Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Undercover missions never had been Luthers’ favourite, even before the mission and consequently surgery. At least before he could try and blend in, now sharing his DNA with an ape? 

Needless to say he was getting lots of looks. 

The subway chair was creaking beneath his weight, he was wearing giant thick gloves in the summer, he was itchy and uncomfortable— but most importantly, he was in a rush.

The train slid to a halt as he stood up. The New York City Subway had proven difficult to navigate despite being within his home town. If he were ordinary he was sure he would know it like the back of his hands by now, however, the wire travelling down his shirt, one end connecting to an earpiece the other to some piece of technology that relayed sounds within his immediate vicinity back to his father and allowed him to hear what his father said proved otherwise on by accords (if his unusual body situation wasn't enough to explain the former) 

He was not by any means ordinary and he could not navigate The New York City Subway System to save his life.

He stood up and rushed to the door as the train slid to a halt. The doors slid open and he was the first one out, on the platform as he scanned for the name— “Grand Central Terminal. I can uh see the sign—” He whispered. 

“Follow it.” Ordered his father. 

And so he did, shoving through crowds of people with apologies and excuses, he was on a time limit after all but only because he had to catch a train. 

“Our teams say that she should still be there,” his father said, “height wise she's on the smaller side, she has bleached blonde hair, a suit, brown skin, shes around 29—” 

A slap echoed through the giant room, then the sound of a body hitting the floor. He saw her— “Located.”

She was in the middle of a game of Ddakji with another woman who was thin and dressed in tattered clothes, well, the end of a game based on the victorious cry and slap that echoed out, this time towards her, the recruiter and not the woman.

Luther watched as the recruiter pulled out a folded dollar and gave it to the lady, picked up her suitcase and walked off. “What, is that it?” The woman exclaimed before pausing and looking down at the note. She unfolded it and revealed a card which she began to read with a confused look.

“Go after the recruiter.” His father ordered, so he did.

“Uh, excuse me!” Luther hurried. She stopped in her place before turning around, grinning.

She pulled two cards from her pocket. “What? Want a game too?”

 “Yes,” Luther stuttered, “yes I would like a game.” He said. The woman walked forward. 

“I'll let you pick the colour; red or blue the choice is yours!” She asked. 

Absent-mindedly, his hand travelled towards the earpiece his father began to speak. “Pick the blue—”

Before he could finish the woman was up on her tip toes and reaching towards his ear. She jumped slightly and snatched the earplug and pulled it out, taking the wire and sound relayer thing with it. She threw it to the ground and stomped on it before looking back up at him. “The wire… It's really not a good look.”

He bit his lip. He had known about her for a while and had been searching for even longer. She was illusive and secretive, clearly not wanting to draw anymore attention to herself than her outfit and the game she played gave away. She wouldn't try anything, not in a crowded area at least. Plus, his father had operatives in the area. 

He picked the blue and looked it over in his hand. It was a simple folded paper tile, one he'd seen her give out to people, usually those under financial crisis he’d noticed, on grainy CCTV, body camera footage and, on the rare occasion he had observed it from a distance.

She dropped the red one to the ground before smiling. “I believe you already know the rules?” 

He did. It was a simple game of Ddakji, a children's game popular in Korea. The aim is to flip the other tile and if you do the other loses and has to give up money. How much? Well it seemed person dependent but it was mostly a high sum, and the loser got slapped if they had no money to give. The aim was to flip the others tiles and the game ended when he won against her.

Winning against her meant ending the game, it meant her leaving. Following her? It had always proved pointless. 

He shook his head, trying to remain as non suspicious as possible. She rolled her eyes. “I'm not dumb, I've seen you looking,” she said. He bit down on his lip as she looked at her watch. There was silence, then, she beckoned on, “come on it's your throw and I have places to be.”

He twisted the paper in his hand before bringing it up and slamming it down. It slapped against the tile but it didn't flip it.

He made no move to grab any money. He had only been given enough for the train ride there and his father said they would pick him up from the station.

“No money? Im just asking for a dollar," he averted his gaze, "well," she shrugged rolling her shoulders, "good shot but… not good enough!” The palm hit his face and… he winced. 

Luther, for the most part, was invulnerable. Things like punches didn't hit him like they did the ordinary due to his super strength and subsequent enhanced durability. 

However this? This hurt and swung his face back unwillingly. 

She smirked before picking up both tiles. “I have quite the hand huh?” She said with a smile as she flexed her fingers, “practice really does make perfecf.” She said but there was something in her voice, something untrue like there was something more than just practice at play here. Her smirk widened as she handed the blue tile back.

