"You're sure this intel is good?" Endeavor asked him again.
"Yes, I'm sure," Hawks huffed wanting to hang up on him. But he respected the number one hero too much to do such a disrespectful thing. "Just wait a little longer. They will be there. I'm almost there."
"Fine."
There was a snap and a vacuous silence. Endeavor had hung up on him.
"Dammit," Hawks muttered, slipping his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket.
They had to be on their way. He was sure he had gotten the place and time correct. The new Yakuza boss, Renji Kanahara, who just took his late father's place as head of the organization, was scheduled to have a dinner at the upscale restaurant to meet with a rival boss to finalize a peace agreement over territory and properties initiated by his father.
They believed the young Kanahara planned to kill his adversary rather than completing the treaty because he believed the man had his father murdered. This act of retribution, whether justified or not, would set off a war between the gangs that would be long and bloody considering both held an arsenal of quirk users in both of their organizations.
Usually, quashing possible battles between criminals was not part of a heroes domain to interfere. However, too many innocent people would die to allow the heroes to look the other way. Therefore, whether they wanted it or not, it became their duty to get involved when Hawks caught wind of the insurrection by total accident through one of his many secret connections.
The restaurant was actually part of an all inclusive and high brow hot springs resort. The place consisted of several buildings set in the middle of a secluded and lush area half way up a mountainside. Surrounded by expertly groomed trees and bushes, it was definitely a members only type place and these members liked their privacy. Several small decorative red bridges spanned the meandering koi filled stream snaking around the rambling property.
Hawks flew over once, spotting Endeavor standing right out front. Subtle as ever, the man was not even trying to take cover or keep his presence hidden. Sometimes the man's ego, his overestimation of his own abilities, irritated Hawks.
"Nice place," Endeavor remarked as Hawks set down on his feet with silent precision beside him.
"Indeed," he agreed. He figured one night at this place would cost him a month's salary.
"So what are we waiting for? Gunshots?" he asked grouchily, his eyes never moving from the front door.
"I think they will be a little more subtle than that."
"Maybe we should just go in through the front door then."
"I don't think so."
"Then what the hell are we here for?" Endeavor testily demanded, the flames shooting out from face in a burst of anger.
The distinct crunch of gravel under tires caught their attention warning them to back under the low hanging limbs of the pine trees behind them. The long black car with a shiny chrome grill crawled along the winding path to stop in front of the building.
The innkeeper, an ancient old man with a long white beard and no hair on his bald head speckled with age spots, shuffled out onto the porch. Exhibiting a speed and grace he did not seem capable of at his advanced age or the high wooden geta sandals, he clacked down the stairs and hurried to the car to meet his guests.
A woman stepped out of the car first, dressed in a demure black skirt suit with a shiny purple silk shirt underneath. She would have looked like any random office worker had it not been for the hand tailored two thousand dollar suit. Her black hair, dark as the night, hung down her back well below her shoulder blades. The glossiness of it reflected the dazzling light of the rapidly setting sun turning it gold.
Hawks would swear he heard Endeavor inhale sharply when she turned to reach back into the car. Her eyes looked like narrow black slits in her face from a distance because of the heavy black eyeliner around them. When he glanced at the man beside him, he could see the muscles of his jaw working as he clenched and unclenched his teeth, his eyes locked directly on the woman.
"Do you recognize her?" Hawks asked.
"Yes," Endeavor replied quickly in a piercing tone without offering any further information.
"Hmm," he hummed, his eyes slowly moving forward to see the man getting out of the car. Whatever he knew about the woman, Endeavor was certainly not going to be forthcoming with the details.
"Hmm? Hmm, what? What the hell does hmm mean?" he snapped.
"Absolutely nothing. Kanahara is getting out," Hawks announced to take the man's attention off of him.
They watched as the gangster boss of thirty-five with slicked back hair exited the vehicle wearing a two thousand dollar suit of his own. He kissed the woman on the cheek. Is the woman his girlfriend? His fiancée? He patted her shoulder which revealed his diamond encrusted Rolex before he walked away from her, following the doddering old innkeeper.
