Reframed

When Luke Walker woke up at ten A.M. for his stupid job, he had no idea his life was about to change forever. Dramatic as that sounded, his life had fallen into a routine so monotonous that the days blended together. He woke up late. He either went to work or to his court-mandated therapy sessions. He ate shitty fast food for lunch and made shitty attempts at cooking for dinner. He checked in with his parole officer once a week. He spent what was probably an absurd amount of time playing video games, switching between online and RPG depending on his mood. He stayed up too late, spent too much money on either coffee or energy drinks, and repeated the process over and over again. It wasn't much of a life, but it was a normal one. Perfectly bland, painfully average, and outrageously legal. He didn't even torrent video games anymore. He was a decent citizen who, although not contributing much to society, wasn't trying to kill or burn down society out of "misplaced anger" and "trauma" anymore, or whatever his therapist said. Staring at his reflection in the grimy mirror, Luke ran his fingers through his black hair. It was starting to hang in his face again. He would have to get a haircut soon. A part of him wanted to keep it shaggy, but then he thought of how it was supposed to be important that he not fall back into old habits. Hiding his face was a habit he hadn't even realized he had until after the League. No more creepy half masks to cover his face, no more hair hanging in his eyes, no more hunching over and hiding in the shadow of his hood. Nope, he had to face the world and the world had to see him. He didn't like it much. Even if he was a plain old citizen, it didn't take away simple facts. His decay quirk still tended to dry out his skin, which meant he was either forced to take extra care of his face or look like a crusty corpse asshole for everyone to see. Sky-- No, Alex thought it was amusing, but now he couldn't hide, Luke was forced to face the fact that he was not the easiest person to look at when he let himself go. He was put into the position of having what Alex called a "beauty regimen" or "skin care routine" (it was not) in order to make sure he looked relatively decent for his everyday job. It was annoying. Simple, civilian life was made up of tiny annoying things that he didn't like. A boring job, bills, taxes, and a bunch of other things that made life difficult for no damn reason. Who could've realized how easy living off the grid had made his life before? He didn't have that option now. No, he had to have an actual place of residence and an address. He needed a job for that too, and a job came with other factors. He had to deal with people and people were, by and large, annoying as hell. Progress. It was all about progress. Oh, and patience too. With his legal name tacked on all of his paperwork, no defining weapons hanging on to him, and moderate care over his appearance, no one recognized him. It had been like that before when he had been younger - before he had started to take his role as Sensei - No, Charles's protege, more seriously in the League Mafia. No one knew him then. After the Attack, people started to notice him more. It had been slow work in the beginning, but people had to come to know him. They had even learned to fear him. Respect him. Hate him. He'd been known. Now he was just... Allen Pearce, THE Luke Walker everyone had known. Even if he didn't think of himself that way. He hadn't wanted to use his legal name, not having any connection to it, but then his parole officer had tentatively pointed out that it would be easier for him to obtain a job if he didn't go by a name everyone associated with a very bad and dangerous head gang member. He wasn't one, not anymore, thanks to the legal system and years of rehab. He was, unfortunately, still in. But he would never be able to erase the fact that he had been one. It was a stain on his life forever. A f*****g stain. How ironic. After taking a shower and using lotion on his skin, Luke changed into clothes, grabbed his leftovers from the takeout from last night, then left for work. When his parole officer had begun to help him look for an actual job, the first one he'd ever had, he had been at a loss. It was only when the young woman asked what he was good at and what he liked to do (you know, besides murder and stuff) did he admit he played a lot of video games. Somehow, with her help (and a letter of recommendation from a certain great Agent), he got a job at a video game store. It wasn't much of a job and it paid minimum wage, but it was something he didn't hate and he knew a lot about them. Still, dealing with nerds online was a lot different than dealing with them in person. It did, however, have the effect of making him somewhat care about his appearance more. Some of those guys were unpleasant to look at. No wonder most of them were i***t trolls that couldn't land a girl. Dealing with them had the ability to grate on his nerves, but he didn't scratch at his neck anymore unless he was under a lot of stress. He had to grudgingly admit therapy had helped him with his temper. He needed that help too, since working in retail was sometimes akin to torture. Seriously, they should've just forced every captured gang member to work in