That's how you get paid

Idk why I'm doing this… I need to get this fucked up toxic crack plot out of my system, so we'll just see how things go, okay? For now it's only one chap, there may be another or there may be a few more, however my muse speaketh.

Before we begin, I must confess to you all that I am 'brand new' to this fandom, so if I'm messing it up mea culpa, it's all a black sea of ignorance at work and I apologize for it beforehand.

The massive blond clears his throat – yet again – hands clasped together on the metal table in front of him, fingers twitching nervously under the numb, dull gaze of the boy seated across from him. Next to the blond, the police officer sits stiffly, scowling somewhat.

"Like I said, I didn't know. Your mother only told me the truth when you disappeared, six months ago. Because she was really desperate and didn't know what to do… I'm sorry if it's all so awkward. It's just… difficult for all of us."

Now someone might say that, for the number one hero, All Might is fucking this up pretty badly. But then again, the guy is good with his fists, so being suddenly slapped in the face with the news that he has a fifteen-year-old quirkless and delinquent son and being faced with said son for the first time inside a high-level security villain prison is probably not something he can deal with very well. And this is ironic in a sublimely fucked-up way, because Izuku has always dreamed of meeting All Might, he's had a million questions, not to mention… his dad?! But now, with G.A.F still active in his system, all he can think of is that it's much too early for this shit.

"I can't help but feel responsible for the way things turned out," All Might says, shaking his head. "It's all my fault."

"It really isn't," Izuku replies absently, frowning slightly at his own hands. His wrists are restrained in a bulky metal contraption, because they still find it hard to believe that he's actually completely quirkless - after all, it's quite unusual in this day and age. His fingers are shaking a bit because he hasn't had a dose in more than 18 hours, and it's only gonna go downhill from here. If only they'd give him a smoke, at least.

"Yes, it really is!" the hero insists, shoulders hunching, and deflates.

He deflates literally, blood spurting from his mouth and the muscular body seemingly imploding in itself and disappearing inside the striped brown suit, which ends up hanging loosely on a lanky, bone-skinny frame. However, the officer next to him is completely unfazed by the unexpected development and Izuku only blinks in surprise, his shock at the sight largely amortized by the drug-induced numbness which has become the status quo as of late. All Might only sighs deeply, discreetly tapping his lips with a handkerchief before his bowed forehead meets the table surface with a light thud.

"Fucking depression day…" the boy mutters, leaning backwards in his seat. He's gonna be sick soon, it's only a matter of time.

"HEY! Watch your mouth, you mongrel!" the officer growls, slamming his palm over the thick folder in front of him. "Anyway," he goes on morosely, because his harsh reprimand has caused no reaction from the prisoner. "Let's start from the beginning. Tell me how you met Toga Himiko."

6 months earlier

"I would hand out these future career forms but… I assume you all want to be heroes…"

The noise of the unperturbed, steady traffic below only adds to the painful pressure inside his skull.

"Don't you dare get into U.A., nerd!"

To the cruel, unforgiving voices which just won't shut up, won't stop tormenting him.

"He's so lame, he can't say anything!"

He can't even cry, not anymore, that meager relief is no longer available. There are no more tears, he is completely empty now and the hollow space inside his being is haunted by poisonous words. Still, the bridge railing is warm under his palms from the afternoon sun, reassuring. It's not that hard. All he has to do is put one foot on the knee-high bar at the bottom, hoist himself up and straddle it. It's easy. Just one last effort and then-

"If you think you'll have a quirk in your next life… go take a swan dive off the roof!"

I'm sorry, Mom…

Although, maybe she'll be relieved. Maybe she's been secretly disappointed too, all this time.

He kicks the school bag out of the way and grips the railing harder, ready to go through the planned motion, eyelids falling shut to shield him against the sight of the swarm below. It's not hard. He can do it. He has courage, if nothing else.

"You're having a bad day too, huh? Figures though, it's only fucking Tuesday."

Izuku's eyes snap open brusquely at the sound, body reeling with enough force to send him down on his back on the hard concrete. A blonde girl now stands nearby, observing him curiously. Her clothes and hair are messy and she has an empty spirit bottle in her hand.

"Were you gonna jump over just now?"

She doesn't sound concerned though, more like in need of some entertaining and right now just about anything will do.

