Chapter Text
Izuku swallowed the last of his suppressants dry, fighting to neutralize the acute, sweet spike of his own pheromones. He had locked himself in one of the lower-level bathrooms—a desolate space mostly abandoned to desperate Omegas hiding their heats or employees looking for a quick, discreet fuck.
Which made it the perfect place to take a call.
He needed every advantage he could get, especially given the sheer audacity of his new client to call during work hours.
Over the years, Izuku had tied up loose ends for the Alpha majority of the one percent. He’d eliminated abusive patriarchs for dominant Omega heirs who wanted an Alpha father dead or even worse, back in their pregnant little clutches. He’d even worked for Beta employers, though he could count those on one hand.
He’d earned his lethal reputation. Yet, there were still those who belittled him just because of his non-flashy secondary gender. Elya Markov was one of them. A dominant Omega from a notorious Russian family with ties to Japan’s biggest syndicate, and he made sure Izuku knew it.
“I need them gone as soon as possible, do you understand?!”
Izuku rolled his eyes to the ceiling, keeping his mouth firmly shut. He was fighting himself not to ramble.
Without waiting for a reply, Elya went off on a tangent, spouting a trail of furious Russian nonsense that Izuku translated effortlessly.
That damn Psycho and his loyal fucking dog…
Katsuki Bakugo and Eijirou Kirishima.
The Alpha leaders of the very Organization Izuku was currently—and successfully—infiltrating.
He'd entered the front doors six months ago, he was now already more than eager to fucking leave.
“I'll have it done. Six months,” Izuku suddenly interjected, his tone a perfectly measured, chilling monotone. He paused, waiting for Elya's usual dissatisfied outburst, but the line went eerily quiet.
Then came a firm, “Six months.”
Fast, certain, and entirely dismissive. But it wasn't Elya talking. His husband’s callous, authoritative voice filtered through the speaker. “You'll have your reward soon, Izuku Midoriya. Just get the job done.”
The line went dead.
Izuku dropped the phone to his side, letting out a long-suffering sigh. The Markovs had offered him diamonds he simply couldn't refuse. He still hated how easily he had taken the bait.
His usual targets had always been one hitters. A masquerade party, or a orgy, or even a casual dinner he could slide in as a waiter. How he'd accepted a long-standing assassination attempt of one, let alone three, of the strongest people in Japan at the moment was beyond him.
Sometimes however, Izuku chose to believe he signed the papers because the challenge was tempting… and so was the pay.
Dragging himself away from the cold marble sinks, he slipped out of the bathroom and took the back elevators up to the middle floors.
The moment the chime rang, Izuku plastered on his usual blinding, harmless smile. He stepped off, immediately meeting a tired set of purple eyes.
Shinsou Hitoshi was waiting by the doors in a bespoke suit, arms crossed over his chest in mild disinterest.
His frown lightened significantly the moment he spotted Izuku. “The new floor manager disappears after being promoted.”
“I've just been gone for ten minutes,” Izuku complained, his shoulders rising defensively as he stepped out. He didn't bother on greetings, pointing plainly at the katana strapped to Shinsou's shoulder. “Another job?”
Shinsou gave a small, exhausted nod. “Debts need to be paid. Areas rioting. The boss wanted someone on it.”
Izuku hissed in sympathetic agreement, privately thrilled that his orchestrated distractions were working. Shrugging effortlessly, he offered, “Well, I'm pretty sure you've got it covered. Any info you need from me?” He gestured back toward the sprawling rows of computers.
He had only been in the Information department for a few months, but he’d quickly proven how devastatingly powerful he could be behind a screen. Shinsou—a second-in-command and a target Izuku had purposefully befriended to act as his shield—had personally vouched for his promotion.
“None, thanks. It's just another orgy club for dominants. The Omegas there are rioting because of the abuse from the Alphas, and that’s just bad for business.”
Shinsou was a normal Alpha. He rarely cared for the convoluted politics of the Organization, but he was also the most ruthless, loyal enforcer Katsuki Bakugo had, save for Kirishima. He was one of the Organization's most important tool.
Shinsou’s apathetic, meticulous nature, however, made him a destined loner. He craved the rare people he could just be himself around. Izuku had weaponized that psychology religiously, mirroring the man's desired antics until he won him over completely.
