#dabi is not immune to hearing mr. compress talk shit about the MLA

[smolthealmighty]

Who’s on the Roof?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28640127

Did anyone want to see Mr. Compress give Skeptic an aneurysm by quoting the classic Abbott and Costello routine “Who’s on First?”

No?

Too bad!

Skeptic was not having a good day. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had a good day ever since the moment Re-Destro issued his declaration of war to the League of Villains.

Not only had their plan backfired in almost every way possible, now they all had to work for this group of utter maniacs. He swore that trouble followed these loose cannons wherever they went, as each interaction with them always left him five seconds from having a conniption by the end of it. Toga acted like she was having a perpetual sugar high, Dabi would schedule meetings with him only to blow him off half of the time, and he had no idea how the rest of the league were able to understand Twice's constant contradictions. The only saving grace was that he didn’t have to deal with the full force of the league –yet– as Shigaraki was held back somewhat by his healing injuries, and Spinner usually hovered around him.

But they weren’t the reason why Skeptic wasn’t having a good day. No, the blame for that lay solely on Mr. Compress’s shoulders. He may be the voice of reason for the league, but with the company he kept it was like saying he was the tallest dwarf. The flashy magician always talked as if he was delivering a soliloquy on center stage with all the spotlights fixed on him. Worst of all was how his arrogant tone of voice made it impossible to tell whether or not he was joking at any given moment.

Needless to say, he was not looking forward to their scheduled meeting, which he was on his way towards at the moment. Dabi had once again left in the middle of an earlier conference before Skeptic was able to plan out the fire-wielder’s own meeting with the pro-hero Hawks, and for some reason Mr. Compress volunteered to help. Now they just had to finalize the details and make sure they got to Dabi before he tried to go off on his own again.

Skeptic entered the conference room, barely acknowledging the showman as he walked over to sit across from him. As usual, Mr. Compress was wearing one of his many masks, this one being a version he hadn’t seen before. It was plain white like the others, but the design was of a diamond divided into four smaller ones. He didn’t bother looking at it for long; there were more important matters to get to.

"Alright, this better not be a waste of my time,” Skeptic grumbled as he sat down at the table across from the showman and began pulling out his laptop. “Hawks is going to bring proof of his loyalty tomorrow night, if Dabi’s to be believed, and we need to make sure there’s at least some type of back up in case something goes wrong. So you’d better have come up with a plan for that."

He looked up from his laptop, now displaying a blank document to take notes with, and gave Mr. Compress the most serious look he could muster. This was his last meeting of the day and he was not going to end it with an anger-induced aneurysm.

"Oh Skeptic, there’s no need to look so grim. Of course I have a plan!” exclaimed Mr. Compress, pausing to dramatically unfurl a set of blue prints, which he spread across the table. Upon closer inspection, it was of the warehouse Dabi intended to hold his meeting at.

“When Hawks arrives for his rendezvous Dabi, I believe the best strategy would be to have the least detectable people scattered around the place to listen in, that way they can intervene if need be with Hawks being none the wiser.”

‘Well good,’ thought Skeptic, ‘He actually seems to know what he’s doing for once.’

“With that in mind,” Mr. Compress continued, “I have reviewed your lists of members –goodness it was a lot– and I chose the best candidates for the job based on their quirks. I also went ahead and the most secure positions as follows. So, Who will be on the roof, What is behind the wall, and I Don’t Know is by the window…"

‘Never mind, I jinxed it,’ thought Skeptic, as he quickly interrupted the showman. "Hold on, stop! Excuse me?"

Mr. Compress paused for a moment, raising his head to look at Skeptic instead of the blueprints, before repeating himself, slightly slower this time. "Who is on the roof, What is behind the wall, and I Don’t Know is by the win-"

"No, why are you asking me?"

At that question, Mr. Compress tilted his head to the side before responding condescendingly –the nerve– "I’m not asking anything."

Skeptic looked at him, stunned into silence, then quickly recomposed himself. "Look, you’re the one setting everything up here, right?"

"Right."

"So you should know where everyone is and their names so you can give them their stations."

"Of course," Mr. Compress replied eagerly.

Skeptic sighed in relief, thinking that whatever mix-up had occurred was now resolved, and asked, "So, who’s on the roof?"

"Yes."

Skeptic startled at how matter-of-factly the answer was. "No, I mean his name."

"Who."

"The one on the roof."

"Who."

"The person stationed on the warehouse roof."

"Who."

"The guy-"

"Who is on the roof," Mr. Compress interjected.

“No that’s what I’m asking you!” Skeptic shouted in confusion, “Who’s on the roof?"

Mr. Compress pleasantly replied, "Yes, that’s his name."

"Who’s name?" Skeptic asked perplexed.

"Yes."

"Alright so tell me his name."

