Underground Hatred - My Hero Origins (MHO)

34: Hate-Filled Life

Word Count: 2320

(Davis)

A scowl crossed Davis's lips as he plopped on the empty booth seat, his collision with the table causing the top to tilt on uneven legs. The scent of spices was intoxicating next to the swinging door, constantly flowing traffic in and out of the kitchen. Clings came from inside the kitchen while voices and a soft tune played out in the dining area. A baby cried far off. The air was frigid like any restaurant throughout the year, goose bumps racing along his skin beneath his jacket's sleeves. The lighting was dim, an intimate setting perfect for a date night. Davis's mind wandered at the thought but snapped back when faced with the person at the opposing booth seat.

In front of Davis sat an older man: the roots of his raven black hair were graying while wrinkles splashed in minimal areas across his face. Though, that was the end of the aging. He had a build to him, back straight and formal. His defined facial features were protruding even more in the dim light, the shadows casting menacing shapes across his face. His lengthy hair that fell into one eye was combed neatly to match with his nice dress attire. He had a different attitude with his stature and a deeper skin tone than Davis's, but their eyes were what connected the dots of what they were to each other. Davis's indigo swirling irises glared back at the man's sky blue eyes that corresponded the same swirl, but the tinge of the color was off, something so captivating and wrong about them. That shade separated—yet bonded—the two men.

"I'm glad you were able to meet me here tonight," the man said to Davis. No kindness or compassion sat in his tone, but rather it was business-like.

Davis sighed to himself. His fingers mindlessly picked at the napkin that shrouded the utensils in a roll. "It was either you, Miss Queen, or school. I thought this was probably the most important one at the moment."

"So, you are taking this seriously."

"You really think—?" Davis silenced his rising voice. He locked eyes to the dark oak table, sucked in a deep breath, and peered back up at the man before him. "Yes, Dad, I'm serious about this. I don't know how many times I have to tell you that."

Davis's father, Manolo, straightened against the back of his booth's seat. A smirk quirked ever so slightly at the sides of his tightly drawn lips. "You make me question a lot of things, Davis. Some days I'm not sure if you favor something more than the family... business."

"I have other responsibilities other than family stuff. Like school."

"Whatever," Manolo scoffed with an eye roll. The strange sky blue eyes flickered their light for a brief moment. "Now, give me the formal update you said you would present."

Davis's stomach dropped, dread slowly overtaking him. He silently prayed to keep his words steady and even. "Now that Miss Queen has shown potential for a quirk, her attitude has changed towards the situation. She's ready to fight anyone who's willing to challenge her for the prototype. She's grown extremely bold over the course of the past few days, and it's finally taking real action."

"So, what are you gonna do about it?"

"I placed a note in her mailbox, saying it's from Metica's group," Davis began, his index finger jabbing at the table as he took each careful step with his words. "Tomorrow night the note challenges her to give back the suit. Now, if we could grab a group of your guys or even you—"

A dry laugh escaped Manolo. Davis halted mid sentence, peering up to see what was so funny. No humor sat in Manolo's shadowed face, rather a detailed expression that read that Davis's plan was impossible. Davis narrowed his eyes at his father, leaning back from the table and crossing his arms over his chest.