V M A Dog Eat Dog World

[King Shark]

The morning light filtered in through the shuttered windows of their rinky-dink office. They'd expected, nay, even deserved better than what they'd found, but on the meager funds their scrimping and saving had yielded, all Bakugo and Deku could afford was a run-down one-room in one of Arcadia's uglier neighborhoods.

The wallpaper was ugly and peeling. The floorboards creaked, the roof did little to filter out the heavy footfall of their upstairs neighbors, and there was a noticeable draft. And even if one could overlook these flaws, there was scarcely room for two desks in the whole damn place, so the two Heroes Aspirant could do little to avoid one another in the small bundle of square footing. How the Hell were they to work in these conditions? Though neither of them asked the question aloud, it was obvious that they were both thinking it. The evidence was all over their faces: Bakugo's, scowling and mule-like in its stubborn consternation - and Deku's, carefully composed but worried, with eyes that never stopped flicking about.

They'd set up shop nearly a week ago, and since then the days had ticked by at a frustrating crawl. Each morning, they folded their pull out cots back into the mirrored closets on opposite sides of the room, avoiding one another's gaze. Then, after dressing, Bakugo would leave the office to get some air while Deku readied the coffee. When he returned - from whence he never stated, and his green haired partner was too clever to ask - he would ready a mug of coffee as black as the Devil's heart and start the day. A day which consisted of idly twiddling his thumbs at his desk.

The first day, he'd occupied himself with sudoku, reading the paper, listening to their static-fuzz radio in the background...it had all grown old quickly. And that was on day one.

Here they were, seven days deep, and both wondering if they'd drown in the monotony. Ash blonde hair in an unwashed heap was all that could be seen of Bakugo, whose face was pressed hard against his desk. A low 'zzzz' emitted from him like the buzz of a fly. He'd been asleep for more than an hour, at this point.

Deku, on the other hand, had his nose buried in that notebook of his. The tedium of unrewarding office work did not seem to wear on him the same way it did his hot-headed counterpart. Young Midoriya kept himself active both physically and mentally. Some of that must have come from the difference in their rise to Quirkdom...while Katsuki was used to having the world handed to him on a platter, Deku had earned his platter, scraps and all. Each morning he ran laps, came back and studied his notebook, puzzled and quizzed himself, read up on potential case files. It was in stark contrast to the short-fused Bakugo who slumped out of bed in a cantankerous rage and remained volatile until well after his second cup of coffee, then snoozed at his desk all day.

Such was their existence on the afternoon of the seventh day of their "heroic journey" - the first journey they'd undertaken independently, for better or for worse.

...when suddenly the motherfucking door flew open, slamming into the wall with a loud CRASH! Bakugo's head shot up quick as a whip, and he looked around frantically, rubbing the sleep from his ruby red eyes with a sleeve flecked with coffee stains. He shook himself out, and put on his best vainglorious expression...after all, there was a damsel at the door.

Or something of a damsel, anyway. She must've been a damsel, at least, twenty years or more ago. Now she was something a little more withered, and dried out like an old sponge. But after their seven day drought, Baku was ready to take whatever he could get. He smirked, and folded one hand over the other on his desk, leaning forward proprietorially. The look on his face was that of a starving shark tossed a bucket of chum.

"Welcome to-" Baku spoke confidently...

"WELCOME TO ONE FOR ALL INVESTIGATIONS!" Midoriya cut in, his voice dripping with a level of enthusiasm Baku found downright revolting. "Please, ma'am, come right in!"

Deku practically tripped over his own chair in his haste to usher the withering woman into the cramped office. There was, for this purpose alone, a single chair placed perfectly in triangulation from their two desks, dead center of the room. The green haired upstart nimbly fed the old woman to the chair, and her aging face looked a mixture of surprised and perhaps a little flattered.

"Don't get too handsy," hissed Bakugo, glaring daggers at his partner as Deku resumed his post at his desk. "We can't afford a fucking lawsuit right now."

"I wasn't," Deku whispered back defensively, meeting the hot-head's gaze. "I was just-"

Their bickering may have gone on, but a loud 'AHEM' from their first and only client jarred the two back to reality. They'd been cooped up here at each other's throats for days and to be honest, Bakugo was primed and ready for a piece of his sensitive business partner.

"Excuse me," began the aging woman, her voice quavering with emotion. "I...I just...I don't know who else to turn to...I saw your ad in the paper, and the police won't help me, and, and, and, a-and..."

Big, wet tears spilled forth from her big doe-eyes. Blue eyes, at that. Katsuki figured she must've been a beauty in her youth...sandy hair, now graying and piled into a messy librarian's bun atop her head. A caring face, but lined with age. He put her at fifty...mid fifties, maybe. ...or late fifties. It was hard to tell. He hadn't been around a person proper, save Deku, in nigh on a week now and it was starting to wear down his perceptions of folk.

"Please, ma'am," urged Deku, looking ready to stand back up again, but evidently restraining himself from doing so. "We're here to help. Tell us what the problem is."

"Yes," agreed Bakugo, rolling his eyes and stifling a yawn. "...by all means. Tell us."

The woman 'honked' a nose-blow into a hankerchief, dabbed at her eyes with the same cloth, and did her best to compose herself. Bakugo counted his blessings for that - he hadn't exactly signed up for therapy work, and he was nobody's fucking shrink. This was about business, not emotions. Why couldn't people learn to separate the two?

"It's my eensy Popkin," the woman began again, her voice still on the edge. "I haven't seen him in days, and the police won't help me. They say that...that it's not...that it's not IMPORTANT!"

She wailed out the last word, and Bakugo ground his teeth. Felt like sandpaper on his eardrums.

"Your...Pop...?" Katsuki fumbled around for a notepad.

But Deku was already writing it down. "Your Popkin, ma'am? Can you tell me what that is, exactly?"

"Some kind of breakfast food?" Bakugo offered, trying to be helpful despite himself.

The woman gave him a flinty look, then turned her gaze to the more inviting of the two.

"Popkin," she repeated, a little more composed now. "It's my little baby. My poodle. You see, I don't have a family..."

"Big surprise there," Bakugo whispered.

"...so my Popkin is all I have. She's about this tall -" she held her hand maybe two, two and a half feet off the ground. "- and all white, very well groomed. A poodle. You know what a poodle looks like, right? Well, she went missing a few days ago, and I asked around the neighborhood, and my neighbors have noticed their pets going missing as well. Some of them have been snatched right out of their houses when they weren't home! Mister Washburn's ferret was stolen, and poor old Missus Flanders' pet turtle, Smokey, has gone missing too."

Who the Hell names their fucking turtle -Smokey-?

"Please, take down my information - my name is Kagome Hirogame, and I live at-"

Katsuki coughed into his hand, missing the address.

"-and I will pay handsomely if you can find my Popkin."

Dollar signs sprung up in Bakugo's eyes, and he sprung up from his seat.

"Oh, we'll take the fucking case!" he whooped, pumping his fist once. "...One for All Investigations is on the case!"

...One For All Investigations? He paused. ...he did not remember agreeing to that name.

 

[Fennec Shand]

Bakugo’s enthusiasm did not last long.

“We should just smoke these animals out,” he offered, refusing to take the intricate schedule his partner held out to him and instead shoving his hands into his pockets defiantly.

Izuku sighed. A classic Kacchan move.

The paper laid out the timeline for their interviews of the people around Ms. Hirogame’s neighborhood. Following their first client’s departure, Izuku had spent the better part of yesterday afternoon ringing the neighbors the woman had mentioned and figuring out what the best time would be for One for All Investigations to come by and speak with them about their missing pets. Since Kacchan refused to go over it, the emerald-haired boy had been forced to take the lead; suffice it to say, wrangling their schedule and wrangling Katsuki Bakugo simultaneously was a job he should be getting paid way more for. Especially considering he was currently getting paid absolutely nothing.

Their partnership had been formed out of desperation. Midoriya knew the Bakugo of… well, of a week ago, probably, would never have been caught dead going into business with him, but so much had changed since they’d first been paired up together for the gas station incident. They may have been very different people -- more different than any two people probably could be -- but they had the same dream, and that dream had been squashed in an instant. Now, they had no choice but to work together. It was the only way they’d ever make a difference.

Even if that difference is just reuniting an old lady with her lost dog, Izuku decreed. It wasn’t exactly the flashy heroics he’d dreamed of when he was a young boy, but every hero had to start somewhere, right? At least when they’d found Popkin, Ms. Hirogame would have a smile on her face again. Reuniting faces with smiles was all he’d ever wanted out of being a hero, so for now, this would do fine.

With any luck, they’d bring happiness back to Ms. Hirogame’s neighbors, too -- like Mrs. Flanders, whose house they were happening upon right about now.

The house seemed perfectly normal, on the outside. It was little and pink, situated behind a white picket fence in a perfectly-laid sod yard. Out front, a slim-figured, bluish-gray skinned man with a large nose ring and larger ears steered a push-mower in relatively straight lines across the yard. As Baku and Deku came to a stop in front of the property, he paused his mowing and glanced over at them. “Can I help ye?”

Bakugo grunted, so Deku stepped in. “Uh, yes, sir!” he smiled broadly, waving a bit too enthusiastically. “I’m Deku and this is, uh…” he paused, realizing very suddenly Kacchan had yet to land on a hero name, “...my partner! We’re from One for All Investigations. Ms. Hirogame down the street hired us to look into the animal disappearance, and we’re here to ask Mrs. Flanders a few questions about Smokey!”

“Stupid name…” Katsuki muttered, and Izuku bumped him with his shoulder. The ash blonde growled, leering at his unwitting coworker.

The troll before them simply blinked. “She’s inside,” he droned, then continued his mowing.

“Okay, thank you!” Deku shot a thumbs up, then turned to Bakugo. “This is going well!”

“Nothing’s happened yet, you damn nerd,” Kacchan scowled, pushing through the gate and starting to head up to the pristine, white door to Mrs. Flanders’ home. Izuku hurriedly followed -- Katsuki Bakugo could not be allowed to make the first impression for One for All Investigations, no way.

Nevertheless, the formerly Quirkless boy didn’t make it to the door in time to stop his perpetually angry partner from banging loudly and quite forcefully on the door several times. “One for All Investigations, open the hell up!”

“Kacchan!”

The door swung open just as Izuku strode up next to Bakugo, a puzzled-looking younger woman standing in the entryway. Deku skidded to a halt, trying his best to put a smile on his face but finding himself completely stricken by her… intense beauty. She was tall, even moreso in her racing red, high-heeled pumps; she wore a pleated, khaki mini skirt with a cream-colored blouse tucked into it that was extremely low-cut. A crimson cardigan (to match the pumps, ostensibly) was draped lazily on her shoulders, and blonde hair sat in a messy bun on top of her head. Deku noticed this all on his first scan, but he was quite short, so his eyes settled on the things directly in front of him. He felt his knees began to shake beneath him.

Katsuki Bakugo, for his part, seemed either completely unaware of just how insanely attractive this woman was, or, more likely, was much better at keeping himself under control in the presence of hot women. That said, the firecracker knew the terms of their arrangement: Deku was the one who’d be doing all the talking. So for several long, drawn-out seconds, nothing was said amongst the trio, and the young woman at the door simply stared at the pair of wayward young boys who’d wandered onto the stoop. Bakugo looked to Deku, who seemed to have become completely incapable of speech, and let out an unsubtle cough to try and urge him on. It didn’t work.

“You boys with the marching band from Arcadia High School?” the Amazonian beauty at last broke the silence. “Selling cookie dough, right? Well, this family has already placed an order with Rosa down the street -- “

“We’re here to talk to Mrs. Flanders about the missing tur -- “ Bakugo started, then paused and let out a frustrated sigh before continuing as he knew Deku would have wanted him to, “ -- about Smokey.” A personal touch, the perennial optimist had advised the spitfire this morning as they’d gotten dressed, gotta make these people feel like we care enough about them to know our stuff.

“Oh,” the woman asked. “About my Smokey?”

The boys’ eyes both went wide at that, and Izuku finally found his voice, however briefly. “...you’re Mrs. Flanders?”

The blonde woman smiled, placing a hand on her hip. “That’s me! The lady of the house!”

“I…” Izuku’s eyes looked her up and down altogether unpolitely once again, and he quickly lowered his head, staring intently at the ground of Mrs. Flanders’ stoop.

“Well, if you’re not from the band,” she asked, leaning down and placing her hands on her knees, getting altogether too close to Deku for comfort, “then who do I have the pleasure of speaking to, little guys?”

Deku’s mouth started to move, but only gibberish came out.

“Who,” Kacchan elbowed him, hard, in the ribs, “does she have the pleasure of speaking to?”

Izuku looked up to see the woman’s face not six inches in front of his own, her cleavage more exposed than ever, and his brain leap off the tracks. But he knew that this was just the first of many challenges he’d face in his journey to become the greatest professional hero in the Crossroads. If he let a hot woman stop him from doing his hero work, what would he accomplish against a real villain? His eyes almost bulged out of his face, but he steeled himself onward and began to vomit out his prepared speech.

“Hello, ma’am my name is Deku and this is my partner Kacchan and you see we were hired by Ms. Hirogame to investigate the disappearance of her poodle Popkin and we heard that your turtle Smokey as well as some other animals in this neighborhood have also mysteriously gone missing so we’d like to begin our investigation by asking you a few questions about what exactly the circumstances of Smokey’s disappearance was so do you have a few minutes for us to chat?”

