Wasted Quirk

Chapter 8

"You're reporting to a corner store owned by an elderly lady..."

Cypher started briefing me on our newest call for a hero assist. So far, it sounded beneath me. Old hags generally didn't like me. Say I'm rude and impatient. Like I give a shit.

"What's her deal?" I shouted while making my way to the scene. Probably got her stupid cat stuck in a tree or can't find the glasses that are on top of her damn head.

"Something spilled in her shop."

I stopped moving. Are you kidding me right now? Someone thought that calling a hero was the best idea? Call a janitor and quit wasting my time!

"I'm not doing that," I replied to my earpiece. "Call dispatch back and tell them they are all certified morons."

"Come on, Ground Zero," Cypher groaned. "You want to be number one, right? The smaller cries for help are the ones that really matter! You don't need bigger and grander rescues, you need votes! And you get more votes if you interact with more civilians. And yes, that includes paranoid little old ladies."

I growled and let off a few explosions in my palms to work off my frustration. He was right. And I hated that.

"Fine."

Cypher showered me with compliments for my 'display of true altruism' while I continued on to the shop. I didn't stop him. I kinda needed the self-esteem boost.

When I walked in, I noticed that someone had taken it upon themselves to set up a budget crime scene. Customers were kept from going within several meters of the spill. The area where the so-called crime occurred was roped off with bright green gift-wrap ribbon tied to various grocery items at each end of the aisle. It wasn't very effective as I saw a few shoppers duck under the barrier to grab something off the shelves within the off-limits space. I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, thank goodness you're here!" the shaky voice of an elderly woman proclaimed above the dull ambiance of the store. "My store has been attacked!"

"Ma'am," I started, trying my best to remain patient and respectful and not tell her she was full of shit. It's for the votes, Katsuki. It's all means to an end. Just keep it together. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"

I kept any colorful language to myself.

"Well," the woman began, while tightly clenching her apron. "It started off as a normal day..."

Here we go. I settled in for a long explanation full of meaningless details that included side tangents hardly necessary to the overall store. But as I started to zone out, I began to notice things. Like her white knuckles, the nervous shuffling of her feet, her quick breaths, and the constant darting of her eyes. This woman wasn't paranoid, she was terrified. So much that I couldn't help but feel a bit of compassion for her.

"... but then I noticed a man come in with a bag over his shoulder full of items. It wasn't abnormal, people always come in with items if they've already been to another store, or to the market, or maybe if they just prefer to carry several things around with them—"

"What did the man look like?" I interrupted, my already sparse patience and compassion running low. Her squeaky voice was grating my nerves. "Did he do anything weird?"

"He was about your height and build, and maybe close to your age too," she answered. "I didn't notice much else to distinguish him from others. He was very plain looking. He wore a hat and a mask, as well as glasses with a glare to them, so I never saw his eyes."