Chapter Nineteen: Payment
Hawks slapped the door of the tattoo shop open with a boot.
"Oh my goodness, Hawks." Floral greeted him, hands on her hips. "Could you give a damn."
"Nope." He slumped over the counter, ignoring the customer Bucket's was working on, despite the warnings from his wings. "My day consisted of a flying through a storm, getting smashed into a wall by some moron who thought it'd be super hilarious to swing a pole around in the middle of a construction zone, getting a sidekick poached by another agency, oh, and then another villain decided to try and outfly me, and busted up half a dozen skyscraper windows in the process. Now I have to do paperwork tonight, when I wanted to spend the evening with my wife doing absolutely nothing."
Floral huffed. "Oh, boo, hoo, poor hero, doing hero things."
"Right, so, no sympathy from you then."
"Goodness, no." Floral snorted, heading around the counter. "Sweetie, you're a big boy, you can deal with your hero problems. Just don't take them out on my poor, innocent door." She gave his head a condescending pat. "How is Rilo?"
He sighed, propping his chin up on a hand as he leant on his elbow. "She is dying, Floral. How do you think she is."
Floral's expression dropped, and he immediately felt a heavy drop of guilt ball up in his gut as her lashes dampened with tears. That had been inappropriate. He got that—thanks consciousness, that had somehow survived his abysmal upbringing.
"Hawks." Bucket finally spoke up. "Don't take your anger out on those who are here to help."
He pulled back. "You're right, I'm sorry Floral."
She took his hand, giving it a squeeze. "Oh, sweetie. It's okay. I know, under all that aghast, you're a big ball of warm fluff."
"Ahah." He raised his brow.
He would neither have called himself big, nor a ball of fluff, but, whatever made her happy, that was fine in the moment. "Well, this big ball of warm fluff need's another feather pendant." He placed a small wooden box down on the counter.
Floral flopped back in mock defeat. "Oh my gosh, Hawks."
Bucket chuckled. "He's keeping you well practiced, love."
Floral snatched up the box. "I'll be able to do these blindfolded soon."
"Last one, I promise…well…until we have kids," Hawks assured.
Floral poked his nose. "I'll hold you to that." She smiled. "You better have a little flock."
"Working on it." He flicked out his hands.
"When you need my esteemed mod removal services, I will be there." Floral tucked the box away beneath the counter. "Just make sure you do a good enough job that when I do my work, Bucket and I won't have to go into hiding."
"Working on that too." He sighed. "Which, reminds me, have you finished those other commissions?"
"Oh." Floral held up a finger. "Actually, yes, I have. They're in my workshop though…" She spun around. "Wait here, I'll go and grab them. Bucket! Behave while I'm gone."
She flounced out of the front end of the shop, vanishing down a set of stairs into the basement area. Hawks tapped the counter in a playful beat before turning around to face Bucket, working on a late-night customer. He flopped himself down on the spare tattoo chair.
"Just make yourself at home, Hawks." Bucket chuckled.
"Thanks, I will." Hawks yawned, stretching and then flopping out. "I am so done."
"So, you flew back in that storm, heh?" Bucket asked. "Was a bit concerned when I saw it had come early over the coast up there."
Hawks stretched up his legs, trying to relieve their aching. "It wasn't so bad. It'd pretty much moved on by morning. Everything just seems more awful when you're this exhausted."
"There is truth to that." Bucket eased up from his work. "Hawks, this his Dabi." Bucket motioned to the man in the tattoo chair. "Like you, and Jeanie, he is a regular pain in my arse."
Hawks tipped his head to one side, studying the numerous scars from countless burn surgeries. Yep. He could see why the man was a regular at the underground clinic. A fire elemental quirk, without a body that could withstand the heat. That was a nasty manifestation. "So, you got the shite end of the quirk stick, heh."
"There is shittier." Dabi smirked.
The tips of Hawks' wings calcified at the leer.
"He could stop using his quirk, and that'd solve all our problems." Bucket scoffed.
