15 KONO DIO DA!!!

'I'm not sure about this…'

'Good. Thou would be a fool otherwise. Well, even more of a fool.'

Ignoring that barb, I look at the quiet street before me. Flickering lights, dirty buildings that made Hosu look like Shibuya, graffiti all over…I swear, half the sights I've seen in this city look like they came out of a video game. Unfortunately, this is all very real.

Lovely.

To be fair, there was a reason why Naruhata was like this. According to my research via the internet, the expressway built here 15 years ago cut a lot of the main traffic from the ward, turning the once-busy urban district very silent, from sundown to sunrise. On top of that, a few years ago there was this massive Villain attack, something involving exploding clones (I wanted to know more after that, but all of the articles I found were very limited. Heavy censoring – red flag).

In any case, any prospects of living here seemed heavily unattractive. Hence the dilapidated state the ward was in.

And a textbook definition of 'Villain hideout' if I ever saw one, the market notwithstanding.

Making sure my Concealment was active, I head towards an apartment building down the street. The worn address sign on the front confirms my destination. A quick application of my Quirk later to ensure no nasty surprises, and I enter the building.

I surveil the dirty lobby. Broken elevator, staircase with faded rails, open mail slots…nothing odd. Now, which apartment was it? I pull out my new 'work phone' and look at Dabi's message.

Heard a few grumblings at a shitty bar, the usual grumblings about Heroes and society. I don't know if you've been to one of those bars, but if you have, you'll know what I mean. This group seemed like they were out for blood, kept talking about gear and areas, had that crazy look on their faces. I've been around enough shitholes to know when looks like that mean business. I dunno if they have any more friends, but I followed one of them who looked like he was in charge. I'll send the address and a pic of the guy right after this. I don't have anything more than that but it's something.

Right below the text was the very address I'm now standing in and a slightly fuzzy picture of the would-be criminal. Gaunt, pale, reed-like arms and a face that looked like it hadn't seen a proper brush in a while. All he needed was red eyes and he'd look like a vampire. If this intel is legitimate, this night would get a whole lot more interesting. There's only one problem.

I don't know which one is the guy's apartment. That was…annoying.

Note to self: make sure Dabi is more precise next time.

'While I agree this is troublesome, contractor, I believe we can use this to test thy scouting skills even further.'

'My scouting skills?' I look at the mail slots and see that any name cards were faded out. Then I remember that I don't even have the guy's name. I 'tsk' in annoyance and turn away. Addendum to note: reinforce previous note.

'Yes. Up till now, thou had the advantage by virtue of following or tracing thy targets' tracks, or their lairs were so blatant once breached that they could not be mistaken for anything else. But this is not the case here.'

I frown. 'No kidding.' I needed to find this guy by tonight. Any time I delay in finding him is time he can use to hurt someone. Not to mention the fact that Mom was currently sleeping; I very much wish to avoid any awkward questions. So, what do I do…

As I rub my chin in thought, a nasty realization popped into my head. Whatever I would do, it would involve going through each of these apartments one by one. And there were…I quickly count the number of mail slots. Thirty apartments. Ouch.

I climb up the staircase one level. The floor was small, with only two doors on each side, the farthest one right next to another staircase. That was good – only two apartments per floor. That still meant fifteen floors; sixteen if I count the lobby.

Keep going up while using my Quirk? No, everyone's asleep at this time of night. I'd only be hearing snores. That left only one option: go through each apartment and look inside.

No problem Ritsu; just break the lock of every door in the building! That sure won't be suspicious at all! Yeah, no one will see you while you're doing it, but still!

I let out a sigh and rub my masked forehead. This was going to take some work. Maybe I missed something in the message? I pull out the phone again. Nope, nothing new. But maybe…

I press the sender info button and hit 'dial'. A minute of beeping later, and the 'dialing…' text changes.

"Ugh, what the hell…who the fuck is this?"

While a part of me feels pity for him, being woken up at such an hour, the rest of me crushed it into dust. "It's me. Your new friend." The word 'friend' being tentatively used.

"New friend? Who the…oh, it's you. What do you want?"

I bite my lip as I walk back down the stairs. I wouldn't do to wake up the residents after all. "It's about the guy you were stalking. Do you know which apartment he went into?"

"Apartment?" I hear rustling. "Wait, didn't I write it?"

"If you did, I wouldn't be calling you at this hour."

