(A/N) Sorry I forgot this website existed. This story is done on my ao3 if you want to read it there.
Shinsou strutted confidently towards the bathroom. From the other side of the screen, Shouto had no way to tell if the confidence was feigned or genuine, but he sure as hell knew it was undeserved. Already he was out of place, and now he had to go and stir up trouble.
As we walked, Shinsou fiddled with the collar again, angling it towards the conspiring couple. With a sigh, Shouto decided that even if this was going to end in absolute disaster, he was going to do his job. So he enhanced the resolution as much as he could and made sure the feed was recording so they could analyze it later.
The woman and the man definitely noticed Shinsou. While they weren't making a big deal of it, they leaned closer to one another and their voices dropped. It was less 'we've spotted an intruder' and more 'we're in a public space having a private conversation and some jackass is coming in hot on my periph.'
The woman had long, curvy blonde hair that almost reached the hem of her shirt. She was thin and dressed a cut too nice for a dive like this. As Shinsou got closer on his arc towards the bathroom, Shouto got a better look at the man. What he had initially mistaken for tattoos were actually scars. Deep, rugged ones marring large patches of his body. Shouto was no stranger to scars. Looking at these made his body empathetically ache with phantom pain. Whatever had happened had been pretty severe. They would also be a significant tell, meaning it would be easier to describe and spot the man later.
The couple sat in the table in the far corner, only a short space away from the entrance to the sole bathroom. Theoretically, there was nothing weird about a fellow patron coming close. If it wasn't for the cramped layout of the bar, providing no other secluded tables besides the one right next to the entrance, Shouto would think they were amateurs.
This place obviously isn't the most well set-up for clandestine meetings. Which means either they are using it because they are desperate for options, or they feel like they have some sort of insurance that their rendezvous will be safe. Maybe they have a deal worked out with the owners.
It was also possible that all the regular patrons were members of this gang, and the bar was only a front. That was an unpleasant idea. It meant that Shinsou would be completely surrounded by enemies.
Shouto couldn't make out anything they were talking about. Their conversation lapsed when Shinsou got too close, both parties pretending to be invested in their mugs. Rather than dawdle, Shinsou pushed open the bathroom door.
As soon as the door closed and provided enough of an auditory barrier, Shouto growled into the mic, "What next, jackass? Clearly they noticed you, which by the way, was like the one thing we wanted to avoid in the initial scouting."
"Just testing the waters," Shinsou replied softly. He didn't dare speak too loud, in case anyone could hear through the thin door. A man talking to himself in the bathroom wasn't unheard of, but it was concerning. "You never know what sort of information you're going to get unless you try."
Shouto let out a long, angry breath. He realized he'd been holding it the last couple of minutes.
"Okay, well actually take a piss so it doesn't look like you came to the bathroom for the company."
"Way ahead of you," Shinsou murmured, angling the collar away.
Shouto got a lovely view of the tiled back wall while Shinsou did his business. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, belatedly realizing that he still had to hear the audio.
"Did you see what she'd taken out of her briefcase?" Shinsou continued, not pausing his plotting for a second.
"No. I was too busy scoping out our other target."
Indeed, Shouto was currently sorting through the pile of newspaper articles in front of him, the ones detailing the exploits of the League. He was searching for any mention of a scarred member. They hadn't digitized the files into a database yet, meaning his work was entirely analogue. No Control F for him.
"It was a manilla folder with papers in it," Shinsou clarified. "Could be mission orders, or directions to the next meeting place, or basically anything."
So we're not the only ones currently working with hard copies, Shouto thought to himself.
It wouldn't be the worst idea. Some organizations preferred to do all their correspondence through paper, since it was harder to hack and monitor than digital messaging. Unless you were an enormous, well-funded operation like the yakuza, setting up secure lines of communication for all your members was unrealistic. Sometimes old-fashioned methods left the least evidence.
Especially if you just burned the papers when you were done.
Amidst the myriad articles spread before him, Shouto found one titled 'Hero Killer Copycat Prefers Flames to Steel.' He remembered skimming over it when first receiving the stack of papers. After all, with all the arson cases popping up lately, the fire method had caught his eye. However, the suspect outlined in this article had been some sort of fanboy of the then-popular Hero Killer Stain, and had targeted Pro Heroes. So far all the arson cases they had come across had been against civilians, so he had dismissed it as two unrelated fire Quirks. Something was tickling the back of his mind, though.
Rereading it, his eyes were drawn to the description. A bystander had seen a suspicious man leaving the scene, but hadn't gotten a good look at him. All they remembered was a dark jacket, and the man was wearing some sort of mask that covered the lower part of his face and the eye area. That had seemed like a strange description to Shouto, and even the reporter writing the article had seemed unsure of how to explain it. How did a mask cover the lower face and eye area, but not the stuff in between?
What if they bystander mistook the scars for a mask from a distance. The same way I thought they were tattoos.
Shinsou was still talking in his ear, low speculation about what they could be talking about. He was washing his hands now, and they couldn't stall much longer.
"I'm pretty sure I have a positive match for our guy," Shouto interrupted. "I'd need to dig into it more, and even then it's not a clear link to the League of Villains, but-"
"But this situation is every bit a rotten as it looks," Shinsou whispered back. "I'm going to pass by the table one more time. See if you can grab a shot of that paper they're handing off."