He dropped it down and she flipped it seamlessly

“Yeah… yeah you do… sorry I didn't catch your name?” He questioned as she redropped her red tile, trying to make light conversation. There was a pause and, in order to fill it he made a half assed attempt at flipping the tile, only to fail and to be slapped again.

“That's for me to know,” she threw the back of his hand forward and struck his cheek, “and for you to find out.” 

He let out a groan. Yeah he was definitely coming out for this with a bruised face.

Again she won against him. 

“Is this just,” he gestured to the two cards and the clear wad of cash in her pocket, “a hobby? Your... really talented at this.” He asked as she replaced the red tile.

She shrugged. “Something like that.” 

He threw down the tile. It didn't flip and, like routine, he got slapped. It stung and this time the hand hit his nose at an awkward angle. He swore he heard a crack.

“How exactly are you so strong?” He pushed placing down his blue one.

She threw down the red one and flipped it, winning again.

“Didn't I already answer that one?” She asked as she put her tile back down.

“Well,” Luther said, “I'm pretty sure you lied.” He said, throwing down the blue tile while using as little of his super strength as possible. The thud this time was louder, yet it didn't flip it. It made the woman giggle as she threw another slap his way.

He picked up his blue tile and redropped it.

“You suck at this.” She remarked before picking up the red tile and throwing it down. The same echo, one that could only be achieved with a pinch of super strength, echoed out.

Frozen, he looked her up and down. This woman… there was something about her, something that made her less ordinary than he first thought.

Another round, which she won, went by before he felt the courage to talk again.

“You—” He started stunned. He cut her off with a groan.

“Quit it with the questions, they're boring!” She exclaimed, “It's your turn! I could just turn around and walk away—”

He was losing her, and he… had more than enough information. 

He slammed down the paper and flipped the red one. “There, I've won,” he held his hand out, “my reward? Im assuming you have cash?”

She smirked and gave him a dollar.

He unwrapped it and read the card, which gave him his next steps.

“Your prize!” She remarked, already packed up and leaving the area, “until next time!”

Chapter Text

“You're safe now,” Diego said, finishing the tying up the man he had just defeated and knocked with ropes and zip ties. He kicked him against the wall before giving the victim a look, “you don't have to stay here you know, you can go and wait outside and direct the police in here. When they get here, show them your injuries, they'll help you.” He said tying the criminal to a metal railing.

The victim was an old lady, who had almost been mugged by some low life criminal. She was shaken and slightly bruised. He picked up her walking stick and handed it out to her. “T—thank you young man.” She said with the stereotypical voice of a sweet grandma as she accepted the gesture before hobbling to the other side of the alleyway.

“It's my pleasure.” He said, giving her a playful bow. She laughed. 

‘Good, I cheered her up slightly as well.’ He said, absently kicking the man's head in again. “Onto the next job.” He muttered turning around and venturing further down the twisting alleyway, a hotspot for crime.

Diego heard the sound of a slap ring through the alleyway. A second went by and another followed. By that point, he was already at the scene. 

A man, clearly weak and homeless, was being slapped around by a woman in a suit.

“Hey asshole—”

“Relax Mr Vigilante” said the woman, “it's just a game!”

“I don't wanna play anymore,” the man stuttered. They had been clearly at whatever the game was for a while because the man's face was bruised and blooded, “this sick game is worth no amount of money.”

“Suit yourself,” the woman shrugged as the man limped off into the alleyway. The woman picked up a folded red square from the ground with a sigh, “now I'm just bored, you wanna play?” She asked.

Diego put on a fake tight smile. ‘What an asshole.’

“Sure I'll play.” He walked forward and went to slap her— She grabbed his hand before he could land the blow and twisted it behind his back. 

“Let's stick to the rules, huh?” She shoved him forward and by the time he had twisted around she was holding out two squares, one red, one blue.

She was smiling, smirking even. “Ever played Ddakji?”

“Ddakji?” He asked, struggling with the pronunciation.

“You butchered that,” she teased, her British accent intertwined with her words, “it's Ddakji, a child's game. Here I'll demonstrate but before that…” She held out the cards, “which one do you want to use?”

He sighed and picked the red one without a second thought. She smirked. “Red huh?” She asked with a laugh, “put it on the ground." 

“Why?” 

“So I can show you how it's done.” She said flexing her hands and stretching. 

He sighed and dropped it. 

“Now the aim,” she slammed down the blue paper. The red flipped over and she smirked, “is to flip your opponent's piece. Since I just flipped yours that means I won that round against you. My prize is one dollar. You got it?”

“I ain't giving you shit—”

“It's the rules! Plus you might earn it back next round.”

“What happened next round?”

“You try to flip mine over. If you do, you win and the game stops. If you don't, nothing happens.”

“What do I win?”

