pathetic. If you don't pull yourself together right now I'm taking control again." Familiar, unwanted hands grabbed him by his injured shoulders and Kaetsu gave him a shake. "Now stop. Crying."
With a pained gasp, Hawks stopped. He stayed absolutely still, eyes round and glassy from tears he dare not shed.
"Abysmal. Absolutely abysmal." The Commission President grabbed his chin again and her nails dug into his flesh. "We've invested too much in your for you to break. Will you be a good Hero for Hero Society now?"
The implied 'Or is Kaetsu going to have to take control again?' went unsaid.
Hawks tried to nod, but she was still holding his chin. His muscles locked as he forced himself not to struggle to move his head even though she wanted an answer but he could not answer without moving but if he moved she might see it as being bad he couldn't be bad.
Mercifully, she understood his answer and released him. "Good. You have twenty minutes to clean up. Then you will report to training." She reached out and grasped his injured shoulder, squeezing. Hawks did not utter a sound. "And if you try to pull another escape attempt, Kaetsu will be more than glad to become your personal teacher again. If you die, it is on the Commission's orders. Am I understood?"
Hawks wished he could avoid her unforgiving gaze and nodded mutely.
The President let go of him. "Take him to his room."
Hawks only needed to see a glimpse of Kaetsu in his peripheral before he shut his eyes. Hands slipped under his back and knees but he did not struggle, waiting for control of his body to be taken away again.
He immediately knew something was amiss. The arms that held him were sturdy, but not painful. The hands tightened abruptly but not like Kaetsu's would. Hawks still did not struggle because he could be a good Hero, and good Heroes did not fight the Commission. The Commission was good and he was bad but he would try to obey and be good. He swore he would try…
"I have him." the person carrying him said coolly.
It was not Kaetsu holding him, but Amplifier.
Hawks never felt so relieved. He relaxed but dare not give in to his exhaustion and fall asleep, because if he slept, he was being lazy. Good Heroes were not lazy, and he could try to be a good Hero.
He opened his eyes to acidic green and did not flinch. Heroes did not flinch, and he could try to be a good Hero.
Then black cloth was between him and the green as Amplifier abruptly turned and walked towards the door.
Hawks heard footsteps behind them.
"Agent Kaetsu." the President said. "A word."
The footsteps stopped but that meant nothing. Hawks held his breath and waited.
But nothing happened. Amplifier simply carried Hawks into the hall. There was no pain, or rough grabs, or strikes. In fact, the way the trainer held him could almost be considered gentle. Amplifier's arms were sturdy and warm and his hands did not grab hard enough to leave bruises. It was nice.
Hawks shoved down the childish need to lean into that comfort.
'Keep your problems to yourself and your pain off your face,' he reminded himself. 'You are a Hero. You provide comfort. You do not need it.'
Hawks glanced at Amplifier with a plastic smile on his face, praying he had not noticed Hawks's slip up. His trainer did not glance down at him. He did not yell at him, or strike him, or pin him down with cold hands around his throat. He merely carried Hawks to his room and laid him down. Hawks watched him apprehensively, but Amplifier simply grabbed his blanket and pulled it over him.
"I'll be outside. I'll wake you in ten minutes."
With that, Amplifier left.
Hawks could hear him outside. He heard him turn someone away from the door, his voice growing low and snarling. Whoever it was must have left because Hawks did not hear a fight.
No one came in.
No one was able to with Amplifier standing there.
It was almost like he was standing guard.
It may be the nicest thing Amplifier had ever done for Hawks.
A GOOD HERO
In the following weeks, Hawks performed admirably at his work. He worked himself to the bone, all on his own— See? He could be productive and work and injuries would not affect his performance at work and he could be a good Hero, see see see see see please see?— until he collapsed. Kaetsu was not there when he woke in his room or the infirmary.
The Commission President, in her generosity, had decided to distance that particular handler from Hawks for the time being. She even let Hawks be selfish. She let him sleep, and told the handlers not to hit him too much, and allowed Hawks to put pieces of himself back together so he could smile smiles that were not plastic doll smiles. She was so very very kind even when she seemed annoyed because Hawks knew what the lack of kindness really was now. He had been stupid not to see how generous she was before. He was selfish to try to act out like a spoiled brat when all the Commission wanted to do was make him into the best Hero he could be. Hawks was so grateful to her and the Commission. They had released him, and he dare not— would not betray that trust.
