The blonde-haired boy crossed the busy street without even turning his head. The runes painted on his arms gave him the ability to sense the things around him bit did nothing to improve his sour disposition. All clad in leather he stuck out in the busy streets of the city but anyone who bothered to stare would be glared at and once they passed, Jace would just roll his eyes and keep walking. With all the sensing and agility runes he didn't know why he didn't just glamour himself so that no one could see him. It would have been a lot faster. Finally he reached the tall building that was his destination and entered through the wide glass doors. Jace exchanged glances with the doe-eyed receptionist at the counter and, without speaking; she nodded towards the elevator to his right.
"Level twenty-three" she said. The penthouse?
The lobby of the building was lavishly decorated. Plush sofas and a leather armchair were at the opposite side of the room to the elevator and a glorious fireplace was a light. An old man sat dozing in the armchair, a newspaper about to fall off his lap. A TV was playing in the top corner of the waiting area but not sound came from it. The only sounds were the cracking fireplace and the receptionist's rhythmic long-nailed tapping on her marble desk. Shrugging, Jace entered the elevator and pushed the button for the twenty-third floor.
There was only one door that Jace could see when the elevator doors opened. A sign printed in golden letters said 'WELCOME' and Jace, feeling no emotion at all, turned the nob and entered the room.
Immediately he was struck by the scent of a hot meal. The penthouse was even more expensively decorated than the lobby but with more modern twist. A spiral staircase led up into the second story and the furniture was all white leather and marble. Everything sparkled. In his immediate sight, Jace could see a small coffee table laden with bowls of chips and dip and hard-looking leather sofas. A flat screen TV was mounted on the wall but it wasn't turned on. In the middle of the room was a glass dining table with several empty vases atop it. Six places were set at the table. The young shadowhunter was immediately reminded of his adoptive father, Valentine's teleporting apartment and was instantly cautious. His fingers traipsed to the seraph blade at his belt. He held it loosely just in case and gave it a name.
"Arakiel" he whispered.
Jace had forgotten a silent stepping rune and silently cursed to himself. He would have to rely on pure training. Taking one sure but light step into the room he looked around for any other inhabitants. Soon enough, he reached the centre of the room and found nothing out of the ordinary.
"You got sent here too, huh?" said a voice. With inhuman speed, Jace whirled to see who had spoken.
An ordinary boy stood behind the shadowhunter with his hands in his pockets. He had shaggy blonde hair and dark black eyes. He certainly didn't look threatening, but no one snuck up on a shadowhunter. Calming his sudden panic, Jace returned his seraph blade to his belt.
"You a warlock?" he asked casually. He could see no mark but looks could be deceiving.
The boy shook his head.
"I'm Tate. Just Tate" he smiled without teeth and walked casually over to one of the white couches and plucked a chip from the bowl.
"You were so quiet... a ghost?" guessed Jace.
Tate smiled; "just Tate" was all he said.
Jace shrugged it off. He knew this boy was something inhuman but he decided to push no further. If Tate wanted him dead, he would've tried to kill him already.
"So... you have any idea why we're here?" Tate said. Jace shook his head.
"I'm not planning on staying long. I have to get back to-"
"Oh... I... didn't realise there was anyone else coming" Jace was sick of sudden voices appearing out of nowhere. He really wasn't enjoying this whole experience.
"Yeah neither of us realised that anyone else would be coming either. I guess we all need to feel special" Tate spoke to the stranger as if they were old friends but neither him nor Jace had ever seen this man before.
He couldn't be any older than thirty-two but he dressed a lot younger. Jace immediately recognised the gun at his belt, put purposely on display as if to warn people he meant business. The man wore a sweater with a geometric print over a collared shirt. His hair was gelled on top of his head in a curled quiff and his skinny jeans only reached mid-ankle before they were replaced with odd socks and Chuck Taylors. Slung over the man's shoulder was a beige shoulder bag.
The man surveyed the room before he entered. Tate wasn't really concentrating but Jace knew better. He could see the sly glances out of the corner of the new man's eyes as he supposedly surveyed the room. It wasn't just the decor he was analysing. It was the two occupants. What Jace couldn't see were the gears churning in this man's head as he profiled the two young boys.
One had a temper yet he had been emotionally damaged in his early life, possibly the loss of a parent, according to the way he constantly fiddles with the bold ring on his right middle finger. The other boy was more accustomed to strangers yet the man could tell from the way the shaggy-haired boy wasn't looking at him that he also had some issues. Like he hadn't left one place in such a long time. This boy was a profiler's gold mine. The man longed to get a closer look into this boy's mind.
"So who are you?" said the shaggy-haired boy nonchalantly.
"Ah, Doctor Spencer Reid" the man fiddled with something in his back pocket and showed them a badge that read FBI.
Jace narrowed his eyes but Tate nodded slowly.
"Doctor eh? Like a surgeon?"
Reid smiled shortly, "no I'm special agent with the Behavioural Analysis Unit"
"You look kind of young to be an FBI agent" Jace said curtly.
"I actually am the FBI's youngest profiler," Reid surveyed a vase in the centre of the glass dining table and read the small print on the bottom of it "they took me in because of my intelligence and map-reading skills..." his voice trailed off at the last part as if his 'intelligence' wasn't something he fancied talking about.
"Intelligence? What are you like a genius or something?" said Tate in that casual tone of his.
"I have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory so yeah... I guess you could say I'm a genius"
When both boys didn't say anything, Reid put the vase down and revealed his findings.
