his head ducks down, studying the asphalt in front of him as shoulders square, a carefully curated, intense look on the NUMBER TWO PRO HERO's face as he cautiously makes his way to the coordinates that had been sent to him. normally, he would fly, rather than walking --- but unfortunately he doesn't have enough feathers left, not after that fight with the noumu. besides, this mission is supposed to be secret ( his own personal brand of hell, his burden to carry in order to help hundreds --- no, thousands --- of citizens ) so the types of people who hang in places like this can't know he's here. this is one of the few times where his wings being smaller might be a plus ; they're less noticeable this way, less likely to get him recognized when he's supposed to be undercover.
his brow furrows as he nears what he assumes to be the meeting place, and his gaze scans up the old, decrepit building. he walks around it, once, scanning for a suitable entrance ; upon finding one, he slides his last, longest feather out of his sleeve and enters. breathe in. breathe out. calm calm calm. he can do this --- he's done way scarier shit than this. he's been doing scarier shit than this for years. all this is, is meeting up with a notorious, murdering villain, while pretending to be a villain, but actually still working for the heroes. a double agent. the fact that the villain is kinda hot ( haha, funny ) is totally and utterly irrelevant. right.
as he hears footsteps somewhere in front of him, his fingers tighten on the feather. brandishing it out in front of him, his gaze hardens further --- he's the very picture of a bored, pissed off villain. shoulders tight, teeth clenched, eyes narrow and empty. he's been pretending for most of his life ; pretending to be happy, pretending not to care that he never had a choice. what's one more game of pretend ? it's only a game. ( it seems hardly relevant that this game could lead to his untimely demise ) his voice rings out, COLD AND CLEAR, echoing around the abandoned warehouse, and the feather casually makes its way toward dabi's scarred throat.
" that was d i f f e r e n t than we'd discussed. " // @zinje