Izuku let out a long breath, all in Mrs. Flanders’ face. The blonde stood back up, and the tinier member of One for All Investigations found himself suddenly half-focused on the investigation, and half-trying to remember if he’d brushed his teeth before they’d left. But of course, we also had that spicy food truck food on the walk over here, oh God…

For her part, Mrs. Flanders simply frowned a gentle frown. “Oh, you sweet boys,” she clapped her hands to her cheeks. “It’s so swell of you to try to help me find my Smokey. He’s my pride and joy.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Well, Mr. Flanders doesn’t like it too much when I have men in the house, but he’s at work, so I suppose I can have you in for some tea and we can chat a little bit!” She winked in what seemed to be directly Izuku’s direction, and if Bakugo hadn’t placed a hand on the young man’s back and shoved him inside, Deku might’ve fallen backwards down the steps of the stoop.

The inside of the house was extravagant, and as the pair of boys was ushered to the couch, the first few pieces of the puzzle started to come together in Izuku Midoriya’s brain: all of the victims, thus far, were wealthy. He didn’t know if that had anything to do with anything -- there were still so many puzzle pieces to find -- but it was a start.

Deku and Kacchan sank into the woman’s cobalt blue couch. The explosive boy lazily kicked his feet up onto a nearby ottoman, and Izuku would’ve scolded him, but he found himself too preoccupied crossing his legs and holding himself together to care about Bakugo’s lack of decorum in this moment. Mrs. Flanders flitted back into the living room from the kitchen, carrying tea cups on a tray and wearing a bright smile on her beautiful face.

“Hope you boys like chamomile!” she preened.

One for All Investigations, case no. 0001, interview one: start.

Quest: A Dog Eat Dog World
Katsuki Bakugo & Izuku Midoriya
Post WC: 1632, according to Google Docs
Total WC: 3045/20000, according to GDocs

 

[King Shark]

The pair of Dicks (it's detective terminology, look it up) sat in Mrs. Flanders' sitting room with their hands in their laps both acutely aware of their predicament and handling it internally in different ways. While Midoriya chose to make an ass of himself, Bakugo took what he’d determined was the wiser route of allowing his flustered partner to do all the talking. To that end, his green haired associate had made it clear that his strategy was to bungle the interview, presumably until it was beyond salvage.

So when the Good Lady Flanders emerged from the kitchen with the tray of tea, it was with some bemusement that Baku ceded the role of orator once more to the tongue-tied Deku.

“We would appreciate some chamomile and also the opportunity to ask you some questions about your -”

“What my partner means to say,” cut in Bakugo, his fierce tone muzzling Deku mid-sentence. He shot the runt a look, scolding him silently. “Is that we would love some camel-toe, and to bend your ear for a moment about the theft of your pet.”

There. He’d gotten through it without a single mis-step. Hadn’t he? ...both Deku and Mrs. Flanders were staring at him now, looking flabbergasted.

“You’d love some...what?” Mrs. Flanders demanded, her expression dubious.

“Chamomile,” Bakugo stated, quirking an eyebrow. “And to bend your rear for a moment.”

“Bend my…?”

“EAR!” Midoriya blurted out, stopping Baku before he could begin his next sentence. “We would like to bend your ear.”

Mrs. Flanders took a seat across from them, looking relieved. “Oh, of course. I thought you said…”

“He didn’t say whatever it is you thought!” Midoriya answered hastily.

The smaller of the two investigators reached forward, grabbed a rather ornate steaming china teacup from the plate, sipped it, and then froze for a brief second. Panic trickled across his face, and he turned his head suddenly whereupon he jettisoned a mouthful of scalding hot tea through the air in a spray of leaf-juice and spittle.

“OW! THAT WAS HOT!”

Now it was Bakugo’s turn to gape at his partner. Mrs. Flanders, however, jumped out of her seat looking stricken and hastened to the side of Deku, who was airing out his tongue frantically like a dog who’d been left in a car on a hot summer’s day. Despite all of this, Bakugo’s fire was feeling quite quenched, and he could do little but stare at the radiant Lady Flanders - her pleated mini skirt seemed to strain excitably against her well defined glutes as she sprinted into the kitchen to fetch a pitcher of ice water. Her face, flushed and frenzied upon her return, was a symmetrical ode to her lot in the genetic lottery. Scarcely one to wax philosophical over the merits of beauty, but dumbfounded despite himself, young Bakugo was silent in his awe.

And he’d been staring at her for well over a minute, at this point.He realized with dawning horror that she too was looking at him. But...not the same way he was looking at her. She was beginning to look irritated.

“...so, are the two of you going to ask me anything about my poor Smokey, or not?” her tone was flat, and much of its music had been lost in translation.

The investigation was not going well. Desperate to salvage it, Bakugo decided to take the plunge - Midoriya was, for his part, still composing himself and slamming a tall glass of ice water. Pushing the idea of slamming tall glasses of water from his mind, the spitfire gulped audibly and set about his business.

“Well,” he began, emptying his mind and trying to find his happy place. “...you’re not the only one with a missing pet. Your neighbor, Kagome Hirogame, has lost her poodle. Seems a lot like a pattern’s emerging, and that we have a serial offender here. Someone who’s stealing pets.”

He focused his ruby red eyes on a vase just to the left of Mrs. Flanders’ ample bosom, and refrained from looking directly at her. In doing so, he was sliding more comfortably into his regular gruff and succinct self.

“Some asshole’s been breaking into people’s houses and taking their animals, and we want to find out who it is. Have you seen any creeps lurking around in your neighborhood that you haven’t seen before, or anyone who looks like they might swipe a poodle? Maybe even someone you know that’s acting like a shitbag more than usual, or something.”

Mrs. Flanders, instead of looking put off by his foul language, looked mollified. It must be hard to have a normal conversation, Baku realized, when you looked the way she did. Folks always staring at you, objectifying you, and falling all over themselves mid-conversation. His candid demeanor was probably an unexpected, fresh curio in the bazaar that was a life full of slack jawed knuckleheads.

She gave him a warm, appraising look as if noticing him for the first time, then.

“Alright, then,” she began, her tone appreciative. “Now that you mention it, I have noticed something odd about the way the neighbors’ groundskeeper has been acting. I’ve noticed that in the past few weeks, he’ll keep going over the same bushes again and again, though he doesn’t actually seem to be accomplishing anything. It’s like he’s paying attention to something else...I noticed him staring over at my house, and I assumed that he was just...you know…”

Bakugo shared a knowing look with Midoriya. Both teens looked sufficiently ashamed of themselves, which seemed to further embolden the regularly beleaguered Lady Flanders.

“But then pets started going missing. This is a quiet community, and we all know each other. We’ll get a theft every once in a while, but nothing like pets. Just jewelry, and other valuables. Things that are replaceable. Everyone in this neighborhood is relatively well off, so we don’t fret too long over a missing watch or a necklace. When my Smokey went missing, though…”

Her doe eyes went misty, and Bakugo felt for her.

“Can you tell us about what the groundskeeper looked like?” Midoriya had found his voice, and had put the tip of his pen to a notepad (a different notepad from that notebook he always had his nose buried in, the one with all the obsessive Hero scribblings).

“Well, he was a younger kid, and he was hired recently. He stopped working for the Lasko family a few days ago - I think they fired him for doing such a poor job at keeping the yard. He had dark brown hair in a crew cut and usually dressed in joggers or sweats...plain, solid tee shirts, and a windbreaker jacket. Navy blue, if I’m remembering correctly,” her dreamy face was lost in concentration.

The pen worked furiously, scribing each detail to the letter Baku was certain. Midoriya’s attention to detail was second to none.

“Thank you,” Baku answered, his biting tone unusually pacified by the unlucky plight of the poor household beauty. “Do you know where the louse came from?”

“I think I’ve seen him loitering on a street corner with some unsavory looking young men when I’ve gone into town to get groceries,” Mrs. Flanders recalled, sipping her tea thoughtfully. It had cooled significantly, Bakugo found, when he mirrored her. “On the corner of Main and Fifth.”

It was quiet for a moment, punctuated only by the final scribbles of Deku’s pen and then the quiet ‘clack’ as he set it down on the coffee table next to the silver platter of tea and his glass of ice water.

The two teens exchanged a glance, and it was communicated nonverbally that they’d gotten what they came here for.

“Thank you, Mrs. Flanders,” stated Bakugo. “We’d breast be headed out.”

 

[Fennec Shand]

“That was him, ya damn nerd.”

“Are you sure?!”

“Just go!” Bakugo half-whispered, half-shouted (genuinely holding back for him) as he shoved Izuku into the street. The smaller boy, making himself even more invisible with his trademark hunch, disappeared in a flurry of scurrying Chocobos until, to his scowling business partner back on the sidewalk, he appeared nothing more than a bobbing bob of green hair.

Birds of every color imaginable zipped by as the would-be hero dashed across the busy intersection, shouting “sorry!” and “excuse me!” as he went. The other side of the street seemed like a journey away, but Deku knew that it grew closer and closer with each step… and with it, his first undercover assignment.

He could feel the palpitations in his heart as those words sunk in. An ‘undercover assignment’ was something he knew all heroes would have to tackle eventually, but if he were being honest, he didn’t think that he and Kacchan were really cut out for the job. The blonde boy was simply… well, he was Katsuki Bakugo, and if his general demeanor didn’t immediately tell you the kid wasn’t set up for something like ‘going undercover’ then Izuku didn’t know what would. As for him? Well, he might be able to charm and manners his way through a little bit of a performance, but the amount of anxiety already creeping up his spine before he’d even entered the building signaled that, perhaps, this was going to be a weak point.

When he finally reached the other side of the street, he tightened the strap on his messenger bag and looked up. Above the big, intimidating mahogany doors hung a long sign that read, in pink neon letters, ‘X-Press Employment of Arcadia.’ The ‘X’ flickered on and off, so Izuku idly wondered how many people this office encountered looking for more journalism-centric work.

The inside of the temp agency stood in stark contrast to the streets of the city. Arcadia had always been a little flashier than any other place on Erde Nona, with its intricate designs and bright lights giving it a sort of fantastical appeal. In here, though, it seemed efficiency was the name of the game; drab, tan carpets spread out across the entire floor, doing exactly shit nothing to draw the eye to the veritable army of cubicles that stretched as far as Midoriya’s eyes could see. To his left as he entered, a woman who looked like she shared his near-constant frazzled aura moved papers back and forth across a big desk made from, as far as the young hero could tell, the same mahogany as the doors.

“Can I help you with something?” she said without looking up, and steeling himself for the task at hand, Izuku jumped -- with almost too much pep in his step -- into action.

“Yes, ma’am!” he beamed, so loud and bright that even this nearly-robotic office worker’s attention was yanked from her activity. “My name is Izuku Midoriya and I’m here to try and find some temporary work!”

The words sort of spilled out before he could consider them, and almost immediately, his eyes widened and his jaw went slack. He froze in place, mentally beating himself for making his first mistake within literally seconds of being here. Fuck, Deku, he scolded himself, sounding almost like Kacchan, why the hell would you tell these people your real name?!

Though he was sure the pupils in his eyes had dilated almost to nothing, the receptionist seemed to either not notice -- or not care -- about the general alarm bells that seemed to be ringing in the young boy’s brain. “Take a number, kid,” she droned, gesturing toward a roll of numbered stickers unrolled haphazardly on the desk. “You can go have a seat next to Crew Cut over there while you wait.”

A seat… next to Crew Cut?

Izuku turned, and there he was: the target. Slouched in a chair next to the only remaining empty one, a tall, lanky boy sat, scrunching up his own number sticker in one of his fists. His lips curled into a frown that seemed to stretch down his entire body, between the way his light blue slacks seemed barely held up by the black belt that didn’t match them and the one or two missing buttons at the top of his lazily tucked-in dress shirt. He sank into the crimson upholstery of the chair like he himself was almost part of the drab, unremarkable scenery. He may as well have been, since he would’ve seemed utterly boring if not for the possible animal kidnapping he’d committed (and the lightning bolts shaved in at the bottom of the aforementioned ‘crew cut’). Izuku adjusted his bright red tie, becoming acutely aware that the target had skipped wearing one entirely.

So this isn’t your scene, he observed, trying to tamper down his infectious energy a bit and slide nonchalantly into the seat next to the target. He appeared to do a… well, less-than-admirable job, as he could feel himself buzzing, back perfectly straight, eyes flitting back and forth between the kid with the crew cut and the point in space he’d chosen as a ‘normal place to look.’ Catching on to the green-haired boy’s nervous energy, the target shuffled to the opposite side of his chair and turned his face away.

His whole energy fascinated Izuku. So… this guy was supposed to be a sketchy, hardened criminal in Mrs. Flanders’ eyes? The would-be private eye tried his best to get a read on him that implied that, and while he could believe that this guy was your classic horny teenager peeping Tom type, something about him just didn’t quite read ‘turtle-napper.’ Of course, Izuku knew better than to judge people by their appearances, for better or for worse; he himself had to deal with people underestimating him all the time because of his small stature, so what was to stop this guy from being some lowdown pet thief? Nevertheless, Deku already felt his grasp on the situation slipping away from him. He’d been given an opportunity, so he had to jump in -- fast.

“I love the thing in your hair,” he blurted out, probably a little louder than he’d intended. The boy with the crew cut glanced sharply towards him -- suspicious -- and stared for a few moments before deigning to reply.

“There’s something in my hair?” he asked dryly.

“I, uh,” Izuku sputtered, lifting up a finger and pointing. Words tried to form at his lips but the blaring ‘it’s impolite to point at people’ alarm going off in his head distracted him, so they just fumbled out a stuttering mess. “T-the, uh, lightning. The bolt. Zap!” He gestured along with the unnecessary onomatopoeia and then quickly flastered a stupid smile on his face before he heard Kacchan’s voice crash into his ear through the new Bluetooth earbud he’d connected to his UA-issued xPhone.