retail. Put some quirk inhibitor braces and a tracking device on them and call it a day. Now there was some community service. Sure, he had been a head gang member, but he wasn't a total asshole for absolutely no damn reason to complete strangers. It could be worse. He could work at some large corporate establishment. Then he might've gone back to prison. It was a twenty-minute walk to the store, something of which he used to clear his head. He liked for it to be near empty by the time he reached work. Those twenty minutes gave him the ability to shake off whatever nightmares or sour dreams he might've had the night before. No amount of therapy could get rid of those and he didn't want to take any medication, no matter what the psychiatrist suggested. Now that he was out of prison, he wanted a clear head and he wanted it on his own. The weather outside was nice, the sun shining down on him like a bright reminder that the day was great and he was free. For some reason, that frustrated him. Maybe one or two people gave him a weird look as he tugged on a pair of black artist gloves, but he ignored them. His coworkers had learned not to ask him about it. The odd customer did, mostly because they were entitled idiots who didn't have filters, but he either explained it away by saying he just liked it or it had to do with his quirk. (A full five-fingered gloves would end up disintegrated, so he actually had no other options). It was just easier to deal with it that way. He naturally grabbed things with four fingers or less out of years of habit, but it was part of his therapy to avoid doing that, which meant he had to wear those gloves. Everything was about recovery and a lot of issues he'd developed over the years centered on his quirk. He never thought he hated it, but now that he actively thought about it more, he supposed he did have conflicting feelings over it. "Oh, awesome. You're here," the guy behind the register sighed the second Luke walked in. "You mind if I dip out early? it's been super slow." Luke waved a dismissive hand. "Whatever." "Sweet, thanks! You rock, Pearce," the guy said, practically bolting to the back room. He didn't offer to let him leave early so he could be helpful; he did it so he could be alone. After being out of prison for months, he had gotten used to people calling him by his legal name. At first, he'd struggled to answer it, but now it was kind of like a nickname. It was better than the ones Alex had come up for him over the years. He still liked to use them, no matter how irritating they were. His coworker had been right about one thing: it was super slow. Only a few customers came in during the afternoon. When school let out, some kids strolled in and hung out, but no one needed any help, leaving him to sit behind the register and play games on his phone. He actually had a monthly plan for this thing. It was the first phone he owned that wasn't a burner. For the most part, he only uses his phone for games and the internet, seeing how he didn't have much of a social life. It wasn't like he had a ton of friends or was dating someone. He had kind of half-assed it for a while there - trying to be more social or whatever - but it wasn't for him. Both his parole officer and his therapist thought it was fine if he didn't push himself right away. Getting back into society when he had never really been in it to begin with wasn't going to be easy. Stuff like friends, dating, and s**t were still foreign concepts to him. Plus, his attempt, while some might consider a success, had ended with the girl ghosting him before he could ghost her. Luke hadn't known whether to be offended or not. He had been a little grateful that he didn't have to do anything to avoid her - he could even pretend that he was the good one in that case - but Alex had thought it a little too funny that he had been essentially dumped. They hadn't even been dating. She had been some woman he had accidentally helped at a bar when some asshole had been bothering her. And then she was gone. Honestly, the best non-relationship ever. His therapist had been proud of him for attempting something. Luke had definitely not told him that he hadn't really attempted anything. It had just sort of happened and was then over. The lack of effort he had to put in had been pleasant. The familiar stress-inducing sound from Metal Gear Solid echoed from his phone. Since there was no one in the store right now, Luke pulled it from his pocket and checked the text. Eve says you should come over for dinner because you eat like s**t. Luke sneered and hurriedly sent back a text: I'll be there just to piss you off. Be here at 8 unless an old enemy picks you off first. You wish. Eat s**t. Just to piss him off, Alex sent one last text, a f*****g smiley emoji. Luke huffed and shoved his phone back in his pocket just as the front door jingled, letting him know that someone was walking into the store. After accidently making awkward eye contact with some guy that was even paler than him, he went back to pretending he was organizing something under the register. There was no way that guy needed any help. He probably only left the house to buy a new game. Another employee came in not long after that and Luke was able to clock out thirty minutes later. It was a ten-minute