You blinked, confused. Seduce Hawks? Didn't you do that like ten days ago? He must have seen your quizzical look on your face, because he sighed.

- "Little one, I did not say a thing last time but… We both know you are our only option right now and I did not want to give Boom-Boom Boy any more reason to lose time." He busied himself with retrieving his jacket. This gave you a good look at his back, and you could admire the muscles rolling under his skintight black tee-shirt. He really was a piece of art, straight from a museum or an Italian painting.

"Yeah, exactly my point. You are ogling." He stated with a satisfied smile on the corner of his lips. You immediately turned redder than a lobster. "Oh, don't worry, I like when cute girls ogle me. In fact, I'll be offended if you didn't. Unless you bat for the other team, of course. Which we both know you primarily don't." What could be redder than a lobster? He chuckled like pointing at your face, before turning dead serious in a second.

"However, you are not allowed to lose focus during your mission. You can't lose yourself into the music or the dance…. Or the role-play. And you did it at least three times last time." He expertly sit himself on the sofa, wings neatly arranged over the low back. Then he put his boots on the black metal and glass coffee table that surely cost more than your monthly salary – when you had one. Were you still paid while doing this mission? You'd hope so, but how, given that now you did not have a bank account? Well, Ageha will need one at some point. She more than likely already has one, as you trusted the gang to have gone through all details way before you. But she could not receive money for the Squad right? So where was your salary?

But back to Hawks.

He was the allegory of nonchalance, but he was still watching with piercing eyes. Like a hawk. You wondered if his codename was more linked to his amber eyes than his wings, now that you were thinking about it.

"During the mission, you may have to dance or else to someone you find repulsive. Or embrace a role you are not happy with; be in conditions that are not ideal. You must stay in character, whatever it is. Even if it is just a lap dance to a nice fellow. You can't lose face. We need you at 100%, 100% of the time. So, we are going to practice. You change, you guess the character you have to play, and you play it. I will be an asshole about it. I will push you until you crack. And when you do, it would be thirty push-ups for you. And you are going to hate me for all this."

The mere fact he stated it in an iron cold voice made you shiver. And not the nice kind of shiver he gave you moment ago by just shrugging his vest off. You suddenly had a ball in the back of your throat that prevented you from swallowing or even breathing. You could not phantom what it would be to face a Hawks who meant business. Villains were either totally crazy or had some immunity to fear, because you felt like running under the bed and not coming out for the next two hours. And he just looked at you and only promised you hell. He did not even use his feathers! Though, as a sided note, you would not mind some feather actions of some sort. Not the villain sort of action. Unless you were a very bad girl?

Oh, you knew what he meant by being distracted. Right. You adverted your eyes away from his figure, in case he had once again read you – most likely – and went to the bathroom. You opened the bag and pulled a maid uniform, or what would be a maid uniform in a very graphic porn movie. You looked at the thing, wondering how you were supposed to do any cleaning with this. Well, cleaning was not the aim of it, but still. It looked very uncomfortable in the long term. Though the aim was not to wear it more than a few hours. Or to do actual cleaning. Oh, you were certainly going off track, like Hawks said.

You tended to overthink when nervous. You never pondered much about it, but you were quite certain it was a quirk side effect. The chaos theory of the butterfly effect applied to psychology would have you worrying about the exponentially number of "what ifs" each time you made a choice, no matter how little it was. It would also made you more prone to shift focus, so you did not get stuck with the fear of those "what if". It is why you had always figured you had a work mind and a dance mind. A brain mind and feeling mind. You went for data analysis because the facts grounded you. You liked the finite aspect of maths and decision making based on calculated risks brought you peace.

Right now you had no facts, except the maid uniform, and a lot of what ifs to consider. Speculations were one step before imagination, and you had plenty. Especially when you added some kinky role-play and Hawks into the mix.

You were still fantasizing, had completely lost your train of thought. Right. Again. Was Hawks ever wrong? According to both Endeavour and Dynamight: more than often, which funnily infuriated the both of them on equal measures but for different reasons. You shook your head, changed out of the sweatpants and dance top you were wearing so far and passed the outfit. You were about to call out Hawks when you noticed a selection of shoes waiting for you next to the sink, as well as some toiletries and make-up. He did plan this session and you were not certain if it was a good thing. Did you really need this much training? You hastily pick-up a pair of stilettos and put on some mascara and lipstick while pondering your next move. What sort of maid would you be playing? The sultry one who was engaged with the lord of house into flirty activities? The shy one being dominated through compromising sexual intercourse? You guessed you'd wait for Hawks' indications, and this was probably the scariest thing, because he swore you'd hate him, so you already figured he would pick the worst-case scenario.

You had assessed that he was the one with the most twisted mind out of the group. He had seen and done dark stuff. Darker than all of the others combined. He had been the spy and the puppet for the former Commission after all, and they had done very bad stuff. He was still the only hero to not have displayed his real identity. There was something grim about his reserve. You knew when you were seeing fake. It took one to get another. Hawks was fake, but no one could live a complete lie all the time. So part of Hawks was part of "him". You were afraid that unfortunately, there was little "him" past Hawks. And this was sad, really.

