The order was taken in an almost routine fashion. Sophia, the server that is, was well prepared for Zen’s antics as she dutifully wrote it all down. It was a laundry list of various meats and tortilla’s combined in different ways, classic tex mex. The cook, already getting started on the mountain of food, wasted no time as well. It was a well oiled machine coming to life, a machine that Zen could very well be financing all by themself.

“Yeah, I can imagine how the bear could be an issue for her.” She muttered, more in awe of the sheer social pull that the Bear had. She was literally a Bear, but seemed to control the influence of the local Mexican eateries in this section of Japan.

“Oh, you know… always wanted to be a hero.” Her voice sounded hollow, as if she didn’t believe what she said. It was literally because she didn’t believe herself, but it was all a part of the act. “Or well, I dunno. Maybe I was scared about not doing anything with my life. My parents always expressed enthusiasm in my hobbies, and it would be cool if I could use them in order to… better the community? Provide a stable income? I’m not really sure anymore if I'm allowed to be honest…” She let her voice trail off in a, hopefully, convincing display of teenager insecurity and confusion. She looked up at Zen, a small chuckle breaking up the melancholy in her face. “It wasn’t even bad popcorn. She should’ve been thanking you. I dunno, maybe some people aren’t a fan of having food rain on them, for whatever reason.”

“So, what about you? Hopefully you have a better reason for coming to UA than me?” She looked expectant, or she hoped she looked expectant. She played with the idea of throwing in some puppydog eyes but decided against it. She was playing a character here, not acting a part. Being convincing, but not overstaying her welcome.

Being a teenager was hard…. apparently.

Zenkai Hatake

“Oh, this?” an unconscious smirk journeyed across her face as attention was quickly brought to the rifle slung over her shoulder. A half of second of internal logic was quickly shut down in lue of just a touch of showing off.

After all, isn’t that the reason to own cool things?

“It’s my life’s work. Technically an RFB from Kel-tec, it had an extensive list of modifications. Such as the feeding ramp, which has been polished down to a mirror sheen. The bolt has been reinforced, as well as the interlock between the barrel and the frame has been tightened for added precision. The sight system’s original too, and the safety is extended to make it easier on the finger. A long-type trigger with non-slip grooves has been added for additional comfort. The hammer has been filed down and replaced with a harder alloy, and the base of the trigger guard has been filed down for a higher grip.

Nearly every part of this gun has been expertly crafted and customized. Where else would you get something like this”

Satisfaction shown off the bird like a beacon. Obviously, it wasn’t often when the bird could divulge the intricate modification she had done to ensure the perfect shot every time she pulled the trigger, so she looked forward to every opportunity. Even if the group was merely being polite.

Especially if the group was merely being polite.

With a grin, she slipped the magazine out and popped out a .465 Magnum cartridge and flicked the nearly 4 inch projectile towards the titan. “That round could put a hole in a rhino at 200 yards.”

“Yeah, I’d be more worried about the person who could pull all the water from your body over a bullet any day.” she added, this time directed at Miroru, the other animal of the group. Or, not an animal but just a cheap facsimile. Not that it really mattered, the animal would still be blamed over the man, and unfortunately that included this fox.

And of course none of that mattered to Robin. They had a quirk, to her this group was just a future footnote in a debriefing. For now, she might as well get to know her fellow classmates.

The mere thought still brought bile to her throat.

Thea Farrin Zenkai Hatake Miroru

The room was dripping with the almost oppressive silence as the glassy black lens of the camera glared a hole into Robin. The bird had shown up to enforce her status as a student into reality. This school wasn’t to figure out her real identity as a secret enforcer for the shadow government because they were afraid of quirks getting out of hand. She shrugged the truth off of her. She wasn’t R1-17, she was Robin. She was a hero student who wanted to be a hero for purely altruistic means. Being a light in the dark, a beacon in the night.






With a small sigh she sat in the accursed chair and placed her rifle bag onto the counter. If she was here, she might as well get some cleaning done.



She laid out various solvents and oils, and placed the rifle on the table.



With a sigh she tapped the button.

Let’s get this over with.

---

What makes you unique?

Genetics, her mind jumped to without hesitation. Genetics, superior training, and some of the best equipment money couldn’t buy. A ghost of a smile crested her face as her mind throttled an answer that the faculty might deem Heroic as her hands worked dutifully on their task.

“Well, the wings of course.” she extended them out, the magnificent display getting delayed for a moment as they untangled their way out of the chair prison. They would extend to their full length, or at least, as full as this room could allow. “Plus I can shoot the dick off of a gnat at 300 yards.” she tacked on, the confidence exuding from her being truly genuine.



What are some random fun facts about you?

Another pause. Another lie being brewed up. “I have 46 siblings.” she shrugged.

It wasn’t really a lie. The flock was 47 in number, including her. They weren’t all truly related, but the psychological conditioning they experienced made their bond closer than family. They might not be related by blood, but they all have the same goal in mind.

Plus, it might make her seem more sympathetic. Could always use the pity points.