walk to the nearest subway entrance and then between ten and fifteen minutes to Evelynn Ravi's apartment, where Alex was staying. The asshole had been lucky enough to be able to move in with his twin when he got out on parole. Unlike Luke, he'd gone back to going by his legal name, although he shot murderous glares at anyone who used his surname. However, before he made it ten steps away from the video game store, he felt a hand wrap around his arm. As dumb as it was, the first thing that popped into his mind was Alex's stupid comment about an enemy picking him off. He jumped into the fight in response, jerking around and reaching out to touch the person who grabbed him, although he realized belatedly he was wearing gloves, so his quirk was useless. When he came face-to-face with his attacker though, he came to a shocked halt and gawked at them. "I remember you saying you worked here!" the woman exclaimed cheerfully. "I wasn't sure you'd still be here though." Luke blinked in confusion. "Hera..." He wasn't sure what to say except, "I thought you ghosted me." Hera laughed and let go of him. "Some stuff came up and I had to leave town abruptly, but I'm back now. It's been awhile, I know." A while? Luke shook his head. It had been over a year. Sure, it wasn't like he'd become a monk or anything like that, but he hadn't really attempted much of anything since then either. One of the last things he wanted right now was anything as locked in as a relationship, even if everyone seemed to be harping on him about making more social and emotional connections. "You busy right now?" Hera asked. He was, but before he could even answer, she continued, "There's someone you need to meet." "Uh..." That sounded ominous. He didn't like it one bit. Despite the fact that they had been, ah, fairly intimate for a night, they were still strangers. He had been quite content never seeing her again and did not want to meet anyone in her life or vice versa. "I've actually got-" She swooped a duffel bag from her side to rest in front of her and then dug around in it to pull something out. "Tada!" He had expected her to pull out some tiny dog or something (people were weird about their pets), but instead, she pulled out a f*****g baby in a blue onesie that was far too big for it. "Meet your daughter!" His what? Luke frowned and stared at the wiggly little thing. "What the f**k?" "This is your little girl, silly," Hera replied teasingly, still holding the child out to him like he might want to hold it. He most certainly did not. He'd never held a baby in his life and he wasn't about to start now. "Her name is Princess." She had named a baby Princess? Like Princess Peach? It was a terrible name. She should've gone for something a little more subtle. Why name the baby Princess and not the actual name of one? Luke shook his head. Now was not the time to argue over names, especially when he couldn't possibly be involved in this mess. No way was this his child. She had to be mistaken. She had to be wrong. She... "How...?" His mind was struggling to keep up, like it was lagging on a server that was too busy. When Hera grinned, it was strangely sharp, which didn't fit the situation at all. "Well, you see, when two consenting adults find themselves locked in an amorous embrace..." "Shut up! I know how babies are made! I just-" Luke snapped his mouth shut so hard that his teeth rattled. Hera shrugged and said, "Life happens sometimes," before all but shoving the child into his arms. If he hadn't grabbed the squirming thing at the last second, it would've fallen on the sidewalk. All Luke could do was stare down at the baby, which looked up at him with equally confused eyes. Red eyes. Just like his. It didn't have a lot of hair yet, but from what it did have, it looked auburn brown. Like hers. No, no, this was not happening. This was insane. There was no way this tiny blob could belong to him. He couldn't have a baby. He didn't know anything about babies. What do they eat? How much sleep do they need? Did he have to take her on walks? Could she walk? She looked tiny and fragile. Far too fragile for someone like him. "I can't-" "Oh please, you'll be fine," Hera insisted. She pulled the strap of the duffel bag from her shoulder and hooked it onto Luke's shoulders. He found himself locked in a staring competition with the baby, "Listen, I've got some things I have to take care of. If you could watch her a few weeks, that would be great. You still living in the same place? Or, if you wanna keep her, that's cool too. This mothering thing is... Well, I don't know. Maybe it's not my thing." At the end of her rambling, Luke's brain managed to catch up to her words and he tore his gaze away from the baby to stare furiously at Hera. "Wait - what the f**k? Hold on. You can't just-" In his arms, the baby started to wiggle more, making it difficult for him to hold onto it. She was tiny and weak compared to him, but it was still hard. "What the hell are you going on about? We need to- I can't-" He held the baby back out to her. "You can't just pop up, hand me a baby, and walk off. Who the f**k do you think you are?" Hera winked at him. "I know who you are, Luke Walker." He flushed, his heart going cold. Admittedly, Hera was one of the few times he'd gone by Allen Pearce. He should