DISCLAIMER: I am writing in first person present now. I'm sorry, but its more fun to write this way!
POV Detective Tsukauchi
Moving through the doors of the simple building, my identification gets checked over thoroughly multiple times before I can begin my descent down the stairs toward the lower basement levels.
It's been a while since I was last here. Was it a year ago? Maybe two years? If I can recall, it was some old case regarding an explosion dating even further back, but was easily overtaken by some of the newer problems arising.
Not that it mattered much, I think as I approach a set of elevator doors that chime with a soft ding, announcing their arrival.
Letting a couple agents walk by me, I enter the tight elevator and firmly click the button on the side panel.
The air gets stranger the lower I go, almost as if something sinister is occurring on each floor. Of course, I know that's not the case… at least not all of the floors.
But we do what's necessary for the good of the people.
I do what is necessary for the good of the people.
If my skills are needed in a place like this, then so be it.
The wait stretches further and further as I make my descent deeper into the numerous layers of the facility. From the outside, no one would imagine that such a place would have so many basement floors. To the public, it was just a small agency smack at the edge of Tokyo, only known by the general as a place filled with hard working individuals.
But I knew the truth about this place. It was a place of anguish, not for us obviously, but for the villains sent down here either to be locked away until their move to Tartarus or…
Letting out a deep sigh, I raise my head as the elevator begins playing music. I'd heard this song one too many times. Why does nobody ever change the song in this dreary place?
It's no matter, I'll be done here shortly.
Ding! Welcome to Floor 42.
The doors swung open smoothly and I stepped out to the white fluorescent lights bright enough to burn through my skin.
Blinking off the sudden discomfort, I'm immediately greeted by a fellow assistant.
"Good morning, Detective." The young man said, gesturing for me to follow. "Right this way, the Director is waiting for you."
"Could've waited longer," I say, still nodding my head and following along. We were never on the best of terms, but it couldn't have killed him to not call me at the break of dawn.
"It's not like I was needed right away," I mutter just low enough so the man I'm following won't hear.
Before long, we arrive at a large door fitted with multiple verification methods that the man goes through immediately, allowing the door to swing open.
A stern faced man stands in front of the one way glass window. Hearing the door open with a swish, he glances at us before turning fully with a sharp look.
"Welcome in, Detective Tsukauchi, it's nice to see you." He greets, offering me a hand.
I take it quickly, shaking it firm. "I wish we could meet under better terms."
He chuckles grimly, glancing around him. "Well, as much as I would like to sit at a café eating a sweet, our jobs entail much darker situations."
Glancing through the glass, I let go of the older man's hand and stare intently.
"Is that—"
"Yes." Takeda answers grimly. "We found Faultline half dead in an alleyway in central Tokyo a couple days ago."
I turn toward him with a hint of surprise on my face. "He looks like he's seen a ghost."
"He might as well have." The Director said, "He's been muttering and crawling around for hours at a time."
Faultline slams around the room like a man unhinged as he tries to manipulate his Quirk again and again. It doesn't do anything, but I can see the effort and strain on his face.
"He used to be so—"
"Normal?" Takeda interrupts me again. I don't say anything out of professionalism and I let it go, but it's really starting to get on my nerves.
Nodding along, I scroll through the logs on the nearby computer conveniently placed right next to me. I read up on the case quickly before eyeing the Director from the side.
"His brain is all over the place." I finish after scrolling deeper into the medical logs.
Takeda steps up beside me with his arms folded tightly behind his back.
"He's been through a lot." His voice lowers. "Someone poked around that thick skull of his and made some changes."
I frown. "Changes?"
He nods, tapping a few keys to pull up a series of images of neural scans, tissue analyses, and strange energy signatures intertwined with his biological data.
"Someone tried forcing perceptual pathways open. Violently, I might add."
My stomach knots. "An experiment, then."
Takeda's lips twist grimly. "Yes. On top of that, we've discovered quite a few things from this accident."
"Apparently, our dear Faultline's been running a few schemes behind our backs." He says while handing over a tightly sealed folder.
When the contents reveal themselves, my heart sinks.
In it lies transaction logs, unregistered transfer routes, and surveillance clips of narrow underground corridors.
Then the faces—blank, frightened, young.
"He was running human trafficking operations through the city. For at least a year now." Takeda says quietly.
My teeth grit in irritation mixed in with a hearty dose of disappointment.
I knew Faultline, for a while now too. A strong man, that one. Kind too, always eager to help.
Staring through the glass again, I don't see the heroic man anymore, the one saving lives with a smile on his face.
All I see is another member of Tartarus.
I let out a deep sigh, handing back the folder to Takeda.
"Well, someone's already got to him it seems." I say, gesturing at the flailing body.
Takeda lets out a dark chuckle. "You can say that again, Detective."
"If you would." He says, gesturing toward the microphone. "We've been talking to him for a while now, trying to at least, but nothing's gone through. I was hoping a familiar voice might help."
I stare at the microphone for a moment then at Faultline thrashing in the observation room. He slams fist after fist at the wall, the floor, I imagine even the ceiling if he could reach, all in an attempt to activate his Quirk.
