Detective Midoriya

Chapter 33

The rendezvous to pass off the drugs was at four in the morning. It was an unholy time to make an unholy exchange, and all around Izuku was pissed. He hated the thought of leaving Eri to the hands of those madmen, and he hated that he was helping dispense these drugs. If he could somehow alert someone, a hero, a police officer, anyone, it would make his life infinitely easier.

Sakaki, ever the drunk, was the one waiting to give Izuku the case and send him on his way. The drunkenness hit him especially hard that morning, but Izuku took the proffered case. He could feel Sakaki's judgemental looks, but this didn't stop Deku from propping the case onto the table and opening it to count the cases of bullets inside, despite the way his vision and head swam.

"It's fifteen short," he said abruptly.

"No way, I counted it myself," Sakaki slurred. "What, are you drunk?"

"No, you are," Izuku said flatly.

"Oh, that's right, I am!" Sakaki said, beginning to giggle uncontrollably. "Well, go get your fifteen bullets. Maybe on the way out you could take the stick out of-"

Izuku never heard just where this stick was, he was already bustling toward the lab. He had only needed permission to go in.

The further he walked, the fewer signs of life there were. He and Sakaki were awake, and he had startled a lackey who had been avidly reading a new manga release, but otherwise, there was nothing to report.

As expected, the lab was completely deserted. Cases and cases of bullets lined the room, both of quirk-enhancing and quirk-erasing bullets. He got the cases he needed, and he secured them in the briefcase with the others when his eyes landed on a very distinct case.

The permanent quirk-erasing bullets. There were only five, so they must be remarkably hard to synthesize, but their existence was... distressing. What if it seriously endangered some pro in the middle of a fight? There were too many uncertain variables.

Against his better judgment, Izuku popped open the case. These bullets had different shells than any of the others, but that would be a relatively simple fix. Unlike most bullets, the part that actually contained the drug was essentially a tiny syringe that was sealed into shells that were the correct size and shape to be fired from a handgun. It was fairly simple to pry that unit from the shells and switch them out. Then, Izuku slid the permanent quirk-erasing bullets into his fanny pack, feeling like he could be caught at any given moment.

That feeling didn't dissipate as Izuku continued. In fact, it only got worse as he kept going. What if he was exposed, or arrested? How would he explain to his mother why she needed to bail him out of jail? (That was a ridiculous train of thought, but Izuku was all aboard.)

When he forced his mind to focus on other things, Izuku found himself contemplating how truly terrible a briefcase was for drug deals. He was sixteen years old, and he looked like a hoodlum. He had no business carrying a briefcase! If an officer didn't stop and question him on his way, it would be a miracle.

The meeting destination was the stereotypical dark alleyway, right behind a dumpster. The man waiting was twitchy, like it was his first drug deal. It was Izuku's first as well, but at least he was trying to act professionally.

"Is that the stuff?"

Izuku made no attempt to move, staring down the man. "I'm going to need to see the money first."

"Of course!" The man scrambled, pulling out another briefcase because apparently they were now living in the 1920s.

This he didn't care as much about. The man looked unprofessional, but not stupid enough to try and cheat the Shie Hassaikai.