"Mmm…good point. I wrote it down somewhere, just gimme a sec…" More rustling comes through the speaker, along with the sound of drawers sliding. "Damn it, the power's out again. Wait," I hear loud crackling like crumpled paper. "Here we go. The apartment is – hey, buzz off!"

"Everything okay over there?"

"Yeah yeah, just some annoying little – THERE!" The crackling soared in intensity until it sounded like radio static. "That'll show that little -"

He fell silent. "Hello?"

"…fuck."

That did not sound good. "What happened?"

The silence resumed for a few more moments. "Okay, just to be clear, this was totally an accident."

"What. Happened?"

"Um, how do I put this? The paper caught on fire and is now…scattered throughout my room."

I feel my right eye twitch. "Did you just say, 'caught fire'?"

"Yep. There was this annoying little fly and I kind of got, pissed? It sometimes happens to the alarm clocks. Not always."

Alarm clocks. His alarm clocks caught fire. How the fuck –

Wait a moment. "You have a fire Quirk, right?"

"Yep again."

…

…

…

SON OF A-!

I sharply inhale as I try to refocus. Okay, keep calm Ritsu. Do not swear like a sailor and curse the new intel guy for burning said intel. This is a mere setback, nothing more. Setbacks can happen in this line of work. Especially a setback that could have very much been avoided if someone had just-!

I release the sharp intake of breath. "Do you at least remember something?" I ask tightly.

"Hmm. I don't remember how many floors I went up but…one of the numbers on the door was a six."

I perk up. "A six?"

"Yeah, a six. Or was it a nine?" I hear him scratching something as he spoke. "No, it was definitely a six. And it was a good number of floors."

I feel a small grin forming on my face. That narrowed it down considerably. "Thanks. I'll call you later."

I shut off the phone and head up the stairs. A number with a six – that meant three options in this case. Option one: apartment number six.

I stand in front of the door, smiling at the rusted number hanging near its top. Without a word, I whip out one of my daggers and quickly smash it through the lock. A crude method of breaking in, but effective. Not to mention the fact that I had no idea how to get a lockpicking set or even lockpick for that matter. Even Mawla was stumped at the complexity of modern locks. Another concern to note. For now, I'll just have to use this method. The fact that the lock in this building looks old as hell just makes things easier.

The lock now thoroughly wrecked, I use the dagger to slide the lock back and gently push open the door. Gently walking through the small bend, I take a peek at the living room. Dirty, trash all over the place, needs a serious clean-up (thank goodness I can't actually smell the place) …and the fat man snoring on the couch does not match up with the picture at all.

One down. Dabi did say that it wasn't one of the lower floors.

I head back out, gently close the door and head up the staircase again. As I do so, another interesting observation comes to mind. When it comes to buildings like this, the apartments are either all copies stacked atop one another or mirrored versions. That meant the layout was the same no matter which one I go to. Perfect.

I reach apartment number sixteen. Straightening myself a little bit, I grab hold of the handle to steady it as I whip out the dagger-

Huh. Already unlocked. That was easy.

I enter the apartment and true enough, the look was similar to the one from before, only this one was utterly bare. One chair, a rotted wooden table and a couple of empty shelves. Cautiously, I keep advancing further, ignoring the light cracking under my boots. In front of me there is another door, this time partially open. I push it and look inside. Nothing but a broken heating grate and a chewed-up mattress.

And some…things on the floor. I don't know and I don't wanna know. Well, at least I know the layout of an entire apartment here.

One to go.

I exit the empty room and head up the same number of floors. Apartment twenty-six. This has to be it. Grab the handle (locked), quickly pierce the lock, slide and…there.

I enter the room and…you have got to be kidding me. This is even worse than before! There's barely even a ceiling! Not to mention the sheer amount of grime everywhere!

My Quirk doesn't even pick up any snoring from any of the rooms. Fucking – gah!

I rub my masked and take deep breaths. Another setback…this is still fine. Dabi did say that the number might be a nine. Looks like I'll just have to go up and work my way down again…yay.

Yet as I exit the apartment, a stray thought comes to mind. Just a curious little thought. I pause just next to the step and look at the other apartment on the floor. It had no number but based on the arrangement of the previous floors, it had to be number twenty-seven.

…it wouldn't hurt to look.

With a sigh, I force open the door. When I look inside, I nearly bite my tongue to avoid yelling out some of the nastiest swear words I ever heard from video games. Of course.