The limousine pulled away for another to take its place while she remained to greet the man who got out. She was definitely not a significant other or a lover. An employee? A lawyer perhaps. An assistant or an envoy of some sort?
"What the fuck is she doing here?" Endeavor muttered as if thinking out loud.
"How do you know her?" Hawks inquired, continuing to watch the woman as she stood, quiet and patient, with her hands in front of her at all times, one hand gripping the wrist of the other arm.
"An old flame," he replied, grinding the words through his teeth.
The way Endeavor seethed with anger, the flames licking out from his face as if he wanted to set fire to the woman, prevented Hawks from chuckling at the unintentional pun or offering a snide retort.
The woman bowed as the door of the car was opened by the uniformed driver to properly greet the senior Yakuza boss as he exited his limo. The man nodded in acknowledgement, waiting for her to stand up straight. He said something to her, and she smiled, lowering her eyes back to the ground. She coquettishly pushed the lock of hair covering her one eye behind her ear.
"Well, isn't she the lovely distraction?" Endeavor muttered, swallowing audibly.
What the hell is going on with him? He sounds like a jealous boyfriend, Hawks thought resisting the urge to give the man a questioning sidelong glimpse.
After the brief and apparent flirtation, she gracefully turned to lead him toward the building. Despite wearing black patent leather stiletto's, she remained sure footed on the gravel path as she walked in front of him to the entrance doors.
The innkeeper opened the door to welcome them in, bowing profusely as if apologizing for not being there to meet him at the car. He ushered them in and another inn employee appeared at the door, glancing around before closing it behind them.
"Well, that wasn't suspicious at all," Hawks mumbled. "An old flame huh? So you know who she is."
"She's called Molly, for Molotov cocktail. The fire balls she creates contains an accelerant inside that explodes on impact with a target spreading the fire. Her real name is Farrah Calvin," Endeavor informed him to avoid an unnecessary game of twenty questions.
For a moment, the man who always had a smart ass comment to make about everything was stunned into silence. He stared at Endeavor who continued to study the building in front of them. He seemed to be trying to guess where they might be in the building.
"How do you - "
The unexpected boom startled the both of them, drawing their attention to the gigantic fireball that erupted from the second building to their left behind the main building.
"Shit," Endeavor growled, launching himself into the air as the massive ball of fire rolled into the air and gradually disappeared leaving behind a mushroom cloud of black smoke.
Women's screams and panicked, shouting male voice filled the air. Employees ran toward the burning building with fire extinguishers. Two frightened well-to-do guests who had been strolling past the building were shaken but unhurt. Two female employees flanked them as they hacked and coughed while directing them toward their building and the safety of their room.
The woman Endeavor had identified as Farrah Calvin, AKA Molly, coolly strolled out of the building brushing her sleeves to rid herself of the ashes and splintered wood still on fire marring her pricey suit. Greasy black soot marks streaked her right cheek, forehead, and the tip of her nose. She smoothed down her hair as she calmly strode away from the fully engulfed building behind her.
Hawks hovered in the air as he watched Endeavor drop from the sky in front of her to halt her weirdly tranquil escape from the scene of her crime. In a way, he admired her speed and ruthlessness. She might have been there to murder two crime lords which the world would not miss but how many innocent people had she killed in doing it?
"Enji Todoroki," she gasped, her almond shaped eyes widening to show her verdant green irises. "Hey, Hotshot. It's been a minute."
"Not long enough. The name is Endeavor," he corrected her.
"Oh, yes, your hero name," she spoke with heavy derisive emphasis on the word hero. "I've missed you, Enji." Her eyes had returned to their initial cat like appearance and looked him over from head to toe. "You look good. But you always looked good and knew it too. How's the wife and kids?"
"Shut up, Farrah," he snapped, using her real name too. "How many people did you just kill?"
