Chapter Text
Shigaraki peered up, stuffing scrambled eggs into his mouth as Dabi trudged into the bar. He had heard nothing throughout the night before. Not that he was listening.
Dabi noticed the question in his gaze and sneered, “Got something on my face?”
“Nothing more than usual,” Shigaraki grumbled.
Dabi was never this uptight after a fuck; it was his way of washing the stress away. Mission went sour? Fuck out the anger. League pisses him off? Fuck out the frustration. Lingering unhealthy habits from unresolved trauma at the hands his father? Sex.
A weird new recruit makes him look crazy in front of his boss, and now all of a sudden sex isn’t the solution. What kind of confusing shit was this? Had they even fucked?
There wasn’t much time to ponder over this new curiosity before bare feet padded into the room. He watched as Fishhook entered, stretching his arms above his head so that his sleeveless black top rose and exposed the soft yet built expanse of his torso. Shigaraki stared, not bothering to feel shame or look away when the man caught him ogling.
He was in charge and he could do what he wanted.
Their newest member raised his eyebrows and surveyed his new boss, “Does this little gang of yours have food, or do I gotta steal some from an innocent civilian?”
Shigaraki heard Spinner growl from behind the motheaten couch where he sat scrolling through his phone, pretending not to be as curious about Shiggy’s new pet as everyone else was.
As Kurogiri beckoned Fishhook to the bar, Shigaraki noticed the distinct lack of a limp. Wait. Either they hadn’t fucked afterall, or…
Did the new recruit top Dabi?
Okay, now Shigaraki really was interested. Sure, he had reasons for seeking him out in the first place, but he hadn’t expected to be genuinely intrigued. The boss couldn’t be sure what exactly had happened between the two, but he was concerningly interested in finding out. Maybe he could be of more use than originally thought. He could probably use this guy to shut up his biggest nuisance. Dabi was annoying, arrogant, and cocky, with that increasing tenfold after a fuck. If this guy could tame the flames so to speak, Shigaraki could see himself getting along with the enigma perfectly well.
Fishhook slid behind the bar with his breakfast a couple seats down from the blue haired man. After a couple bites he paused, thinking to himself.
“You never answered my question,” he stated, gesturing to Shigaraki with his fork. “What the fuck do you want with me? You clearly think I would be most useful alive, otherwise little arson-on-wheels over here would have incinerated me the first chance he got, and trust me, he had many.” He offered a crooked smirk to the dark haired man standing several feet behind him.
“There’s still time,” Dabi practically snarled.
“Aww, don't threaten me with good fun,” he grinned wider and sent him a wink.
Dabi turned to Shigaraki, “Are you absolutely sure we need him alive? We can’t possibly need him in pristine condition, right?”
“Unfortunately for all of us,” he said, looking around the room and noting Toga’s absence, “Piercing boy over here should be a useful powerup. His quirk practically makes him a walking lockpick and safe cracker, but hey, if he turns out to be more trouble than he’s worth, go ahead, Dabi.” He glanced at Fishhook to gauge his reaction, only to be met with a shrug as he resumed eating.
“Within the last fourteen hours I have been stalked, threatened, blackmailed, attacked, choked, tied up, and forced to join a gang. Oh, and I’m probably also concussed from being thrown through that portal thing,” the man looked up. “Pardon me if your half baked threats don’t instill me with paralyzing fear.”
“Maybe you need a first hand demonstration of what we are capable of,” Shigaraki said darkly as he leaned towards the other man and scratched roughly at his neck.
“First hand demonstration? Dabi already gave me one of those, so no need to volunteer. I should be satiated for a little while…” He paused, grinning to himself, “I’ll let you know the next time I need a hand with something, though; it appears you have a few to spare.”
Shigaraki wished he was able to disintegrate himself.
Fishhook laughed once without humor, “Besides, I haven’t been living under a rock. Believe it or not, you guys make the occasional news appearance. I know what each of you are capable of, but I've also seen much worse. Being an underground artist* comes with its fair share of psycho clients.” He chewed and swallowed another bite before turning to find several pairs of eyes on him, but the most intense stare came from the single red pupil fixed on him from behind a severed hand.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll talk, no need for the threatening staredown, don’t get your panties in a twist.” Fishhook took a deep breath and continued, “Look, I don’t turn down clients that don’t pose a direct threat to me. This has resulted in some rather well known individuals becoming patrons of mine,” he swallowed, and Shigaraki swore he finally saw Fishhook truly nervous, even if just a bit. “I happen to have a couple of the bird man’s Eight Bullets as regulars,” he gestured a large beak in front of his face.
Shigaraki visibly stiffened.
Fishhook’s nerves either disappeared or he hid them quickly behind the facade of amusement as his eyes crinkled, “Oops, someone didn’t do their research on me, did you, boss?”
Dabi snickered, “Seems like Overhaul did get his polished little mitts on him.”
