"One of the keys to this kind of undercover work, where you're playing drug buyer or something like it, is to look like a wreck, but not actually be a wreck," Flag told him as she opened her endless closet of clothes, accessories and makeup products. Izuku had never seen a closet even half this size... in fact, it might not be a closet at all. It might be a converted bedroom.
The dim light didn't allow him to make out many details clearly but, wow, it was like Flag had her own private thrift store. To the student's left, an unbelievably tacky fur coat hung from a wire. To his right a dozen or so wigs swung from hooks. Why would she need those? Maybe she sometimes disguised herself as someone wearing a bad disguise? Huh. That was actually a good plan...
"There's an art to getting that perfect "bloodshot eyes" look without actually irritating your eyes or impairing your vision. Some people find just rubbing their eyes all day works. I use these eye drops," she showed him a bottle with a worn label in a language that Izuku could not read. He squinted. "It's, ironically enough, a natural pinkeye cure from some weird company in Germany. Put a bit just below your eye first. You don't want to find out you're allergic after searing your cornea with the stuff."
"Thanks," Izuku nodded nervously, trying valiantly to ignore the fact that False Flag currently looked and sounded exactly like the greenette himself. She was intentionally trying to fluster him, make him nervous... and boy was it ever working. Was that really what his hair looked like? Were his freckles really that noticeable? She definitely didn't move the same way Izuku did, and that was perhaps the most disconcerting thing. She strutted with her shoulders thrown back and chin tilted up as if she owned the whole planet. The outfit, too, was something Izuku would not be caught dead wearing. The hero's motorcycle boots came up to her knees. There was a disturbing amount of leather involved in the form of tight, black pants and a long, studded coat. What was the (real) greenette supposed to think of all of this? So weird. So very, very weird. Why was she doing this? Just to test him? Make him practice his poker face? Well, given what he knew of her personality so far, perhaps personal amusement was her only motivator.
"These considerations aren't unique to playing a junkie," Izuku's mentor continued in the student's own voice. "In undercover work we spend a lot of time on our own, no backup, no recourse. It's so much easier to weasel your way out of a tight space if your opponent underestimates you, physically and mentally. Whatever persona you choose, make sure you're playing someone dumber than you. It's not impossible to play at being smarter than you actually are, but it's hard as hell and usually a great way to get yourself killed, 'cause the traps they set for you are going to be clever. Pretending to be an idiot can be extremely wise and also a lot of fun. I just love throwing in moments of unbelievable ignorance, like mixing up Austria and Australia or thinking English and American are different languages. Don't make it too fantastic, don't make people wonder how you can possibly survive; there's a point where it becomes unbelievable, but throw in some good "what the hell" moments so long as you can sell them.
"Being physically underestimated is even more important. Don't ever show off how well you can fight. You're a beast with knives aren't you?"
"Uh... maybe?"
"Pretend you aren't. Depending on the circumstances, make yourself out to be a decent hand to hand fighter at most, but don't let on you can fight with knives and you usually shouldn't act like you know anything about guns." Izuku still had no idea how good he might or might not be with firearms. Presumably he would be a decent shot, but he'd never had an opportunity to test that. "In certain situations, and playing the addict certainly counts, looking sickly is really important and really helpful. No one expects the sleep deprived, ragged kid with kidney disease to be able to kick the whole gang's collective asses. They'll treat the fight like a joke. When they realize they're dealing with a professional it'll be too late." False Flag busied herself inspecting Izuku's hair. "We're gonna' dye your hair twice, make it look like you're a blonde who dyed your hair black but now the roots are showing big time. Then we'll make it look like you haven't had the energy to brush your hair in weeks. Keep in mind that sometimes, smelling like you haven't bathed in a long time can sell a persona better than any appearance alteration, unpleasant as it might be."
This was going to take a while. "I'll have to introduce you to the Face Fixer sometime," False Flag mused as she dragged him through the systematic process of ruining his hair.
"The... Face Fixer?" Izuku asked.
