The night was colder than usual. The wind cut through the alleys like a blade, but Hex didn’t feel it as his boots pounded against cracked pavement, hood pulled low, scarf fluttering behind him like a shadow. His chest heaved with each breath, but it wasn’t exhaustion—it was rage.
They put a bounty on his head and those bastards from Eisen and Thorns? They were behind it all. He couldn’t stay calm. Not this time.
The villain ahead was someone Hex needed information from. He was long-limbed, slick like he was made of tar and rubber—twisted unnaturally, limbs snapping sideways as he dodged a high-velocity arrow.
Hex was done playing nice. He spun mid-sprint, drew another arrow, and fired three in rapid succession. One to the left, the other to the right and the third, delayed by a millisecond— right into the guy’s escape path.
The villain flipped into it with a surprised grunt, tumbling backward into a dumpster with a satisfying metallic slam and before he could even groan, Hex was on him, bow drawn and aimed right at his chest.
The villain wheezed. “Y-You’re insane!”
“Where’s Ziggy?” Hex snapped, voice low, cold, and unwavering. “Where does he hole up now?”
The man blinked in panic. “I—I don’t know—”
Hex fired. The arrow hit the trash can an inch from the villain’s ear.
“Try again.”
“Okay! Okay!” the man yelped. “Warehouse District—South 5th, near the docks! Ziggy’s been hanging there for weeks now. Swears he’s got dirt on every bounty posted this month. He’s talking like he’s the damn broker now!”
Hex lowered his bow slightly but kept the pressure in his glare. “Did Ziggy say anything about the Eisen and Thorns bounty? On a vigilante?”
The villain swallowed. “He didn’t say much. Just laughed. Said it’s the best-paying name he’s seen since that 'Hero Killer’ buzz started a few weeks ago. That’s all I know! Swear it!”
Hex stared for a moment longer… then turned and vanished into the shadows without a sound. As he ran, heart still pounding, his thoughts moved faster than his feet.
Ziggy was the chain link of underground gossip. If someone sneezed near a gang war or whispered a name during a dirty deal it was he who knew about it. Thus If anyone had info on why a powerful law firm like Eisen and Thorns would put money on a teenager with no official criminal record, it was him.
And Hex was going to get it— No matter what it took.
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Ziggy was a lot of things—crooked, loud, nosey, unpredictable—but he wasn’t stupid. He had survived this long in the underworld not because he was strong, but because he knew things. People came to Ziggy when they needed the kind of info that wasn’t written down, just passed from mouth to mouth like smoke.
And tonight? He was feeling good. The warehouse was buzzing—cards on the table, cigars in hands, half-finished bottles littering the side counters and
Ziggy, balding but flamboyant, sat shirtless with gold chains tangled in his chest hair, belly jiggling as he laughed at one of his own terrible jokes.
“—and then I told the guy, ‘If you wanna live, don’t name your baby after a pro hero—name him after your lawyer!’”
Laughter, slaps on the back and a pair of women in flashy heels leaned on him like they couldn’t tell he was a walking mugshot.
One of his boys—Vix, a rail-thin guy with dyed green dreads—passed him another drink. “A toast, Zig! To the man who knows everything!”
“Damn right,” Ziggy grinned, raising his glass. “To knowledge! The most powerful quirk of all!”
BOOM.
The warehouse shook, the windows shattering as the eastern wall of the building exploded inward, chunks of metal and concrete spraying through the air like shrapnel. The card table flipped. Screams erupted and one guy dove behind a couch, another pulled a knife as smoke flooded in along with a sharp, cold silhouette in the dust.
Hooded with a glint of metal from a drawn arrow.
Hex.
His voice echoed across the warehouse, calm and low. “Knowledge might be power…” He stepped into the smoke, bow drawn. “…but you forgot one thing, Ziggy.”
He fired.
An arrow slammed into the floor an inch from Ziggy’s foot, pinning his chair leg to the ground.
Ziggy froze.
“The people who know you know too much.”
The mediocre criminal stared down at the arrow still trembling near his foot. Beads of sweat collected at his temples. His smirk—gone. “Don’t just stand there!” he barked, voice cracking. “Take him down! What am I paying you for?!”
Seven men moved at once—muscle-bound thugs, each armed with pipes, knives, or modified quirk gear and Hex didn’t move. Not until they were close enough.
Then—he exploded into action.
The first one swung a bat, but it was too slow.
Hex ducked, stepped inside his guard, and drove an elbow into his gut, then swept his legs clean out from under him.
One down.
Another came from behind, trying to grab him and Hex spun low, drawing two compact arrows and jabbing them directly into the man’s knee and shoulder, non-lethal but precise.
The man screamed and dropped in sobs.
Two.
Two more came at once, one with a flame-producing glove, the other with reinforced fists. Hex flipped back, landing on a crate, and fired a smoke arrow between them. They coughed and swung wildly as the green haired vigilante dropped from above and kicking the flame guy into the other.
Four.
The last three rushed in together, thinking numbers would save them and Hex let them live in their delusional for a few seconds before flipping but a good distance and notching his arrows onto the bow.
Arrow one shot into a weak light fixture above—glass shattered and sparking, effectively blinding one.
Arrow two was a trick arrow that burst into crackling static as it struck the metal floor, zapping the guy with a prosthetic limb.
And the third arrow three was one which had a blunt-tip. Izuku smirk and shot it right into the last guy’s chest. The impact winded him out instantly.
All seven were down. The entire fight lasted maybe thirty seconds and Hex had barely broke a sweat. The room fell deathly silent—just the crackle of the smoke arrow’s residue and Ziggy’s glass tipping off the table remained.
Hex stepped forward, his boots tapping against the metal floor like a metronome. Ziggy, now pale and shaking, raised his hands.
“A-Alright! Okay, damn! You win!”
Hex aimed an arrow directly at his throat, voice deadly quiet. “Then talk. Everything you know about the bounty. Eisen and Thorns. Who’s behind it. And why they’re coming after me.”
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Word Count [1149]
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Can We Be Heroes?
FanfictionLife has always been unfortunate, unfair and unkind. Especially for three particular boys.