Endeavor grabbed her by the upper arms, lifting her until her thin heels no longer contacted the ground. Hawks took that as his cue to fly down to intervene.
"We're here to arrest you for murder," Hawks declared, taking a step toward her even though she was not going anywhere while in Endeavor's grasp.
"Are you seriously here to arrest me?" she inquired, her voice thick with sarcasm as she glanced at him then returned her attention to Endeavor. "I just did you a favor and killed two Yakuza bosses before they started a war you heroes would have had a hell of a time ending."
"Who hired you? Who are you working for?" Endeavor demanded, shaking her lightly as if she were a naughty child.
"Sorry," she apologized with a bizarre calmness, unfazed by being tossed about. She smiled down at the man who could end her if he chose to do so. "My clients are strictly confidential."
"Dammit, just tell me," he snarled, his flames gliding along the arms of her suit but not catching the fabric on fire.
Hawks would guess her clothes were treated and made out of flame resistant material since she possessed a fire quirk herself.
"If it makes you feel any better, only those two are dead. I had reserved the entire place for those two assholes and made sure all employees had vacated the premises before I took them out. I don't kill the truly innocent," she said, her eyes narrowing into mere slits of righteous rage. "Put me down Enji. You're hurting me. But it isn't the first time you've hurt me, is it?"
Hawks tried not to react in shock hearing her using his idol's first name. It was odd and uncomfortable hearing her refer to Endeavor in such an intimate manner in his presence. Her veiled accusation of past physical abuse compounded his discomfort. Unfortunately, he could not disbelieve the allegation based on Enji Todoroki's past known and documented incidents with his wife and children.
Endeavor sat her down on her feet in front of him. Hawks stepped forward to take her into custody.
"No," Endeavor said abruptly, putting up his arm to bar Hawks from touching her. "We're letting her go."
"What are you saying? We can't - "
"We can," Endeavor cut him off in his loud booming voice. "And we are." He turned his attention to the woman. "Go home. Get out of Japan, Molly. I don't ever want to see you again."
She laughed. "Is that any way to talk to an old flame? Meet me tonight. We can catch up over drinks."
Hawks really did not want to be here right now. Noticing the people still running around, fighting the fire, he seized the opportunity to leave to go help them.
"I'm going to go help put out the fire," Hawks announced despite neither one of them seeming to hear him.
"Why would I do that?" Endeavor asked her.
"Because I was your first flame Enji Todoroki." Her eyes traveled over the flames covering his arms and legs. "You never forget your first," she said, taking a card from the inside of her jacket pocket.
Raking her fingernail along her soot covered cheek, she used it as a makeshift pencil to write on the back of the business card.
"Where?" he demanded pointedly, as she extended the card to him.
"Sotto Voce. A speak easy...like from the old days of the 1920s prohibition bars. An underground bar in the bad part of town." She emphasized bad with a vicious smile. "Don't worry. No one will mess with you because you're with me. Surprisingly, even the people you deem as criminals have a code of behavior."
"I never thought you'd became a villain," he muttered disapprovingly, looking her over with disdain. Beautiful and deadly as ever, he really did never imagine she would become one of the 'bad guys.'
"It's all a matter of perspective, my dear," she said, her smile softening into something bordering on friendly. "To some of us, you are the villains. I am in personal security. I protect high profile businessmen who run their empires with a heavy hand. I just dealt with two bad seeds who had lost their sense of purpose. That's all. Weren't you going to do the same?"
Businessmen with a heavy hand? It didn't sound so bad when she put it that way. What an interesting way to describe some of the biggest crime bosses and some of the most devious evil masterminds of the criminal underground in this country And she protected them from each other, their competition, as well as the police and heroes who would bring them to justice.
As much as he wanted to argue with her logic and denigrate her tactics, he could not fault her for taking care of business in the manner which she saw fit. Two crime lords were dead and no innocent bystanders would have to suffer.
"I'll be there at nine," he told her.
"See ya later, lover," she said, waggling her fingers in a little wave before walking away.