"Come on, Bucket, not everyone has the self-restraint you do." Hawks rubbed wearily at his face, trying to repress the need to strike at the grinning man in the chair beside him.
"Self-restraint is simply something you practice. Everyone can achieve it." Bucket offered.
Right—like he was doing right now—
Because he was in this shop—
A safe zone—
For villains—and heroes—
Fuck Bucket—Fuck Floral—Fuck their ideas of harmony.
"Do you get this lecture every time you come in," Hawks offered to Dabi.
"Pretty much." Dabi tipped his head. "What lecture do you get?"
Hawks flipped his hand about. "Oh, you know, need to look after myself better, drink less coffee, have more sex."
Bucket scoffed. "Pretty sure you've finally got that last one sorted, birdie hero."
Hawks flashed a smile. "Oh, I do." He sat up straighter as Floral emerged from the basement.
"Okay! I found them. Phew, it's like a tornado got loose down there. I need to clean up."
"That'd be a miracle." Bucket muttered, and Dabi chuckled.
"Oie!" Floral pointed at them both. "None of that, you abysmal males."
Hawks bounced off the seat as she held out two small, wooden boxes. The same non-discrete design as all her jewellery creations.
"Here you are sweetie. I think they're my best works."
"Honey, you think every piece you do is your best work." Bucket jibbed.
"Oh, hush you." Floral scoffed.
"Thanks Floral." Hawks tucked the boxes away in his jacket. "How much do I owe you."
"Nothing, sweetie."
"No, Floral—"
"I said nothing. You will accept my gift." She shoved him towards the door. "Now stop hanging out here and go home to your bird. Go. Go. Go."
The door was rudely slammed shut behind him and he ruffled his feathers in irritation. He disliked not paying for things, it felt like stealing, and that just dredged up awful memories of his father, but Floral was more than likely feeling inadequate in her inability to help, just as much as he found himself trapped in his inability to solve the whole problem.
He glanced back at the warm glow of the shop. "Thanks Floral," he whispered.
Stepping out onto the dark, quiet street he launched, heading—
Home—
Back to Rilo.
He knew something was wrong the moment he landed on the powerplant balcony.
The lights were off inside the studio apartment.
All of them.
Every single one.
Usually, Rilo kept one or two on to read by, or sometimes the lights beneath the kitchen cupboards would highlight the wooden countertops in an eerie glow, showing all the unwashed mugs she'd used throughout the day.
Instead, he stood inside a dark, and seemingly empty apartment, staring at a trail of blood on the concrete floor.
"Rilo!" Keigo dropped his gym bag. "Rilo!"
He pursed the blood trail and slammed open the bathroom door, diving straight into the small dark room, his visor immediately fogged up as steam assaulted him.
"Keigo?!" Water sloshed about from somewhere.
Keigo flipped his visor up, and stared blankly down at Rilo, half submerged in the bathtub, admitting only a very faint glow from the centre of her chest. None of her usual markings were lit up.
It was—
Alarming.
But in that moment, the rush of panicked adrenalin drained out of him and he dropped to his knees in a heavy slump. He clutched at his racing chest. This had to be a defining moment in his life.
Had he—
Was this—
Was this what actual terror induced relief felt like.
Wow—he was a little dizzy.
"I think you just took years off my life, babe."
He folded himself over the edge of the bathtub, pressing his cheek to the warm rim as he clutched her hand.
She weakly raised herself from the bubbly water. "I'm so, so sorry. I didn't realise I'd cut all the lights."
"And left a blood trail?" For the briefest, most terrifying moment, he'd thought the Bureau had come for her, and taken her, and he'd missed it. He reached for her cheek, brushing her wet hair aside. "You removed the wires yourself, again. Rilo…"
Oh—whatever—it didn't matter…
None of it mattered right now.
"I thought a really hot bath would help with the pain." She lifted her arm in a begrudgingly slow manner. "Just burn it all away."
He chuckled. "One way to do it, I guess."
She suddenly sat up straighter, sloshing the water about.