You have never felt this naked than now, in front of a gigantesque mirror in a luxurious suite, applying make-up in a ridiculous oversexualised costume, realising that you were probably no better than him, since you have been running from "you" for a long time. He had probably seen through your mask too. After all, he had been wearing one longer than you.

It takes one to get another.

Because you were a fake Ageha, going to play a fake maid, to fake being a gogo dancer, in front of a very real hero who was nothing but an equally fake person. You felt… diluted, like wine into too much water, and a bad batch of wine as it was.

With a sigh, you pushed your hair back over your shoulder and you opened the door. The curtains had been drawn on the windows, and only some low light were on, like the bed table lamp. Hawks gave the impression he had not moved, and he probably had not, using his feathers to do all the work. Thanks to them, the room was giving a sort of intimacy, secret feeling – which you were happy for, as you did not want anyone to see what was about to happen. Not a random paparazzi who would have access to the 6th floor windows, nor Hawks, not even yourself. No witness, no mirror, only the mask. After all, your were not you. You were Ageha.

Time for the show.

- "What can I do for you, Sir?" You asked with a sweet voice, trying to keep it neutral.

- "You can undo my shoes." He answered back lazily. If you did not know him, you'd picture a man with a cigarette – one of this rich 19th century earls of Britain or something. Hawks was such a Bridgerton boy.

You nodded and came to your knees next to him, between the coffee table and the sofa and started working on his laces. You felt his fingers through your hair, like a caress.

- "Interesting choice." He indolently mused.

- "Not a choice, Sir. It is my natural colour."

- "No way?" How unfair, that he could drop character and you could not? You tugged at his left boot and nearly doomed yourself when you realised he had on Mario and Luigi theme socks. You barely managed to keep your giggles for yourself. Of course, you had to question if he did it on purpose to fail you or if this was an actual pair he owned. Now you felt paranoiac on the top of lost and sad. Great. The mere idea of Hawks doing a laundry or hanging it was alien but it was better to focus on this question rather than the latter.

- "Indeed, sir." You simply said while taking the other boot off. "Anything else?" It was infuriating how you had to wait for his indications. If you were really in a booth at the Velvet, you knew about the client's wishes. Suddenly, he grabbed your hair by the back of your skulls and tugged hard. You toppled backwards, your neck hitting the seat of the sofa as your head was titled to meet his angry gaze.

- "So, now, I have to teach you of to do you goddamn job?" He snarled at you and you immediately got the tone of the role-play. "You worthless piece of shit!" He pushed you away from him. You tumbled on the floor, avoiding hitting the coffee table by sheer luck. You winced. This would have hurt. Like you with your shoes and his groin… Had he planned for it? Or did he not expect you to offer more resistance? You had no time to recover from this assault – he was already on you, pushing on your neck to keep your head down, facing the floor. He shifted his position so he could get all of his body strength into his hold through only one arm. He was still sat behind you, but it felt like he was towering over you. "You have time to go to the salon, looking like a hussy, and you now need me to tell you what to do?"

- "I am sorry, sir!" You squeaked, determined to regain a minimum of control over the situation. But Hawks was without mercy. He pushed down further, using a force you could not fight. You were bent in a rather painful position, with your legs twisted on the side, while your face was nearly kising the floor.

- "Master Hawks, for you, slut!" Oh, we were slut shaming. Well, you now knew your place.

- "Of course, Master Hawks. Anything you want." You guessed he wanted to test to capacities to be submissive, since you played dominatrix last time. Maybe he wanted some sort of revenge for your slap and all you put him through. No worries, while you had been thrown off by the rude beginning, you could jump on the bandwagon. "I was only enquiring if you had something specific in mind, Master." You gently said as you wormed your away around his grasp, so you would be facing him now, even if you were still deeply kneeling. You managed to position your legs behind you too, relieving some of the tension here. "You know I live to serve you."

You laced your voice with some timid shiver, as if you were still afraid. You knew you scored some points when he released his hold on your neck. So you slowly raised your eyes, making sure to keep your body compacted on the floor. You looked at him with shy eyes, biting your lower lip as you met his golden glare. He took the time to really appraise you, Ageha the little maid, slightly shaking like a doe in front the hunter, or a rabbit in front of a hawk. He would not bludge. You had to keep acting, even if you had no idea what to do. You lowered your eyes – maintaining eye contact could be seen as an act of defiance. He was the alpha, so you decided you'd be better acting as the silent girl, doing her job until given specific orders. If you were supposed to be a personal maid, you decided to keep a low profile, on all accounts. You gently grabbed his left ankle and took off his sock – this way, you got rid of the potential risk of breaking character and started massaging his foot. You were not a pro but enough skills not to hurt anyone, and even make them feel better. You dug your thumbs into the arch of the foot, actually working on the knots you found. Never once you dared look at him. You only relied on your sense of hearing or touch to evaluate if you were doing an alright enough job. The silence grew heavy as each moment you put your energy on his sole. You were perfectly aware it was a test. Yet, you had to fight the need to speak, or at least look at him. You really hated this situation, where you did not control a thing.

