#messwriting

“Now that all of us are present. Let’s begin.” While the mutant pro-hero is always polite and thanks Eraser for having agreed with consulting on this matter, he’s fast and right to the point. Eraser notes that Bubble Girl isn’t present, but quickly focuses on the explanation being given.

The former Nighteye Agency has been investigating some shady business about drugs and quirk-related human traffic, and the possibility of discovering a small shipment of enhancing drugs has been presented. Though they think it won’t be over thirty unities, it’s still thirty triggers in the streets and they’re concerned about how to manage the apprehension without hurting the intelligence operation they have invested so long on.

The Chief of Police nods along with the explanation and when Centipeder finishes, he’s the first to speak.

“I agree that any chance of getting our hands on any triggers before they’re on the streets is valid. That being said: how much is the chance of it hurting the current operation your agency has going on and what would our losses be if it happened.” It doesn’t go unnoticed by Eraser Head that both the Police Chief and the Pro-hero seem to risk glances over to the woman by the wall and Eraser concludes she must be involved in the intelligence operation.

“Our chances are very good, or this possibility wouldn’t be presented today. While we also agree very much on the matter about getting our hands on the triggers, we’ve been investing years in this operation and the risks would outweigh the good – since we’re almost closing a traffic ring that operates in three continents.” Centipeder explains calmly, his eyes glancing only slightly to the woman.

A small silence falls on the room like the rest of the people are expecting something.

“Don’t worry about the risks – if we conduct this correctly, there won’t be any.” It’s the first time she speaks and Aizawa swears someway he can feel her voice; like a caress, it scoots over his neck and slides through his ear like a velvety sense that creeps him out. He ponders if that’s her quirk – something about seduction and discretion going around in his mind. Maybe. After all, he’s no stranger to the concept of some quirks being used in the seduction kind of espionage and Eraser can definitely sense the appeal of someone like her.

If he adds it to the strange fact he doesn’t know her in any way, it seems even more likely.

She seems uncomfortable with the shift in attention, which prompts Centipeder to assume the leading of the meeting once again.

“We have a plan designed. We wanted your input in it.”

It’s a simplistic plan, if Eraser tries to be kind. It puts all of the pressure on the woman, that’s being called Dream for whatever reason, so he supposes that's either her nickname or hero name. She’s going to enter the club where the group they’ve been investigating has been conducting their business and slide her way into the negotiation with the power of charm and eyelashes, apparently. While Aizawa doesn’t doubt it can work perfectly, he’s skeptical about the whole thing. After she saunters her way into the negotiation and follows the suitcase with drugs, she’ll give Eraser a heads up about who to follow and he’ll make his heroic apprehension. Why it couldn’t be someone else? They didn’t want to involve the agency and Eraser has a low profile as a hero that when added to his quirk made him the better choice – it was that simple.

By all that mattered, he didn’t even needed to be a pro-hero at all – as long as he had his quirk. It was a bit… disheartening to be so coldly chosen. But, so was life. He lit his cigarette when no one objected to it and sucked a breath.

“It seems like you guys barely even need me.” He lets a breath out. “She’ll be the one doing all the work.” Eraser nods in the direction of the woman and somehow he swears he can feel her smirk creeping up on the back of his neck like a fucking curse. She’s bad news and he sucks a renewed wave of nicotine.

“Does that worry you?” Her voice is calm and collected but the sound of her voice is all the fucking shades of sultry sin. He does a double-take in her direction before he can take a hold of himself and is thankful that the attention of the other men in the room isn’t on him. Somehow, she doesn’t look anything like she sounds. She’s dressed normally in jeans, dark shirt with boots and jacket over it all. Her looks seem… forgetful. While Eraser is wondering, she’s smirking at him, and the feeling of impending doom cracks on him again. Damn. “I assure you that my work is reliable. I have been watching them for a long time. It won’t be a problem.”

“I would feel better in my position as a backup if we were more honest about ourselves.” He drags another breath of nicotine and feels somewhat better. Her eyes are on him and he swears he can feel them – on his face, his neck, down his arm… Despite himself, Eraser has never been a fan of strong eye contact but it dawns on him that it isn’t displeasing. It’s a strange feeling, but he’s begrudgingly okay with admitting to himself it isn’t a bad one.

