I'm finally posting the long-promised sequel to "A Room with No Shadows"! This was my project for NaNoWriMo 2019, so it's much longer and more complicated than the first two stories. The POV will eventually switch between Hawks and Tokoyami, so you'll get to see what really happened to our favorite birb. Also I realized that a certain character I had in "A Room..." technically should not have been there (manga spoilers as to who/why) soooo we're just going to pretend something happened between the two stories until I have the willpower to edit it.

Thanks for reading! Comments are always appreciated.

1. The Bird in the Cage

Hawks' feathers are red, red as blood and fast as bullets. They're so quick and sharp that they pierce straight through Hawks' sidekick in the time it takes him to call out his mentor's name.

"Hawks," he repeats, staring down at the hole in his chest. Then his mind catches up to the fact that his body is dead, and he drops to the ground.

Just to the side, Endeavor struggles against three nomu. His flames burst out between the monsters' dark bodies, tainting the air with the smell of burnt flesh. Two of them shriek and fall back, but quickly leap back at the hero with claws and teeth and quirks. Four more nomu focus their attacks on nearby civilians, leaping on them as they try to flee the scene and slamming through windows to grasp at those who took shelter inside. Endeavor's sidekicks and a few minor pro heroes are too preoccupied with saving the civilians to help Endeavor or go after Hawks. Anyone who does try to reach the villain at the center of the attack must dodge a rain of razor blade feathers, as well as the talons of a massive, winged nomu that remains at Hawks' side.

The villain Hawks surveys the destruction with an eager smile, one that doesn't quite fit his face.

The hero Hawks bellows with rage as he watches all of this on the screen of a small television, trapped in a windowless basement cell far from the fighting. He's shackled to a chair, badly injured and half-blind from the room's bright lights. None of that matters compared to the footage of the attack on the screen. He twists and strains against the shackles, but the movement sends white hot agony through the remains of his wings and the stab wound in his side. He passes out.

When he wakes, the television is off and the room is much dimmer. Hawks' head is swimming. He's half-convinced the broadcast was a dream, except he's still shackled to the same chair and the throbbing in his wings is very real. He's not sure he wants to know how the fight ended. If it's ended. He's doesn't know how long he was out, so it's entirely possible the battle between the heroes, the nomus, and Not-Hawks is still raging. He wonders if any of his other sidekicks survived; if they did, they've probably been arrested for their association with him.

Behind him comes the scraping of metal and the creak of hinges. Hawks tenses; he's no longer alone. He twists in the chair to see who's coming for him, but the world around him blurs. He groans.

"Stop moving so much. I can't have you undoing all of my hard work."

Hawks frowns. That voice doesn't belong to any of the League of Villains members he's familiar with, and he was sure that he knew of them all. Shit. The commission is going to have his wings for this. Then again, an over-looked villain is probably the least of the things they'd like to talk to him about right now.

"It's good that you're awake," the voice continues, right behind his ear. Older. Male. Native Japanese speaker. "I'd hate to have come all the way out here just to watch you die. I've no interest in saving Shigaraki's pets. But you – you're interesting."

"Y'wan'n'autograph?" Hawks slurs. His throat is raw from yelling and his tongue is clumsy with the remains of a sedative, but his panic has subsided into something cool and calculating. He was trained to be the commission's perfect spy, and it's a roll he falls back on when nothing else makes sense.

The man laughs. "Oh, I have something much better in mind. I doubt your autograph will be worth much to anyone after today. Weren't you watching the news? You're the man who destroyed half of Fukuoka."

"Wasn'me," says Hawks. He stares at the blank screen before him. "Who won?"

"That depends on who you ask," the man replies. "I lost three of my poor children, but Shigaraki seems to think it was worthwhile. You escaped – or rather, Toga escaped, along with five more of my children. She's run out of your blood."

"That why y're here?" Hawks asks.

"No. Drawing more blood could kill you. You should be happy – we've all agreed that you should live."

"Sorry m'not jumpin' for joy," says Hawks. He blinks and cranes his neck, trying to get a view of the man. "Who're you, anyway?"

"Your doctor," the man replies. He sets something down on the table beside Hawks that clangs like metal-on-metal, then finally shuffles into view. The man is short and fat, with a large mustache and a bald head. He wears a curious pair of glasses with multiple lenses.