"Keigo, wait a minute. You…you're in the bathroom." She grabbed his arm. "How did you get through the door?"
He squeezed shut his eyes, giving a sheepish tilt of his head. "Okay. So, confession time…" He shrugged out of his jacket, throwing it aside. "The size of the door has never actually been the problem."
She blinked at him in confusion as he removed his visor, setting it aside.
Keigo yanked off his boots, tossing them at the entrance. "It's actually been the size of the room. I don't do overly well in smallish spaces, not because of my wings…but because of where the Commission kept me."
Realisation seemed to flicker across her face in a slow, gradual dawning that paled her pink, flushed cheeks. She gasped in horror, covering her face. "Oh…oh…no…Keigo. I…I…didn't even think…"
"It's okay, babe. Really. Honestly…my revulsion of small spaces kind of feels a little irrelevant right now. Interesting how things get put into perspective." He hoisted himself up and swung into the bathtub, listening to her squeal of surprise as water erupted outward from the sudden influx of his entrance.
"Keigo! You're fully clothed! Your wings are not going to fit."
He slid down, planting his feet on either side of her as he tucked his wings around them. He reached for the hot water tap, yanking it on to refill the bath.
He grinned. "Woo, yeah."
"You are a goose." She splashed at him.
"But a very handsome goose." He held out his arms. "Come here…"
She slid around, folding herself against his chest. He cranked off the water, and cocooned them both in his wings. Rilo snuggled closer and he dropped his head against hers, watching as she fiddled with the rivets of his armour.
"This is nice…" she whispered.
"It is." He hugged her closer. "So just…close your eyes, okay. I've got you."
0000
His laptop hissed in protest, angry at sitting on his lap in the bed. The fans inside of its boxy, chunky container protested the lack of air as the quilt smothered the vents. He really should have just gotten a book or something to prop the poor machine up on, but he was just a few documents away from finishing the paperwork from the events of the day.
Rilo lay tucked up beside him, her arms and legs draped over him. He'd given her use of his mobile, and he could hear the soft music of the 'cute' duckie themed game she was playing. Apparently, her mobile couldn't sustain the graphics for the utterly adorable game, so somehow…somehow…he'd ended up downloading the most inapt game in existence.
"Oh my gosh…" she suddenly whispered. "Keigo! I'm on level twenty-eight!"
"Wow…" he glanced down at her, his eyebrows raised in amusement at the sight of her sheer, brilliant happiness over a mobile game. The simple pleasures in life, he supposed.
"All my duckies are so happy." Her toes curled up against his legs and she wiggled in glee.
"That's fucking amazing, babe." He squinted at his laptop screen. "Aw, bother."
"Keigo?" she tensed up. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, no…sorry…I just noticed an inconsistency in Bubbles calculations about the payout for the damages done to the effected business today…ah…what time is it?"
"It's almost midnight."
He rubbed at his face. "Then I suppose it will all have to wait until I get to work tomorrow." He slapped the laptop screen down and sent the heavy hulk vaulting over the side of the bed. "I feel like pudding. Do you want pudding?" He crawled out of the bed, stretching and bouncing on his toes.
"I don't even think we had dinner." Rilo set the mobile aside and he smiled as she stood on the edge of the bed, folding herself over his back. He hooked his arms around her thighs, hoisting her up for the ride.
"To the kitchen then."
She squeaked out a laugh as he bounced over the couch and deposited her on the countertop. Rilo crossed her legs, waving a hand to brighten the lights beneath the kitchen cabinets. Keigo yanked open the fridge, staring at their extremely scarce supply of food. The two puddings being pretty much the only thing therein besides milk.
"Wow, we totally suck at adulting." He tipped his head back at her.
Rilo raised her hands innocently. "Guess we'll have to figure that one out together."
Pulling out the puddings, Keigo threw the strawberry one at her and she caught it with a yelp, almost toppling back on the counter. "Keigo, you goof!"
He dragged a barstool over, seating himself in front of her. "Actually, on the note of us figuring life out together, I picked up our commissions from Floral today."