Second addendum: reinforce original note time three at knifepoint and dock pay.

Before me, there is an apartment which, unlike the previous two, was actually somewhat clean, in a loose sense of the word. There was some furniture, a broken TV and a desk illuminated by a single lamp. Sitting in front of said desk, with his back turned towards me was a man in a tattered coat. As I approach him, I take notice of some of the notes on the desk. One of them was a printout of what looked to be some kind of mechanism and next to it was a Maps printout. I walk to the side of the desk and lean down to look at the man's face as he scribbled down something on a notepad. Yep, it's him.

Time for him to receive my personal knock-knock joke.

I quickly wrap my arm around his neck put him in a headlock, my other arm covering his mouth. He jerks up and starts to flail, but I quickly tighten my grip, adjust my palm and flick my wrist. The thin blade pops out and cuts his cheek, silencing him.

"Make a sound without my permission, and you die. Understood?"

His eyes jerk in every direction, trying to find me. I press the blade a little closer to his chin and he stills. "I said, understood?"

He slowly nods. "Good. Now, a little bird sang in my ear that you and some friends of yours have been cooking up a nasty surprise. Something about 'areas' and 'gear'. Judging by those photos and drawings on your desk, I don't think you're planning a camping trip. Am I correct?"

"W-who the fuck are you!?" he hisses.

"Really?" I sigh. "Honestly, that question is past expiration. Who do you think I am?" I mean sure, it's a sign my Concealment works like a charm, but it gets repetitive after the first three times.

He stammers as he tries to answer, then his eyes widen and his body freezes. Ooh, he's a smart one.

"Ah, so you have heard of me, that's good. Now, was I incorrect in my statements? Please don't lie; I prefer not to do a gutting."

"W-w-we we were drunk a-and pissed off! Y-yeah, we wanted to do some damage but I was just joking! Then they all liked the idea and I didn't wanna look like a chicken and-"

"One, you're rambling. Two, these seem like awfully big plans on that desk for someone who doesn't want to be a chicken. Did someone give you these plans?"

He gulps and his breathing becomes heavy. "I'll take that as a yes; mind telling me who?"

"I-I can't. I-I don't exactly know. He came through a guy in a coat, saying he could help. That's all I know, I swear!"

That sounded troubling. I knew other places like Shadow Gear existed, but I don't think it's their MO to offer such services directly, not if they wanted to remain confidential. "You say he came to you?"

"Y—y-yes."

"Did he leave any contact info?"

"N-no. One moment he was standing in front of me and the next this b-black fog appeared and swallowed him whole."

Black fog? That does not sound good at all. Pausing for a moment, I try to recall any known Villains or criminals with…fog teleporting powers. Yet nothing came to mind – despite Mawla's insistence that I learn as much as I could about the major scumbags of Japan. The oh-so-important 'know thy enemy' lesson. A villain with that kind of power was…troubling to say the least. "Tell you what, I'm in a generous mood; cooperate with me and I'll release you."

"R-really?"

"Sure, I keep my word. Now, do you have a way you can contact your friends?"

"Y-yeah, I have a phone." He points to a spot next to the desk and sure enough, there was an old-looking smartphone lying on the back of its connected electrical head. Very slowly (and pressing my blade again for emphasis) I take a step and grab the device, disconnecting it. I hear the man hiss; I admit, to an outsider a floating phone in the dead of night can seem a little creepy.

"Where do you usually meet?" I ask as I quickly maneuver behind him.

"W-we've been meeting up in some underground bar. We used to visit this joint called 'Nine Rings' but –"

The Nine Rings? Heh, small Tokyo. I wondered why the wall in that picture looked familiar. Unfortunately, I can't afford to damage such a useful font of information. "This is exactly what you are going to do. First, open your phone." With trembling fingers, he takes the device from my (invisible) grasp. He types in the 4-digit-code which I quickly commit to memory. "You are going to message every one of your friends that is in on this little plot. Tell them to meet tomorrow at the same place you last met them. Then, I will take this phone and I'll release you. Understand?"

He doesn't reply at first. Then, he opens up the messaging app, his finger hovering over a group chat, no doubt consisting of his buddies. But just as he was about to press it, I hear it.

"Fuck you."