"Fuck," he growled under his breath. She was a blast from the past he never thought he would see again.
~\..'../~
Farrah sat at the bar watching the bartender wearing a long sleeved white shirt with black garters on the upper arms and a black silk tuxedo vest. He even had a Boston Black mustache that he wiggled when he smiled at her. She loved this place that completely embraced the 1920s prohibition bar aesthetic. That's why she picked this place.
Ironically, this is the bar where she met her client to take the job to assassinate the two Yakuza bosses. It had not been easy to convince the two of them to come alone without any of their lieutenants or lawyers or bodyguards. She presented herself as a nonbiased, third party liaison meant to facilitate their agreement. Her employer was grateful and generous with his gratitude after her fast and precise execution.
"Would you like something else?" the bartender inquired.
"Whiskey with soda and a twist of lime," she requested. It would not be a good idea to drink another double. She still had to walk back to her hotel - alone. Having affairs with married men, especially ones who were past boyfriends, was not her style.
Farrah checked her watch. Twenty-six minutes after nine. If he was not here after this drink, she would go back to her hotel, disappointed but not surprised. The bartender sat her drink down on a fresh white napkin whisking away the other along with the empty glass. She poked a bill into the narrow necked glass bottle that would more than cover her drinks leaving him a big tip as well.
Halfway through her drink, someone sat down next to her. The man had an oppressive, overwhelming presence. He always had been imposing because of more than his size. Like the flames he used, the heat from his body reached out to hers, caressing her skin through her clothes and making goosebumps rise on her skin.
Enji Todoroki had finally arrived. She glanced at her dainty gold watch with a diamond studded bezel and hands - a gift from her grateful client.
"You're thirty two minutes late," Farrah informed him without a hint of annoyance in her voice. She really was shocked he actually showed up at all.
"Welcome, sir, what can I get you?" the attentive barkeep asked.
If he recognized the number one hero, he did not let on. Secrecy was taken seriously here.
"I'll have what she's having," he told the bartender.
"Yes, sir."
For the first time in many, many years, Farrah turned to gaze upon the unobscured face of her first love. She gasped to see the huge scar marring the left side of his face. The scar covered half of his forehead and tapered to a point at his chin. Considering it covered his entire left eye, she wondered how he had not lost that eyeball entirely.
But he could see perfectly as he gazed at her with his luminescent aquamarine eyes. Those irises, a distinct and brilliant mix of the blue and green colors of the seas, had captured her heart the first time she looked into them. She could still remember the sensation of raking her fingers through his silky flame red hair.
Age had been kind to him despite the awful scar. He had gotten wider and more muscular through the years. A faint mustache and beard of golden red hair replaced the flames from earlier that had hidden his scar.
"Wow," she said smiling at him. "And I thought you were something when we were young. You really do look great, Enji."
"So do you. You don't look a day over twenty five. You must have an elite plastic surgeon. He does good work and is worth every penny you paid him," he retorted cruelly despite her sincere compliment.
Farrah chuckled, refusing to take offense. Actually, she had not gone under the knife at all. Slow aging was an underlying second quirk passed onto her by her mother for which she would be eternally grateful despite her father's curse of a quirk of being able to create self-contained firebombs.
"Why am I here, Farrah?" Enji demanded, picking up his glass and swirling around the brown liquid to make the round ice cube clink against the sides.
"You tell me, Enji. Why are you here?" she asked, turning the question back to him.
"I always hated it when you did that. You don't answer a question with a question especially the same one that was just asked of you," he muttered irritably, draining half of his glass.
"Answer it. Then I will," she said, taking a small sip of her drink.
He stared straight ahead at her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. "Curious I guess. I never expected to see you again when you left so suddenly. You didn't even say good-bye."
"Oh, I guess I misunderstood. I thought the night you told me you were dumping me to get engaged to Rei was our good-bye," she returned, emptying her glass down her dry throat.
"We had time. Our relationship didn't have to end. I wasn't married yet."