A single sketch towards the masterpiece he was trying to achieve.
“Speaking of which, where's Kaminari?”
Shinsou chuckled, side-eyeing Izuku. “Getting an earful from Bakugo because of the guys he killed by accident.”
“Our guys?”
“Who else?” Shinsou deadpanned. He moved to press the elevator button, signaling the conversation was wrapping up.
Then, the sharp scent of burnt flesh hit Izuku’s nose. A distinct, aggressive frequency of pheromones he knew by heart. Kaminari.
Shinsou turned before the blonde even came into view, the rigid structure of his posture loosening affectionately. Izuku was still trying to wrap his head around their semantics. The mere idea that the two were bonded for life sent a sharp shudder down his spine.
The logistics of secondary genders often felt surreal; because while Izuku smelled something borderline revolting, to Shinsou, it probably smelled like absolute heaven. Pheromones shifted after marking. A ruthless biological tie that usually meant hell for most Omegas was pure bliss for the two men in front of him.
“You’re agitated,” Shinsou noted, watching Kaminari saunter over. “Anything important they said to you?”
“Bakugou said he'd kill me if I fucked up this job,” Kaminari groaned, leaning his head heavily onto Izuku's shoulder once he was close enough. “Being an enforcer sucks.”
“Be glad you're not stuck behind computers. I've had to change my contact lenses more times than I can count,” Izuku deflected, gesturing vaguely at his eyes. “And don't tell me to wear my glasses. I'd rather die than look nerdy ever again.”
Kaminari stood straight with a pout, glaring playfully at Izuku’s remark. “But you looked so cute when you came to apply, thinking this was just a normal tech firm! You were so utterly clueless, Shin just took you in because you were desperate for cash.”
Izuku had never been desperate. In fact, he was currently at the peak of his career, accepting jobs from numerous high class individuals who wanted the efficiency that he offered.
But he'd played the part so flawlessly. Chuckling awkwardly, he rolled his eyes and playfully shoved the blonde forward as the elevator arrived. “Just call me if you need anything,” he dismissed with a wave.
They waved back, and soon the doors slid shut, taking their overwhelming scents with them.
Izuku exhaled, internally grateful they hadn't lingered. As much as he committed to his role as a harmless Beta, the raw scent of bonded Alphas was sometimes too much to bear. He was just glad this interaction didn't end with him dry-heaving over a toilet bowl.
He sighed, taking a moment to survey the floor, watching the usual procedures run like clockwork.
When he'd been moved to info at first, Izuku had stayed back on numerous days just to find spaces he could fit bugs without being busted, inherently memorizing all of his workmates' pressure points. Of course he'd hidden it under the guise of hard-work and innocence which Kaminari assisted heavily in by staying behind with him for ‘idle chatter’.
Everyone here had been weary of him then.
It took him just two weeks to win them over.
He now moved across the open floor, returning cheerful greetings as he walked to his glass-walled office. The department loved him. He was a breath of fresh air after the tyrannical leadership they were used to.
Again, a tactical move Izuku had planned and executed effortlessly.
Early on, Izuku had deduced that the Organization’s hierarchy was a loose-limbed structure entirely reliant on loyalty. Katsuki trusted Eijirou, who trusted Shinsou and Kaminari, who trusted the lower ranks to do their jobs right.
But that distinct illusion of safety had been snuffed out weeks ago when an entire floor was massacred the moment a minor infiltration came to light.
Izuku had hyperventilated himself to sleep that night. He had severely underestimated the small, unimportant detail that Katsuki Bakugo was indeed a textbook sociopath.
Dropping into his office chair, Izuku ran a rough hand through his curls.
He could still remember the aftermath like a visceral dream. Amidst the chaos and the copper stench of the bloodbath, three distinct Alpha scents had saturated the air. And for someone born of violence, Izuku usually found the smell of blood calming. So what bothered him wasn't the sheer, unhinged brutality of the leaders—he'd expected that at least—It was the terrifying realization that their three distinct pheromones didn't make him want to rip his own nostrils out.
Instead, they blended into a beautifully crafted aroma that felt dangerously comforting.