Rilo paused from spooning pudding into her mouth. "You have them?"
He nodded, teaspoon in his mouth.
"Keigo. Where are they?" Rilo tapped his head with her spoon.
He chuckled, concentrating on his pudding.
"Keigo!" Rilo slid forward, dropping her legs down on either side of him as she bent over to search the pockets of his track pants.
He shifted. "Hey, hey. Hands off the merchandise, babe."
"Oh, no, no, I'm pretty sure we had a whole discussion about how that merch in your pants is mine." She quipped, grinning up at him with her neon pink glow.
His lifted his brow. "Wow. Just. Wow. You turned that around."
Setting his pudding aside he slid off the barstool and made his way to his jacket, hanging on the wall rack. He fished out the two plain wooden boxes. "I'm going to presume the one with the little cherry blossom is yours." Keigo thumped back onto the barstool, his wings making an air gust. He popped open the lid of the box with the cherry blossom embossed into it and gently tugged free a delicate gold chain and intricately preserved feather. Rilo breathed in deeply.
"Oh, Keigo, it's so pretty."
"I do have to agree, it is."
It was nothing more than a simple gold chain, a feather, and a singular little diamond.
"I'm going to presume the diamond symbolises you."
Rilo nodded. "Floral and I discussed that, mostly for your piece, but I guess she threw it in on this one too."
He shrugged. "I like it. Nice and simple."
"Not gaudy," she bantered.
He looked up at her. She was fiddling with the necklace she already wore, a habit he was pretty sure was now subconscious.
"It's like your security blanket." He raised his brow in amusement.
Noticing what she was doing, Rilo pouted. She hugged the necklace tightly to her chest. "Maybe it is."
"Well, that one can be yours, this one can be mine." He reached his arms around her, fastening the latch on the delicate chain to fit around her waist. It hung so lightly, like a faint gold thread. Keigo blew lightly on the feather.
Rilo clapped his cheeks together.
"Pervert."
He winked. "Your complaint is noted in the flight log."
She ruffled up his hair as he bent forward, pressing a kiss just below her belly button.
"Okay. Okay." Rilo squeaked. "I retract my complaint."
Keigo sat back. "Much better."
"Goose." Rilo cupped her neon pink cheeks. "Oh no, now I'm pink everywhere."
"Well, not everywhere. I could definitely work on some areas—" She slapped a hand over his mouth.
"Stop talking, Keigo." She snatched up the second wooden box. "I have things to say, so cool your man bits."
"You put some thought into this." He brushed her hair.
Rilo clutched at the box. Her legs jiggled nervously. "Well, yeah. You can give me feathers…" she whispered, "I'll always have a piece of you with me, and that means something. I'm always safe, even if you're so far away." Slowly her gaze lifted once more as she played with the box timidly. "So…so…I wanted to give you something that'd have meaning too."
Tears started to drip down her cheeks. Keigo cupped her chin, brushing at the droplets as she struggled around her words.
"I never, ever want anyone to hurt you again, Keigo. But I can't…I can't stop that from happening." She gave a watery smile. "And I certainly can't punch Madam through a window."
"Oh, but I do wish you would." He rubbed their noses together.
She brushed at his cheek. "I…I want you to know that I really treasure being the one who you trust to touch you, that I can approach you from behind…" she breathed in deeply. "That you let me near your wings."
She was so sweet.
He leant on his elbows, smiling up at her.
She'd really, really put thought into it. Despite everything—despite the fear she wasn't going to make it—she'd committed thought into it as though she was going to see the future through.
That meant something to him.
She believed in that future together, even if so much of her showed her as afraid, there was a real, honest, raw part that trusted and believed they'd make it through the storm and out the other side.
Somehow.
"Um." Rilo squeaked out. "That's not…like…weird or anything, right?"
"No." He kissed her bare thigh.
