Deku is an Asari from Mass Effect. Eraserhead gets some coffee.

Asari Deku

Rare was the event when many underground heroes banded together for a single operation. Eraserhead himself had only been involved in three over the course of his decade-long career. But this only showed how serious those operations were. How serious this one was.

Whatever mutterings from the gathered heroes silenced as a woman stepped in front of a projector. Her appearance would suggest a mutation quirk, either her own or in her family. Green skin and no hair, instead several tentacle looking protrusions lay flat against her skull, akin to slicked back hair. She had freckles that stood out on her face, but the youthful effect they had on her clashed against her serious demeanor.

Eraserhead didn't recognise her. Considering she seemed important enough to lead this briefing, that spoke well for her proficiency at the job. Especially impressive, considering her appearance. He'd have expected someone who stands out so much to be a popular, flashy hero.

"Greetings, everyone, thank you for attending. My name is Spectre, and I will be in charge of this operation," she said, voice clipped. She turned to the projector and turned it on. The image it showed was that of a warehouse. Eraserhead recognised it to be from the Port of Tokyo. "Within this warehouse is a quirk trafficking operation."

Underground heroes tended to be serious as it was, but any possible iota of levity drained from the room. Spectre now had the full attention of over a dozen very angry heroes. Fortunately—for both Spectre's briefing and Eraserhead's patience—none of the gathered reacted, aside from narrowed eyes or clenched fists.

Spectre looked at the gathered heroes. "I will proceed to brief you about this operation. However, I would like to make an offer." The heroes shuffled, and Eraserhead raised a brow. "My quirk has several facets to it, and one of them is the ability to connect my mind with others. If you would all allow it, I can give you the details of this briefing directly into your brains, and you will understand the details as well as I. This will not only save on time, but will also allow us all to be on the same page, and remove any potential for misunderstandings or miscommunications."

This time the heroes muttered among themselves. Eventually, one stepped forward. "Is there any downsides to doing this?"

Spectre shook her head. "No. I can also promise you that I will not do anything more than relay the information to you. However, I will admit that the process may give me a slightly better understanding of you all. Nothing like learning your bank details or passwords, but I may learn minor things about you, such as your favorite colour, or what condiments you like with your meals. Small things like that."

Mutters again. From what Eraserhead could tell, the general consensus wasn't completely against it. Some slight reluctance, perhaps, but they had all been underground long enough to understand the value in what she was suggesting, and how small a downside it truly had in the grand scheme. Even so, information was information, and underground heroes made their living on keeping their personal information as private as possible. As irrational a concern it might be, unless someone stepped forward, the chances of acceptance were lowered.

"I'll go first, then," Eraserhead said, stepping forward. Now all eyes were on him. "It would be irrational to turn this down. Time is of the essence in situations like this, and if this can help this operation run as smoothly as possible then we should do it. Smaller operations than this have failed from simple errors in communication."

Every hero present, as experienced as they were, understood what he meant. They had all, at least once, had an operation fail. Something as big as this? Not an option. They quieted down, but were more than happy to let Eraserhead go first.

Spectre nodded, and a small upturn of her lips could be noticed, before it was smoothed away to her usual businesslike demeanour. "Thank you, Eraserhead." She stepped forward, until she was in front of Eraserhead. "I will have to ask you to refrain from using your own quirk. I am unsure of the repercussions deactivating my quirk could have while we are melded."

Eraserhead nodded. A rational concern, and he didn't feel any need to test it. He knew the dangers erasing mental quirks could have. Nevermind one that was connecting to his own mind.

Spectre brought her hands to his temples and placed her fingers lightly upon them. Her touch was delicate, but Eraserhead didn't doubt the power that lay beneath it. Spectre's eyes turned black. "Embrace Eternity."

Eraserhead wasn't sure he could describe the process. In that moment, he was her, she was him, but they were still themselves. Intertwined, interlocked. Then it was over, and he experienced the disconcerting feeling of knowing that which he did not moments before.

"Take a moment to go over the information I gave you," Spectre said, looking him in the eyes. "The experience, I am told, is initially jarring, but it will not take long to settle."

And with that, she moved on to the next, and the next, until all the heroes were on the same page. More than a few looked even angrier once they'd absorbed the information fully, and Eraserhead could not blame them.

These traffickers were scum, and needed dealing with.

Once the briefing was done, Spectre gave them some more time to think over the information she gave them. The heroes had broken off into smaller groups to discuss it, with a couple thinking it over alone.

Eraserhead was one such hero. He preferred working alone, when possible, but it would be highly irrational to never work in a group. He wasn't All Might: he couldn't swan into any situation and blitz villains before their brains even thought to send the signals to their eyelids to blink.

Speaking of his eyelids, Eraserhead felt like All Might himself was trying to pinch them together. Or All Might was standing on them; they felt heavy enough for that to be the case. What he wouldn't give right now for a coff—

Spectre stepped up next to him, and Eraserhead gave her the side-eye. She stared back. "Here," she handed him a cup. Warm. Smelt like coffee. It was probably coffee.

Eraserhead raised a brow. "What's this for?"

"Well," she said, raising a hairless brow back, "typically, I like my operatives to be alive. Tends to help things run a little smoother."

"Hmm." Made sense. He took a sip. Definitely coffee. "Thanks." He paused before another sip, and narrowed his eyes at the cup. Exactly how he liked it. It almost set off his paranoia, born from years of underground heroics, but he remembered what she said about side effects.

Spectre chuckled, a short, but light sound. "I take it, it's to your liking?"

Eraserhead blinked. Took another sip.