“Two hundred dollars and a little something else that will be worth your time…” 

He frowned. “So why were you slapping that man huh?” He asked hands on his hips.

“He didn't have the money,” she shrugged, “I was only asking him for one dollar and if he had won he would've gotten a whopping two hundred!” 

“So you just… slapped him?” He hissed, “what did an innocent man do to deserve that? Or are you just an asshole—”

“He agreed to play, he was clued in on the rules,” she shrugged, “he just kept on playing and losing and playing some more and well… he chose to stop and I respected that!” she said, “I'll give you one shot then we start playing for real.” She challenged kicking her paper slip up so it fell back down, repositioning. 

Diego frowned as he looked at the blue paper. He threw it down at an angle like he had watched her do before only for it not to flip.

The woman let out a laugh and lent against the wall. “Your shit at this.” She mocked.

“Those were just practice rounds,” he said, “you got lucky.”

“What do you think you can do better?” She asked. 

“I know I can do better.”

She shrugged. “Okay,” she said, “let's play for real. Let's do… hm money wise… one dollar work for my prize? And if you win I'll give you… fifty?”

“Two hundred,” he said, “like that other guy.”

“You drive a high price but,” she shrugged, “sure.”

Surely she was bluffing, surely she didn't have that much money on her. He barely had six dollars in his pocket. 

The paper slapped down and, yet again, the paper failed to turn. Diego began to pace as he absentmindedly kicked his paper to another place while passing her another dollar. That had been his final one.

Before he knew it, she had thrown her paper down and flipped his. With a roaring laugh she held out her hand. “Another dollar,” he bit down on his lip and averted his gaze, “please.” She added.

He made no move to grab it.

“You're out,” she mocked, “what happened to the cocky overconfident vigilante?” 

“Shut up I'll get it next round—” He was cut off with a slap that stung his cheek and a roaring laugh that echoed around him. He hissed in pain before looking the woman up and down.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say!” She exclaimed, “go on then, do your worst!” She said.

He kicked his, annoyed. She flipped it again and it was back to his go.

Slap after slap after slap struck his face. She had a mighty backhand and an even worse tongue. 

“Come on!” She exclaimed, patting his shoulder as she circled around him before leaning against the wall, “I'm getting bored!” She pushed. 

He wanted to use his powers to prove this woman wrong, however that simply wouldn't be fair, it wouldn't give him the satisfaction he desired.

He looked at the square paper as if it would reveal the answers for this damn game then in a fit of anger he threw down his card— and it flipped. He had to do a double check, however his throw had caused the blue card to flip up into the air and back to the dirty ground. He pumped his fists into the air and let out a victorious cry. “Fuck yeah!” 

The woman slowly clapped, her smile sly and wide. “Well done, after however many rounds you managed it!”

“Yes, yes I did, and you've been getting on my nerves for the entirety of it,” he exclaimed, “but now…” He threw back his hand and plummeted it before his face only for it to be grabbed.

Two hundred dollars which seemed to be wrapped around something was shoved in his face. “No, no you don't, I've got money! Just as promised!” She exclaimed, shoving it into his hand.

He looked down and counted it and… it was two hundred dollars, in cash. Quickly he began to stuff it into his pocket before looking up only to see the woman walking over into the distance.

“Wait,” Diego exclaimed as he rubbed his cheek. She stopped in her spot, “not going to tell me your name or will I have to keep calling you an asshole?”

“I'd prefer... L,” She said, “has a fun ring to it don't you think?” She finished before disappearing around the corner. He jogged towards it to see if he could catch up, interrogate her further, however she was just… gone.

With a raised eyebrow, he stood there, stunned, his hand still holding the cash, which he felt was too thick even for two hundred dollars. 

Wrapped within it was a slip of paper that looked almost like a business card. He placed it in his pocket, looked back up and double checked the area. 

Unsettlingly it was as if the woman had disappeared into thin air.

Chapter Text

The headlines made her sick to the stomach. She shoved another magazine titled “Allison Hargreeves: The Fallen Angle” into the bin and sat down on the park bench.

She had missed her latest visitation, an overnight visitation, with Claire due to a late bus of all things. She had the new apartment, a job at the bakery, a room already made for Claire to stay in yet because of that damn bus she couldn't even show it to her. She had even managed to scrape together enough cash to get her a gift, a new tiara she had eyed in the store.

She adjusted the phone near her ear as Patrick spoke. “I… I get why you missed it,” he said before sighing, "you'll have to wait a week—”

“A week?” She exclaimed foot bouncing up and down, “Patrick please—”

“I'm sorry it's the only time we can get you in—”

“You're telling me that I have to go another week without seeing my daughter?" She said tears welling in her eyes.

“Yes, but we can arrange a phonecall—”

“I don't want a damn phone call Patrick!”