To give yourself a break from this growing suffocating tension, you gracefully got up before starting working on his other foot. You walked towards the ensuite living room, making sure to keep your gait humble. No swish of hips needed – but you had lovely stilettos. A shame… After you passed the door, and once your made sure you were out of sight, you let go of a breath you did not realise you were holding. Gosh, this was harder than you thought.

You easily found the mini bar and poured some whisky with ice, taking a sip from the bottle before setting it back. Liquid courage. Then you voluntary went back to the arena where the lion was waiting for you. You hoped that with a glass in his hand, he would be less likely to manhandle you. He accepted it without a sound – bastard, he could have grunted! Just a grunt! – so you went back to kneeling next to his legs and massaging his other foot.

As dedicated you were, there was only so much time one could spend on a foot massage. Soon, sooner than your wanted, you were about done. And you were ransacking your brain for an idea of what Ageha the maid should be doing then. Hawks had taken a single sip of his glass, but hadn't finish it, so you could not take the excuse to go for a refill. He did it on purpose. Deep down, you knew you kind of cheated when your went and fetched the drink, but he kindly – pfft, as if – let it go, probably lowering your B for creativity with a B minus for stalling. There was no clothe to fold or arrange, or food to cook, or anything. So… what now? You usually were not short of imagination, but for some reasons, your mind was blank. The pressure you felt from Hawks… no, maybe he was not to blame. Not completely. You had to confess you did not want to be punished. Sure, the prospect of doing thirty push-ups was not thrilling, but it was more about him finding a flaw in your acting that was paralysing you. He vouched for you, during the "trial" and even now, he was taking time he probably could not spare to train you. You did not want to fail right at the first exercise.

You calmed your heart as you slowed your breathing. He wanted to play the long game? Be ready for it. After a foot massage, he would receive a head massage. You might even brush his hair – would you dare going for another braiding session? Then a back massage. Nice and slow, not compromising Ageha the maid, until further instruction was given.

Perhaps this new found game plan of yours was obvious, somehow. Or he decided you showed your acknowledgment of the rules, and he did not want to waste more time into a situation well in hands. He shifted, leaning forward to put his glass onto the coffee table. You followed his move, ready to act on the first crumb of clue he would let go. The glass was still nearly as full as you poured it – no kidding, you started this training session early this afternoon, and Hawks was not the kind of man to drink a full glass of alcohol before nighttime. He stretched his legs, rolling his ankles, putting his feet out of reach. He reached to you, to your hair, holding once more one of your multicolour lock between his fingers. After a moment of you staring at your hands folded into your laps while you were sitting on your knees, mermaid style – the heels did not allow a seiza style sitting that would have been proper for the situation – his hand moved to your cheek, then your chin. He gently tugged so you lifted your eyes to meet his. His golden orbs were mesmerising, like the sun and the stars merging into the middle of the void. Oh, the darkness that lurked behind this heavy lidded gaze. Your breath stumbled on a whimper and this drew a smug smile on his lips. You then realised he has moved so his legs were circling you, and he had slumped into the sofa. He was sitting on the edge of the seat, to the point his crotch was in front of your face. All together, it was a clear message. He did not have to say a word, for anyone understood what was going on.

He was demanding a blow job.

Now you were not shy of the sexual interactions. You had your share fair of partners, most of them being short flings, some more a one-to-four-night stands than an actual exchange (except orgasms and body fluids). You knew what might be asked of you during your infiltration, and you were ready for this, even if you'd do your best to avoid having to compromise yourself. Hawks acting this way was not unexpected. You were just a bit shocked he went for it right from the first role-play. This was some heavy training, not baby steps lessons. But you got this. The question was more likely, would he?

After some rapid blinking to adjust to the situation, you reached for his belt. You were happy to notice your hands were not shaking. Despite him having scooted down the sofa, you had to get up on your knees to be at the correct level for what seemed to be a session of dick sucking. You would certainly not back down from this challenge. No way. So you worked with determination to undo his buckle. He was in for a surprise. His fingers dug deeper on your chin and once more, you lifted your eyes to his face. He then sighed.

- "And this is thirty push-ups for you, Dove." He gently said as he patted your cheek.

You stood immobile for a second, your brain registering the verdict.

- "What? No, why? I did what you wanted…. Or was about to."

- "Yep…. But you smiled."

- "I did not!" You squeaked.

- "Did. A smirk. Right… here…" He put his index at the corner of your lips, smudging the lipstick.

- "So what? Why is smiling this bad?"

- "You were supposed to be afraid, not happy. You looked like you were about to get a Christmas treat." He concluded with a chuckle full of ego. And again, he was not wrong. A part of you was really curious to see his penis. Looking forward to it, in fact. Like, the positive part of the whole ordeal. You slummed back on your legs, pouting.

- "I did not smile." Your grumpily said, your arms crossed on your chest.

