Acacia [Closed]

Nothing like the taste of liquid chocolate topped with whipped cream and maple syrup to help calm runaway thoughts.

It had been minutes since the giant red snake, Sigga’s caseworker, had left the table and only now was the fish sipping the hot beverage that had been purchased for her. There had been more important things for her to do first.

After summing up the last bit of courage required, Sigga had gone through with her confession. She had told the woman about the phone call; about the strict condition of her probation that had been broken. Broken through no fault of her own, the fish had emphasized.

At first she thought the snake would simply bite her head off then and there. That wouldn’t have been so bad. At least her worries would have come to an end. Of course, things were never that easy.

In actuality, the red serpent had simply been contemplating on whether the discussion was even worth engaging in. Most of Sigga’s interactions with her caseworker either involved being gaslit, or being ignored. Today had been different. Today the snake practically had a regular conversation with her.

The brief exchange had concluded with Sigga being informed that the woman had never heard of this ‘stipulation’ where Sigga was not to have any contact with her foster-family. At first the UA student thought she was being gaslit again, like that time with the internship. The snake had soon made it clear that, to the best of her memory, all the conditions of Sigga’s probation were mundane and forgettable. You know. The usual. Don’t be truant. Don’t commit any criminal offenses. Don’t be out after a certain time at night. Don’t be an idiot.

That last one Sigga was pretty sure the snake had made up on the spot, but there was a serious quality to the caseworker’s voice. That is to say, Sigga was pretty sure she was being honest, relatively speaking. Being the deceitful person that she was, the fish could usually tell when someone was lying to her, and she didn’t get that impression from the red serpent. Today, anyway. But the lack of any additional information certainly hadn’t resolved any of her worries.

Sigga licked away the cream mustache that had formed on her upper lip, and took another sip of her caffè mocha. She craned her hooded head to the side. It had been a while since she last did any people watching. This time, though, she wasn’t looking for an easy mark. Her thoughts were far more… reflective.

It seemed unlikely she’d get word from the snake before their next scheduled meeting. Truthfully, despite her caseworker’s words, Sigga very much doubted the serpent would actually follow through with the promise. Ugh. She was probably just trolling me again.

Her amber eyes drifted down to her feet. At least she didn't ask about her ankle monitor. Though... maybe she should have?

The fish finished the last drops of her drink then looked up at the clear sky.

She wished it would rain.

To the snake it was simply a diversion; a divergence from the monotonous hell that her professional life had become. Blast the IIO and and the puppets working for her family. The snake had been saddled with babysitting duty for far too long. She was in danger of going stir-crazy if she had to sit down and listen to another wayward child whine about their inconsequential woes.

Acacia needed an outlet, but there wasn’t much she could do while her Pro Hero license was temporarily suspended. And it was temporary. The IIO knew it. The public knew it. She knew it. All this bureaucratic red tape was the reason the largest cities in Japan were such a hive of villainy.

She closed the uselessly-devoid-of-any-information manila folder and dropped it back on her desk, then turned to shut off her PC. This thing with that fish girl was probably just some sort of clerical error. And yet her instincts clawed at her. There were too many red flags.

The UA student had thought herself clever keeping that ankle monitor hidden from her peers, but it was so obvious to anyone with a grain of intelligence. And that device definitely hadn’t been mentioned anywhere in any file, past or present. She would have remembered. And putting a tracking bracelet on a child? The idea itself was ludicrous.

If she had to guess, someone had relied on this Tendō brat to keep the thing hidden. Otherwise whatever this suspicious situation was would have been blown out of the water ages ago. But why keep track of a child?

Maybe it was just a clerical error.

Acacia suddenly sprang to life, navigating through the dingy office plastered with stacks of files and binders. Despite her size the serpent weaved through the small rental without disturbing a single sheet of paper from its perch. In another moment she had changed into her Pro Hero outfit and slithered out the door.

Getting to the bottom of this little mystery would have been a simple matter had Acacia chosen to get in touch with any of the plethora of resources accessible to her by way of her immediate and extended family. But the snake would sooner quit her job than go begging for help to one of her own ilk. No. She’d have to find a new source; a bridge that had yet to be burned.

Even if she hadn't worn her uniform the snake’s appearance was unmistakable. Though the set of custom shades contributed nothing to hide her identity, they did add a bit of an intimidating flare suggesting people give Acacia a wide berth.

Fear wasn’t the only reaction the serpent got however. Much to her chagrin, she had legions of adoring fans as well thanks to her family’s excellent public relations team. Acacia did technically work as an independent hero, but having blood relatives in so many influential pockets of government and society meant that even while working alone, there were armies of influencers and administrators at her back. She hated it.