“Well I'm sorry but that's all I can do,” he said, “call me back when you've calmed down.”

“No— Patrick!”

He sighed then hung up. 

“Damn it…” She said head in her hands.

Ever since that damn book, ever since the divorce, ever since the custody case— her life had been a mess.

Fame in the form of a movie star was not the riches and glamor she had expected. Media gossip columns were relentless, as was the paparazzi and the stalkers—

Someone sat down beside her— a woman in business attire holding a suitcase. “You look sad,” she said, smiling, “you know what cheers me up when I'm sad?”

“What?” Allison asked, moving further up the bench as the woman's smile widened. She pulled out two folded cards.

“A game.” She said, smile widening with each letter. It was almost manic looking— 

“Okay,” Allison said, wiping her tears, “I don't know what kind of sick joke—”

“Oh no it's not a joke,” the woman said, dead serious, “games do cheer me up when I'm sad, you wanna play one?” She asked.

Allison frowned. “...sure?”

“Alright let's go over the rules,” Lila said, “ever played Ddakji?”

She had with her daughter so she nodded.

“Okay,” said the suited woman, “blue or red?”

Blue was Claire's favourite colour, next to a soft pink, so that's what she picked.

“Okay in short,” the woman began, “if I flip yours, I win and you must give me money as a reward, if you can't then I get to slap you,” Allison's stomach turned at the thought, “if I you flip mine, you win and gain cash in return, if I don't have the cash you can slap me.”

“Are you insane—”

“I'm only asking for a prize of one dollar,” the woman said with a smirk, “because I'm nice you'll get a prize of three hundred dollars and a little something extra! If i dont have it, by all means you can slap me.”

Allison's mouth snapped shut. Three hundred dollars didn't seem much to her years ago but now? That would make a hell of a lot of differences. She could put it aside for Claire, and use it towards her bills, her food shop—

“And all I need to do is flip your tile?” 

She hummed. “If you don't nothing happens, likewise if I don't flip yours nothing happens,” she continued, “it's simple when you think about it!” She said showing off a wad of cash in her pocket, it was an unbelievable amount—

Allison stood there, mouth agape. ‘Who just walks around with all that cash—’ Her eyes darted around the park and then back to the cash. There was definitely enough in there for rent and food which meant she could take less shifts, spend more time with Claire and be even more prepared to care for her, which would go miles in the custody case.

All that cash was just a couple words away. It was more than tempting, it was logical. Based on her outfit, the woman was clearly drowning in cash, just as Allison had once been, she had other funds to fall back on, Allison had barely anything. 

It's akin to Robin Hood, taking from the rich to feed the poor, her daughter, herself.

So, she opened her mouth, familiar words on her tongue however the suited woman continued to speak.

“Before we start,” she said, smile unwavering, “I heard a rumor,” suddenly, Allison was overcome with a blank feeling. Her brain went fuzzy as words echoed around her, ice cold and magnetic, “you can only rumor me with the command being unable to rumor you.” 

It was a string of complex commands yet it was said In such a way that Allison just knew it had been thought through—

“Go on then,” the woman smiled, “you can rumor me as well, just once and just to do one thing.”

“I… what?” She muttered, dazed and confused. “How?!” She ordered, stepping forward. The woman grabbed her shoulder and stopped her from coming closer.

“I'm like you,” the woman said, “now, come on, rumor me then we can play!” 

“I heard a rumor,” Allison stuttered, “that you can no longer rumor me.” Only once the command slipped from the lips did the woman's brown eyes turn to a milky distant white. 

She still couldn't believe it. 

The feelings that came with being under her own power was something she never thought she would have to endure. 

She never thought she would have to rumor someone so they can't rumor her. 

The woman laughed. “Now the game?”

“Sure,” Allison said, her smile tight and forced. She felt on edge yet the reminder of the cash prize pushed her onwards, “the game.” She was armed with three dollars, three chances before the game became violent. It was ironic, she thought, the gamble she was taking, the number.

‘How hard can it be to flip a paper tile?’ She thought.

On her first go, she failed miserably but… it was fine because it was her first go, she was just getting used to it, so without argument she handed the first dollar over, fair is fair afterall. 

Meanwhile, the woman in front of her was a pro to say the least. Her first throw flipped Allison's tile over. She didn't let out a scream of victory however her smile did widen ever so slightly as she invited Allison for her next go.

“So,” Allison said as she stared down at the tile as if it would flip over itself, “you're… like me?” 

The woman hummed. “Did I not just say that?” 

“Yeah… you did its just… unbelievable—”

“Are you really that self centred?” The woman laughed.

“I… what? No I'm not—”

The woman's laugher rose and in a fit of anger Allison chucked down the blue tile. It slammed against the stone pathway, edging onto the red but not flipping it. “Damn it!”

