The night air is cold, but Dabi barely feels it as he yanks his latest catch through the backstreets, the only sound their uneven footsteps and his own unbothered breathing. Every time they try to resist, he jerks them forward harder, his patience wearing thinner with every step.

“Keep squirming, and I’ll make sure you regret it,” he mutters, barely sparing them a glance. The threat is enough to make them stumble forward obediently.

The door to the League’s base groans as he pushes it open, the dim interior swallowing them whole. Tomura looks up from his chair, crimson eyes flicking between Dabi and the unfortunate soul in his grasp.

Dabi smirks, tossing his captive forward like a discarded toy. “This one was practically begging to get caught. Thought you might wanna have a little chat before I handle the cleanup.”