Author's Note:

It's my birthday - so - extra chapter upload. ^_^

Chapter Nine: The Commission

Izuku yelped as he was upturned once again and landed roughly in the sand with a thump. Sand was supposed to be soft—it sure didn't feel very soft after having landed on it so many times in a single hour.

Hawks stared down at him, the warm tint of amusement showing around the edges of his eyes. The young hero had the faintest sheen of sweat glinting on his neckline, but other than that, he wasn't even showing any strain from their tussling.

"You're getting better."

Izuku groaned. "I'm not."

"No, you are." Hawks lifted him. "You just don't feel it because the improvements are so small, but your speed and precision are beginning to progress. Just keep at it."

Izuku nodded. He brushed himself off, dusting sand out of his sweaty curls.

Hawks stretched, reaching high and yawning. Izuku cringed at the heroes healing arms. One of them was still bandaged up, the other just had some type of special protective glaze over the burns. He'd rewatched the battle—over—and over—

And it just made his head spin.

"Um…"

"Yes, Baby Bird?"

"Er…I…I was…wondering…about the villain from last Monday."

"Ah, that arsehole." Hawks held out his arms in distain. "Tosser lost us a whole week of training sessions. Medusa wouldn't let me fly out here, not even for Rilo's treatment."

"Oh, ah, don't worry! All-Might had Present Mic run through the program you gave me instead."

"Really? Haha, that's hilarious." Hawks shook his head. "So, you met Hizashi. He's nice, isn't he."

Izuku bounced over to his bag, yanking out his workbooks. "He is! He showed me this thing called break dancing, said it might help me with some of the more aerial based moves you might lean into. He said he's happy to take up the training sessions you can't do, just to make sure I don't fall behind." Izuku frowned. It kind of seemed a bit odd how familiar Present Mic had been when it came to Hawks, but he didn't really feel it was his place to ask about heroes and their relationships.

"That is very, very generous of him. He has a lot of work on at the school and…other…duties." Hawks took the workbook from Izuku, flipping through it and Izuku anxiously bobbed on his toes. "Alright, this is good, you still managed to keep on track despite our lost playdates." Hawks plonked him on the head with the workbook.

"I'll have to thank Hizashi."

Izuku grinned.

"But we got off track, you were asking about the villain?"

"Oh…oh…yeah!" Izuku breathed in deeply. "Um…so…er…" he shuffled.

"Baby bird, just ask the question."

"Um. Yeah." He rubbed his hands together. "Would it have been…um…easier to…easier to have just killed the villain?"

Hawks arched an eyebrow at him. "Most definitely."

"Oh."

"But just because it would have been easier, doesn't immediately make it the right choice. From the information I was given, this guy had been working happily in the construction industry for years, where to be honest, his quirk was pretty useful."

Izuku nodded slowly.

"But, according to later investigation, he'd been growing dissatisfied with his pay, and his manager was probably a bit of a dick about it and…these things sometimes escalate, and because we live in a society where quirks so easily get out of hand."

Hawks gave a sigh. "The manager ended up dead and dissolving in a barrel of acid, and we had the birth of a new villain who started a killing spree. Now, I could have ended the villain's life, but, that's what he wanted. He didn't want to face the families of all those he'd murdered, and suffer the consequences for his choices."

"So, it was about holding him accountable."

"Something like that." Hawks shrugged. "You'll have to make those types of decisions someday. As heroes, we have a blurry line to walk. Try not to fall into the hazy fog of de-humanizing villains."

Izuku nodded.

"You'll find there is a lot of unsavoury separation going on, between the general populous who have quirks, and those who are quirk-less." Hawks crouched, holding out his hands. "Don't be surprised when you're confronted by extremes on both sides of this divide. Accept that it has become an issue, and focus on one thing…"

Izuku breathed in deeply. "That we're all human."

"Exactly."

"Right. That's my epic lesson for today." Hawks glanced at his watch. "I've got a meeting soon, so I have to cut this one shorter, but I figured you could finish working out at the beach."

