Hawks

There were days where things didn't make sense.

Then there was this.

I landed lightly on the edge of a building, red wings folding in just enough to keep my balance while still ready to move. Beside me, Mirko touched down with a lot less subtlety, cracking the concrete slightly under her boots.

"Tell me I'm seeing this wrong," she said, squinting down at the street.

I didn't answer immediately.

Because I wasn't.

"...wish I could."

Below us, the situation was—

A mess.

A full-blown, high-speed, multi-party disaster that made absolutely no sense.

The truck tore through the street like it had a death wish.

Behind it?

Villains.

Multiple.

Not hiding.

Not clashing.

Just—

Chasing.

"...that's Stain," I said, mostly out of habit.

"Yeah, I got eyes," Mirko shot back.

"And that's—yep, blue flames, that's Dabi," I continued.

"Still got eyes."

"And—yep, knife girl, Himiko Toga."

Mirko crossed her arms.

"I swear if you point out one more obvious thing—"

"Just setting the scene," I said lightly, though my gaze stayed locked on the chaos below.

Because it didn't stop there.

"Oh, and look," I added, tone shifting slightly, "Kai Chisaki just hijacked a car."

Mirko blinked.

"...he what?"

Right on cue, another police vehicle screeched to a halt—except it didn't stop on its own.

Stain reached it first.

Efficient.

Brutal.

Door ripped open.

Officer pulled out—

Not injured.

Just—

Moved.

Like an inconvenience.

Then Stain got in.

Took the wheel.

Drove.

Mirko stared.

"...okay, no. No, I'm not crazy. That's not normal."

"Nope."

Another vehicle—

Police again—

Intercepted by Overhaul.

Driver shoved aside.

Car reshaped just enough to function—

Then he was moving too.

"Are they—" Mirko started.

"Stealing police cars?" I finished.

"Yes."

"...yeah."

We watched in silence for a second as the chase escalated.

Truck in front.

Villains behind.

Police... scattered.

Trying to keep up but clearly not prepared for this.

Mirko ran a hand over her face.

"Okay. New question."

"Hit me."

"Why are villains not attacking cops?"

I tilted my head slightly, eyes narrowing as I tracked their movements more carefully.

Because she was right.

They weren't.

No lethal force.

No real aggression.

Just—

Efficiency.

Get them out of the way.

Take the vehicle.

Continue the chase.

"...they're focused," I said.

"On what?"

I didn't answer right away.

Because I was watching the truck again.

Specifically—

The passenger seat.

There was movement.

Struggle.

And for just a second—

I caught a glimpse.

"...huh."

"What," Mirko snapped.

"...there's a kid in there."

Her ears twitched.

"...a kid."

"Yeah."

I leaned forward slightly, squinting.

Green hair.

Small frame.

Not restrained.

Not passive.

Actually—

"...he's—wait."

I blinked.

"...is he strangling the driver?"

Mirko went dead still.

"...I'm sorry, what."

"You heard me."

We both watched as the truck swerved again, the figure in the passenger seat clearly not acting like a victim.

If anything—

He looked like the most controlled person in the entire situation.

Mirko let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

"Okay, I take it back. I have no idea what's going on."

"Same."

Because now—

Nothing added up.

Not the villains.

Not the police.

Not the truck.

And definitely not the kid inside it.

"...you thinking what I'm thinking?" Mirko asked.

"That we should intervene?"

"Yes."

I hummed lightly, feathers shifting slightly as I prepared to move.

"...yeah."

Because whatever this was—

It had gone way past "observe and report."

This was active chaos.

Uncontrolled.

Unpredictable.

And somehow—

Centered around one truck.

"...let's break this up before it gets worse," I said.

Mirko grinned.

"Finally, something fun."

And just like that—

We moved.

.

.

.

I've been called a lot of things in my life.

Hero.

Idiot.

Pretty boy.

"Feather duster" once—rude, but creative.

But this?

This was new.