“Stop flirting and get the info, Deku!!” his brash partner raged, loudly. The image of Katsuki Bakugo in the cafe across the street shouting at nothing might seem funny to some, but it only made Izuku’s cheeks flash a deep red. Kacchan had threatened to go undercover at the temp agency himself if he felt like the ‘nicer’ (Deku’s word) partner was doing a ‘shit job’ (Kacchan’s words), and somehow, Izuku felt like this situation might thus far fall into that category. He ran a hand through his messy, green hair nervously as he prayed the target hadn’t heard his partner’s tirade.

“Hmph,” the target sighed, shifting slightly to face Deku and give him a quick up-and-down with his eyes. “Thanks, I guess.” The young private eye watched with great interest as the target’s lips seemed to struggle not to twist into a smile. Had his compliment… worked?

He leapt at the opportunity.

“I’m Midoriya,” he thrust a hand way into the young man’s personal space, causing him to slip a little further away; nevertheless, the target reached out and tentatively grasped the outstretched hand. “Izuku Midoriya.”

“Kenji Kurosawa,” Crew Cut replied, a little hesitantly but not unfriendly. His eyes traveled up to the messy mop perched deflatedly on top of Izuku’s head. “Your hair’s cute, too,” he remarked. “Green. It’s punk.”

Izuku’s hand hadn’t left his head, but now simply latched on tighter to the strands of hair it’d been running through. He felt almost as if he was going to yank a whole clump of it out if he wasn’t careful, so instead he focused his energy on responding succinctly, politely, and unsuspiciously to Kurosawa’s compliment.

Instead, he found himself laughing obnoxiously.

Kenji shrank a bit. “Did I say something funny?”

Izuku’s eyes went wide. “Oh, no, no, no! I’m just bad at taking compliments!” he grinned, slashing a hand through the air. The Quirk user watched helplessly as slash of air sliced through the office, barely missing Kenji and smashing into a shelf across the room. Binders toppled to the floor, the cacophony drawing much attention; luckily, none of the rest of the occupants of the temp agency seemed to connect the commotion to Izuku.

“You’ve got a superpower?” Kenji asked, covertly.

Well, none of the occupants… save one. Fuck.

“I, uh,” Izuku stammered. His mouth opened extremely wide, and noise hummed out, as if he was going to say something, but the words he was looking for never came.

“No, no, it’s cool,” the target nodded. “Real cool.” Kenji’s lips finally curled into that smile they’d been straining for, though at this point, it seemed like more of a contemplative smirk. Izuku couldn’t tell what thoughts were racing inside the brunette teenager’s head, but he knew one thing: not a single one of them was going to be a positive development for their mission. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Goddamn it, nerd,” Kacchan’s voice chimed in over the Bluetooth speaker. “I just fuckin’ knew you’d need me to come save your ass.”

Quest: A Dog Eat Dog World
Katsuki Bakugo & Izuku Midoriya
Post WC: 1656, according to Google Docs
Total WC: 6000/20000, according to GDocs

 

[King Shark]

BAM! The door to the temp agency flew open, and in the entryway stood a man. Well, a teenager. Or something in between.

His ash-blonde hair was slicked down with gel, and parted carefully on the right side. He wore aviators: the sunglasses for those who wish to project an image of badassery while also on a pocket-change budget. Beneath his small, upturned nose hung a mustache - it was thick, blonde, and blatantly fake. It hung past his upper-lip and completely eclipsed the lips beneath it. It hung so far, in fact, that its dropping ends seemed to drip right off the sides of his chin. One end dangled just a little further than the other; Bakugo had been a little hasty in affixing it. He had, after all, only had a short period of time to throw this look together.

It’d been a short jaunt from the coffee shop to the corner store - a few coins in a young man’s pocket could go a long way in a bodega style corner store...the type of corner store everyone had popped into at least once in their life. One with some new oddity in every nook and cranny, even if you’d visited a few times a week for months or even years. The kind of bodega you scanned upon entry and wondered ‘was that here last week?’. ...the kind of bodega you could find a motherfucking fake mustache in.

Plan B (the ‘B’ stood for Bakugo, or for Bad depending on whether you asked Izuku or Katsuki) had always been for him to throw on his nicer street clothes, the button up shirt with the slacks he’d worn on their coronation ceremony at the academy. The rest of it? Certified fresh material hot off the presses of the fiery teen’s noggin.

Striding confidently, he passed Izuku who seemed to be fumbling his way through a conversation with their mark. Katsuki lowered his sunglasses in a move that fit his definition of subtle, though not a lot of people would agree with him. Ruby eyes unveiled like gems unearthed from a sand trap, Baku planted a smooth-ass wink on Deku who visibly squirmed - probably from how cool Bakugo was being - and looked away.

“‘Ere fo’ a job, bruv!” Baku exclaimed, accentuating his cockney accent with a vigorous slap of his hand on the front desk. “Wot you fink, mate?”

The woman behind the desk had previously looked bored; she looked up, eyebrow raised, and scanned her newest client up and down. She bit her lip - it was clear she liked what she saw. Sealing the deal, he gave her a withering stare.

...or at least that’s how he saw it. In reality, the woman had glanced up, bored, and asked: “Name?”

“‘Ey, bruv, ‘ere fo’ some bees an’ honey. Ye’ gonna gimme that money?” he dropped the rhyme, cockney accent intact, and flashed her a winsome smile.

I am nailing this.
Nearby patrons of the establishment had stopped to stare. Most activity in the vicinity had come to an abrupt standstill.

“Name’s Jack Beenimbol.”

Sighing with the sort of stress only a receptionist job could instill, the poor desk-jockey handed Katsuki a number (the number twenty three) and shoo’d him away with a poignant flick of her wrist.

Bakugo assumed a seat facing the far wall, which was bleak, white, and covered in shitty motivational posters; his back was to Midoriya and their mark.

Maybe I drank a little too much coffee. ...this costume might be ridiculous.

Baku took a mental inventory of his own image, smirked a little, and moved on - best not to get self-conscious now. Instead he doubled down on it and manspread a bit, draped a hand across his lap, and relaxed his shoulders to present a confident front that matched his ensemble.

He was very near to the conversation behind him, and could hear it clearly.

“I’ll take you to meet some people. They’re going to like you a lot,” their target insisted, his tone excited. “Come on. What’ve you got to lose?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Midoriya answered - Bakugo, to his chagrin, could hear the discomfort in his voice.

So cleared his throat loudly, drawing some glances from nearby workers-to-be.

Midoriya seemed to take the hint, and steadied his tone substantially. “I’ll go with you!”

Bakugo heard them rustle around as they rose up to leave, and knew that they’d made a breakthrough here. Midoriya infiltrating the pet-napper’s inner circle was the kind of detective work that would have this case solved in no time, especially if he himself could tail them and watch to make sure that goody-goody Deku didn’t fuck the whole thing up. Once they infiltrated, it was a hop, skip, and a jump to phase two - Bakugo bursting out of his cover and beating the shit out of this street urchin until he fessed up. Phase three was retrieving the pets. Phase four? Cha-ching! Bring in that sweet, sweet payday.

They hadn’t settled on an exact price, but Baku was sure that with the wealthy kind of clientele they were working for that money wouldn’t be an issue. They’d be able to pay rent, at the least, and if they were lucky maybe even scout out a new location...a permanent lot where they could set up a real office; once word of mouth spread, they’d have more wealthy patrons beating down their doors and their cups would runneth over.

Seeing dollar signs, Katsuki rose to a stand under the assumption that he’d let enough time pass to start tailing his brainy sidekick.

“Jack Beenimbol!” called the receptionist. “Number twenty-three!”

He froze mid-stride, and turned back to look at the receptionist who was staring at him impatiently. Most of the people around him were staring at him, actually. Maybe he’d made too flashy of an entrance? After a moment’s consideration, Baku realized that walking out now would certainly blow his cover. Though he clearly needed to tail Deku, there was no way he’d be able to weasel out of this one. ...he needed to go get a job.

He was ushered into a room set aside for the purpose of interviewing whatever degenerate might stroll in off the street. The room brought up uncomfortable memories of the interrogation room he’d sat in not two weeks ago after the incident that had resulted in their expulsion. He was alone in there for a little while, left to simmer in the unstirred stew of his unpleasant recollections.

Then, a man walked in. He was the kind of man born for a roll like this with a mustache not entirely unlike Bakugo’s fake one, only brown and oily. He wore glasses, a button-up shirt of a deep burgundy, and an unfortunate tie of vibrant green slashed with stripes of a burgundy that matched his shirt. The consultant took one look at ‘Jack Beenimbol’ and apparently learned all he needed to know, as his countenance shifted into an ugly scowl.

“...so, you’re ready to get a job, eh? Finally through with whatever loser degenerate behavior landed you in the unemployment line? Well, let’s see what we’ve got…”

He leafed through a three ring binder full of laminated job postings from a litany of companies desperate for employment - and wouldn’t they have to be to hire from a place like this? Eventually he came to a halt on one page, and smirked.

“We’ve got an opening at a chicken farm, as a chicken sexer,” the man stated, finger on the page. He rotated it to show the posting to ‘Jack’.

“Ye wont me to fuck chickens, mate!?” Baku exclaimed, keeping up his cockney facade. He lowered his aviators, looking over them dubiously.

“...you’ll be determining the gender of the newly hatched chicks,” the man stated, rubbing his temples. He sounded exasperated.

Bakugo took the posting that was handed to him, knowing full well that he had no intention of showing up to his first day of work, and then stood up to make his hasty exit. He had lost a lot of time, and felt as if he was unlikely to find Deku...maybe the fucking nerd had gotten the opportunity to text his destination, though.

“You start at six AM! SHARP!” the consultant hollered at the retreating back of ‘Jack Beenimbol’. “You hear me!?”

 

[Fennec Shand]

“Izuku Midoriya, huh?” Kenji mused as the pair exited the temp office. “What’s that mean -- Midoriya?”

Izuku’s cheeks had already turned rosy far before this point. Being on this side of an interrogation, however docile it may be, had never been part of Plan A or Plan B, so as it happened, he was being forced to… improvise. Not his strong suit.

“Uh, well, the first part of it, Midori-, means green,” he smiled unconvincingly, “and the second part, -ya, means valley, so I guess you could say it means green valley? I’m not really sure!” He giggled an uncomfortable amount, but Kenji Kurosawa didn’t seem to be dissuaded. In fact, quite surprisingly, Crew Cut simply smiled back.

“Like your punk green hair,” he nodded. “Nice.”

Wow, Izuku thought, seeing my Quirk really won this guy over.

He mentally scolded himself. Why the hell had he slipped up like that? The goal was to not arouse suspicion, or curiosity, or anything of the sort, and yet here he was, being dragged back to ‘meet some people’ by their mark. Izuku supposed that in the grand scope of things, this could be good. He’d be introduced to the inner circle of whatever dastardly league of villains had cooked up this pet-napping scheme, and maybe he and Kacchan would be able to take them down from the inside. That’s what a normal pair of heroes would do, anyway.

Of course, Katsuki Bakugo and Izuku Midoriya were not yet a normal pair of heroes. They were, as it stood, merely a pair of fifteen-year-old boys, just trying to find a Popkin and a Smokey. They were also high school dropouts, expelled from the best hero school in Arcadia, on Erde Nona, and probably in the whole fucking Crossroads. They were also two boys whose partnership, inevitably, would crash and burn under the weight of their never-ending rivalry. As Deku stood here, shoved by his childhood friend into more undercover work, he felt more than ever that he and Kacchan were decidedly out of their depth.

This is it, Midoriya, he told himself.

This is your last chance to get out of this.

Don’t let it get out of hand.

Kenji put his fingers to his mouth and whistled. The street was filled with Chocobos zipping past, carrying Arcadians to and from their jobs or their neighbors’ tea times. At the sound of the high-pitched call, however, one magnificent bird emerged from the crowd and trotted onto the sidewalk. She was, for the most part, a glorious specimen. Beautiful yellow feathers, a strong, well-fed build -- maybe this bird was a racing bird? Her legs were long and sturdy, and though Izuku didn’t know much about Chocobo racing, he figured he’d bet on her if he were the betting type of boy.

“Come on,” Kenji gestured. He hopped up onto the Chocobo and patted the section of its back -- well, really, its ass -- that Izuku was supposed to sit on. The green-haired boy tentatively walked up to the bird, gently caressed its bright yellow feathers, and then pushed himself up and onto its back. It shifted slightly to adjust to the weight of the two boys, but they were both pretty thin and spindly, so it didn’t require much effort. Kenji glanced back over his shoulder. “Hold on tight,” he said, grabbing one of Izuku’s hands and wrapping it around his waist. Blushing ever-so-slightly, young Midoriya reached around with his other hand and latched onto Kenji’s waist.

Geez, he could fly around buildings with One for All like it was nothing, but the idea of being atop a galloping Chocobo as it zoomed through the streets had stricken him with fear like he hadn’t felt in quite a while. Kenji seemed confident, though, so…

FWOOSH!

“OH MY GOD, AHHHHHH,” Deku screamed. He felt like his eyelid and lips were flapping in the wind as the glorious yellow Chocobo sped off through the streets, bobbing and weaving its way past the other avian mounts of various different colors. Izuku knew from his copious research into… well, everything, that yellow Chocobos were the most common and therefore least expensive rides. Perhaps that’s how Kenji has one of his own even though he’s not super rich, the boy thought as he quickly forced his eyes and mouth shut and buried his face in the brown-haired boy’s shoulder.

Kenji chuckled a bit. “Doing okay back there, Green Valley?” he called as the bird galloped through the streets.

“Just fine,” Izuku half-lied. The ride was thrilling, to be sure, and in some way, he could see how people could have fun doing this. But at the same time, he was Izuku Midoriya, and that meant that no matter how much adrenaline was pumping through his veins, he could see every possible scenario, including the ones where his grip on Kenji’s waist went slack and he slipped off the back of the bird, tumbling into traffic below. That could cause, at best, a broken bone or two, and at worst, a complete trampling by the myriad of other Chocobos sprinting all around them.

