23 Chapter 7

He took a taxi to go to Sakai City, it didn't take that long to arrive there. A city that is only second to Hosu city for its crime rate. Toya came here to meet someone. Someone that could help him.

Of course he only came here cause of the system. He didn't want to set foot in this place after what happened last time.

It was already deep into the night so only underground clubs had that many people in it. He walked down the stairs after going through security.

The club was loud, people drinking, chearing, dancing, some even used their quirks to show off. There was an empty wrestling ring in the middle of the club, today there weren't any fights. Seeing this place brought back some old memories.

Toya often had to use places similar to this, underground clubs, rings, to get money when doing vigilante work. Going into the ring to bet on yourself was the easy way to earn money.

It was before Hawks scouted him for the Agency. Thinking about him, he hoped that Hawks wouldn't suddenly visit the hospital, but the system did say it would take care of it. So he gulped that thought down.

He sat at the bar, calling the bartender. The man soon came with a professional charming smile on his face.

"Sir how may I help you?"

"Call Killjoy." Toya answered flatly, and the bartender's expression changed to a more sharp one. Toya smiled, leaning in. "Argun."

Hearing the secret code the bartender went back to his cheerful state. "One takila coming right up."

The man placed a small glass before going to back. Toya grabbed the glass moving his fingers around the glass frame. He practically hated this place.

Loud music, loud idiots, and heavy alcohol with lightheaded assholes. He preferred more of a quiet sort of environment. And not to mention the person who ran the place.

"Please come in." The bartender came back nodding him to follow. He passed on the glass to a nearby customer.

"Thanks, mate." The mohawk-wearing man said cheerfully and he was about the grab the glass, but the alcohol burned in blue flames. "No…"

Toya smiled without looking back, he loved making people's day. Getting past the bottles of champagne and classic wine, that were held in the shelves, he entered through a rough-looking wooden door.

But when he got past the wooden door, and the door clicked shut, the music dimmed down with the surrounding lights. It was a dimly lit area, having several doors connecting to the underground club, it was more like an underground tunnel. Most of them were to escape if a raid took place.

The hallway was damp, considering this was underground, Toya felt lucky that he didn't have to smell the swears. This place used to be an abandoned subway, now it barely looked like one.

Then after a few minutes of walking through a maze of a hallway he bent himself, going through a small metal door.

"Have a nice time." The bartender said, sliding the metal door shut.

Toya looked at the room, filled with weaponry. This was Killjoy's workshop and it looked nothing like he had expected.

Killjoy's workshop wasn't set up in a room, but instead in one of the long corridors of the abandoned swears. This was his first time coming here, so he just couldn't get impressed. The place was clean and tiled with marble walls, it would be hard for anyone to guess what it was previously.

The long space was lit from above by portable lights that were almost blinding after the general darkness of the underground.

Those lights shone on guns—hundreds of them hung on the walls of the hallway. Beautiful polished steel and deep, muted blacks. Assault rifles. Handguns. Massive, electron-compressed beasts like the one special forces carried. Old-style revolvers, grenades in stacks, rocket launchers.

Toya wasn't a gun person, but he had to whistle at the sight. "It's like a banana farm for guns."

'A banana farm? Seriously?'

"Sure. You know, how bananas grow from their trees and hand down and stuff."

'…'

'Hey, don't judge me. Nobody said I am good at metaphors.' Dabi defended. But he had to admit it was a lousy metaphor. 'What if… an art gallery for guns. No, wait. If I said it that way, it would mean the gallery was intended for guns to come visit. A gallery of guns, then?'

The system was pleased when the owner of the shop showed herself and saved him for Toya's metaphors. And the woman made Toya uncomfortable.

Killjoy was a woman of her mid-twenties. Deep black hair, light pale skin with a healthy pink. She wore a dark sweater, the one you wear when you are too lazy to change, and light brown pajamas. She looked rather childish with her round glasses. And almost cute.

"Ahem… miss Killjoy." Toya said extending his hand. "Dabi sent me."

She took his hand, shaking it with a yawn. "Well, it's not every day you get recommendations from that stingy guy." She said, fixing her glasses. "That man is hard to crack. I heard he was dead meat after what happened with Yakuza." There was a bit of sadness and disappointment in her voice.

Well, that was news.

"Word in the street is he's trying to set up his own criminal organization. Huh, people overestimate him." She shook her head as she started walking, while Toya silently followed him. He had a bit of history with her.

'You don't say Sharlok.' The system said in a snorting tone.

The system was getting a bit too familiar with him, wasn't it. But it was nice having someone to talk to. But it was annoying as well.

-------- (A/N) --------- (Gimme good reviews and power stones for more chapters.( ͡❛ ͜ʖ ͡❛)👌)