The Analyst

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝙷𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙾𝚗𝚎: 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐...

Bakugo smirked as he looked at me, straightening up in posture.

"Finally! Someone with a brain on this case!" He yelled, giving a harsh tug to Eijiro's hardened arms.

"We can hear you, you idiot," Shoto scoffed, rolling his eyes as he walked up to me.

He smiled, grabbing my hand and kissing my knuckles.

"Great to see you."

"That's point of me saying it asshole! I wanted you to hear it!" Bakugo growled. "Now let go!"

"Promise not to kill Izuku?" Eijiro asked him, leaning forward slightly so their faces were next to each other.

"I'm not a kid!" Bakugo yelled in response.

"I disagree," I interjected, smiling in spite of myself. I flipped Shoto's hand over and kissed it, throwing a wink at him.

"Um—" he stuttered, and I knew I had caught him off guard.

"Oh shut up!" Bakugo yelled.

"Ok, let's not provoke Kacchan," Izuku said, slipping the pen in his hand back into the cup on the table.

"Don't call me that!"

"Anyway, (Y/N), I'm so glad you could come! Let's get you filled in." Izuku continued, completely ignoring his childhood friend as he beckoned me over to a table.

"What are we looking at?"

"Let me go!"

"I gotta hear you promise Bakubro."

"It's a villain organization—"

"—or so we think, it could be one person. Though that is unlikely."

"Exactly, thanks Ochako— and they are tied in with this huge elaborate quirk trafficking ring," Izuku explained, pointing to a white board across from the table covered in pictures and names.

"Those are all their victims," Ochako added, crossing her ankles as she leaned against the table. "All with what many would call 'weak' quirks."

"That's what we can't figure out!" Iida exclaimed, "why these people?"

"Just let me go!"

"I gotta hear a promise man, I don't need to be a witness to murder!"

"Well, as for that issue, what if it's not about getting people with powerful quirks? What if it's about getting people with quirks that have the potential to be great?" I asked, walking over to the board. "How do you know they're all connected?"

"What do you mean?" Eijiro asked, turning him and Bakugo so that they faced us.

I looked back at him before responding, "The victims. How do you even know they're connected?"

"Oh right, sorry! Thoughts just aren't thinking in my brain today! Every victim usually reports to the police a few days in advance that they see um— Shoto read the report for me will you? She should hear an exact quote."

"Get your hands off me!"

"Not until you promise!"

Said man walked over and grabbed a stack of papers off the table that were held together by a paper clip that looked as if it would snap at any minute.

"Red eyes looking at me from the dark," he read, lifting the top page, "from the dark, these red ovals, looked like eyes," another lifted page, "human eyes, red from the dark outside my house. They glowed too," another page, "like human eyes but way too far apart to be human."