- "Contesting the judge?"

- "You can't be the jury and the judge." Your retort had him openly mocking you with a bubbly laugh.

- "Sure can. Just did it. And for your information, some courts don't have a jury. Up you go, you have a yoga mat over there." He had the audacity to nudge you with his naked foot. Clicking your disapproval, you still obeyed.

- "How grand of you." You undid your heels before doing your push-ups, since you had figured there was no way out of it, and no way to change into a comfier outfit. "What would you have done if I hadn't smile?" You asked after completing fifteen in a row, taking a break.

- "Don't you want to know?" He cooed.

- "Oi- honestly!" You were now a bit angry at him for being an arse outside of the role-play.

- "Dove, you would have made a mistake at some point." He snorted with derision.

Oh the bastard! You were now fuming and you knew it was his aim, but you couldn't help but play into his hands. Because it was so unfair. In his mind, he had set up you for failure. You had no way to win. He did not trust you to find a way to win.

- "Am I that bad?" You asked with a morose voice as you finished the first of a long series, if he had his way.

- "No. Not really. Just as I expected. Here." He casually handed you a new bag. You huffed and snatched it out of his grasp. You were acting like a petulant child, but you just spent half-and-hour giving him a foot massage for nothing and still had to do the thirty push-ups. "If it is any consolation, the massage was nice." He had the cheek to add another insult to injury..

- "No more massage for you." You mumbled a promise under your breath as you retreated to the bathroom.

- "Oh, game on, Dove, game on."

Was he playing a role or not? You wanted to strangle him right now. But really, you had to be the better one here. If you ended losing, it would not be to him, but to yourself. Maybe you had smiled. And if you did, only if you did, yes, it did not fit the circumstances. Some patrons would not want anything but fear and obedience. With a deep sigh, you pulled the new outfit and had to roll your eyes. Sexy nurse. What a classic. Nearly boring. Well, it depended. Would Hawks be the doctor, or the patient? A doctor would be another play on power, him having the upper hand. Probably too repetitive. So, the patient. And since your instructions were to seduce him, you bet he would not be falling for the sultry nurse. Ice guy, then?

You touched your make-up – he had to make a mess of your lipstick! Such a brat! – and went back for more torture. Except the bedroom was empty. The door to the living room of the ensuite was open, so you followed the light – you were a butterfly after all.

- "Hawks-san?" You called in a warm but professional voice. Let it be noted you would not fall for this cheap trap. The moment you opened the door was the moment the role-play begun. "You should not be out of bed, you must rest." You kept going as the nurse.

He was currently checking something on his phone. A hero never really had a day off, especially the number three and commission head boy. You felt a surge of guilt running through your stomach. You were taking him away from his work, or his rest, even more crucial now that many top 20 heroes had fallen. You had to clear this training as soon as possible. Back for tomorrow noon, he said? No way. You aimed for 10 am at the latest.

- "Hum? Oh it is you. Nah, I got bored." He casually answered as he switched his phone off and reached for a bottle of water.

- "I must insist." You step closer to him. "Getting hydrated is good, but I can fetch you whatever you want. You need to be in bed."

- "I see what you are trying to do. If you want to get into my bed, you only have to say it." He teased, gulping down the fresh liquid.

- "I want you into your bed. I'll be sitting on the sofa, making sure you rest."

He turned to you with a pout on his lips – so you knew he was going for the arse patient who does not listen. Seducing him would not be complicated, since he already gave you some wide openings. Unless it was another trap? Paranoia, dear friend, it had been a while. Like, not even an hour? He took your new appearance with an appreciative smile and you fought to urge to twirl, to show him the rest of your costume. Instead you used your arm to show the way to the bedroom. He pouted again but went along, dragging his feet.

He was about to enter the bedroom when he abruptly came to a stop next to you.

- "Hey, what's wrong with your eyes?"

He tried to grab your jaw to move your face into the light but you chased the hand with an impatient tutting.

- "Absolutely nothing. Stop stalling. Bed, now!"

- "Oh, come on!" He tried with his other hand and the both of you started a game of grab-and-pull, as if you were both five-year-olds. Frankly, you got why Endeavour (and Bakugō and the rest of the world) would often refer to Hawks as Birdbrain.

- "Would you stop already!" You raged through clenched teeth but a nurse was not to wrestle with her patient, right? At the end, you allow him to touch you as he wished. "There, happy? Nothing wrong. This is my real eyes. So, now, bed." You tried to physically shepherd him to the room but he would not shift. Worst, he did move, but towards you and you tried to keep a professional distance between you. To no avail, as he ended corning you against the wall.

- "I thought I saw something earlier but it was too dark to see." His fingers were gentle on your throat, his eyes were glued on yours and his breath was hot on your skin. He leaned close and closer. "My, they are beautiful." He fanned in a whisper and you shivered, goosebumps raising from your spine.

