Fractured Wings

The compound loomed ahead, it felt like the walls were already pressing in on me. Our footsteps echoed off the concrete as we walked through the corridors. 

Mimic's voice was the first to break the oppressive silence. 

"You think you're so clever don't you?" His venomous words were directed at me, snapping like a whip. "Don't think I didn't notice how you were holding back there. Did you even fight that hero or were you just shining his boots?" 

I didn't bother looking at him, "If you were paying so much attention, then you could have put in more effort into taking out the bug instead of playing hide-and-seek." 

That struck a nerve, "You've got a smart mouth, you're already skating on thin ice. You think Overhaul won't see right through you." 

I stopped walking, finally turning to face him. My expression was neutral, my voice even. "Maybe if you spent less time pointing fingers and more time putting an actual effort in, we wouldn't have lost the cargo." 

And I whole heartedly believe that, although I would have just found another way to release them. From what I learned of Mimic's quirk, he could merge with inanimate objects and take control of them, he could have done so with the truck and got us to safety if he wanted, unless there were restrictions. 

But that didn't matter, I just needed to play into this role, to fit in. 

My words were like a trigger. Mimic lunged forward, his body expanded wide enough to engulf me. "You little—" 

"Enough!" 

Hojo's voice cut through the tension like a blade. He stepped between us, his imposing figure casting a long shadow on the wall. 

"Save your tantrums for later, we've got bigger problems to deal with." 

Mimic hissed but backed off, his form shrinking slightly. I met Hojo's gaze briefly, and his eyes told me everything: Keep your mouth shut in front of the boss. He was on the fence on whether or not he should believe me or so. 

He was more like Rappa, simple, well Rappa was really simple actually. I could outright tell him my plans then come up with some simple lie to break him out of the thought that I could be a traitor. 

We finally entered Overhaul's office. 

"You're late." his tone was sharp from behind the face mask. It was enough to make Mimic flinch. "And empty-handed." 

Hojo stepped forward and done most of the talking for us. "We were intercepted by heroes. We were able to deliver from our end, but we lost the cargo." 

Overhaul's eyes narrowed, his hands tightened before he placed them in-front of him in a calming effort. 

"Heroes? What tipped them off?" His voice dripped with disdain. 

Mimic, the little critter, wasted no time. He pointed a gnarled appendage at me, "It was him. I've been saying it from the start, this Soryu bastard's not loyal." 

I raised an eyebrow. "Blaming me for your own incompetence? Bold strategy." 

"Enough!" Overhaul's voice thundered through the room, and the tension snapped like a wire pulled too tight. He stood slowly, his presence filling the space. "I don't care who's to blame. What I care about are results. Right now all I see are excuses." 

His gaze locked on me though. Cold and calculating, "Kobe." 

I met his stare unflinchingly. 

"You've been useful before," he continued, his voice was low but carrying the weight of a threat. "But loyalty is like a blade—it dulls overtime if not sharpened. I don't tolerate dull blades." 

I gave a small nod, choosing silence over defiance. 

He gestured for us to leave, Mimic edged closer and jumped on his desk though. 

"Also guys remember." Overhaul disrupted. "Failure is never acceptable." 

*** 

Back in my quarters, I closed the door and let out a slow breath before laying still on my bed. I checked the place every night to see if it was bugged. It wasn't, which made for what I planned next more calming and even somewhat exciting. 

Sitting cross-legged on my bed, my hand lifted and paper formed and scrunched up to look like a certain figure, Mimic. 

"Let's see what you're up to with the boss now." 

When Mimic decided to merge with the bird I used to allow for our escape from the scene I kept a small piece of it on him from the moment we landed. I made sure to land in the dark shade of trees. So a piece of my paper stuck to him and was now acting like a listening device. 

The first thing I heard was....

***

He's a loose canon," Mimic spat out, referring to me with a barely restrained malice. "The way he carries himself? Like he's untouchable. You seen in right now boss. I believe he handed those kids to the heroes. If it weren't for me we would all have been caught." 

Overhaul remained silent at Mimic's bold faced lie. His gloves were tapping the surface and he didn't interrupt Mimic's tantrum but the air grew heavier the longer it went on. 

"And what's worse?" Mimic pressed on, leaning forward as if to drive the point home. "He's got no respect. No fear. You think he's loyal? I'd bet my life he's playing both sides." 