Hawks thumped back on an old tire, his wings going loose. Sometimes, when Hawks was completely relaxed, Izuku thought the wings looked like liquid. Hawks leant forward as he sipped his water, giving a warm smile.

"How is school?"

"Oh, um…er…it's okay I guess?"

"You guess?"

"Well, it's…just school…"

"Okay." Hawks frowned. "Don't really know much about school. My honorary nephews tell me its unbearably boring, and I tell them they should try learning advanced mathematics and aerodynamics if they're that bored." Hawks thumped a boot down on an old stove. "Cause that's what I did when I got bored, stuck in a locked four-by-four room. Pretty sure I memorised every book on the human exploration into flight, even the illegal ones."

"Illegal ones?"

"Old text, from the before quirk era."

"Oh." Izuku crinkled his nose. The snippets he got about Hawks' childhood were really unsettling.

"I guess school is a bit boring, but that's okay." Izuku flopped back on the sand. "It's been more boring now that Kacchan has been leaving me alone, which has been so weird. Usually, he bullies me relentlessly with the rest of the class, you know, for being quirk-less, but it's been peaceful and I can finally get work done. That'll be good for next school yaear, when things really count towards getting into U.A. Oh, and Mum doesn't think I'm lazy anymore." Izuku grinned happily.

"You get bullied." Hawks said it more as a statement than a question, and his tone wasn't at all pleasant. That must have been the pro hero coming out, or the brother.

"Oh…it's nothing." Izuku flapped a hand about dismissively. "Really."

"Ah, ha. Sure. It's nothing."

"It is."

"When it becomes something, I expect to hear about it. Izuku." Hawks bent over him, golden eyes sharp with clarity. "You are my responsibility, that's what an Apprenticeship Licence means, and even if, in the end, I can't secure one for you, I will still consider that our relationship."

Izuku swallowed the painful lump in his throat. They'd only had a brief discussion about the Apprenticeship Licence, mostly because he sort of sensed that Hawks wasn't sure he'd be able to get one, but the very notion that he'd—he'd even be—he'd be considered the actual apprentice to a pro hero was completely overwhelming. It was one thing to know he was getting a quirk, it was another to actively be training with heroes in preparation, and it was insane to be talking about a licence when he didn't even have a quirk.

"Harm to you is harm to me. Am I making myself clear." Hawks stated.

Izuku nodded.

"Good." Hawks reached for his jacket, tugging it on.

Izuku bounced up. "You're leaving?"

His hair was ruffled. "Meeting."

"Oh, yeah."

"Wish me luck." Hawks' hand on his head had the slightest tremble. "The next hour is going to be hell."

"Then, I won't wish you luck." Izuku shook his head. "I'll tell you…that you…you're going to be fine."

Hawks rolled his eyes as he flipped up his visor. "I'd say that All-Might's unbearable positivity has already infected you, but I think you may actually be infecting him."

Izuku blushed.

"I want that homework I gave you done by Saturday."

"Yes, Ani."

"Oie!" Hawks pointed to him with a grin. "Behave, Baby Bird."

Izuku dashed back as Hawks boosted into the sky with a swirl of sand that rained down. Opening his eyes and unfurling his arms from his head, Izuku looked up at the evening sky, voided of the Wing Hero. He felt oddly empty, seeing the empty sky. Slowly he turned away, facing the rubbish filled beach that he had to defeat.

"Right…" he clapped his cheeks. "One more hour. I can do this!"

He heaved up the tire Hawks had been using as a seat and headed for All-Might's old, decrepit truck, so far-away—so—so far—away.

"He could have parked it closer!" Izuku huffed.