No one ever told you that, not in a long time, and not in earnest. His thumb caressed your cheek, and the end of his fingers curled around the strand locks behind your ear. He dragged a strand across your face, right under your eyes, putting all of the butterfly in one place, in display for him to contemplate. "In fact, you are beautiful." His voice was silky and low, ending with something akin to a purr. Under normal circumstances you would have wondered how extensive his bird-like quirk was, since there was no way a hawk would purr, but instead, your stomach burnt once more. You already heard those lines before. And it never ended so well.

Hawks would not set the record straight. His other hand was now at your waist, trying to tug you closer to him and you could see he was about to kiss you or something along this line. And while you would have loved to kiss Hawks – Hawks! Who would say no to this? To him. You, apparently, you. For the sake of training – you could not bear the reasons behind his actions. Those were not real feelings. It was your curse, your own butterfly effect. Oh, and you were supposed to be training.

Instead of rebelling like you wanted – yelling, slapping his beautiful face, kicking his probably as beautiful groin – you simply laced your fingers to his hair. You knew this was a soft spot for him. Maybe a weak one. Indeed, he softly moaned as you managed to slow his approach towards you.

- "Hawks-san?" You called him, trying one last time to get in back to the roleplay.

- "Hum-hum?" He absent-mindedly answered as he was zooming on your lips. You played it save, bringing them to his ear.

- "I believe you own me thirty push-ups." You gently murmured, making sure to leave any trace of humour into your voice. Ageha the nurse was speaking, not you. "Doctor's orders, you know." You sealed his fate. He furiously blinked as he registered your words and ultimately froze. Then had a nervous chuckle, stepping away while rubbing his neck. You did not voice out loud how calculated his lack of speed was. He was trying to keep composure and you did not want to aggravate his shame. Or maybe you did. "There is a mat over there."

This time he openly laughed.

- "You little minx." He pointed his index at you, half menacing, half rewarding. "The outfit does work for you. And yeah, the eyes." He admitted before nearly skipping to the mat and doing his push-ups in one go – making sure you noticed, since you had to take a break. You rolled your eyes. Show-off. "See, even the best can be distracted." And he smiled a knowing smile at you as you sighed at his self-promo. The best, just that? "Oh then, let's see. Oh, yeah, this one."

And this time, you managed to see there were several brown bags behind the sofa. Fuck. He was prepared. How many scenario did he come up with? More precisely, how many scenario did he expect you to fail at? You scolded your face into a neutral one when you took the bag he was so eagerly giving you and went to your newly found dressing room.

A pin-up Barbie pink outfit, with the blond wing, was awaiting you. You tossed this last item to the floor. It was low quality and you already hated how it would probably give you a rash or something. Plus, you did not go all the way to drop your fav brunette hue to forgo your blue-purplette. Would he play the stern business man, or any variations of his unsuccessful last attempt? Was it even beneficial to try and figure out some of the probable plays? Maybe you should go as Ageha and see how it went. You did quite good last time.

But you had underestimated Hawks.

A lesson you would never forget.

He did play you. He purposefully fell as a patient, to lure you into a sense of comfort, just to better attack you after. You should have listened to yourself. You knew there was a trap. Paranoia, sister, you would never doubt her again. Little did you know this would be the life-saving lesson you need, later.

Nonetheless, on this day, you were just miserable. Outfit after outfit, roleplay after roleplay, you came short. You would always, always, let go at some point. What was frustrating was you usually slip when you were having the upper hand. You would get lost in the seducing game. As Hawks said as you were doing sit-ups (he graciously switched to fifty of them when your arms started to badly shake), as a debrief: you were too nice. Too eager to please and be pleased. In a way, he was implying that you would enjoy flirting and more with the patrons at the Velvet Rose. Maybe? No, you would not admit he was correct, again. But it was true. You had learnt to make do with bad situations. You liked having an effect on men, whoever they were. The tougher to crack the nut was, the fiercer you were. You liked a challenge.

What was worst was that you kept edging yourself. You were now only frustrated by your repetitive mistakes, but just frustrated. All your attempts at seducing Hawks were just that: attempts. Nothing came out of the caressing, the touching, the innuendos, the glances and the whispers, the attitudes and the mild stripping. You'd been on his laps several times, he touched you even grabbed you in return. And nothing more to account for that other than this growing burning need in your most intimate place. Each time you changed, you had to clean yourself, always finding your underwear a little damp. Your nerves were on fire, your nipples were sensitive, and your all body trembling from exertion. Yes, push-up and sit-up series were pushing your limits, but your lust was ravaging you to the core way before.

All broke down when you had let a sinful moan capable of making a succubus jealous when he eventually – yes, yes, yes – put his lips on your neck. You were cladded in a shiny black cheerleader-ish skirt and matching bra, but your hands were handcuffed behind your back. Hawks had titled you on the bed as the evil coach of the sport team, accusing you of distracting his players. You had been claiming your innocence and he wanted to prove you wrong. Of course, he stopped the moment you whimpered and betrayed your concupiscent nature.

- "For real?" he muttered with an exasperated glare. Because, once again, same mistake.