He could be a good Hero. See? He could.
So Hawks pushed himself harder until he collapsed. He woke in the infirmary, and went right back to work until he inevitably collapsed again. No matter how exhausted he felt, he performed each task flawlessly. The whole time, he reminded himself what would happen if he failed, even as his mind tried to protect itself and the memories grew foggy.
None of his handlers mentioned Kaetsu or what happened.
It was as if nothing ever did.
When Hawks gathered his courage and asked who would replace Kaetsu as his 'roommate', he was told to stop lying and making up stories. He never had a 'roommate', they said. Hawks's room was only his, they told him.
The marks in the floor Hawks believed were from Kaetsu's old bed were there one day and gone the next. None of his handlers mentioned Kaetsu at all, and Pathfinder repeatedly mocked him for messing up so badly that she nearly impaled him during a spar. Even Amplifier denied carrying Hawks out of the infirmary on that last, terrible day, though Hawks noticed his fists would always clench as he spoke.
Hawks doubted his own memory and wondered if they had ever been there at all.
Eventually he realized his handlers were right and he had been making it up.
As Hawks's eighteenth birthday drew near— and his debut as a Pro Hero along with it— Kaetsu came back.
Kaetsu came back but he was… different. He was almost serene again, like he used to be before Hawks turned him into a monster— but Hawks hadn't done anything because nothing happened, right? Except this serenity was as fake as a doll's plastic smile.
Hawks was not dumb. He knew the signs of remedial courses when he saw them. He stayed away from Kaetsu as much as he could, but it seemed even the Commission's reconditioning methods were not perfect.
Kaetsu began to follow Hawks after training. He cornered him when he was alone and insisted he was too pretty to be a boy. He demanded proof that Hawks was a boy, though whenever he made to grab Hawks, he'd turn a sickly green and stumble away like the thought of touching him repulsed him enough to make him ill. So instead of trying to tear Hawks's clothes away and 'expose' him, Kaetsu tried to ambush him, barging in when he thought Hawks was getting changed.
Hawks did not complain. The Commission had done so much for him and he did not want to inconvenience them so he silently endured.
His only request was to have permission to lock doors.
Life continued.
Slowly, Hawks convinced himself his sixteenth year had been nothing more than a terrible dream.
ALWAYS SMILES
A few months after his grand debut, Hawks saved an Underground Hero from going splat on the concrete.
Mockingjay was an unknown. Rumor had it that she came from America, but even that rumor was shaky at best. With all they knew about her, she could honestly come from space or something. She was an enigma, but an unimportant one. There was no way she was connected to the Commission.
But that was not why Hawks lunged for her so desperately as she fell.
That was not why his heart pounded in his throat until they were both safe on the ground.
He had seen the way she'd fallen.
He had seen her calm expression.
She had gear meant to save her from such a tumble, but she'd used none of it to rescue herself, content to drop to her death.
Hawks did not remember why, but he knew what if felt like to passively accept death should it come.
Hawks did not know Mockingjay at all back then, but he did not want her to die.
Perhaps that was why Hawks followed whenever he saw her, not daring to ask if she was okay. Perhaps that was why he looked past her standoffish exterior and saw how lonely she was. Perhaps that was why he rambled and asked her to join his Agency. Perhaps that was why he beamed as she warmed up to him.
They became friends. Like him and Miruko were friends. Except Mockingjay was a lot more world-weary than Miruko and noticed when he was too quiet after a particularly unnerving encounter with Kaetsu.
One day, Mockingjay demanded to know if Kaetsu had done anything to Hawks.
Hawks claimed his hadn't.
It was not a lie, as far as he knew.
After all, the Commission did not need to take him to remedial courses to make him forget the worst year of his life.
Hawks repressed the memories all on his own.
XXXXXXX
A/N: Next update will be up sometime between the 28th and the 30th-ish.