"Call him villain, call him him opportunist, he'll take your money and rearrange your bone structure; he can do temporary or permanent work, depending on what you need. The temporary stuff can be detected or even dispelled by certain other quirks, but you don't have to go see him again with a "before" picture to get your face back. I've no need of that, but most undercover heroes pay a visit to him or someone with a similar quirk on a semi-regular basis." A... villain got regular business from heroes? "Undercover work is a gray area by definition." She told him, seeing the look on his face. "We, too, are opportunists. Anyway, you won't need something that serious for this job. Wearing a flu mask and a hoodie should more than suffice. It won't look out of place, not even a bit."
A break developed in the conversation... perhaps it was time to turn towards more... dangerous topics, to prod the edges and try to map out the outline of... whatever it was she knew that he didn't. It had to be related to his missing week, right? Even if she seemed not to know anything about how Izuku had come by his abilities. Or did she even know about his kidnapping case at all? About what happened to him as a result? Would Nedzu and Aizawa have told her about that when she discussed the greenette's work-study? She'd given no indication that she knew, only briefly quizzing him about his skills and classes before jumping right to work... should he ask her outright? Should he tell her outright? But... the initial suspicion that she might be related to
Switcher or more tangled up in the web of Izuku's misfortune than she might like him to believe made him hold his tongue.
"Now, for an alias and a persona... You'll need to come up with replies to common questions and decide what you'll do if you're accused of being a spy."
"Does that h-happen often?" Izuku asked. How should you respond to an accusation like that?
"Very occasionally. The first thing to do in most cases is look shocked. You know you're not a spy, thus the idea that someone else might think you're a spy is like being doused in a big bucket of ice water. If someone specifically accuses you of being an undercover hero, it can be advantageous to pretend you don't even know that those exist. I managed to get away with everything once by staring at the accuser with my mouth slightly open before saying, "don't you mean an undercover cop?" Lots of people, even in the underground, don't really know that people like us exist. If you're playing the idiot card, this can be a good response. Sometimes beating the crap out of the guy or girl who said you were a snitch is the way to go." Izuku shuddered at the thought. "Like I said, sometimes. As an undercover operative, you have a whole lot of legal leeway in what you're allowed to do to keep your cover, increasing in proportion to the severity of the consequences should you be found out." Izuku shivered again, unable to keep his thoughts from sauntering down blood-soaked avenues. The fact that it was still his doppelganger speaking to him didn't help.
"We'll discuss that more in the coming years. For now, I'm the dealer that hooked you up with some Trigger a few weeks ago. Why did you want it? What quirk do you have that you needed powered up so badly that you turned to an illegal drug?"
What would be the best story? Something unverifiable or easily faked... "I... have a quirk that improves my short term memory? But not enough. There's a big test next week and I need Trigger to pass."
"Good story. Now tell it to me like you mean it. Beg me to hook you up with the drugs. Tell me how badly you need 'em. Make me believe it. Come up with a name and then come up with the name you're gonna' use if you need, because nobody would buy this stuff using their real name. You shouldn't need more details for this short act, but we're going to come up with them anyway. Remember, you can be more convincing by telling half truths than lies, and you should never volunteer more information than you're asked for. Sometimes you shouldn't even give that. If someone asks you where you live, you tell them, "what's it matter? I've got the cash." That's all."
Izuku shuffled through the back streets, hands in the pockets of his ripped hoodie, eyes flitting from place to place nervously, and muttered to himself, "page fifty-two... giraffes, no, not giraffes, not even history, what am I even doing here I don't... gotta' find them. Gotta' get more." The few respectable looking pedestrians gave the greenette a wide berth as he worked his way into steadily worse parts of the Kansai Region.
Streets and sidewalks accumulated a dusting of garbage. Trashcans overflowed or showed signs of
dumpster diving. Paint peeled from buildings. Corner stores advertised liquor and cigarettes even more prominently than usual. That building was definitely a strip club. The building to its left was probably a brothel, despite the prominent sign declaring, "This is not a brothel; there are no prostitutes at this address." Why would anyone put a sign like that on a building? Well, if a building had previously been a brothel but the manager had moved business across town perhaps it would make sense...
False Flag waited for Fossa in the dingy glow of a flickering streetlight. She slouched against the soot-stained brick of a shuttered garage that had once repaired "Domestic and Foreign Cars." The hero took the form of a thirty-something man with prominent, devilish horns and a grizzled beard.
