MHA – Shoto Todoroki : Modern-day Terrorist

The flames gushed like an endless torrent from Dabi's body.

They swept over everything on the roof, smashed into the stairwell and engulfed every room floor by floor.

The blue flames poured from the roof into the street like steam from a boiling pot.

They crashed like fluorescent waves against the surrounding houses, rolling through the streets like a devastating tsunami, blowing out windows, uprooting lampposts and leaving only ashes in their wake.

The rain-soaked air became so clammy and hot that, for a moment, it stopped raining around Dabi.

A wall of steam rose from the top of the flames as they hit the air ; soon a fog covered the whole district and spread in surrounding streets.

The bluish flames illuminated the steam like neon lights, casting eerie, moving shadows on the walls of the deserted neighbourhood.

Dabi, his skin translucent, standing in the midst of the maelstrom of destruction, looked like an earthly star, so bright and intense that, for a moment, he illuminated the area as if it were daylight.

Spasms shook his arms.

His flames sputtered, disrupting the continuous blue stream, then turned red.

The dark sky reflected the blue, then the red, the clouds taking on the colour of hell on earth.

Dabi coughed and a cloud of black smoke rose from his mouth.

His flames died out.

The last red snakes of fire out of his hands followed the previous waves and scattered down the street.

Pale, his hair sticking to his brow, dripping with sweat, Dabi leaned on his right leg, hand on his knee, gasping for breath as ash and soot dripped like black blood over his lips and chin.

Warm rain began to fall on his neck and shoulders, crackling when it touched his burning skin.

As far as he could see, all the houses around him were ablaze.

The area looked like a war zone.

He could hear the metal of the buildings creaking and felt the cement beneath his feet becoming increasingly malleable.

He thought he heard someone scream.

It didn't last.

Dabi wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

A piece of charred cloth stuck to his lower lip.

Even his clothes - though made by a proper Quirk - were crumbling against his skin like dried leaves.

He knew he should be on the streets by now, taking advantage of the chaos to escape.

Neither heroes nor policemen would enter the hell he had created without first putting out the fires.

Otherwise no one would survive.

But they would secure the area, find a way to catch anyone who got out.

He had to leave.

Dabi blinked to clear his vision.

He shook his head several times, trying to shake off the dizziness that threatened to knock him over.

Although he had cauterised his wounds, Dabi had lost far too much blood in a far too short amount of time.

It was very likely that he was bleeding internally.

Add to that such a sudden and intense use of his Quirk on a weak body that was already struggling to cope under normal circumstances, and Dabi felt like he was going to vomit blood until he died.

He had to go now.

Dabi considered going back down the stairs, but the idea that the melting walls would become his tomb dissuaded him.

He dragged himself to the edge of the roof, head down, his left leg dragging behind him as if it were dead, clutching his ribs and torso so hard it felt like he was going to break them.

It was ironic that a half-competent hero had to tear him a new stomach in the tigh for him to learn he wasn't as immune to physical pain as he believed.

Dabi let out a grunt that bordered on a moan.

He needed to find a doctor who was able - and willing - to treat him.

He would have gone to Doctor Garaki if he could have been sure that the man wouldn't suddenly decide that it wasn't worth treating him and that it would be better to turn him into Nomu.

There was a guy in the red district who-

A gust of cold wind raised the hair on the back of Dabi's neck.

He barely had time to turn his head over his shoulder, a single eye visible beneath his curtain of hair opening wide.

Arms crossed in front of his face, wings outstretched like a bird of prey swooping down on its target, whitish steam curling around his body-

Dabi met his gaze.

He looked purely and simply mad with rage.

Dabi recoiled instinctively.

The next thing he knew, Hawks had slashed his cheek from nose to ear.

Blood ran down his face like a curtain of tears.

Dabi raised a heavy arm to defend himself.

Hawks slithered into his guard like a snake and struck his wrist with the flat of his hand, deflecting the attack.

The bolt of fire passed over his shoulder.

Hawks struck to stab Dabi.

Dabi deflected the feather with his left fist ; there was a metallic screech as it rubbed against his brass knuckles.

Hawks sent a right hook at Dabi, who dodged it by a hair's breadth and took a step back.

Dabi heard something whistle.

He bent over instinctively.

Two feathers pierced the spot where his head had been a second before, the third carving a gash in his neck.

Blood trickled down his neck and soaked his hair already sticky with sweat.

He'd been lucky none of them had-

It wasn't luck.

He didn't even need to look up : Hawks was already there, legs bent, inside his guard, a feather in each hand

He stabbed at Dabi's left thigh - the one that had been cauterised - and sliced just as he had before.

Dabi winced : his blood began to trickle in waves over his knees.

With his right hand, Hawks sliced open his stomach.

Dabi felt his bowels quiver, as if they were about to spill down his thighs. He grabbed his stomach with one hand and pressed his burning palm into his flesh, forcing himself to cauterise the wound as his vision blurred.

He opened his mouth to spit out a torrent of flame.

Hawks suddenly crouched, hood up, then spun around and kicked Dabi in the jaw, just below his chin.