A little while later, the ride finally seemed to slow to a more casual pace, rather than an imitation of what it might be like to be a part of one of Arcadia’s famed Chocobo races. Deku dared to open his eyes, expecting to find himself in one of the seedier districts of the city, only to be surprised by the endless, rolling fields of the Hinterlands. Specifically, they were on the outskirts of Arcadia, entering into a tiny little farming hamlet Izuku vaguely remembered learning about in his middle school ‘History of Erde’ classes. If he was remembering right, it was called…

“Mineral Town!” the emerald-haired boy shouted with a big smile.

“Yep,” Kenji nodded with a smirk, “home sweet home.”

The little village stretched out before him. From what Izuku remembered from class, it sat on the western edge of the city, on the makeshift ‘border’ between Arcadia and the Hinterlands. Back in the day when the Empire ruled most of the planet, the little hamlet of Mineral Town heralded a huge stretch of agricultural land that supported the Arcadian economy with copious crops; now, however, it was just the last gasp of Arcadian civilization before the wilderness proper began.

After passing several colorful buildings of what Izuku assumed were various farm-types -- ranches, barns, and the like -- Kenji urged the Chocobo into a stable just off the cobblestone main road, and led it into a stall. The sunset peeked through the windows of the ramshackle building, which was a little more rundown and less picturesque than the others throughout Mineral Town. As the boy with the lightning bolts in his air took Kwehtzalcoatl -- that was the male bird’s name -- and gave him a quick feeding inside the stall, Izuku sat on a crate near the stable’s door, whipping out his phone. He was greeted by a classic furious text message from Kacchan:

‘These bastards are trying to make me work at a damn chicken farm!!!!! Tarried Cock Farms or some shit. Where did the mark take you, nerd?!?!?!’

Izuku simply smiled, and opened up the box to reply. Kacchan and he had never fully gotten along, and he certainly resented the ash blonde boy for how he’d treated him over the years, but somewhere, deep down, he thought of Katsuki Bakugo as his longest friend. Kacchan would never admit it or even hint at it, but Midoriya had a feeling he didn’t altogether disagree with that assessment. After all, he’d agreed to work with him! Which meant he needed to give him this location, and fast -- but where exactly were they…

“So this is the kid you texted me about, eh?”

Izuku looked up, and what he saw made his eyes grow three sizes and almost pop out of his head. Leaning in the doorway of the stable was a, uh… man that seemed to almost be part chicken? His crimson red hair was cut in an undercut and flowed upwards almost like a rooster’s comb, and he wore a brown leather shirt with feathers adorning the neckline, cuffed light blue skinny mom jeans, striped yellow socks, and a red bandana around his neck. That wasn’t even mentioning the literal chicken tail, talons, and beak that were literally part of his anatomy.

Don’t stare, Izuku, the young private eye scolded himself, quickly trying to fix his face and look at the chicken man with only the normal amount of curiosity. He glanced over at Kenji. When did he have time to text this guy about me?

“Yeah, it’s so cool, Roose,” the young man replied, leaning against the door to Kwehtzalcoatl’s stall. He glanced over at Izuku. “This is Rooster Cockburn, my boss. You can shoot wind, right, Midoriya?”

Fuck, there’s my real name again.

“Uh, I mean, it’s more of a power type,” Izuku shrugged, not really knowing exactly why he was being so forthcoming. He supposed there was no point in trying to hide things now, but the whole situation still sent him into a tizzy of anxiety. “But, uh, it’s kinda hard to explain,” he giggled nervously, running a hand through his hair.

The chicken man, Rooster Cockburn, smiled -- or, Izuku guessed he did, the beak made it kinda hard to tell -- and stood up straight. “Well, maybe you can show us later, kid. For now, it’s party time,” he said excitedly. “You were almost late, Kenji! Come on, boys. Let’s have a celebratory drink! Tarried Cock Farms is on track to meet its profit targets for the first time in months!”

Izuku’s face went red. Tarried Cock Farms?!

He flipped open his phone as Rooster and Kenji disappeared out the door. Before making to follow them, he reopened the in-progress message he’d started a few minutes before.

‘Kacchan--!!’

Quest: A Dog Eat Dog World
Katsuki Bakugo & Izuku Midoriya
Post WC: 1649, according to Google Docs
Total WC: 9034/20000, according to GDocs

 

[King Shark]

The smell of chicken shit is a horrid, rank smell. Most folks wouldn’t even recognize the smell, either - especially city folk. Those out in the country, though? They recognize it. The further away from a city you get the more likely you are to run into some bumpkin or yokel that could pinpoint chicken manure from cow manure like an uncanny sixth sense from three towns away with their nose plugged up with tissue paper. If you got really far out there, way far away from Arcadia and into the backwoods boonies where agriculture is law, you could probably find some hicks with fewer brains than teeth that could pick out 50/50 blend chicken manure mixed with cow shit, and tell you how much it cost to season your field with it to boot.

Bakugo wasn’t that far out, but he was further out than he was comfortable with. He was at least three hours’ hard chocobo ride from the nearest coffee shop, and maybe even an hour's chocobo ride from the nearest diner - and diners were usually common occurrences once you got out into the sticks.

The farm he'd been hooked up with via the temp agency had been kind enough to provide him transportation, but not kind enough to give him a chauffeur or any kind of riding lessons. They'd also been kind enough to provide him an address and some old fashioned 'turn left at the third intersection' kind of directions but Bakugo wasn't too keen on navigating the countryside. He'd scarcely left Arcadia, in fact, and was decidedly out of his element astride a chocobo hurtling down back roads where his phone's GPS was spotty at best and downright out of service at worst. As such, despite leaving early in the morning, he'd made terrible time getting to the farm. It was late afternoon when he arrived,, and he was supposed to start in the early morning.

It wasn’t a permanent job. They’d offered him accommodations, which he hadn’t been shown to yet, and he was to stay for a week. After that week, as far as he understood it, the bulk of the excess chickens were going to auction and the need for extra farm hands would go with them.

“Ya’ gotta collect up these ‘ere eggs,” a man with a heavy beard had informed him upon arrival. “Take yer basket and git ta work.”

A basket had been thrust into his hands, while he stood and stared so paralyzed with anger that he thought he may never move again. He was disrupted from that fury when a pair of coveralls were hurled at him, landing over his head.

“Don’t ferget to change outta yer city slickin’ clothes!” the hick’s drawl had called out.

So he did. Changed right out of his city slickin’ clothes and got to work, angry vein protruding, coveralls over his well toned body, and basket in hand. He wore a button-up flannel under the coveralls as was provided, rolled up and cuffed to the upper-arm. Muck boots, too. The whole nine.

Baku was left with plenty of time to think as he stumped around in the chicken coop fishing around under hen’s asses for oblong booty treasures - to think about what had brought him here. To think about the investigation.

He hadn’t planned on staying here - Hell, he hadn’t planned on coming out to begin with, but he’d been cut out of the loop. Midoriya, glory gulping nerd, seemed to have completely cut him out! Not a single fucking text since yesterday afternoon. The second he got in with the mark the little goblin went radio silent, leaving Bakugo to steam and simmer and then eventually boil over with frothing anger. With little to do until his bookish companion got around to texting him back, he’d decided to do something proactive - take the job. After all, if Deku bungled the undercover job, and they fucked up this investigation...someone had to pay the rent on the office. He would not, could not even, move back in with his parents. It was out of the question.

Bakugo pulled his phone out of his coveralls and checked for a text with irritation for perhaps the fifty thousandth time that day - not only had he not received one, but he had no cellphone service to get a text, call, or anything! Alone in the chicken coop with the hens, he was truly isolated, and his case’s trail had gone cold. ...it was up to Deku now - big bucks or bust, with their only safety net being whatever chump change he could scrape up with this temp job.

When he finished gathering the eggs, of which there were a mind boggling amount, he dropped the basket off in the area he’d been shown before he’d been turned loose to the task. There were a few other baskets there already, leading Baku to believe that the temp agency had been a happy hunting ground for this farm to pick up low wage workers.

Not only that, but he’d scarcely had to do anything to prove who he was or anything - he’d been able to abandon his entire cockney persona at the door, and that was a real relief. No telling how many espressos he’d need from the coffee shop to keep that persona up - coffee shops that he wouldn’t have access to out here.

Wrapped up with that and without much daylight left to burn, Bakugo sought out his supervisor for next instructions, hoping they involved catching a meal somewhere. His stomach was beginning to rumble.

“Food?” the redneck asked, chuckling lowly to himself as if Katsuki had told a particularly out there joke. “Naw, son, ‘tain’t time fer food yet. Ya gotta fluff the cocks, yet!”

Baku froze, rooted to the spot. His eyes widened in horror, red irises shrunken down to pinholes - WHAT!? What had that vulgar hick just asked him to do!? The panic stricken teen looked at him one more time, taking stock of this madman - a man whose overgrown brown beard looked like it hadn’t been combed or washed in a decade, and whose coveralls were more stain than fabric. A man who whose head had lost the bulk of its hair - hair which had grown back all over his shoulders and otherwise bare chest. A man who spat tobacco with a frequency otherwise reserved for major league baseball players. ...there would be ABSOLUTELY NO cock fluffing happening here.
That’s when the man thrust a bag not unlike a doctor’s toolbag into Bakugo’s hands. He did not move, nearly paralyzed, for quite a few moments.

“Git ta work, city slicker. Ya gotta fluff Rooster’s prize winning cocks,” the aging hick commanded gruffly. He leveled a finger at a coop at the end of the aisle - an enormous affair with a door more ornate than anything Bakugo expected to see here. “Ain’t gonna fluff ‘emselves, boy.”

The relief was palpable; Bakugo felt like a ten ton weight had been dragged off his shoulders and suddenly he could breathe again. That kind of cock! He had been quite sure that...well…

The spitfire shook his head, clearly going through something, and nodded.

“Err...right,” he answered, unable to think of anything else to say. “I’ll...yeah…”

He turned and shuffled back away from the walking embodiment of chicken shit if it were a person, thanking his lucky stars again, and seeing himself into the prize winning cock coop.

If the exterior door had been breathtaking, the interior of the coop was something else entirely. The wooden walls were sanded, shellaced, and poly’d to a fine shine. It was some of the finest woodsmanship Bakugo had ever laid eyes in. The flooring, where it wasn’t covered in high quality shavings, was a fine mahogany that almost overcame the scent of chicken with its fine and earthy smell. ...almost.

But not quite.

The cocks themselves didn’t look like anything special. Katsuki Bakugo was not a cock expert by any means but he’d seen one or two on television and in specific magazines, and this hadn’t been exactly what he’d expected. They were no bigger than the cocks he’d seen before...they certainly weren’t especially impressive, either, in comparison. Altogether his experiences with these cocks was underwhelming in comparison to the coop itself - and yet he found himself ‘fluffing’ them none-the-less.

The fluffing, by definition ascertained from the bag he’d been gifted, was just a thorough grooming. Plumbing the depths of the toolbag had produced several special devices specific in their function as cock grooming tools, and though Bakugo was not very skilled, he was incredibly thorough. He left the cocks looking brighter and better tended than he’d found them, and he couldn’t help but feel as if those cocks had been satisfied by his diligent hand in a way that the average hired help would never match. Gruff though he was, he could be tender in his own way, and he’d shown that today, however unexpected the chance to do so had been.

As he was getting ready to leave, something took him by surprise and stopped him dead in his tracks. Voices filtering in through the rafters - voices that sounded like they might be coming from the next room over. The boss’ room, if he had to venture a guess, since these were his prize winning cocks. ...Rooster Cockburn, his papers had stated.

What had frozen the fiery Bakugo in place, however, was one voice in particular he’d heard trickling down from the ceiling.

“Heh, uh, yeah! I mean...do you guys just...party every night?”

...Deku’s voice. Dweebish, full of self-doubt - it ignited a fire in Bakugo, hearing it there. Way out here in the middle of nowhere, in the last place he’d expected to hear that damned voice.

“...well, it won’t be a party tonight,” came another voice, which Bakugo recognized as the voice of their mark from back in the temp agency. “Tonight is going to be something else. Something special. Tonight we’re going to show you something we’ve been working on out here...a little side project.”

Some of Baku’s rage subsided - was he overhearing Deku, against all odds, successfully infiltrate their target?

“A side project?” Midoriya asked, sounding suitably curious, and to his credit, not entirely suspicious.

The other boy laughed. “Best not to talk about it here. ...you’ll see, Green Valley.”

Green Valley?

Their voices grew further away as footsteps echoed down the aisle - Bakugo waited for them to pass out of earshot before emerging from the coop. Whatever Deku was up to, tonight he would sneak out of his quarters and crash the party - the time for infiltration was over. They’d found their mark. ...the time for blowing shit up and busting skulls was now. Tonight. And as frustrated as he’d been over the last twenty four hours, Bakugo couldn’t have been readier.

...well, maybe not. Frowning to himself, Bakugo realized that he should give it, perhaps, another day. They'd gotten this far...and Deku, much as he hated to admit it, had done a pretty damn good job at his stealth mission. Maybe he'd suffer through one more day of chores.

 

[Fennec Shand]

Trigger warning: this post contains references to implied animal abuse.

~ Earlier that morning… ~

Morning came too soon. The light of Erde Nona’s sun streamed through the window next to the bed. As Izuku’s senses came back to him, he realized he was lying… upside down? Or, well, his feet were propped up on a pillow by the headboard, and his head was peeking out from the bottom of some blankets at the foot of the bed. He blinked and wiped some drool off his face, slowly sitting up and seeing --

What the hell?!