Izuku propelled himself to a faster walk. "Hey, Deyama, Deyama," the greenette ran up to his "dealer," pretending to pant from that short exertion. Flag raised an eyebrow. "You got more of that stuff?"
"What stuff?" the hero asked.
"That stuff I got from you last time," Izuku hissed as the two of them slid further down the alleyway, away from the light. "You know?"
"Which stuff, kid?" Flag sighed. "The pills?"
"No, no, the quirk stuff!" Izuku said, voice rising at the end of the sentence. "Trigger?" Flag asked quietly.
"Yeah, right, Trigger!" Izuku practically yelled, all as planned. This was... actually a lot of fun. The chances of anything going seriously wrong here, even if the greenette completely botched his acting, were quite low. With such small stakes, it was easy to put his worries aside and live the part. If heroics didn't work out, maybe he could go into theater? Settling himself so wholly into another's shoes was invigorating.
"Not so loud!" Flag hissed. Fossa winced, ducking his head. "I don't got any, kid." "What, but--"
"My supplier up and skipped town. Don't know where to get more, and hell you know I'd like to. It's just flying off the damn shelves."
"B-but I need it! I need it for next week or I'm gonna' fail everything!" Izuku quietly wailed. "Kid, get lost," Flag sighed. "I can't help ya'--"
"Ah, but perhaps I could?" a rough voice offered. A small woman, perhaps twenty-five years old, watched their antics from the nearest street.
"You have Trigger?" Izuku asked, breathless.
"For the right price, kid," the pink-haired woman smirked behind her bandanna style mask.
"One dose, just one dose please," Izuku said, pulling a wad of bills from his jacket pocket. He was prepared to pay more if necessary, but Flag said this would probably do. "What do you want for it?"
"All of that'll do," the dealer smirked. He couldn't see her mouth, of course, but the grin was
obvious in her eyes.
Izuku hurried forward and the woman held up a vial. "You sure it's the good stuff?" the greenette confirmed, hand shaking intentionally as he reached to make the exchange.
"Oh yeah, it's the stuff," the dealer huffed, turning to Flag. "Don't know you, Deyama was it?" "Hmph," Flag groused. "But I know you I think, Fifty-percent isn't it?"
"That would be me. And this is my part of town." Fify-percent clutched the little vial of Trigger so tightly Izuku began to whimper and grasp for it nervously.
"Here, kid," Fifty-percent handed over the drugs and Fossa gave her the money. "Now get out of here. The adults are going to have a chat." Oh, she was not happy that False Flag was selling in this part of town.
Izuku took the Trigger and ran. The last thing he heard was Flag saying, "nothing would make me happier than to get off your turf... with a new Trigger supplier. I can make it worth your while, and I'll keep out of your business after that. I don't want any trouble with someone like you."
False Flag had met and manipulated Fifty-percent before. She would know what to say to get the information she needed.
The two operatives didn't meet up to debrief until nearly two in the morning, Izuku having returned to the undercover pro's base of operations (which looked like a more or less normal house until you opened the door) via a painfully circuitous route. "Better safe than sorry."
"That was beautiful," False Flag chuckled, now once again wearing Izuku's body, although she hadn't bothered to change out of Deyama's clothes which were hopelessly large on the greenette's frame. Was that really what his laugh sounded like? That was... creepy. "Fifty-percent bought it hook, line and sinker. I'm going to get set up with her supplier in just two days. You're not invited for that part. Turns out I know the guy and he's a real bastard. I don't want you near him just yet. Anyway, great work Fossa." She grinned at him with genuine warmth, and that was exactly how he had always imagined his smile. "I might have been able to pull that off myself, but it was so much easier with your help."
"This dye doesn't wash out, does it?" Izuku realized, prodding his bizarre hair. It was going to be embarrassing to attend classes like this.
False Flag shrugged. "It should last about a week. We'll talk for a few minutes about how you did, how you could have done better, what you should've done in certain hypothetical disaster scenarios, then I'll drive you back to UA. Oh, and good luck with classes tomorrow," she gave him a malevolent grin. Izuku winced. Yeah... he was going to be as sleep deprived as Aizawa. Would it be alright to bring a sleeping bag of his own to home room?