"Wow...you are quite the piece of work, Todoroki. I won't apologize that I thought it a bit shitty to continue having sex with a man betrothed to another." She sighed. "It didn't matter anyway. Our relationship was over for numerous reasons. My ticket had already been booked to return to Cali. I didn't see the point in one last good-bye fuck."
"Eloquent as ever, my dear," he said, turning toward her. He grabbed her chin roughly between his thumb and forefinger, tracing her lips with pad of his thumb. His mouth fell into a lopsided, cocky smirk. "I remember all of the wonderful things you used to do with that filthy mouth of yours."
"Stop it," she snapped, slapping his hand away.
"Is everything okay here?" the bartender asked, his eyes on her.
"Fine. Another drink for my friend," she said, standing to her feet. "You're still an asshole, Enji. You have never changed." She stuffed another bill into the jar to pay for his drink and tip. "Good-bye, Todoroki."
He caught her wrist as she tried to sweep past him. "Hey, don't leave yet. I came here to talk so let's talk."
"How is the wife and kids?" she asked, after returning to her seat.
"Fine," he replied without adding specifics.
Farrah knew he had four children, three boys and a girl. She had kept up with him for a little while, writing to one of her friends from high school here in Japan who informed of the latest Todoroki news. After hearing the awful report of Rei's breakdown when she burned their youngest son and horribly scarred him, she no longer wanted to hear anything else about Enji Todoroki. Her friend knew about the incident because she was the nurse who treated the child's burns.
It was not difficult for her to believe the man had driven his wife to a psychotic break. Enji Todoroki required perfection not only in himself but those around him. He knew what he wanted out of life and those he kept close to him. He wanted things done his way when he wanted them done. As long as one became what he wanted them to be and did what he wanted to do, following all of his rules and complying with his wishes, he was good. And when one didn't...well, he was very, very bad.
Enji's eyes studied her hands. No ring. No hint of the telltale line she had ever worn one. He wasn't surprised she never got married. She wasn't the marrying kind. Free spirited and strong willed, she was like a wild filly no man could tame.
He had liked her argumentative nature. She had been his favorite adversary in debate club. Her fighting spirit extended to the bedroom which he found endlessly satisfying. Sex was always a battle for domination, a fight to see who would come out on top both literally and figuratively. It was hard and sometimes violent but the sex was always satisfying.
He should have known back then she would become something that would mean the end of a man's life. She taught him the real meaning of why an orgasm is called the little death, an education he had never forgotten.
But she could be sweet and gentle too. She had taught him the value of a soft touch and a kind word, lessons he had ignored and almost forgotten until he had made the decision to change in an effort to heal his broken family. The accident that gave him his scar had changed him inside with a permanent reminder he isn't infallible or immortal. He never knew when his end might come, and he had to make things right with his wife and children.
"I wanted to thank you," he said, avoiding looking directly at her as their eyes met in the reflection.
"For what?" she snickered in disbelief, expecting another onslaught of unwarranted insults.
"Because of you, I'm willing to fight for everything I almost lost. I want my marriage...my family...to work," he said, picking up his drink to wet his parched throat. Feelings and talking about them was still incredibly difficult for him.
Farrah sighed, not knowing what to say. How could he expect her to be happy he wanted to reconcile with his estranged wife he had locked away in a mental hospital? Did he think she would pat him on the back and say congratulations for wanting to step and be a good Dad for the first time in his damn life after already emotionally and mentally, not to mention physically, wounding his children?
But everyone had the right to change. Even him.
"I should go. This was a mistake. I'm sorry," she apologized, not knowing what else to say.
Standing up, she hesitated as she stood beside him. Enji looked up her without touching her. Their eyes met, and as always, she melted. She hated herself more than ever. Leaning down, she placed a light, chaste peck on his lips. This was the final good-bye he had asked for.
"Good luck, Enji Todoroki," she said, smiling down at him as tears seared the backs of her eyes. "I wish all of the best for you. That's all I ever wanted anyway."