Grey Line

Late Night Calls

He was thankful to have gained his wings back in full force after the war. Zooming through the sky was coming in handy right now. The woman in his arms was barely conscious, luckily for her, during the war he learned a lot on wounds and emergency care.

His boots landed with a soft thud on his roof, golden eyes looked her over as he sighed and made his way inside the darkened apartment. He flipped on a light, laying her out on his dining room table and tore off his jacket, "Hey, I need you to stay awake," he placed it under her head and lifted her shirt to the wound. It was a clean stab.

"Fucking hell," she hissed in pain when he felt it, checking to see how deep it went.

He jogged to his kitchen, grabbing a dish towel he had never even used, "I need you to hold this here and press while I grab some stuff." Hawks took her hand and placed it on the rag.

The woman tried to take in her surroundings to keep herself awake. It was a nice apartment, something fitting for the former number two hero. It smelled clean. Probably a maid, she scoffed to herself.

He walked back in and laid out his tools beside her on the table. His hand carefully moved hers as he took its place, applying heavy pressure. She groaned and closed her eyes. He glanced at her, "I know," he grabbed his next item, "just hang in there."

She kept her eyes closed while he worked, listening to the quiet sounds to distract herself. A heavy breath left her as she felt the cold needle in her skin. She already in so much pain, it didn't make a difference.

"What was all of that," he kept his eyes on his work.

"None of your business," she groggily snapped.

"Considering I'm saving your life, you owe me that much."

She was quiet for a minute before she answered, "I killed a guy."

Hawks' hand paused, "Why?"

"He was using kids in the slums to transport his drugs," her grey eyes opened, looking at the lights above her, "It took me forever to get to him. Kids had been going missing for months...."

His golden eyes looked at her, contemplating his next choice of words, "Why not turn him in?"

"Like it would do any good. This justice system is a joke. With his connections, he'd be back out there in a week."

"Not with a proper trial," he muttered as he finished his stitch.

She sat up on her elbows and glared at him, "Listen bird brain, I don't know what world you live in, but people like him always get away."

His golden eyes met hers, "Not always." He pulled out the alcohol and began to disinfect, making her hiss in pain and lay back. He smirked to himself as he placed a gauze over it, using medical tape to secure it in place. "For what it's worth, myself and the ones I know have worked hard to keep people like that away."

Her eyes felt heavy as she swallowed, "Yeah...I just clean up the scraps."

It made sense now. She was a vigilante. Not a villain, but not exactly a hero either. He cleaned up his mess and gently pulled her to a sitting position, "I need to wrap your waist to keep the pressure." After a deep breath she nodded. Hawks carefully wrapped the white cloth around her, keeping it tight, but not unbearable. Once he was done, he slid her jacket from her shoulders, "You need to lay back and let it start to heal before you go sightseeing down the streets."

"I'll be fine-"

"You can leave in the morning," he tossed the bloody jacket aside, "I'll grab you a clean shirt."

This whole situation was annoying. She hadn't been this injured in a long while. He walked back into the room and handed her a white tshirt and sweatpants, "You're covered in blood."

Her hand reached out and grabbed the clothing, her voice was barely above a whisper, "Thanks."

He led her to his spacious bed room and flipped on the light. "You can stay in here," he closed the large black curtains, "There is a bathroom connected so you don't have to go far." He watched her look around his room, her body language told him how uneasy he was. He smirked, "I'm not gonna turn you in."

Her grey eyes landed on him, "That would be a wise decision." She looked away, "I'm sorry about your clothing."

He blinked and looked himself over, "Oh, it's no big deal," he hadn't realized how much of her blood was on him, "Get some rest."
__________
Hawks quietly cleaned up their mess, his mind thinking. He couldn't blame her for what she did. A lot of heroes felt similar deep down, himself included. People like the man she killed were truly horrid beings that deserved the worst.

He walked into his spare room, talking to himself, "She could make a damn good hero...." He grabbed some spare clothing, "just without the killing thing..." his mouth twisted in thought as he shed his stained black shirt, "but who is she and why?"

His assistant was still trying to acquire information. A huff escaped him as he pulled out his phone, calling the one person awake at this ridiculous hour. A grin landed on his face when they answered, "Erasure, how are you?"

"Hawks...do you have any idea how late it is?"

He chuckled at the other man's tone, "I do. Which is why I called you."

He yawned, "What do you want?"

"I need some information," he closed the spare room door, "a pervious student....but I don't have her name."

"Her?" Erasure sounded annoyed, "Hawks if this is another-"

"It's not, scouts honor. She was bleeding out on my dining room table earlier so-"

"Okay wait, what?"

Hawks casually filled him in, keeping out that she was a vigilante, "I just wanna know who I'm dealing with here."

There was a pause from the other end, "Blood quirk, right?"

"Yeah."

"You got that information for Hallie?"

He frowned, "Y-yeah."

"Meet up with me tomorrow and I'll see what I can find for you...I'll text you details."

The frown quickly turned into a signature smile, "Thanks." He hung up the phone and tossed it on the bed, feeling accomplished.