“Pay up!” The woman exclaimed, reaching out her hand. Allison shoved her hand into her pocket and pulled out the dollar before slapping it down into her palm. The woman didn't flinch, she just folded it and placed it in her pocket.

“I've read the stories,” she said as Allison set up her tile, “of your merry little band,” her hands clutched around the red tile as she prepared her throw, “your climb to fame, the exposés.” The red tile hit the blue with a thundering slap and flipped it. This time she let out a victorious yell as if to rub it in her face.

She was quick to reset her tile and gesture for Allison to throw. “What's being a moviestar like— oh sorry, ex moviestar.”

Allison frowned. She usually got that question in regards to her childhood gig as a superhero, The Rumor, not as her career as an actor. It hurt more than she thought it would. It made her more angry than she thought it would—“Will you shut up?!” She exclaimed, throwing the tile down again, losing a go to the fury that raged within her. 

The woman giggled and held out her hand. 

‘Fuck.’

She handed over her final dollar. The woman's smirked. “Run out?”

Allison averted her gaze as she repositioned her tile. “Just… take your go.”

And so she did, flipping it seamlessly. She silently placed down her red tile and stared at Allison with anticipation.

After a couple seconds, Allison figured she had found the right angle and pounded down her tile. The red one moved ever so slightly but it did not flip.

“Unlucky…” The woman said. Before she knew, she was being slapped in the face. 

It stung but she bounced back, as she had been taught, her eyes wandering back to the money.

‘For Claire.’ She thought dropping her blue tile back down, continuing the game.

Her face was bruised and her nose had broken a long time ago. She wiped the blood from her face, no caring as it stained the blue tile. The red one had been placed on the ground and the woman was pacing around. “Hurry up!”

“Just give me a second.” Allison hissed before taking a breath and throwing it down.

It flipped. It finally fucking flipped. “Yes!” Allison yelled, not caring who was looking at the scene, “see that it flipped! Now pay up!”

The woman gave her a slow clap before handing her the three hundred dollars, which was folded neatly. “That was fun,” the woman said, packing up the game “you had quite the spirit, truly,” she began to walk away, “your determination was something else.”

“Wait,” Allison said, “you said cash and something else!” She said as she began to jog to catch up to her.

“It's all there, trust me,” the woman said, “it was nice meeting you, your power… it's quite something.” She disappeared out the park, onto a busy sidewalk before being swept away by the crowd.

Allison frowned and began counting the cash, only to come across a card with a number. She bit her lip and pocketed it for later her mind wandering to something else she had seen Claire eyeing a few weeks back, a fairy wand. 

With this, she could get her a fairy outfit, and much more.

Chapter Text

Klaus weaved his hands between his long dirty curls as he stared up at the greying sky, coming off yet another high. A foot kicked into his gut, followed by another to his face. He curled in on himself as the kicks continued, then, a hand grabbed his blood filled eternally tattered white shirt and pulled him up, spitting in his face. He didn't meet their eyes as they yelled what were surely warnings of what would happen if he didn't have their money in three days' time.

He could only guess what they were saying as their lips moved. The ringing in his ear only got stronger when he was thrown to the ground, then, the people walked away. He stayed down for a while, curled in on himself as time went by and Ben tried to coach him into moving to the side of the alleyway.

The dead appeared one by one, first came an elderly woman with the slit neck, the hanged man with rope burnt neck and eyes that had surely been lifeless long before his demise, then the younger woman with a stab to the stomach and the neck—

He screwed his eyes shut as they yelled, growing by the second, surrounding and entrapping him with solemn moans and wishes he couldn't grant. 

Then, there was a hand on his shoulder. He flinched before meeting the eyes of a woman, a woman who was alive and dressed in a business suit, undeniably wealthy—

“Klaus— Klaus you need to move—” Ben said. He ignored her as the woman spoke.

“Need a distraction?” She asked, holding out her hand. Her hair was bleached blonde and her nails were black. 

“Klaus trust me when I say she is not a nice person—” Ben stated standing in front of then. 

He took her hand and allowed himself to be pulled up and through his ghostly brother, who made a grossed out noise and stumbled to the side. “I love the look.” He said, his voice hoarse.

“Aw, thanks!” She said with a smile. And then he saw the horde of dead that followed her. He could feel his face pale as she continued to talk. “Wanna play a game?” Her voice could barely be heard over the dead.

“Uh— not… not really.” He said intimidated.

“The prize is worth it.” She said, revealing a wad of cash in her pocket.

He stopped his retreat and considered it.

“Klaus no—” Ben started.

“Klaus yes!” He exclaimed, walking forward eyes on the cash which in his opinion was very much worth it.