A scaled red thumb manipulated the mobile device in her hand as she slithered across town. The surfeit of data at her fingertips allowed for Acacia to quickly pinpoint a few local agencies of interest while she ordered some coffee. She needed to find someone with the capabilities or contacts to dig into juvie records in America.

By the time the serpent had manufactured a short-list on her phone, her coffee order was ready. The snake snapped up the cardboard tray and slithered onward.

As tempting as it was to sample one of the drinks, they were not for her. The rule of reciprocation worked wonders in the professional world and Acacia intended the four assorted brews of coffee to function as a sort of ice breaker at the first agency she’d grace with her presence.

At least that had been the plan.

The snake faulted herself for not paying attention when she rounded the corner. Three paper cups of coffee lay on the sidewalk beside her, their contents seeping into the pavement like blood from a corpse. Her reflexes only allowed for a single cup to be saved; snatched from the air before gravity did it’s business. How unfortunate.

A prehensile tongue tilted her shades so she could get a better look at the other half of the collision’s equation. The snake’s expression was indecipherable.



Acacia’s emerald gaze moved from the spilled coffee, to the alleged criminal, to the Pro Heroes who’s custody they were meant to be in. The situation was self-evident.

“Bloodhounds,” the red snake gently hissed in reply, the tone as indecipherable as her expression.

Circumstances in lockstep with Acacia’s reputation would suggest that, despite being an unintelligible babbling mess, the most apt reaction to this situation was now being performed to perfection by the perp.

There was a pregnant silence as witnesses to the whole affair seemed to watch in anticipation of the snake lashing out at those in front of her. But Acacia was not angry. No. She was downright delighted. Unbeknownst to onlookers, she had just won herself an audience with the Bloodhound Agency’s head. And all it cost her was a few cups of coffee.

The snake leaned in towards the Pro Heroes, her expression still unreadable. “Take me to Yuuto Nakamura.”

It wasn’t a request. Nor was it an order. It was simply what was going to happen next.

Behind the shades Acacia’s steely gaze watched the Pro Heroes debate in silence.

The Bloodhounds hadn’t been the first agency on the snake’s list of potentials whose resources she intended to enlist. Some background reconnaissance left Acacia with the impression that the agency’s head, Lockon, wouldn’t be as malleable to her… reputation as some of the local alternatives. But she wasn’t about to pass up on this impromptu opportunity. The alternatives could wait.

Contrary to popular belief, Acacia was quite patient. In her line of work you sometimes had to be, setting up ambushes or stakeouts. When the snake did act it was commensurate with the crack of a whip. But today called for a more genial approach.

This would be difficult.

She eyed Abbott and Costello like an immovable statue. Despite her distinct appearance not everybody recognized the crimson snake, as seemed to be the case with at least one of the two Pro Heros. This was generally her preference. Recognition didn’t always mean she’d get her way, regardless of her reputation. At least not with those on the side of the law. Fear was a far more potent tool on those demonstrably her opposition. Such as Villains and other ne’er-do-wells.

When her newfound guides finally beckoned Acacia to follow, she did so wordlessly.

A subtle, yet discomforting smile spread across her scaled face as she slithered forward, her pace tandem with the Bloodhound’s. Just as discomforting to witness was the unnatural way the snake seemed to move.

Acacia’s lower half seemed to locomote forward as if on rails. The scaled mass curved a path around the three spilled cups of coffee on the pavement as if the brews were protected by an unseen force field, or maybe as if they were on a different plane of existence altogether as the snake didn’t so much as look at the forgotten trash before following her guides in a path circumnavigating any obstacles on the sidewalk.

The snake’s guides were quick to part ways upon their arrival at the Bloodhound’s headquarters, dragging off the recaptured jailbird and leaving the stoic receptionist to deal with the scaled newcomer on their own.

Her unnatural glissade quickly brought Acacia before the front desk. A subtle, placating smile from the snake was all that was offered in greeting as she waved a dismissive hand at the receptionist’s apology. The gesture was more akin to don’t-worry-about-it rather than the stop-wasting-my-time temperament the serpent was notorious for.

With as neutrally accommodating a manner as her body language had been thus far, Acacia’s right hand dug under the top of her uniform and withdrew the requested document.

The Pro Hero’s ID card, sleeved in a laminated holster which, in turn, was fastened to a sturdy lanyard around her neck, was identical to the one Acacia had involuntarily turned in upon her license’ suspension. It was genuine.

