Chapter Text
“Status report. Over.”
A slim hand slipped from its handhold to switch on a throat microphone.
“En route to contact zone. ETA three minutes. Any change to instructions? Over.”
“Negative, Sasayaki. Continue as planned. Target to reach the contact zone in seven minutes. You ready? Over.”
“It will be done. All clear up there? Over.”
A chuckle crackled over the line.
“Positively boring up here, Yaki. See you on the other side. Out.”
Throat microphone switched off and mask’s silencing features double checked, the hand returned to cliff face and the small figure continued its solitary climb up to the peak of the mountain. Wind buffeted the lithe figure, threatening death with every new handhold. Their spiked climbing shoes dug into ice and dirt with every careful step. With quick, sure movements the figure hoisted themselves up and onto the peak, immediately dropping to their stomach on the barren stretch of dirt before them.
Wriggling forward, the figure reached the opposite edge of their little platform and cast a practised eye over their surroundings. Below them was a man-made plateau dug into the mountain; just enough room for a small aircraft to land and refuel. A small room was dug into the opposite wall of the runway, lit from the inside with oil lamps. The runway itself was illuminated with spotlights attached to a grotesquely belching diesel generator. The figure wrinkled their nose - even without quirk-heightened senses the stench was a lot, cutting through the clean scent of frost and untouched snow.
The whole operation looked sketchy. And, the figure mused as they began to prepare themselves, it was essentially as advertised. A small hole in a mountain in the middle of nowhere, designed exclusively for people to fuel their probably-definitely illegal aircraft probably-definitely illegally. The perfect place for a criminal to pause for breath. This place was unknown, totally safe.
Keyword: was .
The figure snapped the last piece of the sniper rifle in place and set the tripod firmly into the ice, letting the weight of the gun drive the supports deep into the dirt and settle. They peered through the scope, watching as the figures within the control room bustled about preparing for their next customer. None of them looked especially villainous, all wrapped in fluorescent parkas and mittens. But, the figure mused, counting down the break room's microwave timer in the back of their mind as they watched it tick down, most of the ‘villains’ they’d faced never really looked the part.
The temptation to just shoot the completely unprotected and uncovered fuel tanks and watch the entire plateau explode was itching at the back of the figure’s mind. It would take less than a second and bam! A bolthole used by hundreds of criminals worldwide would be rubble. A solid defence suddenly a bloodstained void. They were practically asking for it with their lack of proper protocol -
The figure took a deep breath in through the nose. Held it for the count of seven, and released. It was not their job to go rogue, no matter how much it may benefit global crime-fighting forces. They had their task, and they would complete it to the best of their ability. No questions. Only compliance.
A quick glance at their watch. Two minutes until their target was set to land. The figure wriggled to slightly bury themselves in the surface snow on their platform. It was blisteringly cold, but nothing they couldn’t handle. Nothing they hadn’t been trained to endure long ago. They turned the rifle’s scope back to the workers, who by now had braved the outside to get the tanks ready for their visitor. To while away the time they began to analyse what they could see of the quirks below, grateful for the mute in their mask.
“ ... the one to the left. Approximately six foot two, masculine presenting. Appears to have standard two humanoid legs and two humanoid arms. Standard human hair and beard. Does appear to have a tail - reptilian? - and their gloves are fingerless, showing lizard-like claws. Theory: quirk is a lizard mutation that affects only extremities. Large custom boots suggest probable mutation there as well. The temperature here may affect blood circulation - the heat pack from the microwave earlier is likely for him. Potential mutation could exist internally as well - watch for teeth and spit. Weaknesses likely include cold temperatures, dietary restrictions, lack of flexibility, and possible behavioural effects such as increased aggression. To take down, recommended to disable the tail and claws first, then muzzle or render unconscious... ”
“ ... third figure emerging now, heading towards the fuel tanks. This one is smaller than the others thus far. Feminine presenting and approximately five foot ten. This one has no clear mutations, but has been seen deliberately breathing air into the palms of their hands. This air appears to be superheated, based on the interaction between it and the outside atmosphere. Likely this one has a temperature quirk centred around breath. Theory: the quirk’s abilities apply to both heating and cooling air, since rapid heat could negatively affect the fuelling process. Therefore it is likely she can also control her breath to supercool, otherwise there would be no function for her at this station. Weaknesses: limited physical prowess, almost certain over-reliance on quirk, lack of flexibility in the clothing - "
"Yaki, you ready? I can see the target inbound. Over."
The figure took another deep breath in through the nose, reaching for their throat microphone and switching it back on.
"In position and ready. You out of sight? Over."
"This ain't my first rodeo, Yaki, don't you worry about me. Knock 'em dead. Out."