With a snarl, he twists his body around and wildly claws in my general direction. The keyword here is 'general' because he wildly misses. I'd say I feel pity or admiration, except I don't. I was planning to 'release' him, though it probably wasn't in the way he was thinking. Through the vision of my mask, with his extended claws and bat-like face, he seems more akin to a beast than a man.

Regardless, I need to end this quickly. I wouldn't be a very good assassin if the neighbors were to wake up. Even though I don't think there are that many in this building. A pity.

I throw the knife and it's over. The man jerks back and falls to the floor, the blade sticking out of his skull.

Target down, as the soldiers say. Now time for a little clean-up.

I go over to his body and drag it to the ratty bedroom behind me. After removing the knife and wiping it on his body, I grab his phone. To my relief, the location services were active. Using the time of Dabi's message as a reference, I find the bar. Nodding in satisfaction, I send the group a message.

I've got the plans ready. Meet up at the bar from before, 21:00.

Hmm…no, perhaps not. Don't want to give them the home advantage.

I've got the plans ready. Meet up at Turasku Port, 21:00, two streets off the old fish market. I heard some nasty rumors going around. Don't want any cops or Heroes poking their noses in.

Much better.

-x-

Thankfully, the rest of the night was much calmer. After I grabbed the plans – which upon closer inspection were designs for a bomb, including a component that seemed to store some kind of gas – and stuffed them inside one of my belt pouches, I quickly made my way back to the hideout. I dropped off the plans there along with my outfit, got back home without waking Mom up – thank goodness for that – and went to sleep. I spent most of the morning lying around, and towards the evening I went off to the gym. Thankfully, they never questioned my sporadic appearances. But even if I had to renew my card, I had the cash. A series of different sets later and I was back in my hideout, suffering/enduring rounds of training from Mawla.

Now? I'm standing in the shadows of an old fish warehouse, waiting for my next targets to show up.

I shiver as the cold air stings my ears. I mentally thank Shadow Gear for making my suit temperature-adjustable, otherwise, I would be freezing my balls off. It's a feature that nearly all Hero outfits and some high-brand clothes have. Still, it isn't completely insulating.

No, don't complain Ritsu. Mawla has put you through worse. In your underwear. A little nip in the air shouldn't concern you.

Glancing at my phone, I see it's nearly nine. Then I hear footsteps from one of the alleys up ahead. Right on cue.

"Gah, why did he have to pick a place like this? Couldn't we just do it at the bar?"

"You saw the text. Believe me, I hate this place too, but he's got a point. I've heard here's a fuckton of nasty moles lately. The last thing we need is for the law to catch us."

"Yeah, or worse. You all know what the rumors are. About…him."

"Y-yeah, what if we run into him?" "WE'LL WHOOP HIS ASS, THAT'S WHAT!"

I raise an eyebrow as I hear sharp shushes. One of them is certainly enthusiastic.

"Shut the fuck up! Why the fuck did we bring you again?"

"I'M AWESOME AS HELL!" "Sorry."

The voices finally step out of the alley. They're a rather motley crew if I say so myself. They all look rather young-ish, wearing dark clothes and woolen caps. Except for one. Instead of a cap, he has a ski mask that looks like it was split across the middle and sewn back up again. His coat looked very similar, one side black and the other side gray.

Four targets. Time to start. The one with the dreadlocks looks tough; if he goes down, the rest won't put up much of a fight.

I draw two daggers and slowly approach them, all the while they just stand there, looking around.

"Uh, where is he?"

"It ain't nine yet. Maybe he's takin' the long route?"

"I don't know…something's off here – URK!"

Before the dreadlocks guy can utter another word, I get in close and slice open his throat. He looks down in shock and tries to cover it, but his breathing falters and he sinks to his knees. Before the others can react, I throw the other dagger at the other one's forehead. Like always, it strikes dead center.

"Motherf – it's a trap! Get the fuck out of here!" The other two bolt for the alleys. Summoning the knife from the criminal's skull I send it flying again, this time at the third guy's back. The force of the impact sends him tumbling over as I run towards him, recalling the blade again and stab him firmly in the spine. Ignoring his screaming, I follow the sound of split ski-mask's footsteps and sprint through the alleys. No, following him like this would tire me out. I need to be smarter.

I take another alley and after a little running, I wait as the sound of feet pounding the pavement grows louder. When it reaches a certain point, I step from behind the corner, aim and fire the grappling gauntlet right at ski-mask's torso.

