Dabi

(Mentions of death, assault)

I was being swept away by an invisible force, enveloped in suffocating darkness that consumed me from within, slowly suffocating me as that pair of turquoise eyes looked at me with superior disdain and a grimace of satisfaction at my inevitable suffering.

Inert, and even amused by the scene, he didn't present the slightest intention of helping me, while I extended my hand to him, desperate, longing to be one of the many civilians he had helped without thinking, just for him to show me his back, at the time when I lost consciousness and my vision became cloudy.

My body was drenched in cold sweat, the drops of which I could clearly feel sliding down my back and temple. Even after so long, those damn eyes haunted me even in my sleep, reminding me that as long as they existed, I would have no rest.

My breathing was still agitated and seeing my hands tremble, just as they did years ago in his presence, turned the quilt that had covered me a few minutes before to ashes.

The nightmares in which he was the protagonist always ended leaving with them the feeling of emptiness, loss and contempt.

Since I was almost discovered when I saw them leave the hospital, I had thought about them more than I should, reliving memories that seemed to belong to someone else, where I rarely or never shared time with any of them. For my siblings, I must no longer be a hopeless entity whose brief existence was nothing more than a sentence to its untimely death.

I hated feeling this stunned. Even during the damn meeting with Shigaraki in which he asked me to recruit more members for this circus he calls "League of Villains", I still felt the disdainful look of what this rotten society calls "hero".

For a change, I had to sneak into the darkest alleys to bring placid encounters with beings that rats would have nothing to envy, so that, as always, I would have to get rid of pure pretentious puberts with the air of a kindergarten delinquent or, worse still, appliance thieves who even the police didn't take seriously and who I felt made their jobs easier, by purging their perfect city of vermin like these.

I was nothing more than a walking morgue, an urn whose ashes were overflowing with ghosts that were only listed as insignificant missing persons in an official report. Because, if you are not even good to be a villain, what else would you be alive for?

Tonight's rounds were about to end, when the last of them, a fellow whose knack for mimicking voices was far more useful to a cheap ventriloquist than to causing terror; nothing an ordinary voice modulator wouldn't do. I dismissed him as the disgusting cockroach that he was, only for him to try, unsuccessfully, to intimidate me with the deepest voice he had. Pathetic.

– Please! – He screamed like a vermin would when faced with an insecticide – I won't say anything! I swe..! – simmering it, drowning out one of his useless cries for help. They didn't save you from being anti-social, and do you think they will now that you are one?

I let out a laugh at the ridiculousness of his premise, at the time I saw how his legs no longer served him even to stay on his feet.

– If you had known that you should not trust a villain, – causing the fabric of his clothes to be consumed by my flames – you wouldn't have introduced yourself in the first place. – Throwing another flare in his direction, so that now he writhes like a slug in salt, his skin reddish and covered with blisters – At least without an alibi.

– Don't you ... think about ... your family? – shaking. Of all the questions I never thought I would hear from, this was not even remotely what I would expect from a dying hopeless moribund, although, I would be lying if I said I wasn't caught off guard. The image of Natsuo and Shoto happily frolicking on the sidewalk after visiting our mother briefly crept into my field of vision, to remind me that ghosts don't exist.

– Yes, I do it all the time. I think about it so much that it's driving me crazy. – Advancing towards him, because that brief period allowed him to crawl a few meters away from me. – However, unfortunately for you – the terror on his face was fascinating – I am incapable of feeling melancholy. – Making his last memory was the turquoise image of a hellfire that turned him into what he always was, scum. – What a pathetic resource.

Perhaps if he had known that this would be his last performance, he'd have used his time to flee at least two blocks before he was just another speck of dust in the gloomy corners of this city. Although I must admit, watching him desperately cling to his tiny existence was entertaining, and even fascinating. Paradoxically in his trifles, he wanted to be saved by those who rejected him in the first place. How desperate do you have to be to fall that low?

Although, perhaps, his agony was nothing more than the typical terror of dying. If only he had known that there are worse endings than death, maybe he would have even thanked me for reducing the sentence he once called life.

Ironically, taking it out on all those wretches was cathartic. Nothing better than watching someone burn to death to feel relieved.

The stench of the vestiges of those who no longer inhabited this world would soon attract rats to finish my work and, entering the darkness of that sewer, whose map I memorized almost perfectly, I mixed with it homogeneously ... Or at least that's what I intended.

It must have been early morning when the full moon reached its highest point on the clear sky with no other point of light to compete with it. I suppose it must be my lucky night because, if I had not been hypnotized like a lycanthrope on the roof of that place, I would have missed that peculiar flutter that I could identify from a distance.

The gusts of wind that moved my coat were the preamble to one of my funniest distractions. My luck only got better.

– Hello birdie, I didn't expect to see you tonight. – It landed neatly, spreading its wings, gleaming in the night light. – You missed me?

