"Caught In The Grey"

"Find Her."

Song: "Bad Guy" - Billie Eilish 

Deep on the outskirts of Hosu City laid an underground nightclub called Witz End. A hot-spot for criminals and the likes, this club was tucked beneath soundproof walls and an unsuspecting mom n' pop diner for its front. Access is strictly VIP, and the only way to become a VIP is to have a VIP drop a name, and has a highly enforced "don't talk about flight club" aura. Unnamed, kings of the underground invest top dollar for secrecy and security, and rulebreakers are thoughroughly punished. After all, you can't have organized crime without law and order.

Sitting at a booth in the far back of Witz End was a man named Giran who wore a purple suit with scruffy, silver hair and round glasses. The man had a missing tooth which left a gap perfect for the cigarette hanging from his mouth. At first glance, it would be easy to assume he was a nobody, but the thick, gold chain around his neck suggested otherwise. As Giran looked over the all-too-familiar menu, he heard a bell ring from the front door, signaling a new arrival.

His eyes followed the sound to a tall fellow dressed in all black from the boots on his feet to the hoodie on his head. Taking off the dark sunglasses, the new guest surveyed the room and locked eyes with Giran before approaching him.

Giran folded his menu and glanced at his watch, letting out a heavy sigh. "You're late, Dabi."

"Give me a break, old man; I had stuff to do." Dabi groaned, plopping down into the booth adjacent to his impatient greeter.

He removed his high-coverage coat and revealed a long-sleeve, grey T-shirt and a chain hanging from his neck—both of which he had to adjust. Dabi was covered in purple scars—some under his eyes, some surrounding his entire lower face and neck, and some peaking out from his sleeves on his hands. All of these scars were stapled together along the seems that met his otherwise fair-complected skin.

"Honestly, this new generation has no respect for their elders. Least you can say is Mr. Old Man." Giran let out a hardy laugh with his whole gut.

Dabi rolled his eyes and disregarded his comment. "So I assume you called me here for a reason other than to lecture me and make half-asses jokes. Out with it already."

"There's never any small talk with you... Guess it can't be helped." Giran sighed. "Is there any luck on the recruitment end for The League?"

"I wish. The last few guys you sent me to investigate were all pathetic. They were not worth my time."

"Yeah, that's what I figured you'd say after I saw four freshly fried corpses on the news earlier this week. Did you really have to make smores of them?"

"Those guys were better off dead if they weren't an asset." Dabi grumbled.

"Right... Anyway, I assumed you could use some more leads, so I took the liberty of fishing around for another candidate." Giran pulled out a briefcase from under the table and retrieved a file from within it, tossing it on the table. Dabi lifted the manila folder and began flipping through the contents.

"I'll tell you this much: she was a hard one to pin down. She's a bit of a chameleon."

"We already have those types—Twice and the blood-sucking brat, remember?" Dabi groaned.

"No, no. She's just a fan of the theatrics, so real photos of her were hard to come by. And I guess it's worked in her favor thus far; this young lady only been caught twice, but she's managed to slip her cuffs both times. She has quite the 'suspected' wrap sheet, but her paper trail is sparce." Giran tried to gage Dabi's reaction, and to his pleasant surprise, Dabi kept reading.

Likewise, Giran continued the briefing. "Her name is Jinxx. As for her quirk, its a little more interesting than shape-shifting. She has a contact-based power that can manipulate the nature of objects and—as her name implies—jinxes them. For example, if she touches a lock, the lock will malfunction and unlock. Seems simple, but in all honestly, the limits of her quirk are currently unknown." Giran paused to shift his weight in the booth to a more comfortable position. 
"Based on press and rumor alone, heists and large-scale break-ins are practically child's play for her. I think that type of power and confidence can be—as you call it—a real asset."

"We'll see about that." Dabi said, pulling the ID photo from the file and tucking it in his back pocket.

Giran leaned back, blowing out a puff of smoke. "I guess we will." He tapped the cigarette against the edge of an ashtray on the table before sticking it back in his mouth. "You know the drill: read the file and then burn it. And will you do me a favor? Try not to kill this one. It's bad for business."

"Whatever." The patch-work man grumbled.

A waitress approached the table setting down another menu, and just as she tried to greet Dabi, he cut her off. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'll be leaving now." With that, he shut the folder, gathered his things, and began heading for the door.

"Honestly, no manners on that one." Giran shook his head turning to the waitress. "Sorry about him. I'm ready to order."

Dabi had re-layered himself before exiting Witz End. Once he was an acceptable distance from the diner and had slipped into a dimly lit stretch of road, Dabi pulled out the picture from his back pocket.

It was slightly blurry but he could make out the distinguishable facial features. The young woman had magenta colored cat-eyes and wavy white hair with some slightly dark roots showing. She seemed to have dark makeup and clothes with a Black crescent moon on her forehead. If he really focused, he could see a small beauty mark below her left eye. By social standards, her proportions made her a relatively attractive woman, but that was a passive observation. Dabi was only interested in her use to him.

He really hoped this "Jinxx" character was worth his time.