Good news? It strikes him right in the chest. The bad? The body melts into goo right in front of me.

I blink at the sight of the formless mass before me. What the hell? Was that his Quirk?

More footsteps draw my attention and I see, to my great shock, the same man running past me at the intersection. I shelve my questions for later, press the reeling button on my gauntlet and run, taking a sharp right. I keep sprinting until I see him, frantically flailing his arms in the air. I throw a knife again and it hits like before, but also just like before the body dissolves into goo. I hear more footsteps as the knife flies back into my hand. This time he's inside an open abandoned shop, pausing to take a breath. While he mutters something incoherently, I savagely grin. This is it, no more tricks. I dash towards him and throw the knife again…

…but this time the blade didn't even strike him before he collapsed down into goop.

I stare dumbfounded. What was going on!?

Wait; why is everything so quiet?

I quickly head outside and run down the main street, keeping my Quirk active. Yet I hear no more footsteps, no breathing sounds but my panting. When I reach the end of the street, all I could see and hear were the sounds of the neighborhood nightlife.

I clench my fist. This…this was…

"FUCK!" I take a swing and punch a nearby wall. Ignoring the shock crawling up my elbow, I press my forehead to the wall.

One of my targets got away. This never happened before. Unacceptable. What did I do wrong? He did seem different than the rest. Should I have focused on him first? Or maybe my reaction time was slower than I thought?

A part of my mind is berating me for the stupidity of my reaction. This would've happened sooner or later. That I was a fool for thinking that every single one of my assassinations would go smoothly. And I knew that!

Then why did I feel so-

Enough.

I freeze, my fist still planted on the wall. I barely notice that the plaster/concrete around it is cracked. My breath hitches as my heartbeat feels like a pounding taiko drum.

"Contractor, turn and face me."

While I hesitate at first, I oh-so-slowly turn my head. Mawla's tall form stands behind me, imposing as always. I swallow and look up. His visage, ever-obscured by the ancient skull mask, looks down on me, not a trace of emotion to be seen.

I've talked with Mawla face-to-face many times. In our training sessions, whenever I fell or tripped, he would be there looking down, calmly telling me to try again, or showing me the proper way.

But now, here? I feel like the earth is about to swallow me whole.

"How does it feel?"

"…what?"

"One of thy targets has escaped. He has confounded and tricked thee, taken thee by surprise. How does it feel?"

I fight the urge to look away. I bite my lip and try to describe the roiling in my chest. But apparently, I didn't have to say anything.

"It hurts. Like little else. Thou'st desire to scream to heavens and curse the earth. Scorpions seem to crawl through thy veins."

I nod. He slightly crouches down and his voice drops an octave. "Never forget this feeling. Failure can be the greatest shame a man can feel. To have thy goal so close and have it slip away from thy fingers. Remember its sting, so thou may strive to avoid feeling it next time."

I nod again. He keeps staring at me for a moment, then he rises and does something that takes me completely by surprise: he places a hand on my shoulder. Despite him being a ghost, I can feel the weight of the appendage.

"It will seem easy for one slip-up to feel like a catastrophe. But do not focus on just one detail; look at all aspects of thy mission. What have thou accomplished this night?"

I close my eyes, take a deep breath and sort out tonight's events in my head. "I killed three criminals. I stopped a plot that could've ended up with innocents dead."

"True. The latter fact alone is more than enough to consider this mission a success."

I open my eyes and stare at Mawla in shock. "Success? But the last one, he saw-"

"Oh? What did he see, contractor?"

"He saw…he saw…" I try and pick out anything compromising the man might've seen.

"Exactly. Thine efforts to mask thy presence throughout these past months have borne fruit. Even if thy visage is known to the masses, thy Concealment and training obscure most efforts to track thee. Thy informant was an anomaly to this rule. The filth saw his 'comrades' perish by an invisible hand and fled into the night. He might have had an inkling as to who was responsible, but nothing more. While his ability was unprecedented and unusual, in the end, it changed the outcome of this mission little. Acknowledge thy mistakes, take heart of thy accomplishments and ensure the latter eclipses the former. That is my teaching for thee tonight."

I look at the pavement as I feel my cheeks burning up a storm. That was certainly not what I expected. "Thank you, Mawla," I whisper.

"That is my role is it not? To teach thee." He releases my shoulder and I straighten myself. "Now, in the spirit of the lesson, what hast thou learned from this mission?"