- "No, no! It is a fake!" It was a lie, but not just a lie. You vehemently protested as he leaned over you, a hand next to your head holding his body (way too) far from you. "I was playing my character. I had a plan!" Difficult to plead you case with your hands locked under your ass, so you wriggled and tried to sit up. Hawks pushed back on his hand and ended squatting over your ankles, preventing you from escaping.

"I was about to stroke your ego telling you, you were the one to have an effect on me. Naughty coach!" Like reversing the charge. And yes, it had been your plan, until his lips impetuously decided to fry your neurons.

- "Still. Not what the client wants!" He grunted while pinching the bridge of his nose.

- "Oh, for fuck sake, stop with this already! Of course this is what he wants! It is a cabaret, a strip club. He wants me moaning and wet, not discussing his childhood trauma or what he ate for lunch." You spat at him, angrily kicking his knees so he could let you go. Right now, you did not want an atom of him touching you. He had been torturing you for no good reason.

He reluctantly moved, as if releasing your meant agreeing with you. You managed to round your legs in a less graceful manner that you could have mastered, and stomped off the bed. He opened his mouth and clearly it was not to concede your point. So you cut him short.

- "As if you never went to a club, Hawks! You are cheating!" You wanted to point fingers but you could not.

- "Oh, don't act so righteous." He snapped the key from the bedside table and marched towards you, mentioning with a sharp move to turn. He was as agitated as you were. "We both know you are the one cheating! You don't focus because you let yourself be distracted!" He did not show any kindness as he manipulated your wrists to work the lock.

- "So what if? If I am to suck a dick for the mission, I may as well enjoy it!" You yelled, jerking your arms away from him.

- "NO YOU CAN'T!" He howled back. "You are supposed to be on alert for the rest of the scene."

- "WHAT SCENE! I am sucking his dick! What do you think he is doing except cumming in my mouth? Playing Angry Birds or ordering Uber Eats?"

- "WHAT ABOUT THE REST OF THE WORLD?"

- "WHAT WORLD? It is a private club! It is him, his dick, my lips and the rest of me!"

- "WHAT IF HE HAS FRIENDS?"

- "THEN THEY ARE ALSO CUMMING! On my boobs or face or whatever!" You were throwing your hands on the air, absolutely devastated by the idiot in front of you. "HAWKS, WHEN I SUCK OR FUCK A GUY, THE WORLD COME TO A STOP!" No pun intended, but with perspective, it was well-played. And the argument rang a bell because it left Hawks speechless, mouth opening and closing on words that could not trampled the evidence you just laid out. You, on the other hand, were in row. "I am no hooker or sex specialist, but yeah, I am good, and ready for this. And not everyone is a hero like you, nerves of steal and always on the look-out. And don't give me shit about them being the villains. Yes, they might be, but if they ask me for something sexual, believe me, they are not plotting to try and take over the world! Maybe they were moments before, and they would moments after, but right then, they are not thinking. No man is thinking at this moment!"

He stood there, lifting his hand to his mouth, looking at you with indescribable look for so long that you stopped heaving from your tirade. Instead, you moodily slumped on the sofa and massaged your wrists, trying your best to hold on the tears that were, for no good reasons, threatening to spill. After a long silence, only broken by your not so subtle sniffs, he sighed.

- "Yeah, maybe you're right…. But I am only doing this to keep you safe!" He sat next to you and hold your wrists, assessing the damage. You were fine, really.

- "I got this. But if you want to work on my scene awareness, then just change the exercise. Because these ones suck."

The mood totally changed when a loud rumbled echoed between you. Hawks dropped your wrists and looked down from his nose.

- "What… was it you?"

- "Yeah…." You sheepishly answered, cursing your stomach. "I… am a bit peckish."

- "Hey, no wonder, it is past 10 pm."

Wah! You did not see the time passing since the bedroom and the bathroom were confined in general darkness. You suddenly felt all the adrenaline rush leaving your body and you moaned, but this time, nothing sexual, unless there was so serious perverts around.

- "Can we order like room service?" The timid hope in your voice drew a chuckle from you.

- "Yeah, sure."

- "I mean, I'll reimburse you."

- "Don't be silly. I'll put this on my expense claims."

- "I thought this was your day off. And you did not want the commission to find out about this mission."

- "Yeah, well, I'll lie."

- "Gosh, I am SO shocked. You are stealing from the people! The taxes! The fraud!"

- "Keep it going, and I don't order for you." And you knew he could. Just to be correct, once more.

So you let him order – whatever as long as it was warm with a large strawberries milkshake – while you went to the bathroom to fix your make-up that you nearly ruined with your tears. And just breathe without him present. As much as you have wanted to slap him, you were still aching for a sweet release. The handcuffs did really turn you on. For a moment, you contemplated helping yourself, right here. You would come quick, given how aroused you were. But you remembered just in time, as your fingers were already gliding to the band of your mini-extra-mini skirt, that his feathers would most likely pick up the vibrations of your soft moans, and this would be the most vexing thing.

The thought acted like a cold shower. Yeah, no. You had already managed to convince Hawks you were a harlot and a bad actress, no needed for a second act.