Overhaul finally looked up, his gaze sharp. "Your life? That's a steep wager Mimic." He said with a soft danger to his tone. "Anyway, the reason I included him to the team even though he lacked that fear and respect is the same reason I took on Toya. They've both got no goals, no regard for their lives. It's what makes them good tools." 

Mimic flinched, pulling back slightly but refusing to back down entirely. "I'm telling you, that doesn't matter, he's a risk to this family." 

There was a long pause. Overhaul stood, his movements slow and deliberate as he adjusted his gloves. "Do you know what separates someone who's valuable from someone that's expendable?" 

Mimic hesitated, unsure if whether the question was rhetorical or not. "Loyalty," he answered tentatively. 

"No." Overhaul stepped closer, his presence was suffocating. "Results. Ever since he has been here there have been rumours of people staying away, equating the kid to a boogeyman that they don't want to mess with. The family's name has risen again if only slightly. He has brought us results." 

He gestured vaguely at mimic, "You on the other hand, have been whining and bitching about him since he's been here and this is your first time meeting the punk." 

Mimic bristled, his form flickering erratically. "Boss, I—" 

Overhaul raised his hand, silencing him. "I have someone in the police force. He'll comb through every frame of the footage from tonight that was recorded from the police dashcams. If there's a traitor in our ranks, I'll find them." His voice remained sharp, cutting through the air like a scalpel. "Until then, just do as I ask...." 

Mimic recoiled and muttered. "Understood. 

The paper tagging him disintegrated to nothing...

***

The conversation had gone more or less how I expected, other than the final pieces of it. About his version of useful and expendable tools, and most importantly, the police cameras. 

"I could be screwed here." Sure the people in the car wouldn't have noticed my acts because of the intensity of the situation, but that didn't mean the camera's would have missed it. I laid down in bed staring at the ceiling and weighing my options. 

There would be a couple hours or maybe a full day or two before he got this supposed police officer to get him all the details. 

I still had the advantage, for now. But the cracks were starting to show. 

___

The sound of the machines in the hospital room filled the silence of the room. Centpeder stood at the foot of the bed where an unconscious Glasslock lay, her face pale against the sterile white of the pillow. Her side was bandaged, but the jagged wound beneath was a grim reminder of how close she had come to death. 

Centipeder clenched his mandibles, frustration bubbling under his composed exterior. "This isn't right," he muttered, his voice was low but a bubbling anger radiated from it. "She shouldn't have to pay for someone else's recklessness." 

Bubble girl, standing by the window, crossed her arms. Her usual bright demeanour was dimmed, replaced by a sharp edge. "You mean Sōryū," she said bluntly, not bothering to hide the bitterness in her tone. "His tip-off put her here. It's like he doesn't even think about the fallout." 

Centipeder nodded. His gaze never left Glasslock. "He's just a careless brat. We should have put him in cuffs from the moment we seen him..." his voice trailed off, his claws tightening around the edge of the bed. "He won't walk away next time!" 

Sir Nighteye had walked in with Mirio at his back. 

Mirio's face was downcast. He didn't radiate that same ray of sunshine he usually did. He looked heavily remorseful. Sir Nighteye kept his appearances up but it was clear that he was still deeply affected from this. 

Sir Nighteye pressed the bridge of his glasses closer to his nose. "I'm glad that you all made it back alive. I just wish the circumstances could be better." 

"It's my fault." Mirio spoke up, he bowed to everyone in the room. "I was the one that accepted Sōryū's tip-off and dragged everyone into this, I should have contacted Sir first." 

"Don't blame yourself, you made a call and in the end we still rescued two civilians." 

That was true, the two in question were in hospital rooms of their own, knocked out with hospital staff attending them and police officers waiting outside to guard as well as take their reports once they wake up. 

"She will pull through!" Sir Nighteye said "But blame will not heal her. Nor will it change out current situation." 

Bubble girl spoke up with the slightest bit of disrespect pointed to her boss. 

"With all due respect sir, someone has to take blame for this. And I feel one person deserves it more than Overhaul." 

Centipeder droned out the conversation, his mind was elsewhere. He looked at Glasslock's face, her expression so peaceful it felt wrong. He couldn't let this stand. Sōryū had led them to this. Centipeder wasn't as tolerant as Sir Nighteye and he was fine with that, it got things done the right way. 