00000

They made him walk through the oppressive corridors of The Commission, because they knew he hated everything about the building he'd been raised in. Having listened to Rilo wax on about the tyrannical uses of architectural design for a few evenings—never a topic he'd ever expected to find himself listening to for hours—he could finally understand why he so loathed the place. It wasn't just that it was a constant returning to the abuse, and that alone, was like being continuously flayed. It felt like a prison. The corridors were tight and constricting, and the rooms compacted tiny boxes without windows. Even the air didn't seem the flow properly through the building, leaving this horrible aftertaste in the mouth and a district, unpleasant scent in the nose. For reasons he could not comprehend, all the quirk-less folk seemed content to work in their little windowless squares, and he couldn't think of anything more nauseating. The walls surrounding him were all stark grey. Not a nice grey either, but drab, dark decay grey that heralded depression and somehow, some idiot had thought that grey would go brilliantly with a hideous orange floor. He'd grown up in the halls, and they hadn't changed, just the art got swapped out from time to time, that was all he could use to tell that time had passed in the eternal Commission. He forced himself to stroll straight through the corridors, without tucking his wings in tightly—as he so earnestly wanted to do—but he was Hawks, and Hawks did not cower, especially at the Commission. He received glares, and the ill-contempt sneers, smiling at each one of them as he headed straight for an elevator at the end of a long hall.

He stopped in front of the open elevator doors, studying the three people inside the small box.

"Well, guess I'm not fitting in with you guys." He quipped.

One of the men laughed, immediately revealing he was of the rare quirk quota hires in The Commission. He felt sorry for the oblivious man, not realising he was only hired to fill a role because his quirk was most likely deemed unnoticeable enough to be tucked away in a corner in one of the grim cubicles.

"Hey Hawks, sorry, you'll have to catch the next one up."

Hawks shrugged, flicking out his wings, just for show. "Aw, come on, it'd be a tight squeeze, but I'm gentle."

Oh, the pernicious looks from the two other quirk-less members were worth the witticism. The elevator door began closing. Hawks waved, allowing his spirited smile to drop away to reveal his own seething venomous glare. The doors thumped shut. He shoved his hands lazily in the pockets of his pants, humming a tune as he waited. The second elevator dinged, and the doors opened, allowing a group to file out. He slipped in first, settling himself against the back wall. No one entered. He shot a feather at the top floor button, and watched the doors close, taking him to the one place he had always dreaded going—

And still dreaded returning to.

The elevator halted at the final floor and he stared out at the long, empty corridor leading to a black set of double doors. He could have likened the entire thing to a death march. Glancing up at the camera, he held up his middle finger, and strolled purposefully down the hall.

He booted open the black doors, stepping into the large office space where Madam President waited, in the only room he knew to contain windows. She stood, like a sinister steel beam against the cityscape, stark and grey in her pinstripe suit. Slowly she turned towards him—

And his feathers ruffled.

That look, that condescending look of distain, she tried to hide it behind a false smile but there was no hiding such deeply engrained disgust.

"Hello, pet."

0000

Hawks clipping shut the doors gently was the most passive aggressive action a young man could achieve. She had raised him to be dignified and restrained, and it was always amusing to watch his hatred seep out of the cracks in his mask. He had never looked upon her with fondness. Not once. He had understood from the moment his mother had sold him, that everything had been a transaction, and his life had never once been his own. She'd expected bitterness and self-pity to fragment his psyche, but, instead, his ridiculous notions of heroism always seemed to win out.

It was disgusting, how endearingly positive he was, that he could someday be free.

She found standing in his presence a true thrill. Some folk liked rollercoasters, or extreme cave diving, her adrenaline rush came in the taming of a windstorm. She was not foolish, or naïve like her predecessors, she had captured and chained a god. He did not respect her, and she did not respect him. They were not the same, and they never would be. Her predecessor had been foolish in dealing with their last pet, and it had resulted in their death. She would never be so unwise.

"Welcome home."

"Don't mock me." He drawled. "Why am I here? You could have sent me my next job by encryption, like you always do."

She unfurled her arms, lazily walking back to her desk. "You are walking a very fine line, Hawks."

"Ah ah." He cocked his head at her.

"And I would like to caution you to leave it well alone."

"You going to expand on that, or do I have to make an educated guess on what this hypothetical line I'm supposedly pissing off of is."

She smiled. Oh, how she did find him so very, very amusing. His snark was such a deflection for his hatred.

"You are an extremely expensive piece of property, Hawks. If I tell you to jump through a hoop, you will jump through that hoop. I allow you the privilege of having the illusion of freedom, and you have been behaving within that margin, to a degree, thus, I have continued to give you that privilege."