Lightning bolts zig-zagged across the scalp of Kenji Kurosawa, their mark, the person he was supposed to be spying on and manipulating, lying in the same bed as him, snoring away as if there was nothing else to care about in the world. Kenji seemed to be lying in the proper position -- head on the pillow, feet down below -- and was a safe distance away, so Izuku didn’t really see anything to be worried about other than the fact that he didn’t recall ending up here at all.

He felt his face grow incredibly warm. This had not been a part of any plan that he and Kacchan had manufactured; not plan A, not plan B, nothing. Going to this chicken farm with Kenji in the first place had sorta been an improvisation, so Deku was pretty sure that staying the night would be extremely frowned upon by his destructive partner.

“Kacchan,” he muttered to himself, slipping the blankets off of himself as quickly and quietly as he could and rushing to the window. Admittedly, the ins-and-outs of running a farm like this wasn’t exactly Izuku’s area of expertise, but common sense told him that, just like most agricultural establishments, the workday probably began relatively early. He peeked out of the half-opened blinds, the brightness of the sun exacerbating the strange pounding in his head, and saw no sign of Kacchan -- Tarried Cock Farm’s newest worker boy -- out by the coops. Maybe he wasn’t here yet. That would be a positive development, for sure, because then he could get out of here and give the blonde some warning about the whole scenario.

...although, come to think of it, the ‘whole scenario’ strangely seemed pretty muddy in his brain. What exactly had happened the night before?

“Come on, boys!” Rooster Cockburn had said. “Let’s have a celebratory drink!”

Izuku’s jaw went slightly agape as he remembered that a celebratory drink had turned into two drinks, then three drinks, then… well, the rest was history.

“Green Valley! You’re up!”

The already pale boy went even more alabaster as he turned around to see Kenji, somehow already bright and glowing for the day even with his messy hair and rustled up t-shirt and boxer shorts, smiling at him from the bed. For a moment, Izuku tried to curl his lips into a smile, but he felt it happening. He felt something welling up, deep inside of him, something that had become all too familiar these days. His heart pounded, and his breath shook, and then the floodgates opened.

“KENJI!” Midoriya wept, tears exploding from his eyes. They cascaded down his cheeks like water from Opealon’s seas, and he threw himself down onto the bed, snatching up a pillow and hugging it close to him as he dissolved into a fit of sobs. With his eyes closed, he couldn’t see Kenji’s immediate alarm at how this situation had so quickly devolved.

Izuku felt a gentle pat on one of his shoulders, but the comfort was tepid.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve just -- ” he sniffled, trying his best to stammer out the oncoming confession but finding himself too weak. “Were we drunk?!”

Above him, he heard Kenji giggle. “Aw, oh no,” the other boy chuckled, and Izuku shot up.

“Oh no?!” he shouted, “Kenji! I’ve never been drunk before!!”

Kenji smiled a charming smile, placing the same hand that had previously patted onto Midoriya’s shoulder. “God, Green Valley, you’re such a narc,” he smirked, and Izuku went a bit rigid for a second. Was he blowing his cover by freaking out? A small pause hung in the air as he waited for Kenji to say more, as he waited to find out the depth of the boy’s suspicions. As it turned out, he worried over nothing. “Well, you did great! Only a little puking.”

“PUKING?!”

***

Much later, after Izuku had sufficiently calmed down from his minor panic attack about his first -- and, he swore to the Arbiter, only -- alcoholic escapade, he finally had a few moments to collect himself and figure out what the heck was actually going down at Tarried Cock Farms.

From what he could tell, though, this was just a… normal chicken farm?

His scattered memories of the night before were no help, but to believe Kenji’s tale, no business happened -- just pleasure. Just the two of them, Rooster, and a couple more trusted farm hands imbibing some very fruity liquids. Kenji zeroed in on the fact that Izuku had quite evaded talking about how powers whenever asked about it by any of the workers, and the green-haired power-puncher laughed it off once again.

“I don’t like to brag,” he’d shrugged, and quickly changed the subject back to the party, even though that might’ve been the subject he most wanted to avoid. “Look, I’m, uh… really sorry if I embarrassed myself last night.”

“Nah,” Kenji grinned, “you were adorable.”

“Heh, uh, yeah!” Izuku blushed. He didn’t really know how to take compliments in the first place, but the unique situation of trying to accept praise from someone who may well be an accomplice to some serious pet-related crimes stumped him even more than usual. “I mean… do you guys just… party every night?”

His emerald eyes wandered throughout the campus of the farm as Kenji chuckled once again at his words and started to answer. He’d been searching throughout the day -- during their late brunch, the tour of the farm Rooster had given after, and since, while he and Kenji explored a bit on their own -- for one Katsuki Bakugo, completely missing in action since yesterday. He’d started to feel especially nervous when he’d been reminded that his phone had been confiscated last night, before the party, for ‘anti-corporate espionage’ reasons.

So Kacchan hadn’t been able to get in touch with him since last night to figure out what was going on, and the only message he’d managed to get out was, uh… not exactly ideal: ‘Kacchan!’

Arbiter help him, he could only imagine just how furious his already-reluctant business partner was going to be when they finally reunited.

The words ‘side project’ reached his ears almost as loudly as Kacchan’s explosions always did, and he perked up a bit.

“You’ll see, Green Valley,” Kenji assured him. “We can probably head that way now.”

That way?

Kenji led the way to a large barn on the outskirts of the property. It towered above them -- Izuku especially, given how short he was -- and the boy with lightning bolts shaved into his hair turned toward the green-haired boy with a furtive glance.

“So listen,” he started, seeming suddenly nervous. Izuku shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts, attempting to hide his own fidgeting; he’d been especially on guard not to show any ‘narc’ behavior since Kenji’s offhand comment earlier. “This shit in here? This shit’s top secret, okay? Rooster’s only letting you in because of my recs, and I, like… can’t mess that up. So don’t mess that shit up for me, okay, Green Valley?”

For the first time since the morning, Kenji looked up and fully met Izuku’s gaze. Midoriya had been avoiding eye contact for the majority of the afternoon, finding himself fumbling through this extended undercover mission more than he was comfortable with, but looking into the other boy’s eyes now he saw something that resembled… desperation. He blinked a little, and, against his better judgment, felt his expression droop a little bit. Something about this whole situation suddenly sent his stomach into knots.

“...are you okay, Kenji?”

The question wasn’t wise. Kacchan would’ve deliberately pushed him not to ask, not to pry further into their mark’s life. Looking like too much of a good guy might blow this whole thing for both of them, might blow this whole thing for Mrs. Flanders and Ms. Hirogame and doom Smokey and Popkin to a sad life of… well, whatever these pet-nappers were up to with them.

But he couldn’t stand by and see someone’s face scrunch up like Kenji’s was right now and not offer him a hand. He looked… he looked like he needed…

“It’s nothing,” Crew Cut gulped, averting his eyes. Which meant that, of course, it was something, and so once again, Deku plowed ahead.

“Are you in trouble?” he asked, and for just a second he thought he caught a glimpse of a tear in the corner of Kenji’s eye.

“I’m -- ” the boy started, looking like he was maybe going to avoid the subject entirely, then he continued, “Rooster’s just. He’s helping me out. So I owe him. Just drop it, okay?”

Izuku’s chin fell, and he knew that was the end of that quest line, for the moment. He’d drop it, then, like he was asked, but there was more to Kenji’s story, and that meant that a new goal had solidified itself in his mind. He was no longer here just to rescue Smokey and Popkin and get them back to their moms.

I’ll save you, too, Kenji.

“Ah, Kenji, perfect timing!”

The two boys looked over to see Rooster crossing the pasture toward the barn, a taloned hand up in the air waving. Two of the workers they’d partied with the night before followed him, dragging someone along with them…

Izuku froze. Kacchan?!

Katsuki Bakugo struggled, as Katsuki Bakugo often did, against the hold of the two farm workers, but they seemed, for the moment, to have subdued them. His red eyes were lit up with fury, but strangely, his hands weren’t sparking at all. Deku’s head tilted to the side a little bit; Kacchan could’ve escaped these guys easily with his Quirk, if he’d wanted to. So why wasn’t he blowing them to smithereens? Maybe he’d decided that he was going to play it cool for once, for the good of the mission?

“TELL THESE BASTARDS TO LET ME GO OR I’LL KILL YOU,” the spiky-haired boy shouted, and Izuku’s face drooped a little bit. He supposed playing it completely cool would just be too much to ask.

“Let’s get into the arena,” Rooster ignored Bakugo’s threats, “I think maybe we can have some entertainment before we set little Popkin loose.”

Izuku blinked. Popkin!

The barn door swung open behind him, Kenji pushing through and leading the way in. Izuku turned tentatively and followed the brown-haired boy in, looking around in awe as he found himself inside a structure that, other than its exterior, wouldn’t have seemed like a barn at all. The walls were lined with cages, animals and creatures of all sorts imprisoned inside of them. Some seemed altogether too big for the crates, literally stuffed inside, and the green-haired boy averted his eyes to the ground, not bearing to look. So this was where they kept them, then.

Spilling out in front of him was what looked to be an arena, surrounded -- underneath the cages -- with bleachers where, Izuku supposed, the spectators would watch the animals… fight one another. He stifled more puke in his throat. This whole operation had just turned from unfortunate to absolutely disgusting.

Kenji led him to some bleachers on the opposite side of the room, but just as he was about to sit down, Rooster called out to him.

“Midoriya,” the chicken man shouted, “I’ve been eager to see what that power of yours can do. How do you feel about showing off a little now?”

Deku spun around, his face scrunching up in anger. What did this guy want him to do, hurt some sort of animal? He wouldn’t do that. He was about to open his mouth to speak his mind, blow the whole mission, when he noticed where Rooster Cockburn’s taloned claw was gesturing. No, no, this guy didn’t want him to hurt any animals at all. Not yet, anyway. He wanted him to hurt… Kacchan.

Katsuki Bakugo sat on his knees in the middle of the arena, held down by Rooster’s two enforcers, as the mastermind behind the whole pet-fighting ring explained. “See, I’ve been looking for a new enforcer and if you’ve got power like you say you do, you may be the perfect candidate,” he shrugged, “but of course, I’d like to see a demonstration before I make an investment. So I want you to teach this punk a lesson. We caught him slacking off, eavesdropping on you two talking instead of doing his work, and then, well… you saw how much of a nightmare he was to rein in.”

Izuku stepped forward. “You want me to hurt Ka -- this guy?”

Cockburn smirked. “Think of it as your interview.”

Deku’s eyes turned to Kacchan. He cracked his neck, stepping into the ring. He wasn’t about to beat his partner up for this guy’s entertainment, right?

But something about the look in Kacchan’s eyes was giving him… permission?

He shrugged off his hoodie and fluffed up his t-shirt a little, tossing the jacket back to Kenji. He glanced up toward Rooster. “At least let him try and fight back,” the formerly-Quirkless boy smirked, and the chicken man nodded to his enforcers, who immediately released Bakugo. Katsuki stood, glaring at Izuku with a scowl.

Deku’s fingers curled into fists, and his left foot slid out from underneath him, his red sneaker grazing the ground as he dropped into a fighting stance. Green sparks startled to flicker and swirl around his lithe, toned body.

One for All, full cowling… five percent!

Quest: A Dog Eat Dog World
Katsuki Bakugo & Izuku Midoriya
Post WC: 2321 words, according to Google Docs
Quest WC: 13222/20000, according to GDocs

 

[King Shark]

Bakugo hunkered low to the ground like a cornered animal, legs spread, arms laced akimbo out in front of his chest with his off-hand held a little lower than his dominant one. Those hands were unfurled and sweaty, and the scent was sickly sweet in fiery Baku’s own nostrils. It was a scent he was used to, one of burnt sugar from the nitroglycerin emitted, and it triggered muscle memory in him.

Instinctually, his breathing slowed and his entire body readied itself for combat.

All around him was sensory overload: animals in their cages, snarling, whimpering, and begging; the boss man’s flunkies jeering, and the head honcho himself doing the same. It all disgusted him.

When he made eye contact with Deku, also ready and steady in his stance, he could see something in the do-gooder’s pupils: a shared discomfort. Though they were on opposite sides of this scenario they both carried the torch of the hero, and it was this torch that separated them from the common man’s grey morality. No hero could feel comfortable in the presence of helpless individuals whether they be man, beast, or anything in between.

For his own part, Bakugo’s flinty gaze held something intangibly permissive. This fight, if nothing else about this scenario, was okay. In this situation there could be nothing more natural than expressing their frustration in their most competent and comforting medium - combat. Where Deku and Baku fell short as individuals, and as friends, they met somewhere in the battleground’s no man’s land that served as the only place they could communicate comfortably.

Katsuki burst forward in a rush that lasted the space of a short breath. His arms, extended behind him, culminated in his palms that shot out a jetstream of controlled explosion which acted as a propulsion mechanism. It took him the span of a breath to reach Deku, but he knew that wasn’t quick enough. Deku was fast. As fast as anyone Bakugo had fought. In the last instant, the hot-head twisted and contorted in the air in a jack-knife that carried him up over his opponent’s head; then he threw his arm straight down towards Izuku Midoriya’s head and detonated his volatile sweat.

The explosion rocked the area. Katsuki himself was hurled straight up into the air, completely vertical, where he looked straight down towards the ground. There was only smoke to be seen where he’d let his explosion quirk erupt...then a flash of movement off to the side. Bakugo snapped his gaze off to the side of the cloud of smoke and spotted a crackling Midoriya there, face deadly serious, with his gaze already up in the air locked on target. ...Baku smirked, meeting eyes with his rival.

“Deku,” he growled, so that only he could hear himself, his voice guttural.

He fell a short distance - gravity catches up to us all eventually - and then abruptly pivoted in the air to right his trajectory. He pointed his arms ninety degrees down and corrected himself by sending a stream of controlled micro-detonations groundward. In this way, Bakugo hovered, glowering at his opponent.