Mr. Compress shrugged his shoulders as he responded, "That’s it."

"That’s who?"

"Precisely."

Skeptic growled, "Stop fooling around and give me his name!"

"Who."

"The person that’s going to be on the warehouse roof!"

"Who is on the roof, Skeptic."

"WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME?!" Skeptic bellowed, shaking in utter frustration. Two minutes. Two minutes into this meeting and Skeptic was done with whatever Mr. Compress was doing! After taking a moment to take a deep breath and recompose himself, he tried to steer the conversation back on track. “Look, Mr. Compress, I just want to know. What’s the name of the one on the roof?"

Mr. Compress gasped, "Goodness no Skeptic! What’s behind the wall."

"I’m not asking who’s behind the wall!" Skeptic exclaimed.

"No, Who’s on the roof."

“Stop, one position at a time!” cried Skeptic, hammering the point home by slamming his palm onto the table with a loud bang. “Now, what’s the name of the guy on the roof?"

Mr. Compress interjected, "We went over this, Who is on the roof."

“I don’t know!”

“Oh, he’s by the window,” Mr. Compress responded delightfully, “Are you quite alright? You keep switching topics-"

Skeptic, at this point utterly baffled, cut him off, "Wait, how the hell did we get to talking about the person by the window?"

Mr. Compress paused, and replied in a slightly patronizing tone, "...Because you brought him up, Skeptic."

Ignoring that insulting tone, Skeptic attempted to draw the connection needed to finally make sense of the planned positions. "So, if I mentioned his name, who did I say is by the window?"

"No. Who's on the roof."

"What's on roof?"

"What's behind the wall."

"I don't know!"

"He's by the window."

"OH GREAT, NOW WE’RE BACK AT THE-" Skeptic threw his arms up in the air as he cut himself off, taking another breath to prevent himself from shrieking  again at the quick succession of confusing statements he just went through. ‘That pompous bastard! Calling me inept when he can’t even make his own plan clear! I wonder how he’d take that same implication.’

With his face still visibly red, Skeptic decided to give the magician a taste of his own medicine and shot back, "With all due respect Mr. Compress, do you even know the names of the people you’re using for this plan?"

"Oh my,” muttered Mr. Compress, looking genuinely flabbergasted from what Skeptic could see in his body language, but he also knew that the performer could very well be acting the part. “Skeptic, I think there may be a misunderstanding. You see, there’s a man I want to station on the roof-"

Skeptic was not keen on retreading this particular ground again, so he interrupted, "I know you have someone on the roof! I’m asking you, what’s-"

"No, What’s behind the-"

“Oh no I’m stopping you right there! I am asking you, Mr. Compress,” Skeptic demanded, jabbing his pointer finger on the blueprints, “What is the name of the person stationed on the roof?”

Mr. Compress looked down at where Skeptic was pointing, then back up at Skeptic, and said, just as matter-of-factly as he had several times before, "What is behind the wall."

"I don’t even- Alright, who’s behind the wall?"

"Who’s on the roof."

"WHAT POSITION DO YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT?!" Skeptic screeched, punctuating his outrage by smashing both of his fists on the desk hard enough to bruise.

Mr. Compress was unfazed by this, choosing to lean his head upon his hand before replying, "Whichever position you want to focus on."

Skeptic hollered, "WHO’S ON THE ROOF?"

"Yes." Mr. Compress happily nodded.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUGH!!!”

~

Dabi was taking a walk, meandering through the corridors of the mansion at random. Suddenly, one of the double doors in his path slammed open and out tumbled Mr. Compress, with the roaring voice of Skeptic following him.

“Get out of my sight you IDIOTIC ILLUSIONIST!”

By the time the doors slammed closed, said illusionist had gracefully transformed his tumble into a somersault and ended up back on his feet in a victorious pose. He then turned to Dabi and waved, “Why hello Dabi, and how are you this fine day?”

Dabi took in the man’s composure, then observed the newly formed cracks on the door frame, before shrugging, “Nothing much. Just taking a walk around.”

“Ah yes, avoiding your responsibilities as usual. May I join you?”

“Eh, knock yourself out.” Dabi said, rolling his eyes at the showman, as if he was going to leave Dabi alone if he told him to scram. As he continued down the hall, now walking side-by-side with Mr. Compress, Dabi decided to address the elephant in the room. “Alright, I’ll bite. What exactly did you do to piss off I.T. McGee?”

The masked magician visibly lit up, in spite of his concealed expression, and immediately began to answer Dabi’s question. “Well Dabi, in order to tell you about what just happened, I’d have to give you a quite a bit of backstory to get there. You see, when you make your rounds as an entertainer…” Mr. Compress continued as he took off his mask to show Dabi his Cheshire grin, “… you learn a few classic routines.”