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and rub my chin. "Well, I think my physical performance was fine…" I pause. He doesn't correct me, so I press on. "That means any problems that happened in this mission were tied to intelligence failures."

My eyes narrow at this. Oh yes, I hadn't forgotten what happened yesterday. I pull out the work phone and press the Contact app. "And I think I know exactly how to address that issue."

-x-

Dabi groaned and rubbed his eyes. The call from his new associate came just as he was about to retire. "Yeesh, couldn't he do it tomorrow?"

He walked down the alleyways of the city, his hands tucked in his dark jacket's pockets. As he passed under a streetlight, he pulled down his hood. 'I'm already creepy enough with this. The last thing I need is someone to see my face and start calling the cops because they think a psycho's stalking the street.'

The stitched corners of his lips twitched at the thought. 'Well, they wouldn't be wrong.' He pulled out his phone and checked the location he was sent. Making sure he was going in the right direction, he pocketed it and resumed walking.

Truth be told, Dabi was unsure of approaching Shinigami in the first place. It was an idea that started as a whimsical fascination, brought upon by the execution of a Hero, further compounded by his use of blue fire. From the way Domino screamed, the fire was just as hot as his own. Once he started digging further and further though, his curiosity grew.

For one, unlike nearly every other killer out there, Shinigami was discreet. As in 'quieter than a tomb discreet'. Other killers made sure that people would see their work, give killings a personal touch, like a message. But Shinigami did none of that. He made sure that any bodies he left wouldn't be found until the stench got too strong. He left no messages, no markers, no 'signature'. In fact, Dabi thought he was a professional hitman if weren't for a few things. Interrogating and executing a Hero on camera (even if he didn't know it) was one of them.

It was nearly blind luck that he managed to finally meet the enigmatic killer. If he hadn't seen that news flash on the big screens, he would've missed him again. However, the meeting left him with more questions than answers. How long was he killing? What was his strategy? And why was it so damn hard to remember how he looked like!?

He met him mask-to-face, they even shook hands! It had to be a Quirk. Some kind of Quirk that also involved invisibility. Or maybe a hybrid Quirk like Shoto.

One thing he did glean from the meeting; Shinigami has worked alone so far. Completely alone. He should know, given how he operated similarly for a long time. Even with his supplier Giran, he still went solo. And most 'tough guys' he knew wouldn't use him as an intel source, of all things. Especially after seeing his Quirk.

But he made a deal. And Dabi was generally a man of his word. Unless people tried to double-cross him or Endeavor was involved. Then, all bets were off.

Some time later, the scarred vagabond finally reached his destination. After double-checking it was indeed the right place, he sent Shinigami a text and gave the area a good look-over. Nothing unusual about it; just a dirty alley with a green frog dumpster.

[Play American Gods S2 OST – Tech Boy and Mr. World]

From behind the dumpster appeared a dark shape. The shape stepped into the light and sure enough, there he was.

The fire user kicked a piece of trash and tilted his head. "So, how was it? Did you get them?"

Shinigami slowly nodded. "They won't be blowing up anyone anytime soon." The distorted voice had thrown him off during their first meeting, but it was far from the most intimidating thing he had seen.

Dabi grinned. "Glad to be of help. Now, my pay?"

The masked killer opened a pouch on his belt and pulled out a few bills. As Dabi approached him, he took notice of the amount. Was he trying to scam him? "Oi, don't you think a little more should be in there? It wasn't easy eavesdropping on those guys." A complete lie of course, but a little test wouldn't hurt –

Shinigami lowered his arm. Dabi moved to protest but stopped the moment he met the killer's gaze.

Suddenly it became difficult to breathe. He took a step forward. A minute pressure seemed to weigh down on his shoulders.

"Really? From what I gather, full pay indicates a full job done. And last I checked, burning the paper with the target's address is not a job well done."

Fingers twitching at the reminder of that little hiccup, Dabi swallowed and scratched his cheek. "Yeahhh…that. It was a big screw-up on my part, I'll admit. But I remembered the number so-"

"No, the target was in the apartment across from twenty-six."

Dabi froze at that. He remembered now, he did go to the floor with the number twenty-six. But the guy entered the apartment across from it. The apartment door itself had no number on it, so he wrote down the number of the other apartment.

Whoops. Was he really that sleepy when the phone rang?