It was with a clear mind you joined him in the living room where dinner just got delivered.

- "…."

- "What?" He asked with a defensive voice as he revealed chicken wigs. "It is hot, and spicy if you want, and I got your milkshake."

- "No, nothing." You did not even try to hide your mocking smile at the view of his favourite dish. Or the amount of it. This would easily fed a family of four. Yet, you sat at a chair, waited for him to pour himself some sparkling water, and started to happily munch your dinner. And you moaned.

Again.

This was no fast-food crap, but a real chicken wigs, crispy outside, tender inside. Hawks moaned too, though he mocked you by exaggerating his. So you amplified your next as you took another bite, and this time you rolled your eyes, as if in ecstasy. Somehow, it turned into a contest that ended the most ridiculous way, with Hawks trying to hump the now empty bucket. You chocked on a piece and nearly saw the blinding light awaiting you at the end of the tunnel. Of course, being a hero, Hawks came to the rescue and sacrifice his water to your survival.

When you came back to your mortal and breathing shell, you started picking your food, before breaching the subject that was on your mind for a while.

- "So, Hawks?"

- "Yes? You want to offer me your first born as a thank for saving your live?" He joked, not sensing yet the shift of mood.

- "Er, no. First, you'd be a terrible nanny, and I don't even see who I would reproduce with." He snorted but stopped licking the bones clean like a goddamn dog – was he not supposed to be avian based? "Can you tell me why is the commission carefully kept in the dark regarding this mission?"

- "…."

- "Yeah, you can't tell me. But please, tell me that you all seven genius had realised that you were holding informations to a fucking data analyst who volunteered as a tribute and more precisely, a fucking spy? Because this would be the most moronic decision all fucking seven of you united could possibly come to. Because, yeah, I noticed it. Like huge gap into the whole scheme, and yeah, it endangers the mission."

He groaned as he tiredly massaged his face, pulling his skin around in a rather disgusting grimace.

- "Yeah, I know. It is moronic. But I was outvoted."

- "It could be our secret?" You offered in a false innocent voice. "Hawks… I don't want to screw this up. I understand you can't tell me everything. I do. And I trust you all completelu, if you think I don't need to know, then, maybe I don't need."

- "But you do not trust us."

- "Not on this peculiar point. There is something missing. I mean, the way you presented me the facts. One drug that drives sexual appetite crazy. One virus that messes with quirks. One cabaret." You counted the elements on your fingers. "I somehow get how the Velvet Rose would be involved into the sex drug. That's more or less the same circle. But from a sex drug to a DNA engineer level virus? It likes you telling me Granny from the news stand went from dealing joints to pushing ketamine. If you say it is related, fine. But I need to know how, so I can narrow my search. It is my life on the line. Or at least, my ass. Literally."

Hawks's eyes were no longer amber or gold. They had darkened to some metallic bronze, with no trace of pity or amusement. Once again, he was looking at you, straight from his soul to yours. He was seeing past the skin and the bones. You could felt him probing your brain, your words, your truth. Everything you did or said. Everything you were and were not. All to go back to the same point: who were you and could they trust you?

He did not sigh. He did not chuckle. He did not blink. Instead, he reached to the table and for a moment, your head slumped forwards to your chest, defeated. You have lost. Utterly. He rather suck on chicken bones than answer you. Then his hand appeared into you limited field of vision. A small, nearly empty goblet of barbecue sauce was carefully placed in front of you.

- "Stain. The hero killer. He wanted to purge the system of the false heroes." Hawks stated with a calm voice. He would comment the weather with more passion. "He gathered many supporters, from all sides, not just Villains." A goblet of teriyaki sauce was put next to the barbecue. "The Meta Liberation Army". You nodded. "Lead by Destro then Re-Destro. They wanted to free the use of quirks." You knew more or less all this, having gather enough data to cross-reference your assumptions, even if technically, that info was above your security clearance as still new to the hero agency universe. What was left of the curry sauce was next. "Humanrise. A terrorist cell or cult, whatever. They feared as much as they despised quirks. They created a serum capable of killing people with quirks." You did not know this. And your brain was already making connexions to your current case. Then the sweet-and-sour sauce appeared. "Shie Hassaikai, or the "Eight Precepts of Death". A Yakuza organisation that hated quirks, since they created villains and heroes, and pushed the Yakuzas into extinction. They created a quirk-destroying drug. We stopped them before they could do anything at grand scale." You were now focusing on the table and Hawks so you jumped when he abruptly slammed the pot of mayonnaise. "Kyudai Garaki, author of the quirk singularity theory that fuelled Humanrise". His voice matched the force of the slamming: he clearly hated this guy. "Quirks would evolved to rapidly for the human body and brain, and humanity would loose control, leading to a doomsday. He also dabbled in quirks experiments, creating the Nomus and helped the League of Villains during the Great War."

He paused, letting you take on all the informations. He knew that everything around Garaki was top-secret, especially AFO and OFA. But he needed to disclose the minimal for you to understand. As you nodded once again, he pushed both the barbecue and the teriyaki sauce apart.