have known it was a terrible idea, but the beer and the sudden buoyancy of confidence had tricked him somehow. He shouldn't have gotten involved with anyone in any way. Apparently, it hadn't mattered because she had known who he was - and she hadn't cared. And if she didn't care about who she was, then that meant... Slowly, Luke pulled the child towards his chest. "What do you have to take care of?" "More like who," Hera giggled. She tapped him on the nose, lightning fast, and then put her hands on her hips. "I've got this detective on my back and he's been chasing me everywhere. Let me tell you: going on the run with a baby is almost impossible. It was becoming such a hassle." She rolled her eyes. "I figured I'd just take him and his family out, maybe make it look like a murder-suicide, and then all would be good." "You...what?" Luke was pretty sure his mind was going to explode. Was this how people felt like when they talked to him back in his villainous days? He couldn't imagine if he had been this warped and delusional - this flippant about murder - but he knew he had been bad. He spent years dreaming about getting revenge on all the detective agents he believed had failed him. He had been crazy about it, fervent, determined. Almost as if he was obsessed by it. It had been all he wanted. There hadn't been room for anything else. But the idea of abandoning a child... An innocent baby... It made him think of all the people that had walked past him the day his world came to an end. It pissed him off. "You understand, right?" Hera continued. "Oh, yeah, I know - you're good now" she giggled, "but you'll never be able to escape what you truly are." She waved a hand at him. "Video game store employee? You were the leader of the League Mafia. You were the boss in all those games! Keep on trying to lie to yourself. Eventually, you'll fall back into it." She reached out and gently ran a hand over the baby's soft head. "Maybe we can even teach her our ways. I'm not into notoriety or anything, but I could learn." Something terrible burned in Luke, growing hotter with each word that came out Hera's mouth. It was the familiar feeling of hate, an emotion which made him sick to his stomach. It had been a long time since he had hated someone this much. It was mixed with disgust and rage, filling him like an overflowing pot of boiling water, until all of it finally melted away into fear. That was what he was afraid of, wasn't he? That is all of this for naught. That everything he's done to change his life - to become someone different - would be utterly worthless. That he was worthless and would only ever amount to anything as a leader of the gang. After all, he wasn't a productive member of society by any means. He was nothing. He didn't mean s**t anymore. He didn't mean s**t to anyone. He didn't have anyone. His eyes flickered down to the baby, who now had a weak fistful of his shirt. She didn't either, did she? Not if Hera was ready to abandon her, which she certainly liked she was. Maybe she'll come back. Maybe she'll want the baby again. Princess. But for how long? How long until she gets tired of motherhood? How long until her flippancy about murder turned against someone who couldn't defend herself? Who trusted her? Needed her? Or would she raise her to think the way she did? Never give her a chance to become her own person? The fear left, replaced with something cold and decisive. "Okay." Hera tilted her head. "Okay?" "Yeah, okay. I'll keep her," Luke replied coldly. "Thanks!" Either she didn't notice his tone or she just didn't care. She smiled and gave him an awkward hug, ignoring the way she squished the baby between them. The baby didn't like that, letting out an uncomfortable cry that pierced his ears. It was a weird noise. "Same number, right?" "Yeah, yeah," Luke waved her off. He moved the child to one arm, struggling to hold it as it began to fight more like she didn't want him to hold her. She wanted her mom. He winced. Sorry, kid. "I just have to make a quick call. Let my friend know I'm not going to make it over." "Of course," Hera said, hopping on her feet excitedly. "Maybe when I finish my business, we can get dinner. Aw, we can go out like a family." She eyed the baby in a strange way as Luke fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed quickly. "Still not sure about that motherhood thing, but I figured if I ever get caught, they wouldn't go for the death penalty at least. A baby would make me look soft, you know?" Luke's lips twitched into an uncomfortable smile. "Oh yeah, definitely." Keeping one eye on her, he turned away when his call was answered, leaving her to keep talking to herself. He tuned her out. Hopefully, the police would get here before she vanished into thin air again. Apparently, he knew her even less than he realized, but one thing he did know about her, besides her flexibility, was that she was great at becoming a ghost. Maybe turning her in would get him some bonus points with the authorities. Of course this would happen. He attempted to have a simple fling, like a normal i***t in his twenties, and happened to knock up what sounded like a serial killer. f**k, Alex was going to lose his s**t over this. After giving the address of the store and explaining (more or less) what was going