– Of Course! Who wouldn't need an arsonist? – His sarcasm far from bothering me, was just what amused me the most

– What brings you here? – His eyes shone against the light, unlike his expression that was of obvious displeasure. – You know you don't need excuses to see me.

– I don't know. Perhaps the sporadic cremation reports throughout the city and the smoke within walking distance led me here? – on the offensive

– Have you heard about "spontaneous combustion"? – while one of his feathers was adjusted to my neck.

– If you said that you were waiting for the orders of "your superior", why are there so many reports of criminals that curiously were found burned?

– Maybe I wanted to reduce crime – Without trying to hide how much his frustration amused me

– Yes, nothing better than the smell of cremated corpses to keep the peace. – I let out a laugh as his slanted eyes seemed capable of cutting through the densest material.

– If it's any consolation, I was about to leave because nothing went as expected. – Walking away from him.

– And why should I believe you? – his feathers seemed ready to turn me into a pincushion

– Because otherwise, you would be fried chicken – in a few seconds, I was in front of him, who didn't even flinch – Maybe I should.

– Disappear at once – he snapped, losing eye contact. I could see his defined chin despite the poor lighting, as my eyes caught a fist clenched by a bruised feather. Suddenly, I wanted to have fun.

– You know? Maybe I should take you at your word. – pushing him to separate him from me, creating a barrier of fire that, from the edge of that skyscraper, did not overshadow the yellow of his clothing. – After all, – taking the last step back knowing that, if I continued, it would be just another corpse – wouldn't it be great to get rid of me? – the vertigo at this point was invigorating, though perhaps it was due to his face of dread as I collapsed to my fate. But if that had happened, I wouldn't have a story to tell, right?

I intended to summon Kurogiri relying on his agility to create portals when requested, however, the youngest professional hero honored his alacrity. He wasn't the fastest for nothing. The crash on the ground reminded me that I had a spinal cord, jerking the remaining air, although considering I was still breathing, I suppose that was a good sign. He was straddling me, with one of his hands on my neck and the other about to redesign my face.

– Of course, what I would like the most is to get rid of you – adjusting his grip – but as soon as I have the first opportunity, I will be the happiest with your death. – His breathing was heavy despite I was being the one who was hanged, and it felt better than expected. So much so that my right hand ran up his arm to his cheek.

Oh Hawks, I'm already dead - removing his hand from my neck, to bring his lips to mine that, despite the resistance he did his best, didn't prevent me from managing to insert my tongue into his mouth, just to feel how the initial resistance ebbed with each oscillation, slowing down as he emitted almost imperceptible moans as his strands of hair tickled my fingers. His warm breath hit my cheeks and his hands were only counterbalanced enough to hold him, at least before he suddenly stumbled to his feet to spread his wings and leave.

Stunned by the adrenaline rush of a possible visceral death, followed by the unpredictable exchange of saliva, I discovered, from the irregular shape visible through my pants at my crotch that I was more excited than I expected. I laughed lightly at the absurdity that such a chimera could cause me something beyond pity.

Once my senses had calmed, I continued the previously aborted invocation and appeared at the bar that the parched guy used as the office of his always faithful and incorporeal therapist, who organized miscellaneous colorful bottles on the shelves.

– I hope that stupid smile is because you found new recruits – taking a sip of an amber drink

– Quality is underrated – sitting in an adjoining chair – A zoo has better candidates – from the look he gave me, I guess I was lucky that his quirk only worked if he touched me and after the sudden clink of glass colliding and confirmation of a false alarm, our third companion continued his work

– We need more members, and you dismiss them as if you were more competent than them. – Because, I am – Although apparently, it would be better to recruit clowns. – And my analogy to the circus was completed.

– Hey, if all goes well with that brat, – taking the glass from his subtle grasp – maybe we don't need incompetent resentful because things didn't go the way they wanted. – Letting that liquor increase my body temperature even more.

– I hope that, because of your annoying existence, so be it – he sentenced, leaving me alone with an indifferent Kurogiri.

I asked him to pour me a couple more drinks, until my conscience didn't know if I was still awake. Somehow, I made it to my room, and flopped onto the bed, to find a new quilt and a note with a red heart, whose recognizable rusty tincture could only be the work of Dracula's descendant.

"I hope you can sleep better tonight." With red letters that seemed to have been written with a knife. The girl had gotten closer and closer to me and although she was very bizarre, was tolerable.

I awkwardly settled under the thick piece of cloth and hoped the alcohol was enough to make me sleepy to forget my existence for a few hours, only so that the memory of my failed simulation to leave this world and the later kiss with that evolved bird, was what wandered in my mind before I fell asleep.

It seems I still have unfinished business here.


Dabi's chapters are one of my favorites.

Fact # 70

I've always thought about the human side of villains, even if they suppress it, but always latent behind their intentions, for better or for worse. And I loved how I wrote the description of death.

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