“Okay, first is first, rules—”

“Prize,” Klaus exclaimed, “prize, what's the prize? Money? Drugs?”

The woman paused and looked him up and down. “Hm…. How about four hundred dollars and a little something? Will that suffice?”

Klaus’ eyes widened. Four hundred was a lot but… “You clearly have more in your pocket,” he said, “I need it more than you do!” He whined. 

The woman laughed. “You run a hard bargain. Six hundred?”

“There's way more than that!” Klaus exclaimed, “Nine hundred!” 

The woman fell silent but she seemed to be considering it.

“Come on!” Klaus threw his arms around, “I could've asked for a thousand!”

“How about six hundred and fifty?”

Klaus pretended to consider it. “Seven hundred and… fifty five, no less.” For that amount he could certainly endure her ghostly hoard. 

“Fine, fine,” the woman said, "I was going to ask you for one dollar for my prize but now I'm upping it to two dollars—”

“Right right,” two dollars was nothing, a very dumb ask but he wasn't going to say that. He had eight on him, so… four rounds worth, “let's do this! The rules, if you'd be so kind?” He said stumbling slightly and leaning against the wall with a giggle. 

This would be fun.

This was not fun. It was the very opposite of fun, it was annoying, horrid, seriously, how was flipping paper tiles so hard? Klaus dragged his fingers through his curls as she flipped his tile again. “At this point you're showing off,” he whined and she laughed in response, “seriously how are you so good at this?!”

“Practice,” she said, placing down her red tile, “skill, strategy…”

“What, you play for a living?” He asked.

She shrugged. “Something like that.”

In the corner, Ben shrugged. “Klaus she's trouble.” He said for about the millionth time. He sent an eyeroll in his vague direction and he sighed. 

“Did I ever get your name?” Klaus asked.

“No you didn't.” She said. Klaus waited for her to add something on but she didn't.

“Illusive much,” he said as he stared at the tile, “I have to call you something.”

“L works, if you're that desperate.”

“Like… the letter?”

“Yeah, exactly,” she said, "I like the way it sounds.”

“Fair, fair.” Klaus said, he wasn't one to judge after all. 

He chucked down his tile and it missed. He rushed his hand through his hair and paced. “I swear I'll flip out in a minute…” He muttered.

The woman held out her hand. He only had two dollars left.

“You can end the game,” Ben said, “walk away.” 

He groaned and dug out the money. He'd get it next time, prove to Ben that this was a good idea, that it was beneficial.

Soon enough she had flipped his again and he was making his next throw. “I'll get it,” he said, hyping himself up, “just you see I'll flip it!” He exclaimed before chucking down his blue tile.

The red one didn't even budge. “Fuck!” He hissed.

He had failed to flip it again.

“You out?” The woman asked.

Klaus sighed. He knew what was going to happen. Ben had already turned away. “Just get it over with!”

“If you insist!” With the way his face moved with the slap and the thudding ache of pain, it was needless to say that she had a good backhand. 

“Alright, alright,” he said, shaking his head in preparation. He gestured towards it rapidly, “give it to me!”

The slap echoed around the alleyway and sent him to the ground. It wouldn't be the first time that had happened.

As he recovered she flipped his tile and reset the game. “Your turn!”

Klaus looked at the red tile and reached out to it, a loophole entering his mind. “Can I just—”

“Cheat!” L exclaimed, kicking his fingers away, “I thought we had established that.”

“Aw…” Klaus said, stumbling to a stand. He sighed before throwing the tile down—he didn't expect it to flip. “Fuck yeah!” He threw his hands in the air and began to dance around, “yes! See that?”

“Yes, yes I did,” L said as she picked up the game, “that was entertaining.” She giggled, grabbing the cash and holding it out.

Klaus snatched it, flipped through it before letting out another victorious yell and hugging it to his chest before manically kissing it. “Yes, yes, come to Papa—” She began to walk away, “wait, where do you think you're doing? Where's my extra something?” He exclaimed. 

“It's there!” She exclaimed, “it's been nice meeting you, truly!” She called before leaving her hoard following. He couldn't care less. 

He flipped through the cash again, confused and searching before he came across a business-like card. “Damn advertisement,” he said before flipping it and seeing the number, “maybe it's hers? I could get another game!" He exclaimed.

“Klaus no.” Ben said from where he stood, arms crossed, clearly fed up.

“Klaus yes!” He mocked and pumped his fist in the air. Now, all he had to do was get a phone.

Chapter Text

A slam echoed round the abandoned warehouse as one of the side doors flew forward. For a second, an uncomfortable silence hung in the air, then, a gun was thrusted through the door. It slowly turned around the room, following a spot of light , and only once it had finished its rotation did the man holding it walk forward; freshly 24 years old and tall with shaggy brown hair. In his right hand, he held a torch, which he used to scan the upper layers above the door frame with precision. As he was doing so, he called out for someone. 

