𝑩𝑨𝑫 𝑨𝑷𝑷𝑳𝑬 | ˢ.ᵗᵒᵈᵒʳᵒᵏⁱ ˣ ᵒᵖ!ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ˣ ᵏ.ᵇᵃᵏᵘᵍᵒ

𝐂 𝐇 𝐀 𝐏 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑 𝐓 𝐄 𝐍

Chapter ten: Totally played

EXHAUSTION HAD TAKEN ITS TOLL on your body as soon as you walked through the front door, and collapsing on the couch in gym clothes half burnt and stinking of nitroglycerin was a much needed luxury that you had been looking forward to. Letting out a tired groan, you rolled onto your side, limbs flopping lazy over the edge of the couch as you glanced around the quiet apartment.

Something was definitely different — as in, things weren't the way you'd left them that morning.

Immediately standing up, you began scouring around for some kind of clue. Evidence that you weren't going crazy and someone had indeed been inside of your apartment apart from you. The lock hadn't been tampered with, and your safe wasn't cracked open or touched either. Bedroom was just as you left it, and the games consoles remained below your television collecting dust as you breathed. Only thing left was the kitchen and dining area.

A bright, blood-red feather caught your eye as you passed the dinner table, and on closer inspection you had noticed that it had settled upon a small white box. You immediately thought back to the winged hero who had made an impression you weren't going to forget anytime soon. Especially as every time you opened your browser app, a picture of you showing Hawks the one fingered salute was on the front page of some obsolete news article.

Wiping the feather away, you lifted the box to your eyes, glancing it over before you placed it back down. A tab stuck out of the side of the box, screaming, pleading to be pulled. And so you did. The tab revealed a note, made of cream paper simular to your invitation to the hero gala.

So, to conclude, Hawks had broken into your apartment. Nice.

A number was inked in bold onto the paper, and gave instructions of what you were to do with it — which you personally thought was stupid, as what else would you do with a phone number — but then again, could you have expected an ounce of intelligence from that man? He may be catty, but boy is he blonde. The note had been signed off by no other than the ethical trespasser himself, and below the signature: a company stamp. You thinned your eyes. You'd never heard about Hawks owning a company.

Quickly, you searched it up, but no information had been publicised, leading you to believe you were about to play apart in something big, and by the looks of it, he would either run you dry, or you'd get your hands in the pot.

Suppose you were giving up on the whole 'take control of your life' thing then. Fuck.

Impatiently, you texted the number on the sheet, and you immediately received a response.

[ HAWKS.CO ]
business number

You
[ Pppppppppp ]

Hawks.co
[ Welcome to Hawks.co. This number has been
recognised, and a pre-written message shall be
sent shortly. ]

[ Hello Y/N. Im sure your confused right now,
that is if you haven't ignored this whole thing
and forgot of my existence. But, I think you
will benefit if you listen. Or read even. I'm
Starting my own company — Hawks.co as the
name gave away. You'll understand my trade
once you open that box, which I'm assuming you
haven't yet.

Miss Rumi has asked me to extend this invitation
to you, as she firmly believes you would be the
perfect woman to become the face of my company.

Of course, you'd still attend school and train to be
a hero, however you will work a little side job for me.
The pay is good. Insanely good, and I'd thoroughly
advise you to consider.

Do not let Miss Rumi's kindness go to waste.

Apologies for our date,
from your future business partner

HAWKS. ]

[ The message has ended. ]

You stared at your phone for a long while before moving again. So the date was an interview? What a crappy way for you to find out. At least he'd got you a present — some chocolate or perhaps even marzipan depending on how generous he was feeling. Impatiently, you opened the box, eager to find out, but a choked out exasperated gasp left your lips as your fingers grazed upon the gifted item. "Fuck me..." You muttered to no-one in particular. The blackmail he was about to pull off was gonna go crazy. After a moment of stillness, you finally pulled the object from its cushion. A slim gold watch, encrusted with diamonds and rectangular in shape. Immediately you thought back to Mirko, now realising that this was what she meant. She knew all along what Hawks was up to, as seemingly she had fallen for the same trap. That's the hypothesis your tired brain came up with anyways.

"You've gotta be kidding me." You thought out loud, strapping the watch to your wrist. It looked expensive, and expensive looked good on you. It was somewhat a perfect fit, though it wasn't likely that you'd thank Hawks for this any time soon. He was still an A-grade asshole, and it'd take 20 more watches of the same caliber for to you even think about forgiveness.

But you'd suppose having your face as the advert for a luxury watch brand wasn't a bad substitute.