"This is stupid. So stupid."
Diego muttered under his breath, scowling behind the stuffy, uncomfortable bluebird mask strapped to his face. The narrow street they stood on was dimly lit by a single, flickering streetlamp. The air felt damp and cold, and Diego wished he had at least brought a scarf.
Meanwhile, Izuku — sporting the same mask — was somehow whistling a jaunty tune, despite the limited airflow. Diego had no idea how the green-haired menace managed to look so at ease.
"You do realise that he's going to notice you're a kid," Diego said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.
Izuku stopped whistling. "And he's going to realise you're American. Your Japanese accent is awful."
Diego forced a scoff. "At least an accent is something I can fake. You can't fake height."
"Well, according to your dating profile, you can."
Diego's ears burned red at that. He spluttered a few inarticulate words before snapping his mouth shut. His embarrassment gave way to unease. "Seriously, though. If Stendhal is how you described, he's not going to want to deal with a kid."
"Relax." Izuku's voice was calm, almost smug. "This guy already knows I'm legit."
Diego frowned. As far as he knew, tonight was their first meeting with Stendhal. "What do you mea—"
Izuku silenced him with a raised hand. "He's here."
A raspy voice spoke from the shadows, carried by the faint hum of distant traffic. "I didn't know there were two of you."
"You don't know a lot of things, Stendhal," Izuku returned with an easy laugh, glancing towards the darkness where a tall figure loomed.
"You agree with the plan?" the newly named Stendhal asked Diego.
"He does agree," Izuku interjected curtly.
"Your partner doesn't speak?" Stendhal challenged.
Izuku's mask tilted in amusement. "I wasn't aware that speaking had any bearing on our job."
Diego suppressed a groan. I didn't agree, he thought. But Stendhal and Izuku were locked in a staring match — Stendhal with a grim, unamused expression, Izuku sporting a confident smirk. Diego really had to learn the green-haired menace's name.
Eventually, Stendhal's gaze faltered. He scoffed and looked away. "As long as you uphold your part of the plan, we'll have no problems."
He disappeared as quickly as he'd come, melting back into the shadows like a gust of wind.
As soon as Stendhal was gone, Diego ripped off his mask, relieved to finally breathe properly. He fixed Izuku with a glare. "What the fuck was that about? What plan are you talking about? And how the hell did you even get him to agree to work with you?"
Izuku responded with a playful wink and tapped the side of his nose. "Trade secrets."
Diego rolled his eyes. It was too late in the evening for riddles. "So what's the plan, then?"
"Just be here tomorrow night at eleven. It'll all start then."
"Wait. What'll start?"
But Izuku had already vanished into the darkness. Diego let out a low groan, shoved the bluebird mask into his pocket and threw his hands up in frustration.
(LINE BREAK)
One of the better, more convenient things about working at night was the lack of people. No one would question why Diego was wearing a bluebird mask, loitering around a random street corner, holding a radio, a big red button, and a gun.
After appearing at the agreed-upon time, the three had parted ways almost immediately, Stendhal with a little huff.
Izuku had plied him with the equipment he held now and told him to press the big red button and radio the police 32 minutes from now. When he had asked why he had to radio instead of call, the green-haired menace just smirked at him and said something about it being a personal touch.
One minute remained. Diego rubbed his cold hands together. He really should have bought gloves.
Thirty seconds. Diego ran his thumb over the radio controls. What would happen if he radioed them a little too early or late?
Ten seconds. He cracked his fingers. His heart thumped nervously as he watched the final few seconds tick away in what seemed like slow motion.
Showtime. The radio crackled to life. Diego spoke into it with a neutral voice. "Hello?"
There was complete silence for all of three seconds before a voice answered. "Who is this? This is a secure line. Identify yourself."
Diego breathed in sharply. He recognised that voice. It was the hero that the green-haired menace had fought the other day. Shaking his head clear, he responded. "Just thought I would let you know that the Bluebird is currently fighting at 379 Hikuma Street. Happy hunting."
He dropped the radio as if it had burnt him and stomped it beneath his heel. Splintered plastic pieces scattered across the pavement.
The big red button shone up at him. Diego was told to press it 30 seconds after radioing the police.
Each second felt like an eternity.
Finally, with a shaky breath, he pressed it. A couple of streets down, he heard an explosion. I guess that's 379 Hikuma Street, Diego thought.
He shook his head as he walked off. Just what had he got himself involved in?