With a flick of her wrist, the lanyard looped itself around and over her head before landing conveniently into her palm.

She deposited the ID on top of the receptionist's desk, giving her counterpart some time to verify her identity. Whether to help with the matter, or simply because the artificial light in the lobby wasn’t quite ready to compete with the intensity of the outdoors, Acacia’s prehensile tongue removed her sunglasses and hooked them on the collar of her shirt. Her emerald green eyes silently scanned the room.

The outside of the building had been very nondescript, its architecture seamlessly blending with the rest of the city street. But the inside had a bit more of a story to tell.

“Moving out, or in?” Acacia asked, vocalizing her humdrum assumption in order to cut out some of the silence that had befallen, her gaze analyzing the entirety of the room.

“Mm.”

The large serpent simply nodded her scaled head at the receptionist’s reply. Acacia didn’t particularly care for the money sink that renovations entailed, but even she could see the benefits to working in a sleek, modern office.

The rental she had been dumped in during her suspension was anything but modern. The drab, dusty interior could suck the soul out of even the most battle-hardened Pro Hero, and Acacia was no exception. It was why every meetup with her parolees during her interim task as a parole officer took place outside of her temporary place of work.

Acacia took her ID back. The lanyard went back around her neck with the laminated holster quickly vanishing behind the collar of her uniform, before her free hand picked up the unassuming piece of plastic that came along with it.

She nodded at the receptionist’s instructions and muttered a, “Thanks,” before slithering towards the elevator’s metal doors.

---

The snake rapped her knuckles on the door to announce her presence, forgoing the latter half of the receptionist's suggestion, and slid into the office without waiting for a reply.

“I got you a coffee.” Acacia wasted no time in ingratiating herself, placing the only surviving cup of the quartet upon Lockon’s desk.

Her emerald eyes gave the man a once-over. He was shorter than her. But then, so was everybody else.

There was no need to make any assumptions about Lockon. From rumor or verified fact, what Acacia knew of the man mattered little. The only thing of import was that he might be of use to her. And that they hadn’t met previously, thereby having not had any bridge burned between them.

Before the hot beverage could be remarked upon, the scaled figure coiled herself comfortably in front of Lockon’s desk to reduce some of the height difference between herself, and the shorter but still relatively tall man, and began the unnecessary introduction.

“Acacia.” The crimson cobra left a single, four-fingered hand outstretched in greeting as she spoke. Not everybody introduced themselves with only their given name during a business call. Fewer still had that same given name as their Pro Hero handle. Which made this interaction all the more memorable. And succinct.

No sooner had she introduced herself than Acacia got down to brass tacks.

“I’ve got a problem. One of my parolees’ file’s has some… inconsistenciesss.” The last word came out in a guided hiss, betraying some of Acacia’s annoyance at the whole affair. It was a welcome diversion, sure, but being unable to solve this problem all on her own was agitating.

“Could use someone with contacts in America’s BOP to check something for me,” Acacia added, downplaying the brick wall she had run into. She didn’t embellish the matter further.

Any onlooker might have described the quiet, that pregnant silence after Acacia stated her case, as tense. Disquieting even. Uncomfortably so. But not for the two Pro Heros gazing at each other in the office on the uppermost floor. Just for any hypothetical witness to the affair.

Lockon, his steely gaze indecipherable, could pierce titanium. What thoughts lurked behind his clean-cut blue eyes, only he knew.

Acacia, on the other hand, still wore her ‘friendly’ smile. It would offer little comfort to anyone staring into the serpent’s deadly emerald eyes, though someone as mentally indomitable as Yuuto Nakamura would have likely dismissed the social platitude before the red snake even finished articulating her dilemma anyway.

Her posture, however, was free from any tension or anxiety; she was at ease. Maybe even inappropriately so, if there was such a thing.

When Lockon finally broke the silence, the only immediate change in Acacia’s demeanor was the almost imperceptible dilation of her pupils. These were the eyes of a snake that had just heard something she liked.

The blonde man had asserted he had the necessary contacts. And the wording used, despite hinting at an associated cost, soon had the coil of scales sitting before him shift with anticipation. She waited for him to continue and, when Lockon finally broke the silence, concluding with an open-ended question, the snake moved.

Acacia slithered towards one wall of the room. The movement slow; obvious, but impossibly devoid of sound. Until she let out a soft chuckle.

“I ain’t askin’ for charity.”

The snake’s eyes were surveying a painting on the office wall as she spoke. Her voice seemed to take on a more casual, natural tone, that had not been present just moments ago. “Tit for that. You scratch my back, I scratch yours.”