The wind rushed past me as I dove, wings cutting clean through the air, feathers adjusting automatically to keep my speed controlled. Below, the truck was still swerving like it had a death wish, metal groaning under the strain of bad decisions and worse driving.

Fast.

But not faster than me.

Never that.

"...alright," I muttered, narrowing my eyes as I aligned myself with the passenger side. "Let's see what we've got."

One clean movement.

I dropped down beside the truck, hovering just enough to match its speed, one hand reaching out—

Knock knock.

Against the window.

Because why not.

Inside, the scene was exactly as reported.

Driver—panicking.

Barely holding onto the wheel.

And the kid—

Green hair.

Calm expression.

Hand firmly wrapped around the driver's collar like this was just another Tuesday.

Then—

He looked at me.

Straight at me.

No surprise.

No fear.

Just—

Recognition.

"...huh," I muttered.

That wasn't normal.

And then—

The door opened.

Just like that.

Mid-speed.

No hesitation.

No concern for basic physics.

The kid shoved it open and leaned slightly toward me, completely unfazed by the wind roaring past.

"Get in, pigeon."

I blinked.

Once.

"...pigeon."

Of all things.

Mirko called me "bird brain."

Endeavor called me "annoying."

But pigeon?

That was a first.

"...wow," I said, hovering there for half a second longer than necessary, genuinely impressed. "Bold choice of insult."

"It wasn't an insult," he shot back immediately. "Get in or get lost."

I stared at him.

Then at the driver.

Then back at him.

"...you're not kidnapped."

"No."

"...you're the problem."

"Yes."

Well.

That cleared that up.

I grinned slightly.

"...you know, most kids scream when I show up."

"I'm busy."

Fair enough.

Behind us, I could hear the chaos still unfolding—engines, shouting, sirens, the very distinct sound of things going very wrong.

And somehow—

This kid was the calmest part of it.

"...alright, pigeon it is then," I muttered, shifting my wings slightly before slipping into the open space with practiced ease.

The moment I was in, the door slammed shut behind me like it had never been open in the first place.

I adjusted quickly, bracing one hand against the dashboard as the truck swerved again.

"Okay," I said, glancing between him and the driver. "You wanna explain what's going on here, or do I just enjoy the ride?"

The kid didn't even look at me.

"I wanted my coffee delivery."

I paused.

"...your what."

"My delivery," he repeated, tightening his grip just slightly as the driver tried—and failed—to pull away again. "He didn't show up."

I stared at him.

Then out the windshield.

Then back at him.

"...and this was your solution."

"He started it."

"I highly doubt that."

"He used his quirk first."

"...okay, that part I believe."

The truck swerved again, barely missing another car.

I clicked my tongue.

"Alright, new plan—how about we don't die today?"

"Then make yourself useful," he said flatly. "Either take the wheel or make him stop."

I raised an eyebrow.

"...you're giving me orders now?"

"You got in my truck."

"...your truck."

"Yes."

I exhaled slowly.

This was insane.

Completely insane.

And yet—

"...you know what," I said, shifting slightly, wings tightening just enough to stabilize myself, "I've had weirder mornings."

"Doubt it."

"...okay, maybe not."

I glanced back briefly, catching sight of the absolute chaos trailing behind us—villains, police, multiple stolen vehicles—

Yeah.

No.

This was definitely new.

I looked back at him.

"...you've got a lot of people chasing you."

"I noticed."

"You wanna tell me why?"

"No."

"...figured."

A pause.

Then—

"...nice grip, by the way."

He didn't respond.

Just tightened it slightly.

The driver choked.

Yeah.

Definitely not normal.

"...kid," I said, tone shifting just a bit more serious now, "we need to de-escalate this."

"We will."

"When?"

"When he answers."

I glanced at the driver.

Then back at him.

"...right."

Because clearly—

Negotiation was already happening.

Just... aggressively.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

"...okay, pigeon's in," I muttered. "Let's see how this plays out."