Her lips curled a tad. "I'm glad. I wanted to thank you for earlier. Not many are as willing to meld with me as you were earlier. It's why I prefer underground heroics. Much more practicality." She hummed. "Amusing, isn't it. The so-called paranoiacs of the underground scene tend to be more open to a bit of mind merging than the faces of the hero industry."

Eraserhead felt himself warming to the topic of the flaws of flashy heroics. "Illogical behaviour is pretty standard in that half of the business. Anyone who enjoys talking to those vultures in the media is the height of irrationality."

Spectre's curl turned into a small smile. "Indeed. Well, enjoy your coffee, Eraserhead." Her face turned dour, the stoic mask from before back in place. "Once you've finished, I think everyone will have had enough time to think things through. We deal with this tonight."

Eraserhead nodded, taking a larger sip. "The sooner we deal with those bastards, the better."

Spectre's lips threatened to lift again, despite the mood she'd invoked. "Agreed."

A scumbag yelped as his heat quirk turned off. As he freaked out, Eraserhead wrapped his head with his Capturing Weapon and pulled his head into Eraserhead's waiting elbow. The man crumpled to the floor, and Eraserhead glanced around.

The raid was going well, so far. The sheer amount of heroes might have been overkill, but with a matter like this, there was no such thing.

Clicking sounds had Eraserhead leaping behind a shipping container, avoiding a round of bullets that pinged off the metal. Eraserhead cursed. Annoyingly, glaring at a firearm didn't turn it off like a quirk.

The fighting was chaotic enough already, but Eraserhead watched as several heroes leapt behind cover. Underground heroes didn't tend to have the kind of quirk that let them deal with firearms. They tended to strike before a trigger could even be pulled. But in a large space like this, with places to hide behind and shoot, Eraserhead only had the direction of the gunshots to go from.

And from the sound of it, however, the scumbags had a freaking gatling gun of all things. Maniacs.

A flash of green had Eraserhead glancing next to him. Spectre ducked behind another container, and they made eye contact. She gave him a single firm nod. A purple aura surrounded her body, and she stepped out from her cover.

Eraserhead opened his mouth—wanting to know what the hell she was thinking—but he stopped as the bullets fell to the floor, stopped dead by the purple film covering her body. Spectre brought back her arm and threw it forward, a blue aura surrounding her hand.

The gunfire ceased, and Earaserhead heard a yelp. Peaking around the corner, he saw the scumbag crushed beneath the weapon, the gun having fallen on its back. Two more bastards came out from behind a couple more containers and opened fire on her.

With a zen-like expression as bullets fell at her feet, Spectre made an arm movement in their direction. Above the pair a mass of blue energy formed, and the bastards cried out as they were lifted off their feet towards it, their weapons clattering to the ground. Another arm movement and a pulse of blue energy flew at them. The blue mass exploded, sending the two men slamming back to the floor, out cold.

Eraserhead was impressed. He almost wondered why she wasn't a public hero with a quirk like hers, but remembered their discussion earlier. Still, he was sure she could've become a popular hero, power like that coupled with her exoctic appearance.

Getting to his feet, Eraserhead looked around. The last of the scumbags were being rounded up, quirk suppressing cuffs slapped onto their wrists. As far as raids went, this one was smooth as one could wan—

Concrete and drywall exploded. A body flew out and rolled along the ground. One of their fellow underground heroes lay in a crumpled heap, unconscious. What emerged from the hole in the wall was a goliath of a man, arm muscles bulging and a large kabuto beetle horn on his head. He was even taller than All Might, and perhaps even more muscular.

With a roar the colossus charged, hunched over so his horn pierced through the air. A pink barrier formed in his path, courtesy of a hero, but he charged straight through. The hero screamed, blood running from her nose as she collapsed.

Another hero tripped on a knocked out scumbag, landing on his ass. The man trembled as the huge monster's building quaking steps brought him closer to running the hero through.

The villain froze, locked in place by a blue aura. Eraserhead span around. Spectre's hand was held out. One of her eyes squeezed shut, the effort clearly not small. "Move!" she managed, giving the hero a look.

The man gulped and stood up, grabbing the unconscious bastard and getting out of the way. As he cleared the way Spectre released her hold, and the villain's momentum was returned. The beast of a man tripped, flying ass over teakettle and crashing into a shipping container. He pulled himself out of the massive dent, holding his bloody nose, glaring over his finger.

He pulled his hand away and roared, arms angled like he was an anime character charging his energy. Spectre blurred in front of him, shrouded in rippling blue. Her blazing fist slammed into the man's stomach and blood and spittle flew from his mouth. His eyes rolled back and he landed against the container, comfortably fitting into the dent he'd made.

Spectre let out a breath, her aura fading out. She rubbed her temple, wiping away a drop of purple blood from her nose with the back of her hand.

Eraserhead let himself relax only when one of the heroes, one with a sensing quirk, confirmed that they'd taken care of all the scumbags. He ambled next to Spectre, looking at her from the corner of his eyes. She looked back.

"Looks like you need a coffee, now," he drawled, voice dry as his eyes.

A small smirk. "Are you offering?" she said, her voice husky from exhaustion.

He shrugged. "I owe you one, from earlier."

She breathed out a tired laugh. "Fair enough." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Yeah, a coffee sounds amazing, right now." She opened an eye. "You know a place?"

He nodded. "Not far from here," he said. "We can go once we're wrapped up here."

"How cruel," she smirked, "getting my hopes up like that. It'll be a long while before we finish with the police and cleanup."

He shrugged again. "Something for you to look forward to, then," he said, turning to leave. He smirked as he heard her laugh again.

And Mic said he didn't have game.