Even if he had to do things a little underhanded, he would do so to restore the teams balance. 

Centipeder was going to do something that he knows wouldn't be accepted by Nighteye, but as he continued to stare into Glasslock's form he decided he wouldn't need his permission for this. 

Later as he stepped out of the hospital room to the crisp glow of the sun, his mind was spinning on wheels. He had made a decision and now was off to set it in stone. 

***

The coffee shop was alive with chatter, a lively hum of overlapping voices punctuated by the hiss of the espresso machine. The scent of roasted beans hung heavy in the air, mingling with the sugary sweetness of the pastries from the display case. A lively space for unwinding. 

Centipeder would usually spend some time here, more so in his younger years since this place and the area in general were typically more accepting of mutants like him. He looked scary, he would hear it a lot and it always made him feel lesser than. But he found a comfort here. 

And not only him, the greedy and ambitious swine always find themselves comfortable in the same spaces not meant for them. And that is what he is looking for now. 

Centipeder gained a few curious glances as he looked around, he adjusted his tie more so out of habit to fit in more. His scanning of the room stopped when he found the character he was looking for. Kenji Kubo, the journalist with a penchant for stirring up troubling headlines. Kenji's presence was impossible to miss. 

At the corner, the man held court, his animated gestures carving shapes in the air. His voice was relentless and sharp, in a news anchor way. "I'm telling you, the system's rotten top to bottom." he declared, waving a half empty coffee cup as if it were a gavel. "Heroes covering for politicians, politicians covering for villains..." Centipeder believed their could be some truth to his odd conspiracies but that's not what was important now. 

The small audience around him were nodding and laughed nervously, more drawn in by his charisma than the conspiratorial tirade. 

When a small and sweet lady in the shops uniform asked the crowd to disperse for intimidating the customers Centipeder went on the move. 

"Kenji Kubo?" 

Kenji blinked and stared up at the voice, startled. Then his lips stretched into a grin, a practise ease masking his surprise. "Well, well, well. If it isn't part of societies finest. To what do I owe the pleasure Mr Centipede?" His tone was equal parts sarcasm and intrigue. 

Centipeder ignored the jab, producing a manila envelope from his coat and placing it on the table with a soft thud. He slid it across to Kenji, who raised a brow but didn't immediately reach for it. 

"This is for you," Centipeder said, his voice low. 

Kenji's grin widened as he picked up the envelope. "What's this, a love letter, I get enough of those already. Or is it...." he slightly opened it and flicked through the pages, his eyes widening as he scanned through each page. The grin faded, replaced by an intense focus. 

Kenji let out a low whistle, shaking his head. 

"This is good. Where did you get this?... Scratch that, why are you giving this to me?" 

Centipeder's mandibles clicked softly. "What matters is that it is real and actionable. Do something meaningful." 

Kenji leaned back, tapping the edge of the envelope against the table. He was cautious which didn't seem to match his overall personality in Centipeder's eyes. 

"You're asking me to stick my neck out here. Overhaul's not a small-time crook. He's a monster with deep pockets and deep connections. If I go after him, I'm painting a target on my back." 

Centipeder crossed his arms, towering over the journalist. "You've painted targets before and you've come out unscathed because you're good at what you do." 

Kenji smirked, though there was a glint of nervousness in his eyes. "Flattery will get you nowhere bug-boy. I still need to know, what's in it for you? Heroes don't typically hand off intel like this without expecting something big in return from the story." 

"I want to make sure that Overhaul finally get's thrown away in the place he deserves. But I also want you to highlight the new boogeyman he has working for him. Sōryū!" Yes. 

Centipeder photocopied the documents that he got from Sōryū, but he also added in new information all about the paper villain. There were no solid pictures of him, even from security cameras. But the drawings would be enough for people to know. 

"You're serious about this... Fine. I'll bite. But you better hope this pans out, or I'll be writing a very different story with you're name at the front and center." 

Without another word Centipeder got up and walked out, his long legs carrying him swiftly out of the coffee shop. 

He heard Kenji's quiet envisioning of how the paper will go as he brought out his laptop to start planning. 

"Front page," he muttered to himself, a grin creeping back onto his face. "No bigger. This is Pulitzer Material."