Dragon’s Pride

Odayakana Ora has to restrain herself from slamming her phone onto her desk, the Bureau having a strict policy on damaging provided equipment. They have enough issues with the budget they’re provided due to everything else they have to pay for, so they can’t have the people working for them adding on to it. Ignore the fact that their annual budget is large enough to elevate some third world countries. 

The woman lets out a slow breath, grumbling to herself in frustration as she pulls out a small container and opens it to reveal a pair of contacts, gold in color. After ensuring that there’s no sign of her natural eye color, she gets up and briskly walks through the building. Kin Kami, her partner, falls into step behind her as naturally as if he’d been doing it for years. Which he has, ever since their time at the Academy. She speaks to him without looking, their roles having long been established despite how little they’ve actually done.

“We have a sighting of her in Yokohama entering a warehouse. From what we know, the city is her temporary territory, and it’s been established that she engages primarily in two types of criminal activities around Yokohama. Always either claiming valuables or attacking someone. Though there is also an unverified report that she keeps the company of a middle-aged man.” She briefly looks back as if daring her partner to insinuate anything, but he remains silent. They both know what kind of consequences can result from talk like that, even if they are only joking. “Regarding the attacks, the only consolation we have is that those who are hurt are consistently identified as either small-to-mid level criminals or villains. So perhaps she is acting as a vigilante, instead of simply moving according to her instincts.”

Kami nods, hesitating a moment before probing a question. “Does she…”

Ora nods. “She has left bodies, though it’s uncommon after her debut at the motel a year ago for there to be even a moderate amount of destruction to the surrounding area. Many of them were missing body parts, and others were reported to have what appeared to be bite marks. So even though she does see humans as food, she does not consume to excess.”

Kami lets out a near silent sigh of relief. He does not want to get eaten. Unfortunately, near silent does not mean silent.

“Don’t let your guard down,” Ora reminds him as they get into a car waiting outside for them. “We have very little to go off of on her personality, we don’t even have her name. For all we know, she can be irregular like the one who resides in Vegas.”

He winces as he buckles his seat belt. “Yeah… remind me to never go there again, please.”

Ora gives their driver the directions to their latest search area, sitting back and crossing her legs as the car starts moving. “I always do, Kami. I always do.”

`~`

I hold back a yawn as I idly tap my heels against the crate I’m sitting on, leaning back on the tail I’ve grown today while I wait for Giran to finish talking with… whoever it is we’re here to meet. I don’t get paid enough to care, so it doesn’t really matter. Well, as long as they don’t get a severe case of idiocy. But after a year of having Giran be under my protection most of the exceedingly stupid idiots have died. The lucky ones became my meals, becoming at least a little useful. They certainly couldn’t be useful in letting me have a fun fight.

Who knew that overwhelming power would make a person so bored?

Whatever. What’s important is that these guys are wanting information on some rival gang or organization or whatever. Don’t know how they have enough pull to get Giran’s services -not even counting his price tag- but they do. One of them seemed to recognize me when we walked in, but that could mean any number of things. Maybe I ate his brother or mother in front of him, or accidentally threw an idiot into his house. Well, intentionally thrown, accidentally into a house.

What goes up, must go down.

I look around yet another generic warehouse, no identifying features of any sort. Typical bland gray walls, typical crates scattered around and piled up in places, typical metal beams running along the ceiling that a hero is crouched on.

You know, the kind of stuff that doesn’t make it easy to track down anyone who shows up after they leave. It’s all stuff that you’d expect to find here.

Really wish that I’d brought my phone. But nooo, the reason half of the meetings ended up with the other guys dead is because they thought I was disrespecting them! Seriously. It’s not like it’s my problem if they feel threatened by a bored eleven year old.

At the very least he could have let me bring a few choice pieces from my Hoard! Not only would caressing their smooth, sparkly, and perfectly textured surfaces have kept me occupied long after this meeting comes to an end, but I wouldn’t have to worry about them!

Nobody has broken in, right? They’re still safe and secure in their secret compartment? If someone did break in, they would at least have the decency to die to the traps in such a way that there’s no risk of their blood somehow getting through the painting covering the secret compartment, right!? Or through the safe, waterproof tarp, back-up safe, and hermetically sealed bags containing the cushioned boxes, right!?

Ugh, it’s always so stressful whenever I’m gone so long! Seriously, how long is this going to take!? It’s been more than two hours, and they’re still negotiating a price! Honestly, Giran should just let me eat these idiots. They clearly don’t understand that they’re wasting an important person’s valuable time.

Oh, and Giran’s too, I guess.

I tilt my head, zoning out as I decide to listen in on the hero instead, forcibly pushing my worry for my Hoard down. Not that any good hero would be talking while they’re watching a bunch of criminals meet with an information broker. Still, a girl can hope.

But as it turns out, I actually do hear something! And not only that, but the hero is talking for an actual good reason!

“-group is meeting with a broker. They have a kid with them. Possibly trying to fill the power void left by the Treasure Triad.”

Well, what he thinks is a good reason. I wonder who the Treasure Triad are? I doubt that they had any real treasure, unfortunately, but it still would have been fun to raid them in search of it. Did he request backup or is he just making a report? I wonder if he’ll try following us when Giran and I leave, or if he’ll stay and keep eyes on these small fries?