"Not only that but when I attacked his partners-in-crime, one of them had some kind of Quirk that let him escape." His voice barely changed in pitch, yet each one of them felt like a boulder slamming on his back. "That was something I didn't know about. It was something you should have told me!"

By now Shinigami was standing right in front of him, his glowing eyes staring into Dabi's blue ones. If this was anyone else, Dabi would've torched them. But he couldn't move. It was just like that time all over again.

"Out of courtesy and the fact that you technically held up your part of the deal, I'll pay you. But only this amount. Now, you are going to listen to me very closely. The next time you find intel, tell me everything you find out. About the location, the target and any other potential factors like associates and their Quirks. I don't care if it's the banalest fact you can find, or even if it's just an unfounded rumor. If it's worth hearing about, I want to hear it.

Make no mistake, Dabi. I keep my word. But try to fuck me over…

It was only for a moment. But the vagabond would never forget the sight for as long as he lived. The shadows around the killer seemed to merge and rise…

…and two baleful red lights shone down on him, boring right through his soul.

…and I will make death seem like a pleasant memory." He drew an old-looking dagger from his belt and held it right in front of his face. "Understand?"

For once he thanked his scars. Sweating was a little difficult thanks to them. Because if they weren't there, he would look like a waterfall. But he couldn't appear weak. Not in front of anyone.

With great force, he met Shinigami's gaze and held his ground. He fucked up, but he would be damned if he was treated like a pushover.

"Crystal."

The killer kept staring at him for a few more moments before nodding. He returned the knife and held out the cash. With some resignation, he took it.

"Before you go," Shinigami said as he turned around and walked towards the dumpster. He drew another knife, this time from below his shoulder and jabbed a random brick next to the dumpster. With a quick yank, he pulled it out, leaving it sticking outside. The inside was hollow. "All of your future payments will be collected here. You can mark it if you want."

Dabi nodded. "Sure thing." He approached the brick and extended a finger, letting a blue flame dance upon it. Standing right next to Shinigami, he pushed a corner of the brick until it was thoroughly charred. "So, anything else? Do you want a new target?"

Even if he didn't see, Dabi knew an eyebrow was raised. "Do I need to add stupid questions to the list of things not to do?"

Despite the previous tenseness of the whole situation, Dabi couldn't help the imperceptible grin forming on his face. 'Maybe this won't be such a clusterfuck of an idea after all.'

-x-

Ritsu Ogawa (Assassin - Hassan-i Sabbah)

Stats:

Strength: D+->D++

Agility: C

Endurance: D++

Mana: C++ (Only when using Power of the Valley. Otherwise, nonexistent.)

Luck: C+

Skills:

Presence Concealment D+: The ability to hide from others. A poor level for any Assassin, but against ordinary criminals and some intelligent ones it works well.

Throwing (Dagger) B and Throwing (Retrieval) B: The expertise for throwing projectile weapons; in this case, daggers. His daggers have the same destructive power as firearms when thrown, typically spelling certain death for human targets. He can retrieve them to his hand with but a mere gesture

Information Erasure C++: Erases all traces of the user's identity, physical or digital, after leaving a scene of assassination. It does not hide the user's identity in any other situation, and clues can be pieced together to deduce identity. If the user's identity is discovered, then the effects of the skill weaken. Rank increased thanks to multiple exposures outside of Presence Concealment.

Power of the Valley of Death C++: A unique connection forged as a result of finding a relic of Alamut. Assassin can draw power from the Valley to perform certain skills he would otherwise be incapable of doing.

Quirk - Super-Hearing C: A power gained as a result of evolution. Allows the user to hear precise details within a certain range. Can extend the range in exchange for loss of detail. Also alerts the user of incoming danger provided they can react to it.

Noble Phantasm:

Zabaniya - Delusional Judgment Rank C+

An 'ultimate assassination technique' bearing the same name as the angels of hell, a title which all previous 'Old Men of the Mountain' used for their own techniques. Unlike them however, who were forged by extensive modification of the Hassans' bodies, this technique is a reflection of the Assassin's desire to inflict what he deems true judgment. Calling upon his unique connection to the Valley in the Shadow of Death, Assassin drags his target's soul to the Valley, where the First Hassan awaits them. Their soul is laid bare before the Great Founder and should they be found guilty of whatever sin Assassin finds them to have committed, the flames of Gehenna will burn away their soul and body until naught but ash remains.