“Pitts.” He said voice echoing around the abandoned building, bouncing off wood which was broken and metal poles rusted and tainted by scratches.

There was a laugh from deeper inside the warehouse. “Hargreeves.” Said the voice of a woman, distinctively British and ever so playful. Footsteps rang out, slow and steady as if she had all the time in the world. A woman with short brown hair revealed herself, holding a leather briefcase in hand. 

The man rolled his eyes and gave the room one look over before putting the torches light on her. Her hand ventured to her suit pocket and he raised the gun— “Slowly.” He ordered.

She laughed again. “Paranoid much—”

“Slowly.” He said, voice firmer this time as he empathised each essence of the word. 

“Fine, fine.” Her hand travelled towards her pocket while the gun stayed trained on her head. Well manicured fingers slid in and then, in one rapid movement she pulled them out. 

The click of the safety being turned off rang out however it was followed by giggles instead of a gunshot. The man's eyes were wide as he looked up towards the woman's hand. Within it were two squares of folded card, one red, one blue.

Then, the man began to laugh, though his seemed weighed down, almost manic but not in a gleeful way— “You're joking right?”

She fanned them out before stepping forward and holding them out. An offering, a deal—“Money wise, we'll do a dollar each,” she said. Five didn't object, instead he stared at the card, seemingly confused, “Well... which colour?” She pushed.

“So what, you want to put me in there too?” He hissed.

“Kill,” the red shook, the colour of blood, “or be killed,” the blue shook—

“Guard or Player…” Muttered the man before rubbing his head. Then, his hand came forward, hesitant, “sure, I'll play your game.” 

He took the red paper as the blue was dropped to the floor. Five took a second and stood back, looking at the blue tile strategically before slapping down the red tile. 

It didn't flip.

Pitts’ hand was outstretched almost instantly. “Come on Five, you know the rules.”

He sighed and handed out the money, which Pitts’ pocketed. “Thank you kindly!” She said as Five repositioned his blue one and stepped back.

Without hesitation, Pitts slapped down the blue tile with a smirk, the red one twisting as it was flipped into the air and back down to the dirty metallic floor. 

They played like this, getting into a routine of it. Pitts' taunting and Fives' silence echoed around the warehouse as rounds went on, Fives' pocket slowly running dry.

“You're out.” Pitts said.

Five sighed and took a deep breath before nodding. His face was whipped by Pitt's hand seconds later. She giggled. “Oh how long I've been waiting to do that.”

The game continued, slaps added to the routine, void of winces or hesitation from either party. Eventually, the blue was flipped by the red. 

Fives’ shoulders sagged ever so slightly as one dollar wrapped in a business card was handed to him.

“Nice playing!” Pitts said. Five remained silent, “maybe one day you'll say the same.” She shrugged.

As she was about to reach for her briefcase, Five moved, sudden and swift, his hands tugging at something unseen. He disappeared in a flash of blue and appeared behind Pitts, playing a gun to her head. “The briefcase.”

“You know the rules Five,” healed clicked as a woman emerged from the shadows, her outfit slowly being revealed, alongside the gun she carried. She was tall, masked and dressed in an elegant black dress. Her nails were painted blood red, and she wore the mask of a rabbit, which had glimmers of black upon it. Her platinum hair could be seen just beneath it, short and curled, “she can't let that leave her sight, company policy. Now I'd appreciate it if you'd let her go.” The safety on her gun was switched off with a deafening click.

Five backed away slowly and before he knew it, Pitts was sweeping his feet and stepping on her neck— he disappeared in another flash of blue and reappeared near the exit, heaving in a breath of air. “Fuck you—”

The masked woman turned towards him, sudden and sporadic gunfire followed.

There was another flash of blue and Five reappeared next to Pitts. Just as he was about to touch the briefcase, Pitts disappeared in a flash of blue, pulling at strings of time unseen by the naked eye. Fives eyes widened and then before he knew it he was being whacked over the head with that same briefcase.

“What—” Five started.

Pitts shrugged, looking proud. The masked woman pointed her gun at him. “Element of surprise, Five.” She shot it just as he rolled. The bullet hit his leg and, this time, a wince echoed around the warehouse. He disappeared again in a flash of blue and, through the cracks of the wood, there was another followed by a stumble. 

“Don't forget to ring the number!” The masked woman called, hand cupped around her mouth. There was another flash of blue, then silence.

Chapter Text

Viktor swallowed a pill dry before placing the small container back in his medicine cabinet and shutting the door. He turned on the tap and filled his hands with cold water, before chucking it over his face. He looked down again to see that the rush of water had been reduced to a few drips.