The figure shifted once, finger hovering over the trigger while the other hand flipped the switches to remove the safety and made sure the silencer was properly attached. No need for careless mistakes at this point. They left their microphone on but remained silent, as was protocol. By now the figure could hear the mechanical whirring of helicopter blades cut through the natural howling of the wind. It wouldn't be long until - there!
The figure watched from their perch as the large helicopter hovered into view. It was clearly designed for passenger travel over stealth or warfare - if nothing else, the bright pink stripes along the body gave it away. They were garish even through the haze of cloud cover and snow. The figure scrunched their nose slightly at the sudden flash of colour through the scope. Still, they remained in place, unmoving and ever-watching as the helicopter slowly edged into the manmade cover, landing on the runway with a crunch of newly-disturbed snow. The figure took aim, waiting for the helicopter’s doors to swing open and their target to emerge.
There was bustling on the ground as Lizard-Tail Man raced forward to begin the refuelling process and Heat-Breath Woman moved to open the doors. The figure smiled thinly to themselves. This was it, just a few more seconds and their task was done.
Finally...
The helicopter doors swung open, the figure aimed carefully and - paused.
“Big Bird. Unexpected complication. I need advice. Over.” they hissed into their microphone.
“What’s up, Yaki? Over.” Came the crackled reply. The figure hardly dared to blink, keeping track of the target as they gently lifted a six year old child down to Heat-Breath’s waiting arms. Behind them was another child, this one looking barely ten.
“The target has company. Two children. Over.”
The answering curse was nearly swallowed by a harsh gust of wind. The figure didn’t move a muscle, waiting for their instructions.
“Intel said he’d be travelling alone, not with his fucking daughters. Fuck!”
The figure said nothing. The older girl was clambering down to the floor. When her boots hit the ice, they lit up with flashing lights. The target laughed as his daughter danced around, deliberately stomping to make the lights sparkle across the snow.
“Sorry, Yaki. We both know what the higher-ups would say to this, and I can’t get through to question that. You know what to do. Over.”
The figure took a deep breath, in through the nose. Hold for seven seconds. Out.
“Understood. It will be done. Out.”
The figure idly wished that they’d given in to the earlier temptation and just blown up the whole plateau. They realigned their scope, aimed carefully, and fired three quick shots.
The first hit the youngest child, entering just behind her ear and exiting is a splash of viscera against the helicopter's obnoxious pink stripes. Instant kill. The second, mere seconds later, hit the other girl mid-twirl. Her neck ripped open, blood splattering her light-up shoes and the snow at her feet. Instant kill. The final bullet hit the original target, this one also in the neck. The man froze, eyes bulging for a brief moment, before he collapsed on the stairs leading down from the helicopter. Thick drops of red dripped through the metal slats onto the ice below. Instant kill.
The whole operation, from helicopter landing to the figure moving to dismantle their weapon in record time, took three minutes. Adequate, nothing special , the figure thought idly as they packed the rifle pieces into their case and tossed the case over their shoulder. There was screaming echoing up from the plateau, blending with the shrieking wind. A quick glance saw the workers frantically racing for cover, clearly not wanting to risk their own lives. Heat-Breath was on her knees, staring at the rapidly cooling corpse in her arms, wailing wordlessly.
A perfect distraction.
“Yo, Big Bird, you out there? Over.”
“Yeah, buddy. I heard you were done. Need a lift? Over.”
The figure rolled their shoulders, permitted themself a quick smirk beneath their mask.
“Sure am. Hey Big Bird?”
“Yeah bud?”
“Catch. Out.”
Ignoring the fluent cussing from their partner, the figure twisted to their feet and turned to face the cliff they’d climbed a mere ten minutes prior. Jumping up and down twice to get their blood flow back up, the figure backed up to the edge of their little platform, and then took off in a dead sprint. With a wild grin the figure launched themself off the platform and into empty air, diving to free fall alongside the cliff face. Wind whipped past them furiously, cutting at their arms and the small amount of their face not covered by the mask and goggles they wore as standard uniform. The figure let out a shriek of pure adrenaline, one that morphed into a peal of breathless laughter as they continued to fall.
They spread their limbs out wide, taking up as much space as possible to slow their fall as much as they could without a parachute. The cursing over their communication earpiece became more pointed, and the figure laughed again. They twisted in the air, flipping so that they were facing the sky. A shadow loomed above them, and the figure thrust an arm up, their hand clasping another. A pained grunt and the clap of giant wings flapping against gravity was the figure’s only warning before they were yanked back into the chest of their partner, who began to fly them both back to their rendezvous point. The figure latched onto their winged companion with practised ease, allowing them to cradle their smaller body close.
“You know, bringing my mother into this was very uncool of you, Big Bird,” the figure quipped after a minute of silence. Big Bird snorted, an ugly sound.
“Fuck off, Yaki. You’re the one who yeeted themselves off a mountain,” he snarked back.
The figure, Sasayaki, giggled and settled in for the rest of their flight.