“They were always a handful, but we… banded together and overcame... uh, alot.”



What is something you want to learn or wish you were better at?

Knife fighting. She was always weaker than the flock, and that lack of muscles had always placed her into the marksmen niche… that and the superior eyes. Unfortunately, in order to not overload her genetics, sacrifices were made to her other faculties.

Her face tilted as she considered simply telling the truth, the bolt and follower coming free from the upper receiver of the rifle. Her primary weapon will always be a rifle, but maybe it was time for her to learn how to handle herself in close quarters. That, or she could go grab a machine pistol from the Quartermaster.

“Eh, always wanted to learn to knife fight” she shrugged out, “that or i guess dancing? I never did have rhythm”



Do you know any good jokes? If so, what is it?

Jokes? Shit, what kind of an interview asks for a joke? Her whole time here is a huge joke, but no one watching would have the context to understand that, and she was specifically not going to tell anyone.

“Uhh, well. My brother did have a joke about a brick… how did it go? Uhhh, The pilot looked out the window and saw the parrot… what was in it’s mouth? No, wait-” Her hands faltered for a moment, the action causing the bottle of solvent to spill onto the table. An acrid smell tore through the room as her lungs worked to purge the toxins and replace the dying lobes. She coughed as she threw a rag onto the liquid in an attempt to lessen the permanent damage the table would sustain. “Uhhh… No, I do not know any good jokes.” She finished, her cheeks turning a shade of peach as she threw the acid soaked rag into the corner of the room. Besides, It was a joke she heard from a member of her Flock over a campfire and a can of beans. She would have to get them to retell it once she was released from duty here at the school.



Have any pet peeves? If so, which comes to mind first?

“Well, I hate it when slight variations in ambient humidity create turbulence in the air. It seems like it wouldn’t cause such a big deal, but at 200 yards or more, even at .5 MOA, those degrees add up at those distances. Plus, don’t even get me started on the earth. Who decided it got to rotate, and that that rotation would affect the trajectory of the bullet! Plus shooting in either hemisphere, you have to account for different directions of travel. Plus, while I’m on the subject, I love packing my bullets as much as the next bird, but when the cartridge itself is damaged, or the brass is compromised by some impurity? There’s no accounting for that! The bullet just has different ballistics! It’s called Match Ammo because I made them all to Match! Why the fuck is the metal holding me back!? And another thing, When I…!!”



What is your favorite place on Earth?

“...There’s this festival in germany. Called… the festival of lights? Or something, I can’t remember” A warm smile extended across her face. After several minutes of ranting, the interview would continue into a more honest answer. An unusual feeling welled up inside the bird as her mind flashed back to Europe, to the many fir trees decorated with light. The smell of chemicals was replaced with the smell of warm bread and warm hearts. Market Stalls lined the courtyard and people would peddle wares and souvenirs. Her hands stopped as she was cast back in her memory. They had been in the country to provide protection for a government official who was dealing in shady affairs and the festival was the perfect cover in order to conduct business. It was a shame she would never go back, but at least she still had the memories of her time there.





Who are the special people in your life?

“Uhh, my 46 squa… siblings…” she muttered before she could think, the answer already formed in her mind. It might’ve been induced artificially, but the bond the flock has with each other was supernatural. The question floated around as she reassembled her rifle. Each part finding its home in the greater tool. The same could be said with the flock. Each was simply a part of the greater whole. A tool to be used when deemed necessary. But they still cared about each other as if they were family.





What is something you are proud of?
“Nothing, Pride is a sin.” She stated plainly, her expression darkening. “Pride leads to mistakes, it leads to death, it leads to failure. I do not have a single prideful bone in my body because I do not have pride in my actions. I do them because they need to be done and I am uniquely capable of doing them. What I have is confidence. I have confidence in who I am because there are people out there trusting me to do my job. I have confidence because if I flinch, people will die. If I hesitate, people will die. If I falter, people will die.” she finished with a scowl, her hands clenched into fists as the light on the camera blinked out. The interview was officially over.



A small cough echoed through the room as Robin got her thoughts in order. What started as a fun interview had managed to grab her and twist her emotions into a stir. She collected her supplies and threw them into her bag as she got up and made her way to the door. A deep breath later, she was through the door and this interview was just a memory.


CHIRP ♪♪

“I mean, have you met anyone who hates tacos?”

Well, here she was getting taken out to lunch by someone she hardly knew. If the flock could see what she was getting up to there would be no end to the jeering. While she wasn’t the most social living weapon, it was still a tight race for last place. A fact that the rest of the birds knew very well about her. Who knows, maybe they would be proud that she managed to actually make a friend outside of the family. Or they would threaten Zen’s life.

Really 50/50 if we're being honest.

Besides, it might do her good to actually branch out at school. If she’s supposed to be supplanting herself in school, it wouldn’t do her good if she just sat in her room all day. It might quickly garner suspicion and the client was most likely watching her progress. It wasn’t like the observation bothered her, she was quite used to being put under the microscope. Besides, they can look as close as they want, she wasn’t going to fail.

