I Don't Smoke (bsdxmha)

The experiment

The Shie Hassaikai's base is camouflaged better than the Port Mafia by a long shot. One of the entrances looks to be a regular office building two or three stories high, with immaculate green gardens and a plain interior layout.

The Port Mafia has never needed to hide their activities, as everyone within the city walls knows that they kept to themselves and rarely caused the general public harm. It seems that the Shie Hassaikai are not as fortunate. Still, Chuuya - who has ironically never been one for stealth - finds himself becoming overly paranoid about being caught by the police.

Ace does not ease him of his worries. The man has a penchant for dramatics and far too much power to aid him in that regard. Even as they descend into the drab basement tunnels that make up the Shie Hassaikai compound, he begins complaining about the colourless exterior design. Chuuya can't disagree - it's practical to a fault and lacks a sort of human influence.

For all Chuuya dislikes the Ace though, he's an executive for a reason. And technically Chuuya's superior. For now. So Chuuya takes the complaints with clenched teeth to stop himself from lashing out at the man, knowing that under that arrogant exterior, is a highly intelligent man. And who else does that remind him of? He shakes his head, and sighs.

The other source of his grievances is his annoying apprentice, who is currently staying in a Port Mafia-owned motel about thirty minutes away. Nowhere closer was available. The Mafia's influence has struggled to extend all the way to Osaka with the six-hour commute and Hero activity finding itself quite high further down Japan. That's why they're evaluating the worth of the Shie Hassaikai, Chuuya figures, that and the rumours of the quirk erasing bullets.

One of the Eight Bullets - Nemoto - leads them through into a well-furnished room with two velvet couches. They're purple, as many elements of the room are, with gold detailing. A desk is planted farther back with what Chuuya believes are locked drawers. A coffee table sits between the two couches. Besides that, the room is rather bare like the rest of the compound, and Chuuya finds himself questioning the choice - is it for aesthetics, practicality, or personal preference?

He supposes he should ask the man sitting on one of the couches who looks an awful lot like the description of the new leader of the Shie Hassaikai. Overhaul - Chisaki Kai - perches primly on a chair separate from the two couches, smack between them. His face is half covered with some sort of plague mask similar to Nemoto's, sharp yellow eyes peeking out above the accessory. One thing that catches Chuuya's eye is the informal outfit of sorts - in particular, his green and purple bomber jacket. It's a large step down from the Port Mafia's unnamed dress code.

"The Shie Hassaikai welcome you," Overhaul greets with one finger tapping irrationally on the armrest of the chair. He rests his chin into the palm of his other hand, elbow leaning on the armrest, and crinkles his eyes into what Chuuya thinks might be a smile under the mask. "It is not every day the Port Mafia crawls out of Yokohama to acknowledge another group."

Chuuya gets the distinct impression that Overhaul can be a very charismatic person when he wants to be.

Ace steps forward, smile poised into something venomous and conceited, and holds out his hand. "The Port Mafia is grateful for your open mind. Let us commence with our discussion."

Curiously, Overhaul does not shake Ace's outstretched hands. It seems to only spur his glare on further, so the executive sniffs and sits on one of the couches. Chuuya follows suit. As do the few mafia grunts who stand behind their chosen couch. Nemoto urges two Shie Hassaikai members to take a place behind his own couch.

"The Port Mafia has taken interest in your quirk-erasing drug," Chuuya says before Ace can spit some nonsense about abilities and confuse the man.

The Port Mafia had lost their only nullification ability when Dazai defected, leaving a gap in Mori's curated defences. The man was nothing if not calculating, a ruthless sort of pragmatic that Chuuya had come to accept under his amicable exterior. It was something fit to lead whatever mess the Port Mafia would be without him.