“I’m sure we both know honesty isn’t very present in my line of hero work.” The connotation on hero is self-depreciative and makes him wonder. “But if it’s about my quirk and where I’ll stand on the operation, I’m sure we can talk about it more privately.” She sends a look to the Police Chief that is supposed to be apologizing but has him adjusting in his chair. “You understand the problem with revealing my quirk at any job I do, right, Sir?”

The Chief nods and Centipeder seems to be wondering about what to fucking do with his agent. Aizawa empathizes; muses about ending her playtime with a blink of an eye and is surprised with the discovery that he doesn’t want to. The smile she sends his way this time has a feeling of friendly secrecy that has his hands flying to lightly massage his eyes. She’s good.

The whole interaction is somewhat tiresome. He feels drained, but hasn’t really done anything. The thought that her quirk can have something to do with it passes through his mind while Centipeder recalls the attention of the trio.

“Well, since we all seem to be up to speed, we’ll leave Dream and Eraser to assert last details and organize the operation for this Friday.” Centipeder ends the meeting, but the Chief takes more than a few seconds to refocus and agreeing. While he’s getting up and quietly excusing himself to leave along the insectoid pro-hero, Eraser swears he listen to a small comment of “she’s that good, huh?”.

When Eraser looks at the woman again, his mouth seems to dry out. She’s close by the door, directly under an emergency light and looking stunning – long locks, beautiful lips and eyelashes over big, bright eyes. Damn. He thought her forgetful? How?

“Do you mind if we do the rest of the meeting over dinner? I haven’t eaten yet and I’m starving.” She’s holding the door open for him and he sucks a smoke just to have something else to do than look at her while he walks over.

“Dinner? Where?”

“Don’t worry. I know a place.”

-

The “place” is a small bodega in the middle of a dirty street by the center. It’s clearly an inadequate place to be at night, with barely a single soul wandering the dirty streets, where commercial places are closed. He’s certain it can only maintain itself by appealing to regulars. That aside, the place itself is nicely clean, small, decorated with trinkets that make no sense unless mixed together in that messy, homely design. There are light bulbs and fairy lights and all the tables seem self-made, but with quality wood. The stalls are mismatched like the tablecloths. Putting it all together, it’s like a small home business that the owner was improving a bit at a time and it’s… oddly endearing.

“I knew you would like it.” She announces when they sit by one of the windows after she had ended her chit-chat with the owner about how things were going. The moment they entered, he had come by and happily greeted her. Aizawa doesn’t know what to make about their friendly interaction. With her line of work, what she seems to like or dislike can’t truly be trusted.

“I enjoy being away from crowds.” Eraser takes the moment to light another cigarette. She doesn’t seem to mind, since he’s been smoking since they left as a way to keep himself busy and focus on something else than… her. Now, with the woman right in front of him, there’s little he can do about it. He barely can remember the ride here – what she looked while driving, what she did on the elevator, or even the way she walked while coming to the place. It’s weird – he does remember looking at her from time to time and her looks are imprinted in his mind now that she’s in front of him, so… why?

“Are you uncomfortable?” She’s the first to break the small silence. Aizawa’s a bit lost in thought while musing about her features – the forgetful looks and the brazen ones, weirdly both in front of him. But, honestly, aside from the questions burning in his head, there’s little tension in him. It’s quite… fine.

“Why would I be?” Like on cue, something in the air itself around her seems to change in front of his eyes. There’s a perky shine in her eyes and an interesting appeal in the small, upwards curve of her lips. Her hair seems shinier, and so does her skin. It’s a bit unsettling, but even her bosom seems to be more noticeable and Eraser looks away while sucking a new breath of nicotine. He’s completely weirded out by the sudden change.

“Sexual tension.” She deadpans and her voice does that thing again. Where it creeps up his neck like fingers in a caress. While his blood runs a bit faster, the approaching doom Eraser feels with every second that extends in her presence quickly diminish it.

“It’s under control, don’t worry about me.” He’s displaying such a detached tone and unimpressed look - what some people may even call his every day face - that it makes him a bit proud,  not letting her gauge any reaction from him. Another trip of the cigarette to his lips and he presses the more urgent matters. “Now, didn’t you mention organizing the last details?”

“It’s essentially about the limits of my quirk and things we need to take care before I go in.” She looks like a daredevil, her eyes boring in his like she’s expecting something. While her voice still has every bit the same influence, he’s more focused and somewhat less surprised by the sensation. The silence extends and there’s an amused smile in her lips when she reclines on the chair.

