Chapter Text
You were registered as quirkless. No quirk had ever manifested for you, and by the time you were in high school, you had fully accepted that you will never have one. You hadn’t had the pull that so many others had to becoming a pro-hero anyway.
However, near the end of your senior year, you had fooled around with your partner at the time and found that you had a quirk that could only be triggered in sexual situations, specifically, if you reached climax with a partner. Your partner’s quirk allowed them to conjure small orbs of light, but after your escapades they found they could could conjure twice as many, and in larger sizes. Their brief boost in power had lasted for two hours, and further experimentation revealed that the time limit was the same no matter how you finished as long as they were touching some part of you when it happened.
You never revealed your quirk to anyone else, and when when you and your partner went your separate ways, they promised not to tell anyone for your safety.
After a couple years and a few more relationships, you found yourself being asked to come to the headquarters of a pro hero in the area. You hadn’t heard of him, but upon meeting him, he introduced himself as Jet, and his quirk allowed him to boost his speed in any part of his body, allowing him to get anywhere or react to anything in record time. He also mentioned that one of his interns had let information about you slip, and that he was willing to offer you payment if he could use your quirk.
Your gut reaction was to turn him down. But before you actually responded you figured that it wouldn’t hurt and that he was the only pro hero who even knew about you. You had recently gotten fired from your job, so a paycheck while you sought out a new job would be a big help.
That had been your first mistake.
Now, barely a year later, the paychecks had gotten a bit smaller which required you to accept more offers for your quirk. You attempting to get a real job prompted heroes to call you away at inopportune times and ruin your chances of keeping the job.
You hated everything.
You almost never slept in your own apartment due to being in so many other beds and you had lost contact with the last of your friends months ago. You had gotten pulled out by the riptide and were slowly drifting away to the dark and empty sea.
You didn’t even keep track of the names of the heroes, but the one you had just been with had been especially rough with you despite you asking them several times to be gentler.
You now found yourself walking home with bite marks pulsating with pain under your sweater. The weather hadn’t quite gotten to biting cold yet but you wore thicker clothing to feel some sort of disconnect from the body cursed with this quirk. You scrubbed a hand through your hair, as if you could wipe away the memory of the last hero. You wished one of the high ranking heroes would request you, but so many of them were honestly good heroes, like All Might or Best Jeanist, and they wouldn’t allow you to sell yourself if they knew what was going on. You tapped your chin, mulling over going to the press for the millionth time. The press loves nothing more than a good scandal, but what would happen to you afterwards? Would you be protected? Would villains discover your quirk and try to take you for themselves? What would happen to you?
The blinding lights of neon signs advertising pro heroes caused bile to rise up in your throat. You shook your head to clear your thoughts. You just wanted to have a few minutes where you don’t think about them. You ducked into an alley. It was darker and quieter than the streets were and you find yourself able to relax once you realized how tense you were. You took a deep breath of the stale air as you focused on relaxing the rest of your body. You knew the city well enough and you headed off in the direction of your apartment through the musty alleys.
You enjoyed five minutes of peace before you swore you heard footsteps. But when you turned nothing was there. You remained still for ten seconds before you slowly turned back around. You went to take a step and stop. If it was a villain you could call any number in your phone and pro heroes would be there in a second. If not to save you personally, then to save their power booster. But, honestly what could a villain do to you that the saviors of the citizens hadn’t done themselves? As you pulled your phone halfway from your pocket, it rang. Startled, you nearly dropped it, but answered on the second ring.
“Oh, Fahrenheit, hey! I’m not really near you-”
He cut you off. “Where are you?”
You held the phone away from your ear, not realizing you had turned on the speaker.
“I’m about ten minutes from my apartment.” You didn’t wonder why he asked. You had already resigned yourself to another night away from your only private space on earth. “I can be there in two hours if I get to the train in the next half hour.” Your voice had dropped all emotion and a numbing sensation had fallen over you.
“You can’t get here any faster?” There was an edge to his voice that you were familiar with.
You heard soft footsteps behind you again and didn’t even bother to turn around. You hoped the villain kills you quickly.
“Fahrenheit I have no other way to get there. Unless you have an intern who can teleport, I’m taking the train. I don’t even want to be near you.” You had never used a harsh tone with him in the past. His quirk allowed him to heat his body to nearly a thousand degrees, and hand shaped burn scars on your hips were enough of a warning not to try anything against him.
“You’re going to be eating those fucking words when you get here,” he growled. “I know for a fact my paycheck to you is keeping food in your filthy mouth so watch what you say.”
You sniffled. You wish you hadn’t said that to him. In a moment of anger you had probably just sealed yourself into another night of agony.
The footsteps behind you had stopped. You felt warmth coming from a body directly behind you. You didn’t care to look.
“Give me the phone.” Came a soft yet gravelly voice. You guessed that you’re nearly the shoulder height of the person behind you.
You held your phone up and above your head, and felt it gently plucked from your hand. You stared at the ground. The cold air seeped into your skin through your sweater and you wrapped your arms around yourself.
The man behind you spoke again and it caused a shiver to go down your spine.
“Don’t you ever talk to people like this again. I know that you’re a pro hero and you’re using your position to force people to dance for you, and I know that someday someone’s going to put a stop to you.” You heard the beep as the call was ended, cutting off Fahrenheit's response.
Shaking, you slowly turned to look at the imposing figure behind you. He was nearly a foot taller than you, with thick arms and more knives that you’d see in a store. A mask covered his eyes and a red headband held his thick black hair back. His blood red eyes stared down at you. You immediately shuddered and bowed slightly, staring at the ground again. His boots had metal spikes around the toe and armor over the knees. Another shiver ran through you. This man was the definition of dangerous.
You shuddered again as you became fully aware of your situation. Alone in an alley, your phone in the hands of the terrifying man in front of you and you couldn’t hold back a sob as tears started to fill your eyes. A minute ago you were hoping he’d kill you, but now you would rather have been in some agency anywhere else.
Stunningly, he handed your phone back to you. “Here,” he mumbled.
You stared at the phone in his callused hands and looked back up at his face. His eyes had softened somewhat as he looked down at you. Another chill flowed through you all the same.
He wiggled the phone a bit. “Take it or I’ll just drop it,” he told you.
Shakily, you took the phone and put it back in your pocket. You wanted to run, but just by looking at him you knew you wouldn’t get far.
“Are you going to kill me..?” You asked between shuddering breaths.
He shook his head. “No. You’re someone I’m trying to protect,” he remarked boldly. “All the heroes we have are just using their titles to hoard money and fame and anything else they want. I’m putting a stop to it.”
You swear he seemed familiar now that the adrenaline had started to pass. Like you were told about him by a friend of a friend.
“...Sir…? Um, can I- can I ask who you are?” You voice shook as you thought you know the answer already, but you couldn’t stop yourself from asking.
“Stain,” he said. “The press is just calling me the hero killer. But as long as the heroes know I’m coming for them, what they call me doesn’t matter. I can’t let these false heroes continue masquerading around saying they’re protecting the peace.”
You’ve heard of him. He’s killed or crippled so many pro heroes. You thinking he looked dangerous was a spot on assessment. Wait, had he said you were someone he was trying to protect?
You stared up at him with an even look. His face showed no discernable emotion, although it were carved from stone. “Who is your target right now?” Your voice was small, but you held his gaze.
“I don’t have one just yet. I just arrived here this afternoon,” his tone was curious, and a tad guarded.
The burn marks on your side tingled. “Would you like a suggestion?”