Izuku was only semiconscious for the car ride, but False Flag seemed determined to carry out some kind of conversation with him and he played along as best he could. "That went a lot better than the first time we met," she hummed, having finally returned to the form of the scarred woman with the long braid that Izuku remembered from Hosu, "two fewer people being stabbed."
Two fewer? Wasn't Konno the only one who got stabbed? "Wait, did you get stabbed that night at Hosu? Or did you mean Stain got stabbed later or...?" Izuku asked.
"Define "stabbed,"" she replied then changed the subject so quickly Izuku nearly got whiplash. "You asked me about Black Forest that night."
"Yeah," Izuku defended, "I mean, it's interesting? Wouldn't... you have wanted to ask?" But why was she asking him about this now?
"Fair," she agreed. "Though I'm not sure why you would need to know anything from me." Why had she emphasized "you" like that? Was Izuku just imagining things?
"I mean, I don't think I need to know anything about it?" The greenette replied. "I d-don't think I'll ever, go there or anything so... I mean, it's a huge black market hub so m-maybe undercover heroes need to know something about it?"
Flag hummed, face inscrutable. "You may need to go there someday. Servii will probably like you."
"Servii?" Izuku asked.
"Some corruption of the English word "server," like a computer server."
"It's... some kind of computerized database?" What in the world was going on here? What was she talking about? Why would a database like anybody? What did any of this have to do with Black Forest and why were they talking about Black Forest in the first place?
"Computer, heh," she hummed. Izuku just stared in abject confusion because he couldn't think of anything better to do. "The Rebel Isles are famous for plants with quirks. They call Servii the Karma Machine, but Servii is a tree, or maybe the tree and its associated mycelium."
"Oh? A... tree with a quirk that's sentient? So it likes people?" Why couldn't she just tell him what she was talking about? What was with this bizarre game of twenty questions?
"They say Black Forest runs on karma. Its the one place in the world where what goes around really does come around."
Wait. What? "Oh my god, oh my god are you serious?" That was, if that were real, if there were something like that in existence on the world, something that could... but what did that actually mean?
"Oh yes," Flag nodded. "Servii's quirk changes people's luck. When I was an idiot kid, I punched my brother in the nose once 'cause he was annoying me..." Uh. Wow. That was probably an overreaction? "My father scolded me of course, but that wasn't the real punishment. For the next week, I had rotten luck, the comic sort, not the sort where air conditioning units fell from flats and smashed me into a smear on the concrete although that does happen in Black Forest every once in a while. Saves money on firing squads..." What the... he couldn't think of a proper expletive to finish that thought, he was too tired... "Anyway, I couldn't find any of the stuff I wanted to buy, or
they were out, I stubbed my toe a bunch, kept losing things, tripped over my shoelaces five separate times... It's really funny in retrospect." This sounded like a fairy tale, not the kind of thing that happened in real life, although there was no indication whatsoever from Flag's tone or body language that any of it was untrue. "Anyway, Black Forest gets away with not having a huge centralized martial force keeping law in the city because of Servii. There aren't many rules in Black Forest that Switcher considers law, and all of them forbid despicable crimes. If you break one of them... it doesn't take much to catch you because your luck is just going to be so damn bad, like fall down the stairs of a bar and land in the middle of a table where twenty Enforcers are celebrating a promotion bad. Minor crimes and disputes... Servii tends to suppress them among locals who know the drill. Screwing each other over just isn't worth it most of the time."
Absolutely unbelievable. Was she just telling a tall tale at his expense, taking advantage of how exhaustion could make one naive? "Are you messing with me?" Izuku asked.
She squinted at him. "No. No I'm not messing with you. Are you messing with me?" Wait. What? "Uh... no? Should I be?"
"No."
"Okay then."
"Good."
"Have I done something wrong?"
False Flag side eyed him, considered, then finally said, "no."
"Sorry."
"I said "no.""
"Sorry." Izuku repeated.
The undercover pro sighed and shook her head. "Hopeless," she muttered.
Izuku expected that train wreck of a conversation to make more sense in the morning. It did not. Was there some double meaning that he had completely failed to pick up on or was False Flag just being weird, as usual?