It was at that moment that he realized that there were others present - he’d forgotten about the spectators entirely. He had, in fact, forgotten about the mission and the agency and even their expulsion in the sixty seconds it had taken to unleash an attack on his business partner. ...everything snapped back to reality when he heard the whoops and cheers from the chicken boss and his flunkies. The noise prompted a snarl, and then a spit from the firecracker.

He gently rotated until he was pointed at his opponent, head inclining to maintain line of sight, then he suddenly shot forward in an explosion of speed. He could see Deku getting closer...closer...closer...CLOSER!

Then Midoriya was gone. Bakugo’s eyes widened, suddenly, and he flipped about so that his feet collided hard with the wooden hay strewn floor beneath him. A hard thump announced his impact while he frantically threw his gaze to and fro - he could see flunkies, animals, and everything around him excepting that damned nerd. ...not good.

Right before the thumping he knew was going to come his way, Bakugo threw his hands above his head and forced a detonation from each hand - not a large one, however. Mostly cosmetic detonations. These weren’t for combative effect, rather, they were meant to deploy a smokescreen. As the thick and acrid plumes of smoke enveloped him and coated the world around him in their oily smudge strewn enclosure, Bakugo smirked. Even Deku couldn’t find him here.

And yet…

Somehow, he did. Katsuki Bakugo’s world was rocked and he felt his gut practically cave in as the entire horizontal concussive force of his rival’s leg jackhammered him from out of the concealment. Before his head swung back, Baku caught a brief glimpse of the satisfaction on Midoriya’s face. ...then he was shooting through the air against his volition.

In a hasty, uncharacteristically messy attempt to slow the line drive that was his body’s trajectory, Bakugo thrust his arms above his head, where he assumed they would be best utilized to minimize the impact.

“DAMNIT!” he bellowed, primal rage erupting from his throat.

The roar was concurrent with two more concussive blasts. The detonations were so loud they even startled Bakugo himself, and for an instant he felt himself go zero gravity from the sudden slingshot of moving rapidly one direction, and then being flung in the opposite one just as ferociously.

When he opened his eyes again he was picking himself up off of the ground, ears ringing. At first everything was a shrill mosquito whine - propped on one elbow, Bakugo dug a finger into his right ear, and then the same finger into his left. It didn’t help. He popped his jaw to try and force some of the world’s sounds back into his head...they trickled in, but at their own leisure.

First he heard the low din of a small but clamoring crowd - their shouts, their whoops, and their cheers. Second, the sound of the desperate animals filtered in. His attacks and even his defenses had sent them into a frenzy. Empathetic, he shot a desperate glance towards the nearest cage which held a miserable looking poodle. ...Popkin, maybe.

Looking up at Midoriya, Bakugo spat out some nasty gunk filled with hay chaff, dust, and spittle. Deku simply stood several yards out, crackling with power, and looking undaunted.

When Katsuki Bakugo stood, he felt some fatigue in his forearms. ...but he didn’t feel tired. Not by a long shot.

His most recent explosion had blown a hole in the wall behind him.

Clambering slowly to his feet, Bakugo shook off some wooden debris and barn soot, then paced out several paces to the outdoors beyond the barn where no animals may fall victim to the all out brawl he hoped would ensue.

 

[Fennec Shand]

BANG!

The unmistakable sound of a gunshot rang out. From the ground, pinned beneath Kacchan’s stick sword, a five-year-old Izuku Midoriya’s eyes shot alarmingly in the direction of the noise. Katsuki, too, whipped his head toward the loud bang, immediately releasing Deku from his hold and plunging into the trees nearby, sprinting at breakneck speed towards the source.

“Kacchan, wait!” young Midoriya squeaked out, scrambling to his feet and following his best friend as fast as he could. This little tuft of forest sat a short walk away from their little Arcadian suburb, and had become something of a stomping ground for the boys and their usual crew. It was much too close to their neighborhood, though, for gunshots to be a normal sound; Izuku was pretty darn sure hunting wasn’t allowed in this neck of the woods, and certainly anything more violent would’ve been a big no-no.

That being said, the sound of a gunshot also undoubtedly meant danger, and watching Kacchan run headlong into it wasn’t something little Izuku could abide, either.

The next time he saw Katsuki, the ash-blonde boy was standing at the edge of another clearing, feet shoulder with apart, palms splayed open with sparks flying out from them. Wow, by the Arbiter, Kacchan’s Quirk was so cool; Deku could only dream of having something that awesome someday.

Across the clearing, someone in hunting clothes -- Izuku could tell by the bright orange vest -- stood with a big, long gun resting on their shoulder. They were scowling at Kacchan; adults didn’t often do that. Most of them time, they praised him, smiled at just how talented he was. Izuku understood; he was talented. He deserved the praise.

“You aren’t supposed to be hunting here, jerk!” Katsuki yelled. His voice was shaking, but just barely -- Izuku could only tell because he knew young Bakugo so well. Otherwise, he seemed the picture of confidence, even at five years old.

The hunter scoffed, and turned, disappearing into shadows of the woods. Once he was gone, Katsuki ran towards the center of the clearing, and when he kneeled down, Izuku spotted the mangled form of a baby Chocobo heaving on the ground. He burst forth from the tree line.

“Kacchan!” he called out, sliding to his knees next to his friend. “What do we do?!”

Katsuki’s mouth had twisted into a frown. They both stared at the gunshot wound in the chocobo’s side, spurting up blood. Kacchan’s hand, still sparking, approached the Chocobo’s ribs.

“Kacchan, no!” Deku begged, lunging to put himself between the violent boy and the bird. Katsuki’s other hand swatted, knocking little Izuku out of the way, and as he rolled through the grass, he saw little flames erupt from the other boy’s fingertips and fly onto the body of the struggling bird. Tears welled up in his eyes, as if they hadn’t been on the brink before.

When the smoke cleared, though, the little bird remained there, and alive. And there was… no more blood.

“Heat makes an ouchie cauterizzle,” Kacchan muttered.

Izuku’s eyes went wide, and suddenly the contempt and fear in his stomach transformed into admiration. Katsuki was trying to save the little bird.

Kacchan’s head whipped toward the green-haired. “You’re so dumb, Izuku,” he mocked. “Now help me carry him so we can get him some help!”

***

The wind whipped around Izuku Midoriya’s bare thighs as he stepped into the open air of the pasture behind the barn. Blades of grass as green as his hair tickled his ankles as he lowered himself back into a fighting stance, eyes locked on Katsuki Bakugo just meters in front of him.

Why had they entertained this ruse for so long? At this point, Izuku knew, the easiest course of action would be to turn their collective might onto Rooster and the rest of his crew. They’d have the element of surprise, after playing along for a moment, and although he wasn’t yet sure what exactly Rooster or his minions were capable of, he was pretty positive that between One for All and Bakugo’s Explosion Quirk, they’d be able to handle themselves in a fight against a bunch of country bumpkins.

For just a moment, Midoriya’s eyes tracked Kenji as he followed the big boss out of the hole in the barn wall and got a better vantage point. This shifted focus was a mistake.

BOOM!

His eyes returned to Kacchan just in time to see the ash blonde boy’s hand materialize inches from his face and let off an impressively concussive blast. He flew backwards, slamming into the barn wall and sliding down onto his ass. He blinked his eyes open, but they’d already started to water from the combination of the intense heat and the smoke that had filled them up when he’d been blasted. A few meters ahead of him, he saw the hunched over form of Kacchan laughing, and even through the blur, he could see his rival’s head lift up and smirk at him.

Ugh, he thought, you can be so infuriating!

Kacchan set off again, not allowing Deku much time to breathe. His feet clopped through the muddy grass as Izuku leapt up, barely dodging a blast that charred the barn’s crimson paint job. Letting out a loud, warlike shout, Izuku brought his leg up and slammed it into Katsuki’s side, smacking the other boy into the wall with a resounding thud.

Bakugo’s hands pressed against the wall and he pushed himself backwards into his opponent, knocking them both to the ground. Before the blonde boy landed atop Deku, though, his hands twisted and he backflipped over the now prone form of his opponent. Izuku pushed himself up to his knees but Bakugo’s nitroglycerin sweat was already exploding forth towards him, so he did the only thing he could do: he crossed his arms in front of his face and let them take the brunt of the blast.

Luckily, he seemed to hold off most of his rival’s force; the skin on his arms felt a little singed, but overall, the blast seemed to have been… weaker than before?

Deku opened his eyes and started to lower his arms, but then he saw him: the sadistic smile of his friend-turned-enemy-turned-whatever they were now, passionate eyes twitching as one of Kacchan’s hands scooped up a clump of his shirt. He yanked Deku up into the air above him, arching him through the air in what felt, to Izuku, like slow motion. As he passed over young Bakugo’s head, the green-haired boy felt the heat of Kacchan’s sweat rising in his hand, and before he could do anything about it, flames burst forth from the fist grasping his t-shirt. Most of the cloth incinerated as the shorter boy went spinning through the air before finally slamming to the ground a few meters away.

Struggling to catch his breath, Izuku pushed himself up. The tattered remains of his t-shirt fell off of his body and he gritted his teeth, willing five percent of One for All’s power to flow through his veins once again. The sounds of sparkling emerald energy were almost swallowed up by the tenor of Katsuki Bakugo’s truly insane laugh.

The two boys, locked forever in this combative dance even when they were ostensibly working together, met eyes.

The truth? This was where Izuku and Katsuki felt most at home in each other’s company; where they felt most comfortable. Of course they both had a job to do, but wasn’t this part of it? Wasn’t keeping each other honest, holding each other accountable, pushing each other to their true potential an essential duty along their journey to becoming heroes?

Neither of them could afford to get complacent -- and each knew the other would make sure he never did.

Izuku reached up and wiped a little bit of blood from his lip, then lifted his fists up.

“One more round?” he asked. The farm workers’ expressions went a bit puzzled, but the young hero barely noticed.

“Heh,” Kacchan smirked. “You asked for it.”

Quest: A Dog Eat Dog World
Katsuki Bakugo, Izuku Midoriya
Post WC: 1342, according to Google Docs
Total WC: 15718/20000, according to GDocs

 

[King Shark]

They stood several yards apart, eyes locked. Though the gap between them might’ve seemed a gulf to a normal pair of combatants, to the two of them it was uncomfortably close. Both Katsuki and Izuku knew they were capable of closing the distance in the span of a breath. In hand to hand combat a fight could go either way: Bakugo’s innate skill allowed him nearly equal footing with his rival, Midoriya, whose quirk was so lofty in its desirability that it put him in a tier usually reserved for far more experienced heroes. Despite their youth and lack of seasoning; these two fighters had an aptitude that most Quirk users would give an arm for.

With his ruby eyes still trained on Midoriya’s emerald ones; Bakugo splayed his fingers and played his hand - quite literally - by propelling a concussive blast directly into the barn floor. As expected, the floor erupted underneath his feet and sent him careening through the air.

Chaff, dust, and miscellaneous barn debris consumed the air in a cloud that swallowed up the light and replaced it with a stifling shroud. Through this shroud the silhouette of Bakugo tucked itself into a cannonball, though he unfurled quietly upon approaching the ground where he landed, catlike, and hunkered down low. He’d created the barn equivalent of a smokescreen, and by doing so had provided himself a certain degree of cover. It wasn’t a perfect veil, of course - one could still see a body approaching from a few feet in front of them - but what he’d done is create a discreet advantage.

An advantage that had little effect on Midoriya, however, who did not produce the ruckus that the farm hands and various henchmen nearby did.

It was distinct in his mind that if they had coordinated even a little before this, that the two of them could quickly dispatch most if not all of the henchmen under the guise of this distraction.

But they hadn’t.

Instead, Katsuki slunk across the ground stealthily until he found cover: an enormous loose pile of hay near the western wall of the barn. Cursing the itchiness of it, the fiery prodigy stashed himself in the pile and waited.

It wasn’t long before the diversion he created curtailed as the dust began to settle. There were dry coughs all around, and many frustrated shouts, but nobody seemed to have seen him conceal himself. Bakugo grinned widely from his hiding spot.

Midoriya, for his part, did not look panicked. The look on his face was that same look that always ignited an irritation in Katsuki Bakugo: studious, thoughtful, and calculating. Though he was incapable of diagnosing exactly what it was he was feeling, the look inspired fear in the fiery teen. Fear for the underdog. Naturally talented and with a life of praise at his back, Bakugo simply could not understand how a nobody like Midoriya could go from being such a useless twerp to wielding such a mighty power so proficiently. And beyond even the power, he wielded his intelligence yet deadlier still. That same intelligence was probably mentally leafing through that heroes’ guide, which Midoriya had spent so long cataloguing the greatest powers of their age within, and utilizing his uncanny memory to try and puzzle through Bakugo’s strategy.

Suddenly, Bakugo shot from the ground like a sprinter, and leapt behind Miziku’s green glad back. Silent but vengeful, he surged forward towards Midoriya’s neck, spun, and delivered a deadly elbow strike. Midoriya wasn’t one to be caught off guard, though, and he was quick as well. Too quick. He’d already gotten up a forearm to counter Bakugo’s strike though it wasn’t without consequence; Katsuki could feel his elbow lay into Midoriya’s forearm muscle with devastating precision and the look on his rival’s face betrayed the pain from the strike. Eyes wide, delighted, and unnerving, Bakugo barked out a haunting laugh.

“Deku,” he chided, tsking reproachfully. “I’ll kill you if you’re not faster than that.”

Something in the young firecracker rose to his own bait - he felt hungry for the win, and merciless in his desire to acquire it. Following up on his move he bucked left, ducked a streak of green too quick to follow out of sheer luck, or maybe instinct, and then pitched a vicious uppercut at Deku’s armpit.

