SSD III: Silver

88. Who's Who

It was a fairly quiet night, the case of the mobile quirk-fighting ring was still ongoing and had been for a while, so Aizawa kept an eye out for buildings large enough for a ring and a crowd, and out of sight enough to stay off the radar. Snacking on a jelly packet, he started making his way towards that part of town he'd been trying to visit more frequently since meeting AG.

It had become the busiest part of his normal patrol routes, so far he hadn't managed to get beyond the first five minutes without finding something that needed dealing with and tonight was no different. Some kids trying to rob a convenience store, he tied them up and left them to the police. Then a guy trying to steal a car, again left to the police.

Tsukauchi had become very used to him swinging by at night and was more than grateful for the help. Between Tsukauchi, Aizawa, and AG, it was really starting to feel like the uphill slog to clean up these streets was starting to get somewhere. The detective was practically living at the precinct on coffee and very little else, but he was still awake enough to appreciate all the help he was getting. And do the paperwork. So much paperwork.

Aizawa felt the vibrations beneath his feet before he heard the music that heralded what the people here called Vegas: three nightclubs all on a single strip of road for all ages (well, all ages once adulthood was reached), genders, and sexualities, one of which included a place to get gambling.

"Hey!"

Aizawa leapt towards the growing sounds of a fight somewhere close by and was not at all shocked to find a familiar scene when he looked out over the edge of the roof. There was that red flannel shirt, dancing between not two, not three, but four guys, with one already on the ground looking out for the count.

He dropped down on two of them a moment later, knocking their heads together and taking them out of play.

"Now that is not good sportsmanship," AG spoke in a mocking tone, backing towards Aizawa and away from the thug smart enough to bring a knife against the area's own small-time, unofficial vigilante. Poor guy had no idea he'd be facing a pro hero too though, clearly, or he would've brought two knives at least.

"This isn't a game," Aizawa chided, knowing full well AG would laugh it off, which he did.

And when the man with the knife lunged at AG, he wasn't holding the knife for long. Aizawa didn't even have to do anything else, within a few seconds the other two were out cold before they could attempt to bring their quirks into the fight and AG was handing him the handle of the blade for safekeeping.

"How's it hanging, Hero?"

Aizawa sighed heavily. "You're aware my name is Eraserhead? Or Aizawa, if you must."

The short male only gave a toothy grin, brushing down his shirt. "I'm aware."

Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose. "And I assume you're also aware half the people here have picked up your nickname for me." It wasn't a question. It didn't need to be.

"Trendsetter, what can I say? Besides, they're grateful to you," AG said, like that explained the stupid— though accurate— name. "Nobody else has ever cared about this part of town before."

"You do," Aizawa pointed out, remembering how much Tsukauchi had wanted to thank the mysterious man in flannel not so long ago for all the work putting criminals and lowlifes away without breaking laws in the process.

AG shrugged, arms swinging limply by his sides before he pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "I get a few kids off the streets or out of bad homes and I keep guys from thinking they own a girl because she's showing her ankles. The bar isn't exactly high." He frowned, turning away to rub something Aizawa really hoped wasn't blood off his glasses.