Confused he tried turning it off then on however this time the drips had disappeared entirely. “Fuck,” he muttered, hand rushing through his slightly damp short hair, “not again…”

He walked out of the small bathroom to the kitchen and tried that tap. He held his breath as he turned it on, only to get the same result. 

‘Not again…’ He thought before walking to his green sofa and collapsing onto it with a sigh. His eyes looked around the small apartment. Boxes still unpacked were scattered around. He hadn't been there long yet the water had already gone out two times. 

It was a shithole. 

Buzzing erupted from beneath a cushion and Viktor sighed before overturning it and finding his phone, which was going off with an alarm—

“Fuck!” In one swift move he was up and grabbing his violin case which was beaten, bruised and dying. He was late for practice again. He flew out the door and ran down the stairs and out the apartment complex— he collided into someone and fell to the ground.

Swear words tumbled out his mouth as his violin case went flying. “I'm so so sorry!” Viktor said immediately looking up at the woman. Her suit was messed up from the dirt of the ground and her briefcase was on the floor, now just as dusty. Viktor picked it up and began to brush it off, however it was ripped from his hands in seconds. 

“It's fine,” a woman assured, British accent thick, “though… you might want to check on your own case.”

Urgently, Viktor turned to his violin case which… hadn't held up. “Damn it!” He exclaimed, unzipping it to find his violin slightly damaged, a string, which was already on its way out, broken.

He sighed and rubbed his temple as the woman winced. “Those seem expensive,” she said, “say… you wanna play a game?”

“...what?” Viktor asked. He had expected yelling or some kind of argument not… “...a game?”

“A game,” she repeated firmly, “it'll be worth your time, and a prize; let's say… two hundred and fifty dollars, and something special? You seem like you could do with the extra help.’

“I… what?” Viktor said stunned and… well confused was too light of a word, “are you one of those…”

“Scammers?” The woman asked before unzipping her pocket and flashing her cash, “nope, totally real.”

She allowed Viktor to examine the cash. There was way more than two hundred and fifty in there— it all seemed too good to be real. ‘Who just… walks about with all that money?’

“That's… a generous offer,” Viktor said, still a bit suspicious, “there's… no strings attached?”

“Besides playing the game? Nope.” 

Viktor sighed before looking back down at his violin. ‘Well… practice is clearly a no go until I get a new one… and the money would definitely go towards it.’ 

“Alright then.” He shrugged. The woman's smile grew as she took two items from her pocket.

“Paper..?”

“Paper tiles,” the woman corrected, “red or blue?”

Viktor watched as the woman dropped her tile to the ground. The rules had been read out to him and he still couldn't believe it. ‘I really don't want to get hurt,’ he couldn't take a hit like her brothers or sister could, ‘I've only got five dollars. So five chances.’

He threw down the blue tile and… it didn't flip.

“One dollar!” 

He handed it over. ‘Four more goes.’

The woman was a pro, flipping Viktor's tile over instantly with little effort. “You do this alot?”

“I guess.” The woman said repositioning the tile.

“It must get boring after a while.” He remarked, throwing down his tile. He winced as it didn't flip.

“Do you play the violin alot?” The woman asked.

“Yeah, since I was a kid.” Viktor reminisced. His father had only given him one gift, a white violin which he had kept in pristine condition over the years, only playing it on special occasions. Viktor passed him the one dollar before repositioning his tile.

“It must get boring after a while.” The woman said, slapping down the red tile and flipping the blue.

“I see what you did there.” Viktor said with a slight smile as the woman repositioned her tile. 

Viktor held the blue one in his hand, sturdy and at an angle that he thought might just flip it. It didn't and he was down another dollar. “Two more.” The woman taunted as Viktor re placed his blue tile.

Quickly it was flipped and it was Viktor's turn once again. He held it at another angle and after some contemplation he threw it down. “You enjoy this?” He said, that was the only reason he did violin, of course— the tile didn't flip.

“It's not exactly a mundane kinda job! So yeah.” The woman said taking another dollar.

“I can't imagine many people get to the hitting stage, I mean, they can stop at any point.” Viktor said, wincing slightly at the idea.

She shrugged, flipping Viktor's tile again. “You'd be surprised.” She placed the red tile down and stepped back.

Viktor bit down on his lip nervously as he rose the blue card before pelting it down— it flipped.

The woman whistled and clapped. “Lucky!” She exclaimed, pulling out the cash prize and tucking it into Viktor's grasp— surprisingly it seemed too thick. Viktor unfolded it, counting it and admiring the money— and the business card that came alongside it.

He didn't have time to question the woman about it, she was already gone.