Only there wasn’t anything there anymore. Almost imperceptibly, or maybe it was a trick of the light, Deku had shifted mere inches and as a result the uppercut caught air. Roaring in frustration, Katsuki opened up his closed fist, shifted it to his target, and fired. The blast was bigger than he’d expected it to be - in his haste and anger he’d lost some control. The sound was deafening, and the kickback caused Bakugo to literally slide nearly a foot backward. Heels dug in, he smirked like the devil himself.

“Fucking nerd,” he growled, waiting for the dust to clear so he could put eyes on his fallen foe.

...but there was nothing there. Again. His rage flared and Bakugo almost started firing blasts all about him: he wanted to, and he could. But not without exhaustive consequence. So he didn’t. His combat adrenaline wasn’t enough to override his natural instinct.

Instead he leapt straight up, angled his palms down and at a forty five degree angle, and used a controlled blast to push himself up in a graceful up-and-over mid air somersault that carried him over the sound of Izuku punching the air where he’d been just moments before. Predictable.

But halfway through his trajectory, Bakugo felt a powerful blow connect with the small of his back - Deku had seen what he was going to do, two moves ahead, and countered. With the force of his opponent’s leg as the catalyst Katsuki found himself flying straight towards the roof of the barn faster than he would’ve assumed possible. He tried to right the ship before colliding with the ceiling and nearly succeeded but wasn’t quite there. His body met wood and then burst clean through, actually breaching the roof and soaring into the night sky above.

It was impressively painful, which only served only to further agitate Bakugo. His body screamed in protestation, but there was nobody listening.

Katsuki straightened himself like a diver at the height of his ascension, curled downward, then began a downward facing plummet. His arms snapped to his sides. He gritted his teeth and locked his eyes dead on Midoriya until everything else was shut out, then he propulsed himself with a massive blast from each hand that sent a literal shockwave behind him. Suddenly he was a projectile that shot back through the roof punching another hole much larger than the first. Midoriya looked concerned, and then downright alarmed.

“KACCHAN!” he yelled.

Bakugo put one hand out in front of him, having cleared the distance from the ceiling to Midoriya in a second, and with a large portion of whatever was left in his tank; Katsuki Bakugo found the strength to explode out in front of him. It felt almost orgasmic to release so much power, and mere inches from Midoriya’s face. The tail end of his nerdy rival’s cry co-mingled with his own powerful yell until the two sounds became one with the deafening eruption of flame, splintering of wood, and startling rush of air.

For a minute it all rushed through Baku’s head. Deku finding him in the creek, where he’d fallen, asking him if he was okay. Moving onto UA where he’d thought he’d be amongst his peers, powerful people, finally...only to find the insolent little Izuku nipping at his heels, treading water in his wake. He’d been a big shark in a small pond, before. ...was Deku an even bigger shark? The thought was terrifying, in a way. He valued strength. Deku represented something else, to him. Something he wasn’t ready to confront the idea of, yet. He wasn’t sure what it was.

And he was pretty sure he might’ve just killed it. That thought, too, created a sort of panic that rushed him after the triumph. Bakugo wasn’t sure what had happened in the last few seconds after the blast. ...his ears rang, and the world seemed blurry and hazy around him. His entire body was numb, too. Despite that he somehow picked it up off the ground and tried to look around, but he couldn’t hear anything.

Then, slowly, sound began to trickle back in, and the barn began to swim into focus.

 

[Fennec Shand]

“KACCHAN!”

He shouted the lingering childhood nickname louder than he’d intended, the final sounds of it swallowed up by the sheer magnitude of his rival’s explosive blast. The concussive force sent him flying into a backwards somersault, twisting his charred and burned body around and around until, at last, he slumped prone against the hay-ridden floor of the barn.

They’d tussled in here, they’d tussled outside, and then their battle -- quickly growing a mind of its own -- had brought them back inside the huge structure. Around them, imprisoned animals chirped and woofed and meowed, their native sounds forming a chorus on top of the loud ringing now omnipresent in Izuku’s ears. Bakugo’s shoulders heaved up and down, his face contorted into that same twisted look he always got when he’d been pushed a breath too far. He doubted Kacchan could yet see him, splayed across the ground beneath a blanket of smoke and dust, but he could see Kacchan.

And he could feel what Kacchan had done to him. His muscles ached, and his skin burned with searing pain. As he began to push himself up, he placed his fingers over a few of the fresh wounds his would-be partner had inflicted. Without a shirt on, the pink burns were clearly visible on his pale, toned chest, glimmering ever so slightly in the lantern light as if some of Kacchan’s embers still danced atop them.

Katsuki Bakugo was still so much stronger than he was. He could feel it in every piece of burnt skin he touched, in every sore twinge he felt in his joints when he moved to stand. The ash blonde boy was the victor of this fight; they didn’t have to finish it for Izuku to know that much. Then again, he’d probably always known it -- they’d clashed before, and Kacchan never failed to best him. In games of intelligence, it was a closer match, but when tracking sheer power, Katsuki Bakugo was always on top, and part of Deku expected that to be the case for the rest of their damn lives. He gritted his teeth and felt his face tremble as tears welled up in his eyes. He stared at the ground, holding a blackened forearm in front of him and weakly brushing off some soot. He’d tried so hard, worked so tirelessly to improve, but he could still only use One for All at five percent - and what was that to Kacchan’s one hundred percent explosive might?

Especially since the nitroglycerin-fueled boy never rested on his laurels, either. If Deku took one step forward, Kacchan made sure he took one and a half. It frustrated the green-haired boy to no end, but also…

Dammit, that was why he admired Kacchan so much!

His eyes snapped up to face Bakugo, and a red sneaker glid across the ground once more as he prepared to rush his opponent again through the haze of dust and ash. Maybe, just maybe, if he could catch Kacchan by surprise --

Pinch!

Talon-like fingers squeezed on one of the pressure points between his shoulder and his neck, and he crumpled to the floor with a swift, weak gasp. His face, still burning from Kacchan’s attack, crashed into the ground and was quickly stomped on by one of Rooster Cockburn’s chicken feet. The man’s long digits swam in Izuku’s mess of green hair, and he could hear the boss man ‘tsk’-ing above him as he struggled once again to regain his faculties.

As the dust and ash finally began to clear, he saw Kacchan’s face go from steeled and determined to… worried? The ash blonde betrayed little emotion, but Deku had known him for a long time, and he could tell when the boy’s brow crinkled with anxiety; now was one of those times.

“Tell me, Midoriya,” Cockburn drawled, “who exactly is Kacchan?”

“I -- ” he started, but whatever the young boy was going to say was interrupted by a swift stomp on the back of his head. His nose dug deeper into the dirt, and all of a sudden he felt this ship decidedly slipping away from them.

“Don’t tell me you and this delinquent here know each other?” the chicken man sneered. “And that you didn’t inform me of that. ‘Cause that’d be like… well, that’d be like lying, little doggy.”

Little doggy. Izuku’s eyes widened as he thought of why they were here: save the stolen animals. How could he just give up like this?

If I can’t stop someone like this ridiculous guy, how can I call myself a hero?!

His gaze met Kacchan’s, red eyes and green coalescing at once. Katsuki Bakugo knew what was coming, and for once, the spitfire seemed to encourage Deku to exercise… caution?

“Deku,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head ever so slightly.

Izuku didn’t listen.

His palms hit the ground, hard, and he pushed his whole body up, launching a leg straight into Rooster Cockburn’s crotch. The kick sent the chicken man stumbling backwards, going concave as he reached for his groin and groaned something unintelligible mixed with some truly insane ‘bawk bawk’ noises. Midoriya rolled forward, leaping to his feet and sliding to Bakugo’s side and down into a fighting stance.

“Great job, you pissed him off, Deku,” Kacchan scowled.

“He was already pretty angry at you, Kacchan,” Midoriya shrugged.

“Shut up, ya damn nerd.”

Rooster looked up, and snapped his talon-like fingers. His small but mighty-looking contingency of guards -- a hurt, betrayed-looking Kenji included -- filed in behind him, facing off against the pair of fifteen-year-old boys that had dared to come to their place of work and cross them. “Why the fuck are you loser kids even here, huh?”

“You’re hurting these animals!” Deku shouted, his voice dripping with heroic melodrama like normal, “and we’re going to stop you and save them!”

Rooster rolled his eyes. “I’d like to see you try,” the chicken man growled before lunging forward into a sprint. As a blur of red, white, and yellow dashed toward them, Izuku side-stepped to the left.

“Kacchan, go right!”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

But Kacchan obeyed, and Rooster Cockburn sprinted past the pair, his talons passing inches from both of the boys’ faces. Deku glanced back at his crew, watching as Kenji and the thugs, too, set off in their direction.

So the fight was on.

Quest: A Dog Eat Dog World
Katsuki Bakugo & Izuku Midoriya
Post WC: 1063 (according to Google Docs)
Total WC: 18198/20000 (according to GDocs)

 

[King Shark]

“He’s fast,” Bakugo noted, his combat-crazed expression temporarily overtaken by a mask of surprise. “I’d assumed he was just a weird looking jackass!”

Rooster Cockburn - whose talons had narrowly missed both Deku and Baku with a dashing dual swipe - piroutted with unexpected grace and then planted both feet so that he was facing the duo. Upon the move’s conclusion he showboated; his crested chest puffed out, his talon adorned hands flexed menacingly, and he scraped against the disheveled barn floor like the rooster that was his namesake. The display, though it should have seemed ridiculous, seemed inherently natural to the young man and Bakugo was begrudgingly impressed despite himself. Something about Cockburn’s movements carried a trained finesse; whatever he’d done in his past, there was a reason he was the boss of all these thugs.

From behind came the thundering footfall of a platoon of thugs. Deku and Bakugo instinctively slid back to back. Oddly unified when they had a mind to be despite their misgivings with one another, the two used their coupled vantage to scope out the gang at large. The gang in question moved in pairs of two, and there were three such pairs that swarmed with the efficiency of hunting dogs. Despite their ludicrous appearances individually, their movements gave off the distinct impression of a drilled unit and Katsuki for his part was suitably regretful for having underestimated his opponents.

Taking stock of himself in an instant, the explosion wielding hero found himself to be exhausted. Not just a regular exhaustion, either; he was bone-tired the way one might be when they finally crested their doorway after an extensive hike, and were ready to sink into an armchair. But this much was certain: respite was not close at hand.

Chaos broke out.

The thugs descended in waves - the first wave of two flanked the back-to-back duo of BakuDeku, only to find themselves repulsed by the heroes’ unified fronts. Bakugo dispatched the large grunt in front of him with a swift but tired kick to the fellow’s knee which gave way with a satisfying crunch and a subsequent scream of pain, which was like ASMR to the brutish teen. On his other side he heard a yelp of pain from Deku’s opponent, as well, and the potato sack thud of a body slumping limp onto the barn’s floor.

They broke from one another, then, without word. The ashen form of soot covered Baku moved swiftly and with militant purpose towards one of the two remaining duos; one of them was a small but sinister looking girl close to his own age and adorned with a shock of red hair, and the other was a bald giant of a man who would’ve looked more natural in a police lineup than out on a countryside farm. If the pair were unnerved by Bakugo’s proud posture, however, they betrayed no sign of it and shifted into combat stances.

The mountain of a man charged Bakugo with speed both surprising and alarming. When the young hero stepped under the man’s outstretched arm and went to deliver an uppercut he found himself stopped short: his wrist had been seized by the nimble hand of the sinister looking girl. Shooting her a sneer, Bakugo flung a leg in her direction only to find that limb, as well, snagged in the air by her off-hand. ...he hadn’t even seen her move! His expression grew outright belligerent, and he snarled right in her face.

“I’ll fucking kill you, you little-”

His insult never concluded. A massive ham of a fist hammered him in the temple while he was distracted, breaking the grip the agile girl had contained him with and sending him skittering across the floor like a skipping stone. When he came to rest, Bakugo took a few trained breaths to steady himself and then rose to a full stand.

He’d drained the tank significantly with his fight against Deku - Deku, whom, even now he could hear laboring against the last pair - and there was a finite limit on how many more explosions he could muster. Two, maybe three, tops. ...one for these two...and then one for Rooster, who despite his impressive display earlier was now hanging back in observance of the bout like a proper lieutenant.

Then one last one for Deku to kick his ass for getting them into this mess. Sure, they’d both taken the job, but somehow this farm ordeal was his fault. ...nerd.

Amidst the chorus of desperate barks, meows, chirps, and other animal sounds championing his cause, Bakugo found the strength to push himself forward. He broke into a dead sprint, powerslid his way right underneath the huge man, and performed an almost break-dance like pop-up to face both of his opponent’s at once. Arm outstretched, expression smug, Bakugo poured some of the last vestiges of his power into the open maw of his hand which crackled with angry pops and hisses; then, the explosion tore forth and tore the air asunder.

He could hear their screams over the dynamic ‘boom’, but he paid them no mind.’

His attention was already on the big boss: Rooster Cockburn...though, he wasn’t really very big. The chicken man stood, not so tall, but resplendent with his plumage and oddly styled hair. Katsuki thought that he must seem ridiculous to most, and even to firecracker himself prior to the display of Cockburn’s efficacy in combat. Now, however, he cut an impressive figure contrasted against the swatch of destruction marking the greater battle BakuDeku had consumed this place with.

They stood there, Cockburn and Bakugo, each with their arms crossed. Deku’s fight was due for a conclusion any moment, after all. And then...the battle with the boss.

Quest: A Dog Eat Dog World
Katsuki Bakugo & Izuku Midoriya
Post WC: 957 (according to Google Docs)
Total WC: 19155/20000 (according to GDocs)

 

[Fennec Shand]

As Bakugo fought with his pair of thugs, Izuku Midoriya found himself quite at the mercy of two others.