Suddenly, Izuku's eyes snapped wide. The memory was feeling entirely too real.
He blinked once, twice, and sniffed the air.
The phantom pheromones weren't a memory. They were lingering, growing significantly stronger as the elevator at the far end of the room chimed open.
Burnt spices.
“Midoriya! Where the hell is that fucking nerd!” Katsuki yelled, his rough tone ringing past the expanse and straight into Izuku’s eardrums.
The greenette immediately hissed, millions of ways he could slice through the fucking larynx crossing his mind in milliseconds.
The blonde smiled wickedly at the group of employees standing aimlessly by the water cooler. His pheromones spiked, feral and suffocating for a split second, before he reigned them in, a clear warning. The employees scattered back to their stations like mice fleeing a hungry cat. They knew better than to react.
Then came the second scent. An earthy, deep woods smell. It felt too cozy to belong to a man built like a brick wall. Eijirou was smiling his usual wide, jagged grin that should have felt comforting. It did not.
Ignoring the resounding Omega jitters screaming at him to submit, Izuku forced himself up. He stepped out of his glass office, walking forward with the confident stride of an oblivious floor manager.
If Eijirou Kirishima had tagged along, then the bosses meant business.
Izuku inhaled slowly, forcing his feet not to move too fast. But before he could close the distance, a third scent violently overpowered the rest.
A cold sort of frequency, like hard ice.
“Be careful, sir. We don't need another bloodbath.”
Izuku’s eyes narrowed slightly. He hadn't seen the third assailant during the massacre; the rumored bodyguard never really showed his face. He wore a dark cloth mask that hid everything but his eerie, mismatched eyes.
And, annoyingly enough, Izuku realized with a grimace, the bodyguard was another godforsaken dominant Alpha. Internally, he prayed his suppressants would hold, because the sheer, suffocating weight of three apex predators was doing things to his biology that a 'Beta' should never feel.
Izuku cleared his throat right as he entered their immediate airspace.
“What brings you to Information, sirs?”
He had never met them face-to-face. All his intel came from rumors and surface-level scraps Shinsou dropped that turned out to be too focused on their brutality and not their charm.
Izuku felt a slight understanding as to why they'd ensured numerous allies in this side of the backstabbing arena.
He scoffed under his breath.
They looked sinfully handsome up close and personal.
Katsuki slowly turned. Disinterested crimson eyes dragged over Izuku’s small, defiant frame.
“Well hello there.” Katsuki shot a massive grin, “You must be the replacement,” he noted, his voice dripping with livid amusement. He smirked, leaning forward until they were practically eye-level. His lips pressed to a sadistic thin line while he took his time trying to locate the part of Izuku that wanted to fight back. “You're small for a Beta.” he tried for a jab instead.
Izuku raised an unimpressed brow.
“Cute, too,” Eijirou laughed, cutting into the conversation flawlessly and immediately claiming a nearby desk chair, dropping his chin onto the headrest. “Shinsou didn't tell us about that.”
Izuku chuckled slowly, awkwardly, eyes tracking their microscopic movements. The observation was a quick one, They were just far too relaxed for a casual floor visit.
But when his gaze flicked to the masked bodyguard, he caught the subtle, prepared shift of a hand resting near a concealed weapon.
Izuku swallowed his rising euphoric interest and forced a perfectly innocent smile. “Lower management rarely deserves your attention, sirs. With all of you down here, people might start guessing we're in trouble.” He blinked his wide, green eyes, tilting his head with practiced naïveté. “Are we?”
He looked utterly harmless. He knew it. And he watched the exact moment the amusement was entirely wiped from Katsuki's face.
“Yes, actually,” Katsuki drawled, his voice dropping an octave as silence consumed the entire floor. His aura shifted instantly into avid, crushing bloodlust. At the edges of the room, several Omegas physically buckled under the pressure. Izuku forced his knees to lock, smiling through the agonizing weight of it.
“We got intel from the Russian sect. Intel meant for someone on this floor. I'm just wondering how that slipped past you, Mr. Midoriya.”
Izuku suppressed a flinch as Katsuki's eyes locked onto him. They had taken on an eerie, glowing red hue—agitated and ravenous. Izuku took a steadying breath, internally cursing himself for keeping his real name as an alias.
