𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑽𝑬𝑫 𝑨𝑭𝑭𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵 ➣ Dabi

let me go

Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go.

"Who the fuck is this?" a voice asks, a deep and raspy voice. You jerk in your restrains, tears spilling down your cold cheeks. You can't see anything. You can't speak or even scream loud enough for anyone to hear you. You know. You've been screaming for the past hour. Whoever took you kept telling you to shut up so you know it's doing any good. It's why you gave up only a few minutes ago. That and your throat was killing you.

"She's a new recruit," your captor says.

"Why is she tied up?" a new voice says. This one is scratchy, like their throat is completely dry.

"Well, uh, I didn't want her to run off."

The room is silent for a moment. Then: "Run off? Why would she run off?"

You whimper, tugging at your restraints, at the ropes and the gag. It's not doing anything but you don't want to sit still. If you sit still, you'll start thinking, and thinking will lead to over-thinking, and over-thinking will lead to anxiety, and anxiety will lead to a panic attack, and that won't end good.

"You fucker!" you hear a slap followed by an ow. "You kidnapped her?"

"She's got a really valuable quirk! Besides, I thought you wanted more recruits!" your captor screams.

The scratchy voice replies, "I did but when I meant that, I meant to talk to them. I never said anything about kidnapping. This was not in the plan."

"Okay, but she wouldn't have come with me if I didn't take her. And I think we really need her."

Someone sighs. You sniff, shifting. Eventually the ropes have to break. Right? They have to.

"This is the dumbest mistake you've ever made." It's that deep voice again. The slightly raspy one.

You try to say, "Let me go," but it gets muffled by your sobs and the gag in your throat. It ends up just sounding like you're crying even more.

"Take that bag off her head," scratchy voice says.

You stiffen. No. No. If they aren't wearing a mask and you can see their faces, then they'll most definitely kill you. You shake your head and start jerking in your chair. But it's too late. They rip the bag off your head, the lights hurting your teary eyes. In front of you stands your captor, still in his mask. But the two other voices, the two other men both sit by the bar. One leans against it and the other sits, scratching his neck. The one leaning against looks intimidating with scars that cover what looks like a majority of his body. He's got black hair that slightly covers his forehead and eyes. The eye bags under his eyes are also scars, the same tinted purple as his collar bone and shoulders. He has a permanent frown on his face, his arms crossed in front of him as he stares at you. He's oddly familiar, something about bringing in a sort of recognition, though you can't quite place it. 

The other one, the one scratching his neck, has light blue hair that just barely goes to his shoulders, maybe a little higher. However, you can't see his face because he's got a hand, not his hand, someone else's hand on his face. It's disturbing. Enough so that just staring at this group of people, you know you're with villains. It sends chills down your spin, making you shiver even more as you begin to sob all over again.

"Look Shig, you scared her with your ugly face," the scarred man says to hand man.

"Don't talk to me you burnt bean," he shoots back. "I'm busy trying to decide what to do with her."

"She obviously doesn't want to be here."

"But trust me, she's got a quirk that we need." Your captor looks at you, cocking his head to the side as you tremble with your quiet sobs. "She's a healer. I saw her do it."

"A healer?"

"Yes. She can heal people—" he snaps his fingers, "—just like that."

You squeeze your eyes shut and put your head down, praying and pleading that maybe, just maybe a pro hero will sweep in and save you. Or they'll let you go.

No. You've seen their faces now. They can't do that. Right? They'll want to kill you or something. They won't want you running out and about knowing what they look like. Or maybe they do, so that you can live in constant fear that if you tell someone, then they'll kill you. Or maybe, they'll never let you go and you'll become their pet to play with. Or maybe, just maybe, they'll hit you with a bat so hard that you forget what they look like. Or maybe one of them has an erase quirk that'll make you forget. Or maybe—

"Look, I'll show you." Your captor takes off his glove, grabs a pocket knife, and slices his palm open. He extends it to you and says, "Heal me."

You just look up at him with wide, fearful eyes as you sniff, tears staining your cheeks.

The two others just watch, obviously not impressed. Not one bit.

"Come on," he says. "I know you can do it. I watched you heal that man on the street!"

You shake your head, looking at him then the other two. You don't want to. You don't want to appear as an asset so if you pretend you don't have a quirk, maybe then they'll let you go. Right? If a quirk is all they're after, then as far as they are concerned, you don't have a quirk.

He sighs, and brings the knife up to your cheek. You wince, squealing as he presses to you.

"Please," he says. "Heal me. I know you can do it. I'm not crazy." He presses the knife in closer. "Do it."

You flinch and look at his cut, quickly powering your quirk to heal his hand. The group watches intensely as the once bleeding wound heals, leaving behind nothing but a faint scar.

They gawk at you; your captor looks at his friends and nods his head. "See. I told you. We could use her."

Hand man scratches his neck. "Yes. Yes, we can use her. With her quirk, she can heal us during battle. Rebuild our strength. Then, then finally, we'll be able to stop all pro heroes."

Your captor nods. "Yes. Yes! Exactly. See I was right."

The tall man, the one with the scars, walks over to you and starts undoing your restraints. 

"Dabi? What are you doing?" Dabi. His name his Dabi?

Dabi looks up, squinting his eyes. "Taking her to her room. She won't help us if we keep her tied up like this. Come on," he says to you, taking your gag out and pulling you out of the bar. You don't fight back, mainly because he has a strong grip and you don't want to do anything to make them hate you and have reason to kill you.

"Wait," scratchy voice yells. Shig. What a strange name. Shig. Just Shig? That doesn't seem right. "Is that all you can do?"

You go to shake your head yes but Dabi tightens his grip. "I suggest you don't lie, newbie."

You quickly shake your head no. No. That's not all you can do. But you really don't want to give them more reason to keep you around. It's the last thing you want.

"What can you do?" he asks.

You hesitate, looking up at Dabi then your captor and then back to Shig. You don't want to speak. Honestly, you don't know that you even can after all that screaming. But you don't want to be threatened by a knife and Dabi seems more vicious than your captor. "I...," you cough, your throat killing. "I can make people's quirk stronger," you say. Your voice was so quiet and painful, you wonder if they heard you. You lost your voice from the long periods of screaming before the other two showed up. 

Shig cocks his head. "Oh, yes. We'll keep her."

No.

NO.

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