dispatch

the assignment

    _____ went through her paperwork over and over again. Sheriff requested she take a week off of dispatching due to recent circumstances. He advised her she was still free to come in for her special assignment from Endeavor.

    There she sat at Haru's desk, researching, writing, studying. Luckily, Shizuoka had plenty of useful assets, all available for her to play. She was good at her job; she knew that much, and she loved an occasional challenge.

    Plus, she was restless, there was no way she could stay at home for so long with nothing to do. Of course, she did have Spud and her four sheep, but there's only so much you can do with livestock, which were already taken care of.

    She smiled at the thought of her companion. He always made sure to avoid walking in puddles or mud. He always made sure his fur was clean, he'd even go as far as licking the sheep's' eyes and noses to keep them clean too. He acted more as a helper or assistant rather than a dog. A mute one.

     She logged into all of the applications on Haru's computer using her login information. She had about 8 professional sites that could help her. All the paperwork she had on Dabi was light work printed from Google.

    The country's database was her first go. Anyone else wouldn't have found anything on this site because nobody knows who Dabi is.

"But I do," she sang quietly.

    She pulled up a general inquiry, entering his first and last name, along with his date of birth, race and gender. Running him this way is a good way to cover all bases; finding aliases, faulty social security numbers, etc.

And what did she find? Absolutely nothing. This couldn't be right.

The computer read: REJECT: NOT ON FILE

Of course. She should've figured. Endeavor wiped him out of Japan's database. Just in case, she entered him a second time in case she spelled his name wrong or entered the wrong date of birth. She pressed enter and waited impatiently as the computer loaded its' response.

REJECT: NOT ON FILE

"Bro," she droned, aggravated.

She drug her fingertips down her face slowly and roughly, taking a deep breath in and out. This was a rough start already, but she had another idea.

The dispatcher typed in Dabi's childhood address into her search bar on her call logger. That way, any call at that address would pop up with every detail that happened there.

"Damn," she spoke, scrolling through the pages, "that's practically a rap sheet."

She noticed on every single call, the words "NOT FOR PUBLIC RELEASE" in bold. Surely Endeavor's doing. The last call there was a few years ago. It appears one of the younger children was intentionally burned by their mother. She was then taken by ambulance after a psych evaluation to a mental care facility. There were no more calls since then.

_____ printed out every report possible, running the printer dry of paper multiple times. While those printed, she went over to the prefecture mapping app. This app held all property records in that specific prefecture the station had access to. In this case, Shizuoka. Entering the address again, the screen zoomed in to their large estate. She double clicked on the property record, confirmed the owner, then printed it immediately.

Sitting back in her sit, the girl pondered a bit with the printer still running behind her. It was a shame she couldn't pull anything on Japan's database. That's where all the good shit is: criminal histories, warrants, personal information, registered vehicles, gang information-

Gang information.

The League of Villains.

That could technically be considered a gang, right?

She sat up with a jolt, hovering over her keyboard. After a few clicks of her mouse, the Gang Inquiry appeared on her screen. She typed "League of Villains" and hit enter.

And there it was. As her search loaded, she could see every file pop up behind the inquiry tab. Everything she needed and more was in the palm of her hand.

After reading through for about 15 minutes, she finally found Dabi's portion of his involvement. It wasn't much, but it was more than his legal name was giving. She pulled up another inquiry and entered him.

She bet almost 100 warrants loaded in, if not more. Sadly, they gave more information on his cases rather than him, which was to be expected.

But it was a start.

Again, she began to print everything.

She knew this was going to take a bit, so she got up from her seat, stretching her back then cracking her knuckles. Her thick shoes thudded against the cheap carpet as she walked toward the dispatch center. Opening the door with her keycard, she trudged to her cubicle.

The dispatcher eyed her messy little office. Sticky notes littered the desk and around the edges of her computer, all riddled with information on Dabi. Opening her filing cabinet, she grabbed a nearly empty binder labeled "S.A." (Special Assignment) and a few paper clips.

"_____."

She slammed her filing cabinet shut, accidentally jamming her fingers in the process. She ripped them out, and pivoted around, trying to shake off the pain while she held the black binder. She noticed a few of her scabs on her knuckles reopened, but she chose to ignore them for now.

"Hawks," she replied, still startled.

     He smiled softly, noticing her eye bags.

"You alright?" he asked, motioning to her hand.

     She scoffed, "Yes, it's nothing, you just scared me."

     A moment of silence blanketed the two of them, the low chattering of dispatchers around fluttered their ears.

"What are you doing here?" she asked him, clutching the binder to her chest comfortably.

     He pursed his lips and looked down, shifting his stance.

"I had a call, an agency assist-"

"You're lying," she stated, staring directly into his eyes.

     He huffed with a small smile. Shaking his head, he took his hands out of his pockets, throwing them up as one would if held at gunpoint.

"You got me. Sheriff asked me if I was interested in a special assignment," he answered.

     She nodded her head once.

"Why are you here? I thought you were taking some time off," he added.

"Special assignment," she replied, flashing her binder a bit.

"Why are you being so awkward?" he asked.

"You flirted with me at a funeral," she replied dryly.

"About that," he paused, sighing, "I'm really sorry. I guess it's just my personality."

"Right," she drew out.

Again, a moment of silence.

"Alright well, I've got to get back to work," she motioned toward her desk.

"Oh yeah, of course," he replied, "I'll see you around?"

She turned on her heel, setting her binder on her desk.

"Don't bet on it," she responded.