- "Stain was alone and never did more than attack heroes. Though it was enough. The MLA initially aimed to "liberate society". They would have probably turned into terrorism against the government if it had not merge with the League of Villains. But neither Stain, nor the MLA went into scientific warfare."

- "Instead, they evolved into true political parties." You finished, because you saw where he was going. Politics was not your favourite topic, but your lived in this world, and you tended to over-analyse things like this. "They both have won some seats at the Diet, and they grow more and more popular."

- "Indeed. Stain inspired the "New Spring of Japan", that is battling for a reform of the hero system. The MLA sired the "True equality Party", and they push for a new constitution of Japan."

- "Not to mention the Heteromorph Society." You added. "They are not a political force per se, with candidates to their name, but they do influence others, by supporting or not a program. A label "approved by HS" can get you a lot of votes. Both chambers have to play with them as allies or enemies."

- "Mmhm." Hawks looked at you, trying to decipher where your heart went. You never hid your sympathy for the heteromorphs, given you were nearly one. But so far, he had not been able to get your true stand. "Then you have the others. They all become political forces too, more or less openly though. The True equality party has an ambition to carry a new worldwide definition of "humanity". After all, are quirk paranormal abilities nowadays? Clearly, this is Humanrise's remaining whispering to their ears."

You slowly reached for the other sauces. Now you were entering into the unknown. Hawks let your pondered in silence, still watching you with vivid attention.

- "What happened to their research?" You finally whispered. "I would like to think the commission got everything under wrap. But Humanrise was not a Japanese born force. Leaks can happen. And… you never know. Are you telling me the commission was infiltrated? A traitor?"

- "It would seem so. We honestly don't know. What we are sure of, is that the commission is seriously hindered right now. The political shift has completely limited their means and reaches. Since the status of heroes is in the balance, and while Deku and Dynamight, as Symbol of Abnegation and Victory, are doing their best…. They are not All Might. They don't have what is needed to shut them all up. So, even if there was no double agent, no one on the commission can take the initiative to openly investigate the virus."

You frowned. Why not? Your eyes were passing from one sauce to another.

- "…. because you think a political party is behind the virus?" He validated your hypothesis with a nod. "So what? The minute they acted against the commission and the investigation is the moment we know they are guilty. Why would a political party openly oppose the police and the commission, when it is doing so much damage? Don't tell me it is because the population is partially behind them. The virus infects everyone, just not heroes."

- "Because if they are already deployed the virus, then they are ready for what come next, and we sure are not. Under-equipped, under-manned, under-everything. This status-quo is actually our last defence before hell breaks loose. And if they have not deployed the virus, as we think, because it is not aggressive enough, then this means there is an issue within. And it is our chance. The moment we move against whoever is behind it, the moment they rally all together and push the big button."

- "This… is…. Terrible…."

You were just terrified. Both versions of the analysis still plausible and each was so devastating you felt even more hopeless. How can the hero side win? Maybe it would be better to jump to your death right now? It did just so happen that you were on the 6th floor. The impact should instantly kill you. But… it was not "they", it was "you". You were part of this last mission before impeding doom. You were even more crucial to the mission. No wonder they were that hard on you.

- "Oh my gosh, Hawks. I am so sorry." You stuttered as you realised you acted like a real brat since the beginning. "I am… so… so… gosh, what am I doing? Am I even good enough?" Panic rose inside you faster than a Karen calling for a manager during a rush.

- "No, no, no!" He grabbed your hands, pinning you with his eyes. "You are not going to think this way." He was slowly crushing your bones, but the pain was good, anchoring you to this physical plan, letting the mental one subdued in the background. "We did not expect to find you, and you are not last resort. You are much better than expected. An asset for the team." You wanted to believe him. But it sounded like they over-estimated you. Or you were better at bluffing that you thought.

You closed you eyes and shut down the feelings-brain. Facts, only facts. You had them all now. You could do it. Overall, your mission did not change. It was still an espionage mission. You were still saving the world from…

- "Hawks?" You reciprocated the pressure of his hands. He leaned to you, not getting what was going on. "Something is… off." You freed one hand to grab the curry and the sweet-and-sour sauces. "If Humanrise wanted to cancel Quirks, like the Eight fucker wadda-wadda…." You put the two cups in front of the mayonnaise and the teriyaki pots. "Enhancing quirks, that is Garaki's work, and would benefit the MLA and its minions. So why does the virus go everywhere at once? Cancelling, killing, enhancing. Are you telling me that there are in fact itwoi or ithreei different virus competing? With the fucking coincidence of my arse to be deployed at the same time? Like, is there a cosmic event, an alignment of planets? Or some political event thingy that all groups would target?"

Olympics games and in general, sport competition had been cancelled with the quirk generalisation. The two main international events were the Eurovision and Miss Universe's election. And even those, neither of the "cultural" dates drew enough people of consideration to be the ideal target for a terrorist attack. So, what were you missing?

- "Well, Dove, isn't this the job of a spy?"