"Oh. Oh. Okay. Good." She clutched at her chest. "So, um, with that in mind…I got this made up. I hope it works. I honestly have no idea if it will work. Floral seemed to think it would…"
Rilo held out the box. Keigo flipped it upside down, emptying out the contents into his hand. It took a moment for him to untangle the gold chain and hold it out. It formed two loops that met in the centre, the join dipping and held in place by a delicate, miniature gold feather and another tiny diamond.
"It…it um…it's supposed to fit around your wing junctions." Rilo offered.
"Yeah, they're wing links." He looked up at her.
"Wait." Rilo blinked, startled. "There is a name for them?"
"You didn't know what you got made?" He grinned at her. "Oh, babe, that's so adorable…and so you."
Rilo covered her mouth. "Did I just give you something really inappropriate for an avian?"
"No. Well, depends on the definition of inappropriate I suppose. Inappropriate for a couple like us, no, inappropriate for…say my sidekick, Canary, yes, it would be for him."
"Why?"
"Well, you kind of already caught the reason why." He leant forward, tapping his foot idly. "We don't like allowing random people near our backs, or our wings, so, putting a piece of jewellery around that area tends to indicate a level of trust and intimacy."
Rilo puffed out her cheeks. "Here I thought I was being original."
He gave her lips a peck. "That you thought of the idea, goes to show it does have merit in avian quirk culture."
"That's why you went for the waist chain, isn't it?" Rilo touched the chain.
Keigo tipped his head to one side. "Yeah. The idea was similar."
"You read too much." She bonked his head.
"I am nothing if not resourceful in my seeking of who and what I am." He handed the wing links to her, turning around.
Her fingers were gentle and soft as she worked to latch the jewellery. She gave his wings several strong brushes before sitting back. "Okay, all done."
Keigo looked to the reflective shine of the panoramic windows, catching the glint of the gold against his back. Floral had gone extremely discrete in the design. He had to commend her in knowing a client. Rilo liked her necklace for its slightly more personalized touch, that she could fiddle with like some gadget. It wasn't something he'd ever pick out. These pieces though, were entirely done with his far more minimalist outlook on mind. Rilo had likely been insistent on it.
"Do you like it? It isn't to garish for you?"
He heaved her up. "I love it."
Honestly, he'd probably love anything she gave him, because she always put such thought and meaning into something. There was such a depth of wanting to understand that always relaxed him.
Rilo squeezed him and carried her back towards the bed, the lights dimming behind him.
"Okay, seriously, babe, don't hurt yourself. I promise, I'm not going to suddenly vanish if you let go."
"It feels that way…" she whispered. "I'll go to sleep, and then wake up…you'll be at work…and I'll be here…in this…place…"
"That's what the feathers are for, okay."
It wasn't a solution, but it was the best patch-up job he had for the moment.
Rilo dropped her head on his chest, sighing despondently. He climbed onto the bed, easing them both down and tucking the covers around them. Rilo balled herself up against him.
"Don't worry," he offered. "This is only for a time. We're not going to be like this forever, and we have forever."
Rilo spread her hands playfully. "News headline; Hawks is super sappy and adorably romantic."
He chuckled. "You can have that one."
"Ohh, I win."
"For now."
00000
"Hawks!" Bubbles shout could be heard through the entire agency, which was saying something, considering the expanse of the nest.
"Wow, what did I do to warrant that tone?" Hawks looked up at Medusa from his laptop screen. They were both hanging out in the lounge. Working alone in offices was for Bubbles and her insane work ethic. Sometimes, it was just nice to hang out in a wide, open space while reading bureaucratic emails about the lack of earthquake proofing in current buildings, and to expect the story to soon leak to the media.
Medusa laughed. "Did you leave the toilet seat up again?"
"Pretty sure you're the culprit for that one." Hawks scoffed, dragging his chair back.
"Hawks! Get down here! The President is here!"
Everything stopped. Hawks stared at the balcony leading to the main lobby. His wings slowly expanded outward as his predatory senses increased. What was she doing in his agency? Why was she standing in his foyer, on marble flooring paid for by blood money she'd forced him to shed. She didn't even have any other agents with her as guards.