While they walked and talked Robin nodded along with what Zen was saying, half listening, half absorbing every detail around them. Her eyes scanned every face, every doorway, alley, overlook. Not a single detail was spared. It wasn’t out of distrust for her companion, but the Titan might have issues differentiating his ass from his elbow.

She followed along as she was led into a dingy building and into a booth. There were faint looks of fear on the serving staff, and worried shouts in various languages from the open door to the kitchen. She squinted her eyes at Zen, what could they have done to deserve such… respect? Fear?

“So… come here often?” she mumbled as she thumbed through the menu. It was a distinct mix of Spanish and japanese. It was a mess, charming, but kinda all over the place. The selection was really out there too. Beyond the usual beef, chicken, and pork, they had almost every single organ meat as an option. Exotic meats like snake, rabbit, and alligator were also on the list, although upon closer inspection it looked as though there was a single option scribbled out from all the menus. Robin shot a nervous glance at Zen as she realized that they had single handedly shut down the bear taco market at this location.

“Uhhh, I don’t know. Why… don’t you order for me?” It didn’t matter to her what she ate, and everything looked good. Maybe this could be the first real test of Zen’s character?

Zenkai Hatake

The girl spoke in a way that seemed intentionally intended to mean as much offense as possible. A bright demeanor carried by backhanded compliments, brought together with such accuracy that wasn’t technically wrong. On the outside, her ‘Quirk’ was simple. She had just a pair of wings. Little did she know the modifications had touched nearly every part of her. Each of her cells was crafted with precision and intent. The real irony was Robin was made to protect people from people like her. Loose cannons who think might is right, and that their quirk makes them a god.

Unlike Icarus however, she wouldn’t burn her wings trying to rip God from the sky.

Unfortunately, all she could do now is watch as she was seemingly picked apart. Her stature, wings, and anatomy used to accurately portray what she was. She would cock an eyebrow as she continued to question just what had brought her into the Labs today.

“Oh, you don’t want to take a guess as to why I'm here? Why wouldn't I want a clean environment in order to do precision work on finely crafted parts? Or perhaps, why wouldn't I want to do this kind of work in my dorm? I’m pretty sure being in an enclosed space with an open bottle of acid is good for developing brains.” She finished her thought defiantly. A thin veneer of cynicism coating her words as they dripped from her mouth.

“…And I'm only using the bench. and I’m providing my own supplies. And please, I don't need supervision, I’ve been taking care of my equipment for years.” The earlier tone shifted to a more childlike insistence. She was a professional in her field and didn’t need to be questioned by some student who happened to literally drop through the ceiling.

She turned back to the desk to continue her work. She managed to get the grime out of the barrel and was not in the process of oiling down the parts and reassembling. Her hands moved with careful choreography as she tilted her head back towards the intruder.

“So, no stairs? I assume you’re one of those support students. So does that mean your supervision is implying consent?”

Ana Borovsky

Her hands worked to a silent rhythm. Moving from the solvent to the rag to the gun, back to the oil and back to the brush. Every step was measured and drilled into her soul. She was confident that even if she was dead and in the ground, her arms would still be working through the proper motions. The entire flock took pride in keeping their equipment clean and tidy. Every tool had its place, and the birds were no exception to this rule.



Except Robin, whose place was at this school. A twitch of anger found its way up a wing, her mind replaying the briefing that had placed her at this school, all the while her hands moved with minds of their own. She had always preferred being smaller. It was a precious advantage when the bullets started flying. She was harder to pin down, hit. Could fit nearly anywhere in order to get the proper angle for any shot. And yet, she was selected because her size would be ‘Disarming’. Her superior officers were under the assumption you would be hard pressed to assume a bird standing 4’5” could be a super soldier. Logistically it made sense, but it still pissed Robin off.



No matter how skilled she was, how many missions she succeeded, all the outside world would see is a child.



Almost on queue, the quiet room burst into activity as commotion from the ceiling dragged Robin’s attention from her rifle. A hit of adrenaline shot through her as she cursed herself for not bringing any sort of sidearm. Luckily for her, this was a school and the commotion was actually just a student falling through the roof.



You know, as they do.



Her words floated through the air between the two of them. It was the usual accusation. Robin roller her eyes already sick of the conversation. She stood against the discrimination and simply gestured to the school uniform she was wearing, “Be kinda weird if a child could pass the entrance exam”.



With what little she knew about this intruder she could already tell one thing. She disliked her greatly. Bright eyes had fallen through the floor with what she could only assume was her quirk. Robin couldn’t even fathom the possibilities that could be done with a quirk like that, but she knew exactly what it could do should the inclination change. These heroes hold an exorbitant amount of power and potential. They were each a gun held to the head of modern society whether they would admit it or not.



But, this wasn’t her place to preach. Not here, not now. Hers was to play the part of a student.



“Kinda would defeat the purpose of this whole school if you ask me.”


Ana Borovsky