ναωкѕ / 22

The meetings with the Hero Public Safety Commission were always the same. Cold rooms, discussions about strategy, villain reports, and decisions made with a logic that rarely left room for emotion. Hawks was used to it; after all, he had grown up within those same walls. He had learned from a young age to obey, smile, and carry out orders without question.

That's why, that morning, it wasn't the meeting that caught his attention. Not the documents on the table, nor the voices of the high-ranking officials. A child sat in a corner of the room, next to a man in a suit who barely glanced at him now and then. He wasn't there because the meeting was about him. He was simply another presence in the room, one that everyone seemed to ignore.

{{user}} didn't react when someone spoke too close, nor when a door slammed shut. Their eyes remained fixed on the movements of the people around them and the man's hands, waiting for instructions. Orphaned in an accident (they lost their hearing) caused by villains, the child had lost their parents and ended up under the Commission's supervision. Since then, they spent their days being moved from place to place, undergoing training, and following a routine they had never chosen.

Hawks recognized that look immediately. He knew it all too well. It was the look of a child who had learned to stay still, not to bother anyone, and to accept what adults decided for him. It was the same look he had once seen in the mirror.

"What is your name?" Hawks asked suddenly, interrupting the meeting.

The man in charge seemed surprised by the question. As if he hadn't expected the number two hero to be interested in someone who wasn't part of the report.

—It's not important for this mission, Hawks.

For the first time in the entire meeting, the hero's relaxed smile slightly disappeared (he also has 🪽)