A taunt.
Proof she could walk right into his nest and he couldn't do a fucking thing about it.
"Hawks…" Medusa cautioned softly. "Your calcification is showing."
Shite. It was extremely difficult to de-calcify his wings when all his senses were so primed.
"Predatory mode is bitch, heh." Medusa heaved himself out of his own chair. "I don't see you in it very often."
"Well, I neither want to kill you, nor do I want to have sex with you." Hawks pressed his fingers together, making a cross.
"Should I be concerned you'll crosswire those two someday?"
"I assure you; they are two very extreme ends of a long stick." Hawks fluffed out his wings, letting them settle. He snatched up his jacket, tugging it on and tightening it around his back as he headed for the balcony to peer down into the large open foyer. Far below in the circular entrance of the agency, Bubbles was talking in animated enthusiasm with Madam President. The midday light was muted by the misty winter sky, but it was enough of a warm glow to cast long shadows over the marble floor. Hawks made a mental note to get a cleaner in. The floors were going to need to be scrubbed to rid them of the very stain of Madam Presidents presence.
He flipped himself over the edge of the balcony and glided down into the lobby. He didn't bother to tame his landing, he let the air gust past both Bubbles and the President as he thumped down with all the irritated dignity of an annoyed schoolboy.
"You took your time, Hawks." Bubbles huffed.
"I was pissing off a hypothetical line I wasn't supposed to cross." Hawks quipped.
The President gave the smallest of snorts. "Ever eloquent, Hawks."
"I do try." He smiled. "So, Madam President, what brings you to my ever so humble little hobble?"
Bubbles sucked in a sharp breath. Ah—his poor darling sidekick—she looked about fit to burst at his flippant disregard and casualness with one of the most powerful women in hero society. Poor darling Bubbles, if only she knew the monster that stood in front of them, disguised as a woman in a pinstripe suit.
"I do love the new costume, the black was getting a little cheap on you. This much more domesticated." Madam President sidestepped his question.
Hawks shoved his gloved hands deep into the pockets of the baggy pants. Her bait was too obvious. He wasn't going to take that one. "Thank you. Wifey also approves."
Oh—she was so disappointed he didn't get hackled.
"Is it Tsunagu's work again?" She reached out, brushing at the coat idly. His hands tensed as he forced himself not to react to her proximity.
"Always will be." Hawks glanced away from her as Medusa finally made it down the last flight of stairs to join them.
"You could have taken the elevator, Med." Hawks commented.
"Still feels like flying." Medusa shrugged. "I prefer the stairs."
"Cause you're boring." Hawks snipped.
"You say that like it's a terrible, terrible burden." Medusa joined them, his unsettling, pale gaze falling on the President. She remained completely unphased. Of course she was. She'd been in the room when they'd ripped out his wings. She'd witnessed countless torture sessions without batting an eyelid. Medusa's eyes weren't going to throw a woman that could stand in the middle of a bloodbath and smile at it.
"You must be Medusa, from the European Conglomerate."
"Indeed, I am. It's an honour, Madam." Medusa gave the weakest of bows that Hawks had ever seen from the usually respectful medi-hero. Oh—the burn—that was not a bow of someone who was being polite at all, and by the look on Madam President's pinched face she knew it was an arrow aimed right at her. Well—now—that had thrown the woman.
"Hawks." She turned directly to him. "Come."
He tipped forward, letting his wings catch him. "As you wish." He waved at Bubbles and Medusa. "Go do sidekick things."
Bubbles looked extremely putout that she wasn't being included in the conversation. How he wished he could have explained she was lucky to never have been in the thought processes of the President. Medusa wasn't pleased—though likely for entirely different reasons—and tracked their movements through the lobby.
"What brings you to Fukuoka?" he asked. Which was a round about way of asking what the fuck she was doing in his city without informing him first. Madam President dipped her head slightly.
"Just a simple business trip, and since I was here, I thought to take the opportunity to see you and what you've built." She glanced around. "It is very…open and airy."