It was a pretty futile effort, since the camera lens wasn't high-definition enough to pick up readable print from more than a few feet away. However, like Shinsou said, every straw they could grasp at was something.
Steadying himself with an inhaled breath, Shinsou adjusted the collar one last time then pushed open the door. He left abruptly enough to catch a snippet of conversation. The scarred man was leaning over the table and growling in the woman's ear.
"-already did my part. I'm not going to carry this damn-"
He locked eyes with Shinsou and settled back down into his seat. Rather than look guilty, he flashed a smile, as if daring Shinsou to remark on the situation. For her part, the woman looked like she had just stepped in an unexpected clump of manure. It was an excuse for Shinsou to pause a half step, caught in the awkwardness. Shouto did his best to focus the camera on the bit of paper that was now protruding from the man's jacket. It was folded in half, meaning they weren't going to be able to see anything useful. Damn shame.
With a nod of his head, Shinsou siddled to the side back towards the bar, acting like this was just another unanticipated social misstep. There, he called the bartender over and paid his tab. As soon as he was out the door, Shouto was back in the earpiece giving him directions.
"Turn the collar around so I can watch your six," he instructed.
Shinsou did as he suggested. After all the risks he had taken, Shouto wouldn't be surprised if one of their targets decided to tail them. Sure enough, once Shinsou was a couple of blocks down the street, the woman left the bar, briefcase in hand. Maybe she had done what she set out to do and was coincidentally heading back home at the same time as them. Shouto doubted it.
"You've got a shadow," Shouto informed him. "It's the woman. Do you want me to call for backup?"
"Nah. Nice night out. Might as well go for a walk and see where this takes us."
Shouto groaned and bumped his head against the desk. If this became a regular thing, he was going to have to attach some cushioning there to protect him from the frequent head-to-desk impacts. He had thought Izuku was reckless, but Shinsou was way too willing to take risks with his life.
"What exactly are you hoping happens?" Shouto growled. "That she sticks a knife in your back and you can dust the handle for fingerprints later?"
The woman was walking purposefully, but keeping a fair distance behind them. Shinsou made it easy for her, ambling in a straight line and not taking any turns.
"She still has her briefcase, right?" Shinsou asked by way of response.
"You're after what's inside?"
It would be an easy enough affair. All he'd have to do is lead her somewhere secluded, get her to respond to a question, and then the briefcase was his for the taking. It would be a lot more reliable than trying to enhance the blurry, folded in half snapshot Shouto had taken.
"That gives us away," Shouto pointed out. "We sacrifice the long game for immediate answers. So unless that briefcase is carrying a detailed list of every operative and their mailing address, than it won't help us much."
Shinsou sighed, but didn't respond. Maybe because he didn't want to risk being overheard. The woman was walking a little bit more briskly now, and even though he gave no indication that he noticed her, Shouto could tell Shinsou's shoulders were hunched a bit tighter.
"I guess bolting also gives away the game, huh?" Shouto asked. "Can't let them know you know they're onto you. Either way, you're gonna have to think of a solution quick. Run or confront."
The woman was close now. Close enough that Shouto could overhear her crisp footsteps off the sidewalk. With a sigh, Shinsou turned around. Before he could open his mouth, though, the woman beat him to it.
"Before you say anything, my informants have told me exactly who you are and what your Quirk is, and I'm not carrying anything valuable," she said, voice bright and cheerful. She sounded more like a door-to-door salesman than a criminal.
"Is that so?" Shinsou asked. "Then what's in the briefcase?"
With a smile, the woman clicked it open and showed him it was empty. Whatever she had been carrying, she had either handed off or disposed of.
"Now, I assume a man of your talents," she said, sounding completely unafraid for someone who knew Shinsou's Quirk, "is probably already collecting a wonderful paycheck from the government for your heroic efforts, correct?"
Shinsou grunted noncommittally. The woman's smile brightened.
"That's what I thought. No hero would be so sloppy at undercover work. You aren't even wearing a disguise. So the only reason you're hanging around a bar like that is because you're looking for a way to make some extra bank, correct? Hoping to sell out some information to interested parties?"
"Are you an interested party?" Shinsou asked.
"Oh no," the woman laughed, waving her hand. "I merely represent my client's interests. Here, take my card."
Reaching into her breast pocket, she pulled out a pack of matches. On the back was a phone number. Shouto had heard of people using matchbooks as advertisements long ago, but he'd never actually seen one in person.
"I have a lot of clients that smoke," she explained before Shinsou could question it. "Anyways, I'm sure you have a lot of questions. Such as how much your cooperation is worth, and if you have to claim it on your taxes. I can help you work through all the nitty-gritty details. Give me a ring and we'll set up a meeting."
"Just like that?" Shinsou asked.
"Oh, no, there's quite a few hoops you have to jump through. But if you're done getting paid peanuts for putting your life on the line, they're hoops you'll jump through gladly. Ta!"
And with that she turned on her heel and walked away.
Shinsou stared down at the book of matches, turning it over.
"So...did she just try and recruit you?" Shouto asked into the microphone. "This has to be a trap, right?"
"Well, either way, it beats hanging around a shitty bar for weeks on end," Shinsou mused. "Expedites the process, if nothing else."
"Yeah," Shouto replied, thinking of the million ways this could all go horribly wrong. "I suppose it does.