Dabi's head snapped skywards.

A stream of reddish flame burst from his lips, lighting up the clouds and cutting off the rain above. He cut off the flow at once.

Dabi, stricken with panic, sensed a movement at the periphery and instantly covered his throat with both hands.

The feather plunged into the palm of his right hand and sliced diagonally through the flesh.

A jet of blood exploded from his knuckles and then suddenly dried up.

His last three fingers fell to the ground in front of his own stunned eyes.

The feather had sliced through the base of the little finger, passed through half the ring finger and landed on the second phalanx of the middle finger, just above the knuckles.

Dabi blinked.

Then a surge of rage overcame his panic, so violent and sudden that his hands began to shake.

Hawks abandoned the feather stuck against the blrass knuckle and drew another from his wings.

Dabi's skin turned translucent.

Hawks' eyes widened.

He kicked Dabi backwards, his shoe leaving a trail of melted sole on his shirt, and sent him tumbling towards the edge of the roof, knocking him off.

He took two steps back, his wings folding around him like a torpedo about to shoot to the sky.

Fire bubbled up in Dabi's stomach, burning his oesophagus on its way up, setting fire to every vein, igniting even the tiniest capillary, the searing burn spreading like wildfire through his system until he was nothing but fire.

He raised his hands, his trembling arms jerking in spasms.

Blood trickled from his right hand down to his elbow, dripping onto his burnt trench coat and trickling to the floor. His whole face under his eyes was covered in blood as if he'd bathed in it, the hot liquid rolling in waves down his neck, pooling in the hollow of his collarbone and soaking his jumper.

A tsunami of red and blue flame erupted from the streets behind Dabi, so high that it eclipsed the sky, so wide that the section of the neighbourhood behind him disappeared.

Hawks, lips clenched, feet barely touching the ground, reached the other end of the roof in a single second.

A curtain of bluish flames shot up behind him ; he skidded to a halt and took a sharp step backward, his feathers reflexively closing on him.

The flames rose to a height of nearly fifty meters in a matter of seconds. Two more walls of flame erupted from the left and right, merging with the first two tsunamis and encircling them on the roof, preventing any escape.

Hawks could hear Dabi's ragged breathing behind the sizzle of the rain falling on this hellish prison.

His eyes did a quick survey of the surroundings.

Impossible.

He slowly turned to face Dabi.

A curtain of steam smothered the sky above them, darkening the sky and the storm that raged above them.

Dabi was against the light, the contours of his trembling form lit up as if he were on fire.

They stared at each other, Dabi gasping for breath and Hawks realising that whatever he did, he was a dead man.

He had been prepared for this the moment he agreed to help Shoto - from the moment he started killing for the Commission.

Dabi's arms stopped shaking.

Hawks, eyes narrowed, face hard, barely visible behind his feathered barrier, pounced on Dabi at lightning speed.

Dabi dropped his hands.

Hawks split the air like a missile, the burning air whipping against his skin, drying his throat and stretching his lungs painfully with each new breath.

The dome of flames collapsed in on itself, the top of the wall smashing into the sections below in a series of explosions that sent geysers of red and blue in all directions.

Hawk's eyes dried up so quickly that even his tear glands ran dry.

The flames smashed into Dabi's back, sending him staggering forward a few yards, forcing him to his knees, arms outstretched like a human target, his glass skin dripping with blood.

Hawks memorised his position, calculated the distance to cover and the time it would take, then closed his eyes.

The distance between them was closing so fast that neither could tell which of the flames or Hawks would reach their target first.

The first drops of liquid fire - a bastardisation of lava - fell like rain on Hawks' shoulders.

The flames bypassed Dabi and swept towards Hawks like a jaw ready to snap.

Hawks continued his countdown.

The flames came at him from all sides, the grip of death tightening on him.

Throughout the fight, Hawks had conditioned Dabi to believe that he had to move his hands to guide his feathers.

Now !

Hawks, only a few paces from Dabi, propped himself against the soft ground with all his might, then made a sharp 90 degrees turn towards the sky.

Dabi, groggy, followed his spinning silhouette a second too late.

He saw the hole at the top of the dome of flames, the one Hawks was running for, no doubt thinking that the mist of bubbling steam was his best option.

Dabi watched in fascination as Hawk's huge wings closed around him like a protective cocoon as he slashed through the inferno.

His trousers caught fire. He didn't even react.

Dabi watched him flee in despair.

He had to admit it : no one had ever come as close to killing Dabi as Hawks had.

Nor had anyone ever been foolish enough to rush stubbornly in his flames to kill him.

Dabi's interest faded, but a glimmer of respect grew in his dead heart.

The silhouette of Hawks slashing through the flames was reflected in his clear eyes in a swirl of orange and yellow light, giving the impression that Dabi's eyes had caught fire.

He wouldn't make it.

- You-

The feather Hawks had hidden in his wake tore through Dabi's throat, a spray of blood splattering his shoulders and the surrounding roof.

*

A/N : If you want to read ahead of schedule, go check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG