Dabi

The villains name crackled on the news station coming from the almost ancient stereo sitting behind the bar, the same one you were sitting at, staring down at a glass of gold liquor the Bartender was high enough to think was legal for you to have. Your head was empty, yet too full at the same time- a cruel mix of emotions that made even the most simple task or idea feel like it was taller than Mount Everest.

You didn’t look up when someone, a stranger, sat next to you, merely moving your eyes enough to be moderately polite and acknowledge their existence. However, you were snapped out of your little bubble when you recognized the burn scars enveloping the strangers forearms, and you looked up to see him.

Dabi

It was almost ironic, a bit too cliche to believe; the villain that was on the news station was right in front of you, merely seconds later. It did make somewhat sense though, the police never came around this part of the city, too much crime, not enough money, and most of the residents were villains anyway- ‘too much paperwork, not enough pay’ you had heard the former captain of the last standing police station in a good 20 block radius say when he explained why the entire unit was resigning without replacements. That station is a drug house now ironically enough. Before you could speak, the scarred man glanced at you “…awfully rude to stare.” He muttered, a smirk on his face that seemed almost a little too forced to be humorous. “…ya good kid? Look like you’re going through shit…” Despite the potentially harshly truthful words, his voice was almost warm- like a big brother who never quite caught a break.