With a sheer of disgust, she turned towards him. "I did not give you permission to play nest with a pretty little bird, especially a bird that does not exist. You should know, Hawks, that I am trying to protect you from yourself. Emotional attachment will only lead to pain. Everything you touch will die—"

Several feathers were suddenly pointed directly at her. Hawks' entire demeanour had shifted, and she smirked at the intensity behind his change in stance. Gone was the deflective snark, replaced with pure, unmasked murderous intent. Sometimes, she wondered if this was what those whom she sent him after saw before they died—those pure golden eyes, fierce and ablaze. A hunter, perfectly designed to do one thing—

Kill.

"Oh, don't worry," she sat back on her desk. Unphased by the weapons poised at her. "You can play your little game of life. It isn't like she has long to live."

Oh—he flinched. That tickled her pink. How delightful that he'd already worked that out. How much of the carrot could she dangle over the edge, to tempt him to continue to submit. Could she give offer him enough, then tear it from him, and watch him fall? What expression what he give her when he finally realised he'd never be free, and there was no hope.

"Indeed," she held out her hand. "I will even give you this; if you can figure out how to get her out of the control of the Bureau before her end-of-life-cycle is up, then I'll let you keep her. Afterall, your happiness makes me happy."

"We're not animals. You do not own us."

"But we do, Hawks." She shook her head. "As much as you wish to fight it, and I know you will fight it, the truth is simple; all heroes are violent criminals and need to be kept on leashes. It is my job to keep you all inline."

She took out a small red envelope from a pile on her desk. "Your next job. I expect you to move on it, immediately. It is time sensitive."

She heard the distinct clicking and chiming from the calcification of his wings as they formed blades. He moved with predatory grace towards her as she held out the envelope. She had to force herself not to recoil as he snatched it from her fingers. No doubt, he was contemplating striking her down. He likely contemplated it often, but he was more than aware she was the only ally he had in the cursed world he had been raised within. She had made herself that one ally for a reason—to keep herself alive.

He had killed the man who'd run his torture training.

She had not punished him for it.

It was the little gifts that kept him believing he was winning, and it was so incredibly amusing to watch him try and struggle out of his cage.

"I will grant you your request for an Apprenticeship License for your interesting side project, if you succeed in dispatching the individuals in an appropriate manner."

"I didn't expect you to accept that request so easily."

She tapped the wooden desk idly. His eyes focused down on her nails and she halted the movement immediately. He was extremely perspective, sometimes she wished she could take him to every meeting, just like she used to, to have him analyse all her opponents, but he had grown up. Was she supposed to feel proud of a pet?

"I like that you are raising another generation for us."

He didn't reply. Either she'd hit home, or he simply didn't find her comment remarkable enough to answer. His attention returned to the envelope, flipping it open and flicking out several photographs. She watched in fascination as his eyes focused, taking in enormous amounts of information with just such simple pictures.

"What's the job?"

Madam President leant back on her desk again, crossing one leg over the other. "This is a small organization that are working on establishing a new political party, the individuals here are the top players. They will be meeting at an undisclosed location, you have twenty-four hours to dispatch them."

"I presume you're not wanting their politics to gain traction, hence the hit."

"Oh, no, no." Madam President tapped her desk idly. "We've decided the best way for their message to spread is to make these four martyrs for their cause. Nothing gets a movement going better than a little…sacrifice." She grinned viciously. And nothing created civil unrest like a little dissidence.

"The Hearts and Minds Party?" Hawks arched an eyebrow at the pamphlet he pulled from the envelope.

Madam President smiled. "Oh yes, cute isn't it. They believe you're not all animals and deserve the same rights as us True Humans."

Hawks looked up, his eyes momentarily losing their clarity.

She'd broken him, for just a second.

"You're fucking sick," he whispered.

She blinked as air whiplashed around her, and she was alone in her office, one of the windows open to the cool air.

She sighed, turning her gaze out across the city.

Curing the world of a disease would take time, but she, like all her predecessors, would continue the work, one step at a time.