"I don't like walls."
"No, you never have. Which is a shame. Walls are very useful." She plucked idly at her suit.
"Is there a reason you're here, or are you just fucking with me?"
"Don't be vulgar, Hawks. I taught you better."
No, she'd taught him to respect her out of fear. It had been a hard lesson to deprogram from, the twisted concept of respect and fear. All people deserved respect because they existed, not because he feared their existence.
"I have the item you requested." She headed for the small table beside a set of red lounges in the lobby area, setting down her delicate briefcase. She crouched, popping it open and taking out an envelope to hand it to him.
"You came all the way here to give this to me? Really?" Hawks tapped out Izuku's Apprenticeship License, and the corresponding paperwork, glancing over both briefly before slipping them back into the envelope and tucking them away into his jacket.
Madam President stood smoothly once more. He wasn't all that much taller than she was, and he still found standing next to her irritating, as if somehow she took up to much space around his wingspan. Perhaps it was just the memories that filled the void, making the air around them feel compressed and tight, triggering his flight response.
Once again, she completely ignored his question.
"How is your little playing house project going?"
"Surprisingly well, thank you." He countered with a smile. "We've decided to forgo formalities and just aim for kids." It was supposed to make her squirm, even just a little bit, but she didn't.
Instead, she studied him, her frown slowly growing more pronounced. "You're going to find that difficult, Hawks."
That was the most normal tone he'd ever heard come from her—in his entire life. There was not a hint of contempt, nor vitriol or even amusement.
"Why?" He kept his voice level, despite his spike in heart rate.
"Hm." She took up her briefcase. "I'm not entirely sure if I should give this information to you, however, let's consider it an advance payment for your next job, shall we."
His wings dropped around him at her next words. He could barely process them.
"The Bureau of Energy and Infrastructure protect their assets, just as I do, however, their methods are—as you've noticed—far more medieval. That mod-hancer of hers acts as a sterilisation device."
"That doesn't make sense." He whispered. "She's perfectly fine…she…"
Madam's brow lifted. "I see. If that's the case, then you will need to do something soon. The sterilisation starts to wear off towards their end-of-life-cycle as the mod-hancer breaks down. If she, as you say, fine, then the Bureau will be seeking to collect their asset—to begin the production line."
He tensed. "Production line," he choked.
She gave his arm a mocking pat. "Dear, she is a piece of machinery, like you are nothing but a sword. I suggest letting nature run its course and simply walking away—"
He flinched away from her.
"Oh, dear. Did I break you." She tipped her head up at him, her deadened eyes brightening suddenly. "Did I shatter your dreams of a happy life?"
"You bitch."
"You'll receive your next job by this evening. I expect it to be performed impeccably, Hawks, as always."
She walked away, straight out of his agency, like she hadn't just metaphorically stabbed him. It had been a long, long time since he'd felt like finding a tiny corner in which to curl up in and cry. Not since he'd been a boy, hiding from his father's drunken rages.
A hand settled on his shoulder, and he almost took it off as his wings calcified immediately at the touch.
"Shite. Med." He grabbed Medusa's hand.
"Sorry." Medusa carefully stepped back. "That was my mistake."
"No, no." Hawks dragged a trembling hand through his hair, struggling to breath. He couldn't even configure what he'd just been told. What was he supposed to do with this—
They'd both been clinging to that one tiny little bit of normality and hope—
Rilo was going to fall to pieces.
He focused on the faintest feeling of the cool metal chain dripping down his spine.
It was alright—
It was alright—
He shoved the terrifying new reality away, into a box, and locked it.
He couldn't think about it. Not right now. Later, after his job, he'd let himself fall to pieces. Later.
Hawks breathed out slowly.
"Medusa."
"Yes."
"Tell Bubbles I have a freelance job. I won't be in tomorrow."
"Yes sir." Medusa inclined his head. "And Hawks..."
Hawks shook his head, whispering, "Don't Med. Just. Don't."