Can We Be Heroes?

Chapter 47• Cracks & Suspicions.

In the private floor of Eisen & Thorns Headquarters, the news blared from the curved screen mounted to the far wall with footage replayed again and again. They were the combination of security camera cuts, street-level clips, shaky footage from rooftop dwellers.

And all of it was about the pesky problem that was called Hex. He moved like a ghost through smoke, cutting down bounty hunter after bounty hunter with precision and barely a trace of losing.

“Ten. Ten in seven days.” The anchor’s voice was too chipper for the atmosphere in the room. “He’s becoming a symbol of rebellion. Some are even calling him the 'Ghost Arrow'—a shadow from the underground, outwitting every known bounty hunter on the grid.”

The screen immediately split in two. A thin line of silver sliced straight down the middle, melting the display in a hiss of smoke and sparks.

The room somehow growing even more colder as Eisen’s eyes narrowed, a silver thread of liquified metal snaking back into his palm like a living thing.
“I thought I told you to turn that shit off.”

At the center of the room, Hit Ringer sat quietly, hands folded as he moved a single black bishop across a wooden chessboard. “I was listening to that, you know?”

Across from him, Mr. Thorn barely glanced up from his pieces. His finger hovered above a knight, then moved to a pawn instead.

“...You said he’d be dead by now,” Eisen growled.
“Instead, he's showing off. He’s evolving and more importantly. We look like fools who can't even catch a dumb kid.”

Hit Ringer didn’t flinch at the shrill scream of the man and just calmly stated ,“Let him.” before moving another piece.

Eisen’s silver eyes glinted dangerously. “You had a clear shot in the warehouse. You could have ended this before it blew up like this so why didn't you. Why did you let him escape?”

“Because,” Hit Ringer murmured, turning another piece, “I chose to let him escape.”

“Why?” Thorn finally spoke, voice cold and razor-thin. “What’s the value in letting our biggest liability grow stronger by the day?”

Hit Ringer leaned back in his chair, eyes low. His tone never rose, but it pressed like a weight.

“Because fear is more corrosive than bullets my good man” He tapped the board. “Let the city whisper his name. Let the bounty hunters scramble. Let him feel untouchable and even more safer after each victory”

He raised his eyes now and they were sharp, unflinching steel orbs. “The more confident or nervous he feels, the sloppier he becomes. That’s when I strike.”

Eisen stepped closer, metal swirling like a cobra behind his back. “Confidence, nervous? Are you just obsessed with the brat that you wish to play around with him?”

A flicker of conviction passed through Hit Ringer’s eye. “I am,” he said plainly. “And it's because he’s the only one who ever beat me.”

Then, after a pause.“And I don’t lose.”

Thorn finally made his move, pushing the white queen forward.

Click.

He looked up. “And if the Commission hears about this mess?”

Hit Ringer stood slowly, calmly dusting off his coat.
“Then we do what we’ve always done.”

He looked at the fractured screen, where a frozen image of Hex remained—half-cut and distorted in static. “We clean it up with their help.”

---------•---------

Hitoshi Shinso's week was uneventful but rough non the less. He would stare blankly at the board that had text or math equation on them, pencil poised and notebook opened, but his hands stayed unmoving.

He eventually stopped even pretending to take notes anymore. His mind in a constant knot—tight, aching, pulsing with too many threads pulling at once.

School.
Patrols.
His father.

And now... Hawks.

When class ended, he would always be the first one out the door and it was not because he cared to get home— the heavens knew that he never wanted to go there— but because he had other places to be.

He  found a quiet rooftop four blocks away from Aldera, crouched behind a rusted AC unit.

“Any moment now,” he muttered.

And then, like always—a breeze was felt, followed by a shadow looming over him and that annoying smirk.

“Yo.” Hawks landed silently beside him, wings twitching with energy, goggles pushed up just enough to see his eyes.

“You’re getting faster,” the pro said, crouching beside him. “I barely had to trail you this time.”

Shinso didn’t reply. He just sat, knees up, hands clenched.

Hawks tilted his head, then got to the point. “Solid job last night. Clean takedown, no casualties. Your footwork still needs work, but you adapted under pressure. That’s rare.”

Shinso grunted. “Thanks.”

Silence lingered for a beat too long before Hawks spoke again. “You ever hear of the vigilante called Hex?”

The namemade Shinso stiffened. His throat went dry as he recalled the incident that happened a week ago.

“No.”He answered too quickly promoting Hawks gave him a long look. A twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“Hmm.”

That was it. No follow-up or suspicion voiced but Shinso could feel the doubt in the air and it was not just for Hawks. He didn’t even believe himself.
Because lately…

Izuku had been different. He was quieter and frequently absent.  And Monoma, too obsessed with someone.

Something about the way the three of them had moved during the villain incident  wasn’t normal. For him he knew the reason but for the other....?

Shinso didn’t have proof but the pit in his gut was growing. He let out a tired break, deciding to shift the focus. “...When am I going to officially be a member of this Project Angel thing?”

Hawks blinked then smiled slowly.

“I thought you said I was in.”

Hawks stood and stretched. “You are.”

Then his tone shifted—calmer, serious.
“But it’s not just about you, Shadow. We need the others too. Vixen and Hex.”

Shinso eadpanned.

Hawks turned to him again. “And besides… you still don’t trust me. That’s why you haven’t revealed your identity, right?”

It was a bullseye as Shinso looked down not being answer.

“Thought so,” Hawks said lightly, but there was no mockery in it.He began to step away.
“But soon, Shadow. You’ll need to decide where you stand. Because once we move…”

He glanced back, eyes sharp. “…there’s no flying back.”

----------------
Word Count [1070]