“Excuse you? I’m nobody's bitch. Not yours, and certainly not that bird brain’s.” He locked eyes with Tomura, “If you want even an ounce of my help, you best know that.”
Their leader balled his hands into fists, “No, you best know that the only thing separating you from a game over screen is your next choice of words. Choose them wisely.”
Shigaraki’s hand snapped forward quickly, making contact with the recruit’s neck. Fishhook stilled, eyeing the hand now clenched around his throat, “Do you want information or not? A pile of ash can’t talk, freak,” he spat out the last word.
“I would much rather have obedience,” Shigaraki returned, tightening his grip impulsively. .
“Too bad,” he slightly choked, staying mostly motionless, “Info or dust.”
“Talk. Now.” Dabi watched in satisfaction as Tomura gripped him, he hoped the man would crumble soon.
“Can’t. Choking,” he half coughed, and Shigaraki’s grip loosened slightly. “I’m not working for Overhaul, but I do know a couple things about his little goons. That info however, will have to be traded for the ability to fully expand my lungs.”
Tomura’s hand reluctantly slid down to almost gently rest at the base of Fishhook’s neck, only a ghost of a tribute to how deadly the encounter truly was, and finally the other gasped a full breath of air. “Didn’t know all of you were so into breath play; I think I’ve been choked three times now,” he snorted at his own joke.
“I only know a couple things about Re-Destro and Kendo Rappa, the Rapper; they’re my clients. They have been awarded a longer leash for a few days as reward for good behavior. Should be wandering out and about in shifts for a bit before Overhaul’s next attack.”
“Where the fuck did you get information about his attacks,” Shigaraki snarled, his raspy voice crackling with anger.
“People talk when you have a needle in their skin, essentially committing a crime at their command. Makes them feel powerful even though you’re the one slicing flesh,” he shrugged casually and Dabi narrowed his eyes. This man was much better at keeping secrets than they originally guessed, and they had already been suspicious.
“When. Does. He. Attack.” His grip on Fishhook tightened again, finally causing the man to flinch.
“I don’t know. Kendo said to avoid the southern part of Musutafu for the next few days. That was hmm…” he pondered, “...two days ago? So you better hop to it, itch boy. You got some minions to catch.”
The boss finally released him, “Why the hell would he tell you that sort of information anyway?”
“I told you, crime brings people together, plus, there’re not many willing to tattoo such a powerful fighter. Apparently I ‘passed his honor test’ the first time we met when I nearly gouged his eyes out.”
The large, incredibly muscular man had reached out and closed a massive hand around the artist’s throat mid-tattoo, asking what he would do about it. God, it seemed he was always getting choked, and he was not into it.
Fishhook had responded by gripping his client's chin and pulling him forward to hover the tattoo gun an inch from his pupil. “Either you let go of me or your eyesight.”
“Try again. Weapons are unbecoming of a fighter. Last chance,” Rappa snarled, gripping his forearm tightly with his other massive hand. The pierced man rested his own hand over the others’, and the metal of his strapped gloves began to invert into points that pierced his skin, causing Kendo to wince in pain even with the enhanced durability lent by his quirk.
“Let go, or I use your own gloves to sever your fingers.”
“Good,” he relented, then laid back down on his stomach for Fishhook to continue on his back piece, blood flowing steadily from his hands and dripping onto the floor.
He came back several more times for tattoos, but it appeared that he had gained the large man’s respect, as he didn’t try anything, even warning his artist about the upcoming attack to be launched by Overhaul.
To Fishhook’s relief, Shigaraki seemed to believe him. Tomura paused, thinking. He looked around the room, vision flashing between the members and his newest annoyance. His crimson eyes narrowed as though he was honing in on prey. The subject of his intense gaze was unwavering, his bored expression almost unblinking as he stared back. “You.”
“Me?”
“Go get your shit from wherever you stay. If you have a way to contact any of your regulars, tell them you’re going to be busy for a little while, but that you are still going to do work for them. Your connections will be useful; keep them established. Be back here before the end of the day. I have someone trailing you, so I will know if you go on any sidequests, or try to run.”
“How can you guarantee that I won't?” Fishhook challenged.
“Because I know two Yakuza members who wouldn’t be very happy knowing that they misplaced their trust,” Shigaraki scowled, but spoke with confidence.
Fishhook shrugged casually and rose from his seat, “Fair enough. I’ll be back before curfew, mom.” He stretched again, shirt riding up to taunt the others with their inability to do anything to him.
Once he left the bar, Tomura finally let the intense frustration show on his face, “We leave to look for the two Bullets in a couple hours. It’s my single player time. If any of you npcs bother me, and especially if I see metalmouth, there are going to be several less members in this godforsaken league.” Had he really noticed Fishhook’s tongue piercing?
“This was definitely not a good idea,” Shigaraki muttered darkly to himself as he headed off to his room.