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no promises

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The interrogation room is cold, and the quirk-dampening cuffs Dev had been put in are preventing him from regulating his body temperature properly.

 

He doesn’t know how long he's been in the room, but it had been somewhere between 10-20 minutes, meaning they had either captured more of the Action Squad or they were just making him wait longer than he had to.

 

He shifted around in the uncomfortable metal chair, fiddling with the handcuffs attached to the desk as the lock on the door finally finally clicked, and four people entered his interrogation room.

 

Two he recognized immediately.

 

Second and third in their little line of four were pro heroes Eraserhead and All Might. He was a little surprised to see All Might himself there, but he supposed it made sense, considering the ties to All for One that Kurogiri had explained to him one night.

 

The last one, he figured was a detective for the police. After he had been captured (he never should have separated from the Action Squad. Stupid.) he had been transferred over to police custody, and they had placed the handcuffs on him instead of Eraserhead’s dumb capture weapon, which was what was holding him before.

 

But the first kid who walked into the room… 

 

He looked like a kid, maybe Dev’s age. Judging by the people he was with most likely a UA student with a useful quirk. His bright purple hair was distracting, and it reminded Dev that he should probably re-dye his roots.

 

The detective coughed to get his attention.

 

“Villain Devastate, I am detective Naomasa Tsukauchi. These are my colleagues All Might, Eraserhead, and Sh-MindJack.” Eraserhead shot a glare at the detective, and Dev resisted the urge to let out a snort. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

 

“Sure, ask away,” Dev said, shuffling himself closer to the edge of the table.

 

Just because his quirk couldn’t get a read on these people doesn’t mean that he couldn’t try himself.

 

“First,” Eraserhead started, and Dev fixed his eyes on the hero, “do you know the current location of the League of Villain’s hideout?”


Dev snorted for real this time, looking at the hero incredulously, “You’re kidding, right?”

 

“Could you please answer the question?” the detective said, and Dev sighed.

 

“Yeah, of course I—”

 

And his mind went blank.

 

When he came slightly back to his senses his vision was tinted white, as if he had some sort of lens or a pair of glasses on. He tried to wiggle his fingers

 

“Good job MindJack,” Eraserhead said, patting the kid on the shoulder. The kid pulled the black mask over his mouth back down around his neck, his job being done.

 

“Young MindJack, please ask Devastate if he’s had any contact with a man known as All for One,” All Might spoke up, and the purple haired kid nodded.

 

“Have you had any contact with a man known as All for One?” the kid asked, and Dev felt his mouth move of its own accord.

 

“Yes, I have.”

 

All Might hummed, pushing his chair out and exiting the room, pausing at the door, “thank you Eraserhead.”

 

Eraserhead hums and waves at All Might to exit the room, which he does.

 

The detective takes the chair All Might was sitting on and moves it to beside the desk, scooting a little bit further in on the desk before turning to the only hero left in the room.

 

“Any more questions you’d like to ask before we send him out, or are we finished?”


“MindJack, the list,” Eraserhead says, and the kid pulls a list out of his pocket.”

 

“What is the group of people who attacked the training camp called, and what is everyone’s name?” He asked, staring straight into Dev’s eyes, and Dev felt himself shiver internally at the kid’s tired gaze. He looked like he didn’t want to be here, but was also too invested for his own good. In Dev’s experience that meant bad news.

 

“We’re called the Vanguard Action Squad. There’s me, Dabi, Toga, Compress, Twice, Spinner, Mustard, Moonfish, Magne, and Muscular.” He answers robotically, and Eraserhead humms, jotting notes down on the paper in front of him.

 

“Where is Bakugou Katsuki being held?”

“I don’t know,” Dev answered, and Naomasa nodded at Eraserhead, who hummed.

 

“How long have you been part of the League of Villains?”

 

“Eight years.”

 

“Who are the current members of the League of Villains?”

 

“Tomura Shigaraki, Kurogiri, the Vanguard, and many others.”

 

The detective sits up, tugging a file out of his stack, and handing it to Eraserhead, who looks over it before addressing the kid.