"Uh…" The boy scrambles to his feet quickly, wide eyes trained on the strange apparition. Just where the hell did this girl come from? She looks kind of weird too… There's an unsettling look in her golden eyes and the school uniform she's wearing under an oversized brown sweater seems to be a mockery of the concept.

The blonde sighs, walking up until she almost invades his personal space. "Are you sure that's helpful? I think you'd only end up increasing the public cleaning expenses. Like that," she says, reaching out and letting the empty bottle drop over the railing. Izuku keeps his eyes on her face, because he doesn't want to see it smash against the concrete, or worse, on the hood or windshield of one of the passing cars.

"Anyway, I don't know what your fucking problem is, but I'm down to my last joint and I can't pay this month's bills either. So help a girl, yeah?"

There's a sudden bright gleam as a large knife pops out of her sleeve and is pointed at the boy by calm, expert fingers. It's not a kitchen knife either, it looks professional, like a hunting or military knife. She's not the average psycho then - the student concludes thanks to his age-old habit to analyze details – more like a… villain? Still, Izuku doesn't move, barely flinches. Looks like either way…

"I'm sorry, I have no money," he whispers quietly, averting his gaze.

A moment of silence stretches, ominous, but then the knife is withdrawn. "Pfff, I didn't think you do," the girl says, rolling her eyes. "I just wanted to see if you're for real, fuck. Looks like you are…" She sighs again, fishing a (final) joint out of a loose pocket and lighting it. "I'm Himiko, by the way. Toga Himiko."

"Izuku." He shakes his head at the joint which is then offered to him. "I-I don't smoke-"

"But you're gonna die anyway, right? Might as well bank a few sins before you do," Himiko points with a grin, hand still outstretched. The smoke drifting from between her fingers is sweetish, like burned candy.

"He's so lame, he can't say anything!"

Eventually he takes it, acutely aware of the brief moment in which their fingers touch. The experimental drag chokes him, but the boy persists instinctively just because Himiko watches him, with a hint of amusement.

"So why the fuck do you wanna die, Izuku?" she asks, taking back the joint. "Aside from the fact that you're penniless."

"I'm quirkless."

The words slip unwillingly and it sounds more like a bad joke than ever. Why is he telling a stranger all this?! It's not like she really cares. But then again, it doesn't matter anymore, it doesn't matter if she laughs at him. "And everyone at school says I should just-…" Even the teacher. He hasn't really said it, but the cruel, approving silence spoke volumes. "So I need to-…"

The blonde blows out some smoke pensively. "You need to get out of this life."

The next thing he knows is that they've ended up in a liquor store - but not how they got there from the bridge - and a blinding, violent wave of dizziness washes over him at each and every step. In stark contrast, Himiko looks perfectly coordinated and sure on her feet as she leads him down an empty aisle with a firm, predatory grip on his wrist.

"W-We can't be here, we're u-underage! They'll throw us out-" Izuku stutters, trying to resist, but his body doesn't obey anymore. Fleetingly, the realization that he no longer has his schoolbag registers in the back of his mind, but doesn't linger.

The comment only widens the blonde's smirk. "Nah, they won't. We're not here to buy anything, after all."

"But-"

They make it to the counter upfront and the man behind it turns with a scowl undoubtedly aimed at their school uniforms, looks about to open his mouth, but Himiko beats him to it. In the blink of an eye, something black is pulled out of the loose pocket the joint came from earlier and deftly pressed in Izuku's right hand, just as her lips brush feather-soft against the shell of the boy's ear.

"This is how you get paid if you're quirkless…"

The metal of the gun is warm from her fingers and has a pleasant, grounding heaviness, prompting him to grip it steadily.

"Now mister, would you be so kind as to empty the cash register for us?" the blonde drawls out loud this time, sickly sweet. "Or else…"

The shock is evident on the man's face, quickly replaced by anger and he leans forward slightly, massive, intimidating. "YOU DAMN BRATS! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?! I'LL CALL THE POLICE!"

He hasn't noticed the gun yet.

Izuku flinches, partly sobered by the outburst, but it doesn't help much. He's suddenly in this mess and… and… he can't think at all. He wants to sleep so badly, but if he closes his eyes… something disastrous will happen. He clings to the gun in his hand for dear life and raises his arm, pointing it at the man's face. He can't let the guy make a wrong move, under no circumstances, it's too late now. The other's mood shifts rapidly at the sight, seeming to absorb the boy's own panic and uncertainty and gradually take them away.

This is power.

It's unfamiliar, frightening… but it feels good.