Mmm. Fries with a belly sandwich. It’s a pain to get rid of all the extra fat, but the meat is so~ tender.

“Great!” Giran suddenly claps his hands, startling me out of my lunch musings. “The number will direct you to Bako Korose, so just set up a meeting with them once you have the money.”

I have to stifle a laugh and hide my smile by looking away. We don’t know anyone named ‘Bako Korose’. It’s just code for me to ‘kill the idiots’. Not here, but later, when they arrange the second meeting. “It’s bad for business if you leave bodies when they didn’t start something.” That’s what he says.

But some idiots -like these ones- are too stupid to let go. Or maybe they gravely offended him or something. I stopped paying attention so I’m not entirely sure. Either way, the end result is they give me a call, I show up and kill/eat them, then take some leftovers home along with any cash in their pockets since they rarely ever actually bring money.

Apparently idiots like to think that threatening the nonexistent ‘middle-man’ will get them better results than negotiating with Giran, so they try to be as intimidating as possible. Depending on how stupid they continue being after I show myself, I either kill them quick or slow. I find that the difference results in varying flavors for their meat. Of course that’s more for my benefit than Giran’s.

Whenever someone actually does bring money Giran has me call him first, since they ended up being smarter than he first thought. Giran is always surprised in those cases, since he usually has a good eye for people. Comes with being an information broker. Those rare cases are also why he doesn’t simply use his quirk to erase their memories of the meeting. Well, that and the fact I helped him train his quirk so that he can focus on specific details of a memory to erase, mainly his appearance. He lives for small groups that have the potential to grow into big names.

The guy standing across from him reaches out his hand for them to shake. “The Mohawkians look forward to working with you.”

Oh, that’s their name? It matches them at least: It’s as stupid as they are and look.

It really is an accurate name though. Each of them is sporting a variety of mohawks in different colors, with the leader having the tallest and most… I was going to be polite, but there’s no other way to say it than it looks like a rainbow threw up on him. Each spike on his head is a different color, to the point that I’m positive it has something to do with his quirk. I’m pretty sure I saw something move on the yellow one.

I look forward to seeing what it can do~.

Giran nods to me. “Come on, Bush. Let’s get going.”

My eye twitches, like it always does when he uses my hair as a nickname. I give him a bright smile. “Sure thing, Gap. Gotta get you to your dentist appointment. Can’t have you losing any more teeth.”

His smile stiffens at the reminder of his missing tooth. He actually lost it back when someone he was meeting attacked him and he got punched in the face. He says it serves as a reminder that nobody is invincible, but, well.

That was before he met me. And by the way the warehouse doors slam open, I’ll be getting another chance to prove him wrong.

“HOLD UP FOLKS, THIS IS A HOLD UP! PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR AND KNEEL DOWN LIKE YOU’RE GONNA BE ARRESTED! BECAUSE YOU ARE!”

“Calm down, rookie. Though ya ain’t exactly wrong.”

Two heroes walk through the door: the first is a man with bright yellow hair gelled to the extreme that curves back and up away from his head. He’s wearing headphones, a pair of shades that matches his hair in color, and what looks like a speaker around his neck. The rest of his outfit consists of leather pants, boots, and a jacket with shoulder pads, the collar of the jacket rising up past his speaker. Present Mic: not particularly new, having about half a decade’s experience of heroing.

The second is what I can only describe as a post-apocalyptic cowboy, given the hat, boots, cloak, and gas mask. Clearly Snipe, and far more experienced than the former. He’s also pointing a revolver at Giran. And we can’t have someone under my protection being injured, now can we. Still, I’ll at least try things the easy way since I have a bare minimum of respect for these two as heroes.

“If you’re going to be pointing a gun at someone, point it at the idiots behind us.” I make eye contact with the more experienced pro through his mask. “Unless you want to be a one-armed gunslinger, that is.”

My words cause the heroes to pause, the two in front switching their gazes from Giran and the thugs to me. Though judging by the thump from behind me, the hero who was in the rafters either fell or jumped down. Given the extra series of thumps that follow, I’m guessing he jumped, and is now knocking out the idiots. Hasn’t threatened Giran yet though, so I keep my eyes on Snipe.

He chuckles nervously while Present Mic eyes me warily. Good instincts, even if they aren’t listening to them as well as they should. “Look, kiddo,” Snipe starts, not moving his gun away from Giran, who keeps his hands in his pockets, a confident smirk on his face. “I don’t know what this guy has told you, but he’s a scoundrel. I don’t know what your quirk is, but-”

At the word ‘quirk’ Giran winces. “Ooooh, bad choice of words. That’s going to hurt.”

Snipe doesn’t even have a chance to ask what he’s talking about, because by the time Giran gets his own words out I’ve already leaped at the hero. I grab his head, using my strength and body weight to slam it into the ground. There’s a loud bang as his gun goes off followed by an almost as loud crack, the hero going limp while the ground fractures out around the point of impact.

A quick glance back reassures me that Giran isn’t injured and I nod in satisfaction.

Present Mic stares in shock for a moment as I get to my feet, claws extending and scales spreading across my exposed skin. “Yeah,” Giran says conversationally as he sidles away towards the side of the warehouse, away from the danger zone. “She’s a bit sensitive about people saying that she has a quirk.”