“You don’t seem so curious.” It’s a soft accusation, like a taunt, and in turn Aizawa just… looks at her. He muses if that’s what makes her unease. By this time, the owner comes back with a bottle of sake and green tea, puts two cups on the table and leaves.  “You could just end it in a blink of an eye.” She’s pouring the sake on her cup; Aizawa accepts it with a nod and she pours a bit for him, too.

“I would prefer if you did it on your own accord, rather than force you to it.” That has her looking at him like he just surprised her and while he doesn’t know why, she sends him a tender smile.

Then, she changes completely.

It isn’t a gradual change, like her body starts shifting and then there’s a completely different person in front of him, no. It’s like a second pass and suddenly there’s someone different sitting in front of him. Nothing has changed, no time passes between the moment where she was somehow enticing and the moment where she… seems someone else. The brilliant hair isn’t the same as before, less shiny, messy and frizzy, shorter and… they’re of a deep color, paired with a lightly round face with tired eyes and still long lashes but none of the charming curve, none of the… weird shine.

Her eyes are… of a different shape. Her lips are a bit chapped, no lipstick, even if they’re still… nice? He’s not sure what to say about it. She’s still somewhat attractive, but it’s like a filter has been removed between what she was and what she seems like now. He notices her body seems to fill more of her clothes. He’s also glad to notice her bust is normal, the attraction pull it had before gone.

It barely takes a second for the new image to dawn on him, but minutes go by while Eraser notices her, every little bit of detail that was different and now is presented to him. When the silence extends into an uncomfortable feeling, she breaks it.

“Damn, I thought it would draw a better response than this.” Her smile curves into a bit of an annoyed one. He huffs out a puff of smoke he didn’t realize he had dragged in.

“Illusion quirk? Those are rare.”

“Nope.” She takes the sake to her lips and Aizawa catches himself watching it sliding down her throat. …What? “It’s more mind-oriented.”

“Aren't you altering my perception?” He questions, his right arm supported on the chair on his side while he lazily scoots back in the chair he’s sited.

“Yes. But not by an illusion or anything alike, I’m essentially hacking your brain.” Her expression is… cheerful, pretty lips in an upwards motion and bright eyes looking expectantly at him. Like she’s very satisfied with her analysis, despite the fact he’s certain she must have done this explanation hundreds of times. Aizawa does not share her high spirits.

“You’re… what?”

“I can alter the perception of people close to me.” She loses a bit of the weirdly animated vibe she was wearing and it pleases him. His cigarette is coming to an end on his fingers. When he doesn’t speak, she just continues her explanation. “Essentially, I can change what you think you’re seeing; make me-- or others, more thin, tall, blond with blue eyes, foreign… The possibilities are endless. I can make you think you smell something, feel something.” Her voice drops an octave and it has him squirming upright in his chair. “I can change your senses – touch, vision, sound, smell…and taste.”

“That’s why they call you Dream.” It wasn’t a question. With a power like that, that was exactly what she could become. Suddenly he understands the sultriness of her voice, the appeal of her looks. While it wasn’t exactly what would make him do a double-take, it certainly was… something. “How do you do it?”

“Now, that’s too much information you don’t truly need for this case.” She waved her hand while dismissing his question. Maybe it was hormonal? Bio-chemicals in the air? It didn’t depend on contact, clearly. Maybe strictly psychological? Eraser thought about the possibilities. “I can see you’re musing about it, good luck.”

The owner shows up again, two steaming hot bowls of ramen being set in front of them. It smelled amazing and looked good too – and he questions himself if that was true, his eyes darting to her on cue. She was already slurping carefully, blowing air on it before eating with a pleased look on her face.

“Best ramen ever.” She murmured while tasting a mouthful, looking up to him and trying a smile. The exchange was… He wasn’t sure. After the first bite, Eraser was quick to talk.

“Psychogenic powers are even rarer.” She simply shrugs and keeps eating, content. He eats a bit too, agreeing that it tastes very good. That’s why the place even has regulars; they aren’t coming back for the tacky embellishment. After some moments, she goes back to business.

“The video cameras have to be taken care of. While I can alter perception, I’ll look the same on video and to those watching it. My identity can’t be risked, for obvious reasons.”