"Does he even recognize sound anymore?" I ask.
Takeda shrugs with a tired heaviness. "Hard to say. Sometimes he reacts. Sometimes he doesn't."
He leaves it at that, leaving me to handle the rest. Lucky me.
I exhale slowly, shifting closer to the console. With a short pause, I press the button.
"Hakari," I begin, keeping my voice steady yet firm. "It's Detective Tsukauchi. Can you hear me?"
For a moment, nothing changes.
He continues muttering, rocking back and forth. His hands outstretched in the air as if feeling for something that isn't there.
Then his head jerks up.
Not toward the speaker, not even toward me, but toward the far corner of the room. His eyes are blown wide and bloodshot with terror. His breathing shudders, hitching in panicked gasps.
"Don't—" he rasps, shifting away. "Don't put me back. Don't—don't show me again, please—!"
A chill runs down my spine.
"Please—!" He says again, stumbling further back. "I'm sorry—" His voice cracks. "I won't look again, I won't—just don't—don't show me—"
His back reaches the other end of the room and his eyes widen even further. For a split second, he freezes, like something in that fractured mind of his suddenly snapped into place.
Then he bolts.
"Hakari—!" I say on instinct, but he's already charging across the room.
He sprints full speed toward the one way glass. His eyes are wild, pupils shaking. Something tells me that even if there wasn't one way glass between us, he still wouldn't even recognize me.
His fists slam against the reinforced barrier with a sickening desperation.
"I'm sorry!" he wails. "I'm sorry—just stop—please stop…"
He strikes the glass again, then again, until his strength gives out and he collapses forward. His hands drag limply down the pane as he sobs and ultimately passes out.
For a long moment, the room is silent save for the subtle hum of the ventilation nearby.
Takeda inhales sharply next to me, explaining to me the next course of action.
I don't look at him though. My eyes stay on the man curled at the base of the window.
After everything… after the trafficking, after the lies, I should feel hatred.
But right now, all I feel is deep cold. Cold with a question that sinks into my gut.
"…Who would do something like this?" I finally ask, almost to myself.
—
POV Renji
I wonder what I'm going to eat for lunch today?
I take a moment to gaze at all the items that Lunch Rush is preparing. Right now, he's busy preparing some desserts that look positively delectable. There's already an assortment of food in the fridge nearby, well, kind of a fridge. After talking to Lunch Rush a week or so ago, he'd mentioned that it was specially ordered with an engineer with a particularly useful quirk regarding temperature changes. Which means every meal is carefully stored with special equipment ensuring the perfect temperature.
What a world we live in.
With another glance at the frozen Lunch Rush, I leave the room and go on a leisurely stroll through the gardens at a small corner of the campus. Even now, the sheer ability to go about as I please while everybody is none the wiser leaves me with a sense of excitement.
Maybe I let it get to me head a little.
No, that can't be right. Kid Renji just matured a little, that's all.
Anyways, the sun is on full blast today, shining through the foliage. Over near one of the classrooms on the second floor, I spot a student halfway through opening the blinds of a window getting lasered by the sun's rays.
Without further wandering, I quickly check my surroundings for any threats, ranging a little further than the campus' boundaries and return back to the material world.
The exit would be jarring to most but I've gotten used to it over the years. Of course, there were moments when I would throw up after spamming my Quirk over and over again. Those were good times.
As the sound of the hectic class grace my ears again, I snap around and catch a flying eraser headed my way.
"What's up, Mina?" I ask, tossing it back with enough force to smack her on the forehead before she could react.
"Ow!" She exclaims, rubbing a spot that's beginning to redden even considering her pink skin. "I was going to ask what offer you're going to pick."
"Maybe you shouldn't be throwing things then."
"That's no fun." She complains.
Shifting slightly, Tsuyu turns to face us with a blank expression only someone with her Quirk could manage. "So, is it going to be I-Island?"
"I bet it is!" Kirishima pipes in after listening in on our conversation. He gestures at me before striking a pose with one finger pointing straight at his skull.
"You know how he is," He says, "even then, I don't think anyone would want to miss a chance to visit the island."
I glance over at him before turning back to the one who started the entire conversation. "Well, it would be fun to mess around with the Number Two hero, get him fired up a bit, you know?"
"Only you would say something like that."
"Shut it, Kaminari, or I'll find out what agency you're picking and outshine you there."
Sneaking a glance at Todoroki I continue. "But even the barest amount of time I've spent talking to him during the festival taught me that he's a little insane."
Kaminari looks to the side, face shifting into indignation as he mutters. "'A little insane' he says."
Moving swiftly, I flick a pencil in his direction, watching it spin around and around, moving precisely so the rubber would hit the back of his head rather than the pointed tip.
"I wasn't kidding, Kaminari." I feel my face going back to its resting position with a blank stare.
"Jeez," He replies, managing to look a little sheepish. "Sorry, dude."
Jiro leans over from her desk while letting her tablet rest on the table. "So~" She drawls on, eyes filled with curiosity. "I-Island then?"
"Mhm," I nod, "I-Island here I come."