on, Luke ended the call and slowly began to back away. He knew next to nothing about babies, but he knew that they were very fragile. So much could hurt them. With one hand holding the baby up and the other protectively cradling its head, he put as much distance between them and Hera as he could before she got suspicious. He was right at his job's door when she finally turned around and noticed he'd moved away from her." Hera froze, staring at him confused. "You're leaving without saying goodbye?" "Yeah, we're both pretty good at that, aren't we?" Luke responded, going for cool but coming off as stiff. Unlike Alex, he couldn't just rid himself or his voice of emotions. He fell into a bored droll half the time, but that was only because life got so boring that managing more didn't seem worth the effort. Right now, he was so tense he felt like he might snap. "Of course." Hera's eyes narrowed. "Let me kiss my girl goodbye at least." "I thought you weren't into the whole mom thing," Luke coldly replied. "Luke." "Hera," he shot back mockingly. "What did you do?" she demanded. He didn't back down or look away as he flatly stated, "What I had to." He wasn't going back to jail and he wasn't going to let her run around either, not when he realized the danger she presented. Hera's demeanor changed almost immediately, going from absurd rambling to cold in a second. It was all too familiar. He had seen that same thing in himself prior to his arrest and incarceration. He could feel it in him now, but it was also different. He felt...protective. Which was ridiculous since he'd only just found out about this baby. He didn't have it in him to be a dad, least of all with no warning, but he knew a bad influence when he saw one. He knew a path of darkness when put in front of him. The day he became the lesser of two evils had to mean the world was definitely ending. When a pair of detective agents walked up behind her, Luke didn't make a face or move a muscle. He maintained eye contact with her, keeping her locked on him. If he'd been forced to take a glove off and use his quirk, he would have, but he also knew it would've put him in a bad position, even if he tried to claim self-defense. He wasn't sure what her quirk was, but the second she took a step towards them, the agents jumped into action. All in all, because she had been caught off guard, her capture was shockingly quick. "You called the cops?" Hera exclaimed as she struggled against them. They'd put quirk inhibitor handcuffs on her quickly, managing to throw her to the ground, but she flailed and kicked, her voice getting more hysterical by the second. "I can't believe you called the agents on me! You bastard! What kind of a villain are you?" Not a very good one, Luke thought, as the agents' eyes flickered at him. Luke leveled her with an unimpressed gaze."One on parole trying to get better." "Liar!" Hera began to scream. "You're a f*****g liar!" By now, the police had shown up, stepping in to secure the area to make sure no one was hurt. "You're part of the Mafia and you'll always be one!" "Maybe," Luke admitted quietly to himself, "but I'm free." Somewhat mystified by the whole ordeal, he watched as Hera was loaded into a vehicle and the door was shut in her face, muffling her screams. It went about about a hundred times smoother than his arrest, which had resulted in a lot of destruction. Red and blue lights flashed around him, along with the crowd of gawkers. None of it felt real, not even the weight in his arms. He glanced down, surprised that the thing hadn't started crying with all the commotion. Surely it didn't feel safe or content with him. He is a complete stranger. "Sir?" an agent prompted. Luke huffed and rolled his eyes. "You know who I am. No need to play coy, agent." For his part, the agent had the decency to look a little embarrassed. Naturally, every agent in the city knew who he was on sight. He might have been able to hide his identity from the general public since they knew him by his legal name, but the agents and the police knew him better. They wouldn't be very good at their jobs if they didn't know the former leader of the League Mafia lived in the area. They had to make sure he didn't slip up and fall back into villainy. "We can take the child now," the agent said, holding out his hands. Out of an instinct that he didn't know he had, Luke twisted away and hugged the baby closer to his chest, blurting out an almost panicked, "No." The agent looked about as surprised as Luke felt, raising his eyebrows and dropping his jaws a little. He didn't know where that had come from. Minutes ago, he could've sworn that he would've sworn that he would have handed his child off to the first person that asked for it. But all of a sudden, fear spiked through him and he didn't want to let her go. He thought about giving her away and never seeing her again. It would be better that way, wouldn't it?" Someone else could raise her better. He didn't know how to raise her. He didn't think he could. "She's mine," Luke continued, trying to calm himself down. He sounded confused. He felt confused. He probably looked like it too. The agent didn't look like he believed him entirely. "She's yours?" Luke looked down at the baby, who stared up at him with sleepy red eyes. What am I doing?