“Can’t you do something about them?” Aizawa deadpans. She looks at him with an arched eyebrow that has him feeling judged.

“I could, but you mentioned thinking the plan was too much me-oriented. Wanna throw that on my plate too?”

“Fair enough.”

“They don’t have someone watching it, it’s merely for show. There are several men spread around the club, mingling with the clients, providing ‘safety’.”

“Anything else?”

“I’ll leave with the man that’ll take the drugs. Where do you prefer doing the apprehension? His house? Car?”

“We can’t do it close to the club, or it’ll spook the seller. You could fake some problem inside his car and then I’ll intervene? Let’s do our best to look unrelated.” She mused about it and seemed to agree.

“Yeah, I can make a scene. That’ll have some consequences later on, but I’ll deal with it then.”

Eraser didn’t ask because he knew she wouldn’t give him more information than needed. Somehow, it felt like she was proud of him for it. He changed the subject because her now perceptible tired eyes made him wonder if she took care of herself; her job was draining and too close and directly in harm's way. They finished eating in silence and it was… not bad.

“You still haven’t told me your name.” Eraser says when they finish eating, his eyes on her face, staring at the possible tells.

“You can call me Dream.”

“I don’t want to call you Dream.” Aizawa deadpans immediately, his eyes sustaining hers. She blinks, her lips pressing in a line and she looks away when she answers with: “Y/n, then.”

The owner came to retrieve the bowls and before Eraser could risk paying, the older man quickly denied it. Dream laughed softly and when he had left, she dropped some bills on the table when they were leaving, signaling him to be quiet. She yelled a quick goodbye and proceeded to push him out of the bodega, snickering.

“I helped him out a few years ago and now he almost never lets me pay.” She vaguely explained and then they walked in silence to the car parked a few meters away. Now he understood why every other interaction before she stopped using her quirk seemed forgettable and weirdly vague. Everything during dinner seemed glued to his memory, fresh like a burn. The way she blew on the hot ramen and her happy expressions when eating; the way her lips softly swelled with the hot food; the concentration look and the well designed, full eyebrows.  He could clearly remember it all.

Even now, while walking side by side, Aizawa could notice things that had been occult before; the way she relayed more on her right leg when walking, the curve of her bottom and how her jeans embraced her appearance. Her hair is shorter than he thought too. And the tired expression she held seemed like it had been carved on her skin permanently – as his.

The heels of her boots click on the asphalt, the only sound they hear and she doesn’t avert the dirty parts of the streets. He wonders if she even notices them. While she drives, a soft tune plays on the radio. They talk about things he would prefer not, like pro-hero rankings, the attacks of the League of Villains at the U.A., especially his class and Endeavor’s efforts as the new #1 hero. Nothing that revealed anything about her, while showing quite effectively she knew lots about him and when he squirmed around in his seat again, this time it was of clear discomfort.

If there was something Aizawa quite disliked, it was being blindsided. It happened quite commonly on the work as a hero, and it did nothing to diminish his feelings toward it.

By the time she pulls around at U.A. entrance to drop him, he’s in a sour mood. Dream has kindly (and annoyingly) pinpointed facts about him during the whole trip and assured a fair knowledge about him and Eraser has nothing on her. Before he leaves the car, he turns to her and carves her face in his brain.

He barely knows if her name is truly Y/N. His bad mood is probably showing, because she has a wide smile on her lips and before he can be out of the car, she’s putting a card in his hand.

“Call me so we can talk about the plan, equipment and backup. I don’t wanna involve the cops in this.” There’s an animated tone on her voice that worsens his mood. It’s close to eleven at night, they’re plotting an undercover mission, why the hell is she so cheerful?

“I thought we had finished the details over dinner?” Aizawa asks, blank expression in a most annoyed tone. He eyes the entrance of the school in longing. Even the unbelievable drag of a class of thirteen years olds sounding more delightful than another minute with this woman.

“And pass up the chance of taking you out again? No way.”  He’s surprised at the way in which the hairs on the back of his neck get up with the flirty intention. There isn’t a caress, no sultriness or glow. Aizawa looks at her and knows there’s no quirk involved, which makes it worse. She’s rolling her window up and leaving before he even moves.

That woman, Aizawa thinks and sighs, is a clear troublemaker.

-