It doesn't matter, he reminded himself. They'll be dead in months anyway.
“I can look into it,” Izuku replied calmly, shaking his head. “I may be recent, but I’ve already proven my usefulness to the Organization…”
“Oh, I know.” Katsuki shrugged, the dangerous amusement rushing back like a metallic aftertaste. “I would have been pretty livid if Shinsou came back to my office empty-handed. But somehow, you managed to find the mole in seconds when all he gave you were my useless, one-word commands.” Katsuki laughed loudly, sharply, before he glared. “That kind of efficiency calls for questions, does it not?”
His eyes narrowed. In a blur of motion, Katsuki’s hand slipped inside his white suit jacket and emerged with a gun, pressing the barrel directly against the center of Izuku's forehead.
“What did that insomniac bastard call him again, Ei?”
Eijirou tapped his chin, looking at the ceiling in mock thought before pointing at Izuku. “Something along the lines of a 'God of Computers.' He was pretty serious about it, too.” He chuckled darkly. “I think Shoto got his feelings hurt.”
Izuku blinked. Shoto. He knew that name.
“Please refrain from throwing baseless accusations, sir,” a muffled, calm voice spoke up.
Izuku’s eyes widened slightly at the realization. A Todoroki. The legendary assassin family. The tied-back, half-parted hair suddenly made perfect sense.
“The perpetrator isn't Izuku Midoriya, however,” Shoto added flatly.
Katsuki rolled his eyes, keeping the gun pressed to Izuku's skin. “Of course I know that, Halfy. Because It's always a stupid fucking Omega trying to get back at the superior species…”
The name was violently deafened by the roar of a gunshot.
Izuku stumbled backward from the sheer concussive force, dropping to his knees and clapping his hands over his ringing ears. His assassin instincts flared, eyes darting to the side to track the trajectory.
A body hit the floor on the opposite side of the room. A perfect headshot.
If Izuku wasn't trained to read a room, he would have missed it. The speed at which Katsuki had pivoted from Izuku's skull to a target fifty feet away proved exactly why dominant Alphas were considered monsters.
Izuku slowly lowered his hands, fighting a grimace at the sight of the expanding pool of blood.
I'm supposed to kill this?
“Hey, Beta.”
Izuku snapped his gaze back up, souring slightly at the derogatory term. But he knew better than to provoke a rabid dog holding a smoking gun. “Yes, sir?”
“Be careful next time. We don't want that pretty face of yours plastered on the pavement.” Katsuki sneered, casually tossing the weapon over his shoulder. Eijirou caught it effortlessly.
“Clean that up,” Katsuki ordered, waving vaguely at Izuku before disappearing down the hall toward the elevator.
The moment the metal doors slid shut, the entire floor dissolved into sheer panic. Omegas collapsed, weeping from the residual pheromones, while panicked Betas rushed to administer aid. They were that close to death.
A girl Izuku barely knew dropped to her knees beside him, shoving a bottle of water into his hands.
“If he continued to pump pheromones into you like that, you'd have mutated,” she gasped, her hand rubbing soothing circles on Izuku's back.
Izuku started at the water bottle, then back at the body lying just a few feet away from them.
Everyone had shuffled away, and the sunlight flowing past the window walls made it look like an eerie Jacob’s ladder. Izuku blinked, forcing his erratic senses to still. He faked the tremor in his voice without a second thought.
“W-who, was she?”
“Nobody.” The girl waved dismissively, sitting back on her heels. “She'd just moved up from cleaning, antisocial bitch who brushed off everyone really. Definitely won't be missed.”
Izuku paused, one thought crossing his mind. That's harsh.
Because everyone is missed by someone.
“Shitty ass management,” another Beta snapped, leaning heavily against a pillar and holding his chest. “They couldn't have done this shit quietly?”
Izuku shook his head, twisting the cap off the water to ground himself. “It doesn't matter.” He said quietly, draining half the bottle in one gulp. “They've had their fill for the month. They won't be bothering us again.”
And Izuku believed that. Because he wasn't a face to remember. That was his one advantage.
But oh, he couldn't have been more wrong.