Kenji’s hand wrapped around his throat, squeezing tightly. Somewhere in the confusion, the boy with the lightning bolt in his hair got the jump on the emerald-haired boy and pinned him against a wall. Izuku had seen flashes of the darkness within their mark earlier, but this level of anger was a whole new level.

“Ken… ji…”

“Shut up, Green Valley,” the other boy hissed. “Do you realize how much fucking trouble you’ve gotten me in? I’ve gotta -- I’ve gotta be the one to take you out, you’re messing with my fucking life, man.”

Izuku’s eyes watered, both from the lack of oxygen flowing through him and, quite in character for him, with actual tears. The details of Kenji’s struggles weren’t known to him, and to be honest, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to know. The pain behind his mask, though; that was real, and that was all too visible. Deku thought, as he struggled against Kenji’s grip, that maybe there were more criminals like this boy than he thought. Maybe, just maybe, not everyone was as pure evil as Rooster Cockburn. Maybe villains didn’t always need to be mustache-twirling evildoers; maybe they could be regular, desperate people, too.

He knew he shouldn’t want to help the person currently choking the life out of him, but to be honest, he couldn’t help it. That was what a hero’s job was all about, right? Meddling in places where you don’t necessarily have to? He knew that Kenji might not be able to see, now, just how much he was going to eventually regret whatever abuse and atrocities he and Rooster and the other goons were committing. That guilt, that shame -- Izuku couldn’t imagine it, and he couldn’t imagine it was worth whatever meager reward Cockburn must be supplying for this ‘work.’

“Here, Kenji,” the other goon, who’d taken a step back to allow his teenaged compatriot the glory of taking out Deku, “finish him off.” The man, broad-shouldered and burly with a veritable waterfall of long, blonde hair, tucked a pistol into Kenji’s open hand. Izuku felt the cold metal of the barrel as the other boy pressed it into the skin of his torso.

“Kenji -- ” Deku choked, “let me help you, please.”

The other boy’s expression scrunched, out of something between fury and sadness, and Izuku could tell his finger was pressing on the trigger. He swiped down with one of his hands, hard, harder than he’d wanted to, chopping into Kenji’s wrist just before he could fully press down. The gun flew to the ground and the brown-haired boy let out a yelp, releasing Deku’s throat as he went to clutch his now quite obviously broken wrist.

Before the other boy could think to react, Deku swung his foot up and smashed a kick into the side of Kenji’s face. I’m sorry, he thought, watching as the boy rag-dolled across the floor, unconscious. Behind him, he heard the heavy pounding of the Viking-haired man stampeding towards him.

His brows furrowed, and he clenched a fist, turning as quick as he could on his heel. He arced his arm back, gritting his teeth and letting out a furious roar. Streaks of pink energy snaked up his arm as he pressed forward without thinking, channeling more and more of One for All’s energy into the appendage and dashing forward toward the oncoming adversary. Dust flew up behind him as he closed the gap between he and the burly man and let out a ferocious battle cry.

“Detroiiiiiiiiiiiit… SMASH!!”

His fist met the goon’s cheek, and for a moment, the older man’s face seemed to crumple between the almighty force of almost one hundred percent of One for All. The henchman sailed across the room, flying out the hole in the wall he and Katsuki had made during their battle earlier. Deku watched as he slammed into the ground outside, down for the count. His right arm hung limply at his side, the bones pretty much shattered into several pieces, as he let his gaze fall on Rooster Cockburn, the final boss.

Across the way, Katsuki Bakugo scowled as his eyes took in the sight of Deku’s broken arm. “Arbiter-damn it, you fucking nerd,” he shouted. “Couldn’t you wait till the big guy to bust yourself up?”

“Sorry, Kacchan,” Deku shrugged. Cockburn turned to face him, suddenly enraptured too by the sight of the limp appendage. “I know I’m useless, but I’ll try my best.”

“You fucking better!” Bakugo growled, taking the moment of distraction for his advantage. As the chicken man stared at Deku’s arm, the explosion master leapt off the ground, lunging forward and swinging a kick toward their adversary’s face. A talon-clad hand reached up and grabbed Bakugo’s ankle, swinging him around several times before tossing him toward the ceiling. The ash blonde boy soared until he found himself flying clear out the same hole he’d made in the roof previously.

Whilst Bakugo had been on Rooster’s merry-go-round, Deku had seized the opportunity, dashing across the ground and swiping at Rooster’s legs with his good arm. The chicken was too quick, though, and just as Kacchan left his grasp, he leapt over the young boy’s arm, reaching down and sinking his talons into the mop of emerald hair currently sitting at his feet. He yanked Deku up so they were face to face, then smirked his beak-shaped mouth.

“You’ve just yee’d your last haw,” he grinned, flinging the would-be hero out of the hole in the ceiling as well.

As Deku flew out of the barn after Kacchan, he heard the cackling, bawk-filled laugh of a Rooster who figured himself victorious. As he sailed into the starlight, the young boy wondered if, maybe… they really had lost. This guy was much stronger than they could’ve expected from someone running a pet-napping ring, and suffice it to say that while they’d been doing pretty good, BakuDeku’s teamwork left a little to be desired.

Dammit, the teen thought. Their first job together and they’d failed so miserably -- lacked synergy so totally and completely that although they might’ve managed to subdue Rooster Cockburn’s thugs, they couldn’t actually hold a candle to the man himself. Deku closed his eyes and thought back on the high points (which were mostly actually low points) of he and Katsuki Bakugo’s relationship. Maybe one day he’d face the truth: that Kacchan never liked him, and especially didn’t want to give him the time of day after he’d stopped being an entertaining punching bag. That for all the shit Kacchan had done to him, it had been his idea to go fight the villain at the gas station. It had been his plan that had gotten them expelled and into this mess.

He’d been the one who’d murdered both of their dreams of being a hero.

His eyes snapped open as a hand clasped around his forearm.

He glanced up, seeing the wind-weathered, dust-clouded, furious scowl of Katsuki Bakugo staring past him at the barn below them. He didn’t have time to think, or speak, before Bakugo started to perform a move not unlike the throw that Rooster had executed on him just moments before. This version called for Deku’s own effort, though, and so without really thinking it through, he let his fingers tighten around Kacchan’s forearm and tightened his muscles as the blonde-haired boy started to spin him around in the air.

“Caaaaaaatapult!” Kacchan yelled, filling the night sky and probably the whole village around this farm. If the boys had been inside the barn, they might’ve seen a cocky Cockburn glance up toward where the former hero students had not quite yet disappeared into nothingness in the night sky.

From the chicken man’s vantage point, he could only watch helplessly as Bakugo blasted the air with explosions, spinning both he and Deku around a score of times before finally releasing his rival with all his might. Propelled by Kacchan’s strength, Izuku Midoriya blasted like a rocket back into the barn, green energy swimming over his leg and then his whole body as he flew towards their enemy.

“ST. LOUIS... SMASH!!”

Both Midoriya and Bakugo have used an application of Focus to execute the super attack Catapult St. Louis Smash, started in this post to be finished in Bakugo's.

Quest: A Dog Eat Dog World
Katsuki Bakugo & Izuku Midoriya
Post WC: 1375 (according to Google Docs)
Quest WC: 20530/20000

 

[King Shark]

Midoriya was a green bolt streaking through the air, slashing through the air, punctuating the dusty cloud they’d kicked up in their escapades. Combined with the effort of Bakugo’s small, controlled explosions and the whirly-gig motion the firecracker had used to launch him; Midoriya bolted towards their quarry with the entire combined speed produced by both of the duos’ quirks used in conjunction.

A technique born of two opposites combining...the CATAPULT ST. LOUIS SMASH.

Deku’s descent culminated in one final motion: though Rooster had brought up his arms, laced in a defensive ‘X’ in front of his body, and planted his feet; Midoriya punched through the villain’s guard with a loud CRUNCH and kicked straight through into the chicken man’s torso. A drawn out ‘BA-KAWWRRRKK’ punched through the air, and the big boss careened through the air only to burst through one of the few undamaged sections of wall left on the barn with such force that one might have assumed the wall to be breakaway. An impressive artillery of wood shrapnel jettisoned from what was a series of bound wooden planks, while Rooster himself landed limp and ragdoll in the mire of a pig pen located directly outside.

The hogs did not look pleased.

Deku spun in the air, kicked back by the effort of his own attack, and then landed on the ground deftly. His good hand gripped his very broken arm for support.

Bakugo, his country boy’s coveralls now in tatters with one strap utterly torn from his shoulder, landed next to his partner with a derisive smirk. They regarded the size of the hole created in the barn by their endeavor in silence for a moment.

“Check out the size of the hole I made,” Bakugo remarked in a low tone, grinning smugly at the side of Deku’s head.

Deku whipped around, looking charged from his success and outraged at Bakugo’s impudence. “That YOU made!?” Midoriya yelled, throwing up his good arm. “I’M THE ONE WHO-”

It was then that Deku noticed his partner’s shoulders shaking lightly, racked with laughter. That stopped him, for a second, and then he was caught up in the absurdity of it all. There, in the center of the barn littered with unconscious thugs, battle damage, and a chicken man derivative hole in the wall; the team of BakuDeku shared a rare moment of mutual humor. They laughed softly at first but soon were overcome with it and fell to the floor in uproarious snorts, giggles, and guffaws. It died down into quiet, sporatic bursts of hilarity...then one of them would laugh, and it would start back up again. It went on like this for a few minutes before the blanket of hilarity was pulled off of them, and the world around them seemed to return to focus.

“Not too bad...for a nerd,” Bakugo admitted, begrudgingly. The unnerving demeanor he wore around Deku seemed to have cracked for the moment. “...there’s a barn phone overe there-” he pointed out towards a (luckily) undamaged pillar hosting an old corded handset. “-that I think we can use to call the police.”

“Yeah,” Deku agreed, though he made no move to get up off the ground where there laughing fit had taken place. “It’s probably best we don’t let these animals out until the police get here, so they don’t run off. See, if we leave them in the cages until the owners get here then every individual owner can pick out their own pet and we won’t run the risk of-”

Midoriya droned on in the background while Bakugo took a moment to lay out against the floor of the barn and collect himself. The past few days had been exhausting, but despite their biggest obstacle - themselves - they’d managed to do the job they’d been tasked with. That meant they were due for an influx of start-up cash, and that a living budget loomed in their future. He, for one, would shed no tears over moving out of their rinky-dink back alley office. That even one customer had ever managed to locate their hole in the wall to request their services was something he’d puzzle over for the rest of his life, he supposed.

The police arrived first, and apprehended the criminals ranging from outright villains to misunderstood grunts. It was a colorful cast they led away in cuffs, and Bakugo imagined with some grim amusement the mugshots in next week’s paper. Deku had shooed away one pesky officer in particular who’d been very insistent on attempting to arrest the coverall adorned Baku, who looked the part of a villain in demeanor and appearance as much or moreso than some of the actual perpetrators.

The last arrivals were the owners, though the time that had elapsed between visits was significant...Bakugo flashed back to his own nightmare of a time finding this place. The countryside constabulary lurked about in the disheveled and now defunct barn operation in the interim, though they did little but swap anecdotes with one another and occasionally the teenaged duo. Bakugo was loathe to engage - after their mishap at the gas station which felt like eons ago he had found himself holding a mistrust for the authorities.

The owners filtered in one at a time, picking their animals out from the lineup of imprisoned pets. BakuDeku watched exotic birds, ordinary reptiles, a few dogs, some cats, and others filter out of the barn back in the arms of the owners they belonged to. The gorgeous Mrs. Flanders even gave each of the teens a kiss on the forehead for the return of her turtle, Smokey, which set their cheeks ablaze with a rosy blush.

And finally there came Kagome Hirogame, their prized customer, whom arrived before the two exhausted boys with her fabled Popkin in tow via a rather ornate leash.

“My heroes,” she proclaimed, bestowing a warm smile onto a grimacing Bakugo and grinning Deku. Kagome looked about, looking suitably impressed and dismayed in equal parts at the destruction carved out across the barn. “...oh my. It looks like Ground Zero of a bombsite, here!”

Deku laughed, and thumbed over at Bakugo. “That’s thanks to Kacchan over here. He’s a walking Ground Zero.”

“Quiet, Deku,” growled Baku, looking surly. ...he wasn’t a huge fan of crowds.

Somewhere in the teeming mass of folks coming in and out, a young man in a newsboy’s cap jotted something down in his notebook, which Bakugo noted with disdain. He hoped it wasn’t a headline about them.

“I’ve wired a payment to your account,” Kagome continued, ignoring the exchange between the two. “I hope you’ll find it adequate compensation. ...I think you will! And you can bet I’m going to spread the word about your operation to all of my friends. That was...One for All Investigations?”

Bakugo went to agree, but Deku cut him off.

“I think we’ll be going by Heroes for Hire,” Deku stated with a bemused grin, scratching the back of his head sheepishly with the hand of his unbroken arm. “It’s catchier, I think, and it better represents us as a whole since One for All Investigations kind of only represents-”

“You should probably get some medical attention,” Bakugo jumped in, eager to stifle another long-winded Deku rant. “Your arm is really fucking broken.”

They shared a glance, and a mutual smirk. Kagome Hirogame gave them their final congratulations on a job well done, and slowly the crowd filtered out. The boys found their way outside, where they ‘borrowed’ a pair of chocobos, and then set out to find an adequate hospital - Deku was going to need it.

The Heroes for Hire road off, towards brighter horizons and towards the next endeavors, battered and bruised but flying higher than they had in months prior.

Quest: A Dog Eat Dog World
Katsuki Bakugo & Izuku Midoriya
Post WC: 1300 (according to Google Docs)
Quest WC: 21830/20000