 

“We already have information on Toga Himiko, Atsuhiro Sako, Jin Bubaigawara, and Shuichi Iguchi. Ask him if he knows that Dabi guy’s real name. Then ask for his own.”

 

“Yes sir,” the kid responds, not taking his eyes off of Dev.

 

Even the mere thought of those questions makes Dev’s blood run cold. He swears, even though he doesn’t have control over his body at all at the moment, that he sits up straighter, more at attention. He’s sure if he could see his face it would be even paler than it usually was. Would the kid’s quirk be able to access his long term memories, or things he didn’t even register visually? Maybe the real question was, if he ever got out of here, would his ass be doomed anyway? 

 

“What is Dabi’s real name?”

 

“Touya.”

 

“What is his full name?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Dev blew out a mental sigh of relief.

 

He was suddenly thankful (unlike earlier, when he had been really fucking pissed) that Dabi had only told him his first name. He had thought “ to protect us both ” had been a flimsy excuse, but turns out it had worked in both of their favours. In Dabi’s case, the police couldn’t narrow it down to one person that easily, and in Dev’s case, he wouldn’t be literally burned alive by the fire user.

 

“Ask him his name now,” Eraserhead said, “then we’re done.”

 

“What is your name?” MindJack asked.

 

Dev didn’t feel a sense of fear, dread, or anger towards this question, and as his mouth opened he spoke the words freely.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

The room stills, all three people on the other side of the table from Dev freezing in a confused silence. MindJack’s hold on him slips and Dev wiggles his fingers, tilting his head back and forth and cracking his neck.

 

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

 

“Mind control, huh? Great quirk. You’ll be a great hero some day,” Dev comments, and MindJack flushes, hiding his face in the mask he had worn earlier. Dev could see Eraserhead’s eyes soften at the compliment (to his student? He worked at UA, so it was a possibility) even though his mouth stayed in a hard line.

 

“I’ll say it one more time, what do you mean you don’t know.”

 

Although phrased like a question, the hero’s phrase was a statement, something that Dev would definitely get prosecuted for if he didn’t answer truthfully, at least to some degree.

 

“More accurately I don’t remember. Nobody’s called me it in ten years.”

 

Eraserhead looks over to the detective, who nods. Once is an anomaly, twice is a pattern. The detective must have some sort of truth telling quirk then, maybe. It didn’t really matter, since he was telling the truth anyway, but the League could use more information about allies of the heroes.

 

“If he’s telling the truth, how the hell…” Eraserhead mutters, looking down at the table.

 

Dev feels a pull on one of his wrists and resists the urge to look beside him, just watching the two adults in front of him argue while MindJack stared aimlessly at things around the room. The hand grabbed his and he smiled.

 

“Well, it’s been fun boys, but I think I’m going to have to split,” he drawled, smiling widely as the big purple portal widened behind him, pulling him (still attached to the chair) into it as both Eraserhead and the detective reached over the table, trying to catch some of his clothing or the chair. MindJack was sitting in shock on his chair, and made eye contact with Dev before he disappeared. Dev let his face split into a smile as the portal closed and the image of the interrogation room was cut off, the wall of the bar that the League used as a hideout replacing it.

 

“You took your sweet time,” Dev said, and Shigaraki snorted out of his nose, gingerly touching the chair and the quirk-dampening cuffs, Dev falling to the floor as the chair disintegrated beneath him, glaring at Dabi, who was laughing in the background.

“Well, sorry. It took Kurogiri a few tries to get the right room. What did you tell them?”

 

Shigaraki leans back into a bar stool, hopping up onto it. Dev looks over to Dabi, who’s leaning on the bar, hands fiddling with a stray coaster.

 

“Your name. Your first one.”

 

Dabi frowns.

 

 “That’s bad, but it could be worse,” he murmurs. 

 

“Try not to get captured next time,” Shigaraki says.

 

Dev stands up, brushing his hair away from his face and letting it fall back down, peering at the other two villains from under his hair.

 

“No promises.”