Hawks vaguely recalls Dabi saying something about 'checking with the doctor' when they were setting up the test for the high-end nomu, the one that nearly killed Endeavor. Oh, shit, Endeavor… "He alive?"

The doctor tilts his head. "Who?"

"Endeavor. My sidekicks. The other heroes. They alive?"

"I don't know. My children made quite a mess of things, you see. Other doctors and morticians will be busy tonight. They are not my concern. You're my only patient at the moment," says the doctor. He pushes his fingers under Hawks' wrist, still shackled to the chair, and checks his pulse while peering at Hawks' eyes. "You should be more worried for yourself."

"M'alive," Hawks replies. And captured with my cover blown and my wings a wreck.

"Yes, and as I said we intend for you to remain that way. The League has a vested interest in your blood supply. I myself am far more interested in these." The doctor releases his wrist to caress his wings. Hawks hisses at the sting. "I wish they hadn't plucked your feathers so roughly. You won't be much of a test subject like this. I suppose I shall just have to be patient. They grow back quickly, don't they? I watched you use them up against my high-end and return to flying a week later."

"Glad you're a fan, but – wait. Your high-end?" Hawks rolls his head back to get another look at the man.

The doctor hums and continues his examination of Hawks' quirk. "Yes. I'd like to know your opinions of him. It's very important to get a first-hand account for my research."

"So you're the asshole that's been making those things," says Hawks. It might be a bad idea to insult the one that's apparently in charge of his care, but it's not like things can get much worse. He hasn't got the energy to pretend, anyway.

The doctor only chuckles. "Not alone. Without my master any nomu I create are incomplete. But I continue my research, and I believe I'm getting closer to the ultimate creature." He releases Hawks' wings to squat in front of him and examine the wound on his side. Hawks groans when the man touches it, and the stitches pull tight against his muscles. "Better keep that clean. We wouldn't want an infection to mar my studies."

"Nah, that'd be… be terrible," Hawks gasps out.

The doctor reaches for his bag and pulls out gauze and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. He pours some of the alcohol on to the cloth and returns to Hawks. "This is going to hurt. Do try to stay still."

Hawks bites down on his tongue to hold back a scream when the alcohol-soaked gauze meets his skin. It burns like Dabi's fire. Even after the doctor removes the wet gauze and starts to tape down a dry bandage Hawks can feel the sting. It's not the first time he's been stabbed and stitched, however. He knows it will fade, so he focuses on gathering what he needs to survive – who he needs. The reason he came here in the first place. The reason he let his guard down and got caught.

"Where's Tsukuyomi?" he asks.

"I told you, I don't care what became of your hero friends. Do you have a concussion?" The doctor pulls on Hawks eyelids and flashes a light into his eyes.

"No, he wasn't at the attack. He's here, somewhere. He's got to be," Hawks mutters. "It's his feathers on the floor."

"Ah, you mean the boy with the bird mutation. I haven't seen him; they moved him out of here just for you. He's still around. I hear you're rather attached to him," says the doctor.

"Enough to get sloppy," Hawks admits. It's nothing the League hasn't figured out already. He wonders what gave him away; even he didn't realize how much he cared for his student until he found Tokoyami trapped in that bright room.

"That was rather foolish of you. I watched the feed from my office," says the doctor. "It's foolish to grow so attached to anyone. Everyone dies eventually, even my master."

"You care about your 'children,' don't you?"

"The nomu are my life's work. Without me, they will go on. Without them, I will make more. I know who I am and what I must do, whether I am alone or not. Can you say the same?" the doctor asks.

Hawks doesn't have an answer for that – or perhaps he does, but it isn't an answer that he likes. The doctor seems to read enough in his silence. The man nods and removes a syringe from his bag. "This is an antibiotic," he explains. "And a little something for the pain."

"I don't want it," Hawks declares. He makes a brief attempt to struggle free, but only succeeds in nearly toppling the chair.

"It wasn't a question," says the doctor. He sticks the needle in Hawks' bicep, releasing something hot into his veins. "You should be asleep again in no time. Sleep will do your body a world of good."

"No. I've still gotta…gotta find…" The world slips away, and Hawks can't recall who it is he's supposed to be looking for.