Her eyes flitted to the plant in the corner, “I could water your plants for you,” then bore directly into Lockon’s, “-or knit you a sweater.”

The red cobra seemed to own the sardonic tone with which she spoke. While the joke wasn’t particularly funny or meant to be contemptuous, Acacia rarely spoke without reason.

She had come here with her request, knowing full well there would be a cost to it. Lockon hadn’t come to her, but she to him, so it went without saying a bit of a market fee, so to speak, would be tacked on to any trade that might take palce. The coffee certainly hadn’t been brought here for that purpose. And there was quite a bit Lockon could get away with in demanding of her. Acacia, with all her skillset and reputation, could be of value certainly, and the blonde wouldn’t have been the first Pro Hero that might ask for the all-too-popular, and disgustingly ambiguous, favor as payment. Which was why the sly snake was attempting to subtly goad the man into stating a specific request in exchange.

The caustic snake made no remark at the verbal rebuke. Indeed, if not for being in the same room as Lockon, her gaze still locked with his, one might have wondered if she had heard him at all.

Sigga would have paid well to witness this interaction between the Pro Heros. Any opportunity to see someone confront Acacia would have been money well spent. The UA student certainly wouldn’t have had the audacity to stand up to the gaslighting red serpent herself. Not due to Acaica’s reputation or anything; despite attending a heroics school Sigga was still quite ignorant to much of Japan’s Pro Hero industry. It was simply the snake’s indomitable presence that oft had the little fish shaking in her boots.

It wasn’t until the hardboiled man finished saying his piece that the mass of scales moved again, slowly, towards the desk bisecting the negotiations.

Acacia’s expression, still seemingly aloof, slowly morphed into that familiar disquieting grin. She refrained from any further attempts to cajole the man; to provoke his ire. Perhaps if circumstances had been different the serpent might have had quite a bit of fun. At least until she was kicked out of the building. But social repartee was no stand-in for her primary goal, no matter how tempting it might be.

An inviting, four-fingered hand stretched itself towards Lockon, ready to cement the deal. “A favour for a favour then,” came a gentle hiss.

This had been the least desired outcome for Acacia. Or, second-least, technically. She didn’t care for owing ambiguous favours to anyone. Sure she still had a lengthy list of alternatives she could go to, but none of them were a sure thing. Additionally… this man intrigued her.

Perhaps she simply wasn’t used to people speaking to her like that.

Or she was hungry.

In any case, Acacia had gotten what she came for.

The serpent departed from the office somewhat reluctantly, stating only that she looked forward to their next meeting and that she’d leave the details of the case file with the agency’s receptionist.

The woman behind the desk in the Bloodhound’s lobby was given back the snake’s temporary pass, as well as a flash drive with a few files on it. And just like that, Acacia departed the premises.

---

Requests for information, or assistance in obtaining it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in Japan’s Pro Hero circuit. In fact, it was relatively routine; commonplace. In this instance it was a little less so only on account of the people looking into it being of higher repute and the information requested having an international quality to it. And yet, there was something peculiar about this file.

Verbally, Acacia had only mentioned the file having some ‘inconsistencies.’ The flash drive yielded little more insight into what she was looking for.

Besides requesting every available document on the parolee in question that the BOP might have, anything from progress notes on counseling after being incarcerated to school report cards, the information request form on the flash drive also stated to keep an eye out for any mention of the conditions attached to the perp’s parole. Specifically any details referencing an ankle monitor or restricted contact with particular individuals.

As far as favours went, this was as mundane a request as one could imagine. Some might even consider it beneath Lockon’s station to bother with, were it not for his professional connections in obtaining said information.

There was only one other file on the flash drive that the snake had provided. A one-pager; the profile of the perp in question.

The mugshot, unflattering, showed a young woman; a girl. Amber eye’s narrowed cynically and head devoid of hair, it was difficult to tell her age at first glance from the tiny photo, or if her hairlessness was a personal choice or an innate characteristic of her biology.

Female. A hundred and fifty-seven centimeters tall. Weighing in at a little over forty-six and a half kilos. Her date of birth matched the listed age of fifteen. Young, but no record breaker. The information was largely benign. There was only a brief summary of her Quirk that stated it was dual; piscine and psychic in nature. Easy to imagine how someone with the latter half of said Quirk could get into trouble with the law.

But there was one piece of data that may have provoked some interest in someone reading the file. This Sigrid Tendō was currently enrolled at U.A. High School.