"I'm also a profiler. What that means is that I study behaviour for clues into a person's psyche. On coming in here I immediately noticed that one of you is cautious while the other one is not and while that counts for everything else in your lives, I noticed this by the fact that you," Reid nodded at Jace "were watching my every move as I innocently studied my surrounding. You're suspicious and on the lookout for any unusual behaviour. This features in your occupation as well which, guessing by your age, is either a trainee cop or detective. But judging by the weapons at your belt you have some sort of fantasy world which comforts you and brings you aid when you need it"
Jace smirked. For a mundane, this guy was good. From just a few words and appearance Reid came as close to guessing he was a shadowhunter as he could. Yet Reid wasn't done.
"And yet looking deeper I can tell you have a complex about you which I can't pick yet. You constantly fiddle with the ring on your finger which means a problem that either has or hasn't been solved in the past is gnawing at you constantly and it seems to revolve around that piece of jewellery. I'm going to take an educated guess and say that family has been a real issue for you. Whether it be lack of or constant swaying between two, you feel as if you don't really belong anywhere. But naturally the air of confidence around you and your good looks mean that there's a girl in your life who possibly makes the feeling of not belonging less when you're together"
Jace was shell-shocked. All this time Tate looked on with an amazed grin.
"Now tell me, how close was I?" Spencer Reid stood with his hands in his pockets like a child awaiting approval.
Jace cleared his throat, "pretty close."
"My turn!" said Tate gleefully.
Reid looked almost as excited. He turned to the shaggy-haired boy and walked forward to sit on the opposite leather sofa.
"You... if you pardon my bluntness, have a lot of issues... you were very comfortable with me and this other fellow even though you know neither of us. This suggests strangers have been walking in and out of your life so much that you're used to it by now. You probably come from a large family or are surrounded by a lot of people which makes you both eager to do your very best to impress these people and desperate to be noticed"
Tate took a deep breath as the profiler continued.
You show a very easy-going demeanour but you've been hunched over and fidgety ever since I arrived which means something that happened not long ago still has a negative effect on you, possibly a break-up or family loss. You dress like you're straight out of the nineties which could mean you don't care about your appearance or that you're holding onto something from your past. From watching your escalating emotion throughout my profile I can tell that you're prone to episodes of rage but most of the time hold a careless demeanour which you use as a shield. From the bags under your eyes and constant twitching and the fact that you don't seem to be able to sit still, I'm going to assume drug abuse was a part of your past life which probably led to the underlying problem with a family member. Abuse, probably"
Reid realised after he was done that he probably was too forward when it looked like the boy was about to burst. But then suddenly Tate calmed himself and shook it off.
"Damn, that was pretty spot-on" Tate held his hand up for a high-five. Reid looked unsure before he complied.
No one spoke for a while after that. Jace considered turning the TV on but thought against it, he had no care for mundane programs. In the end he decided to ask the genius about his theory on why the three of them had been summoned to the penthouse.
"So do you have any idea why we're here?"
Reid nodded to himself, "I would guess that the person who sent us the address card would want us all to meet for some specific reason. I would also speculate that we're not the only people coming"
A soft knock at the door proved him right. All heads turned at once to the front door of the penthouse apartment.
"Oh bloody hell" said the thick British accent of the strangely-dressed man at the door.
He wore practically all leather and had a thin line of stubble accentuating his jawline. He looked on in bored surprise as if he was hoping to actually find himself alone. His leather coat-tail reached down to below his knees and his red vest was cut in a V-line down the middle to reveal curly chest hair beneath. Both Jace and Reid eyed the hook in replacement of his left hand.
"Hey man! Come and join the party!" Tate piped up excitedly. He shook a curly lock out of his eyes and waved the newcomer over.
"Well, I definitely wasn't expecting this" the hook-handed man took a hesitant step into the room and looked around before surveying his company.
Honestly Jace was more than weirded-out. So far he had seen the most strange mundane than he ever seen in his entire life. And he lived in New York, by the Angel.
"Yeah... neither were we" said Jace.
"So who are you?" asked Tate.
The man's eyes flickered between the lot of them, "Captain Killian Jones. But most people just call me Hook"
"I can't imagine why" said Jace sarcastically. When no one spoke for a while, Reid made a decision.
"Honestly I think now we need to figure out why we're here. Now that all of us have turned up. We need to-"
"Son of a bitch" said a hoarse voice from the doorway.
Reid and Jace both swore at the same time, Hook jumped aside in dismay and Tate jumped as well but in excitement and glee.
The first thing anyone saw was the crossbow and it was pointed at Hook's heart, then Reid's and then Jace's and back again.
He was dirty that was for sure with choppy hair and squinty eyes. His muscles rippled under his torn shirt and he crept forward with the powerful weapon separating him from the world. Reid stepped forward in dismay and held his hands up to calm the last guest.
"Okay calm down. We know just about as much as you do so relax and let's all try and figure out why we're here"
"Who the hell are you people?" the new man shouted.
"I'm Special Agent Spencer Reid of the FBI and this is..." Reid looked at the two young boys, "Jace, he's a fantasy enthusiast and this is Tate" The latter of the boys smiled and waved politely.
The last man refused to lower his weapon so Hook stepped forward to try and speak to him.
"Look mate, I get it. We're all strangers but we're all in the same situation here. Put down the weapon and we'll try and sort this out" No one knew why the newcomer decided to listen to the pirate; the hook at his hand made for a threatening sight. But surprisingly, the archer lowered his crossbow and leaned back against the wall.
"So how do we find out why we're here?" he said gruffly.
"Hey, I don't know if this helps," Tate said suddenly whilst everyone expected a useless answer, "but the TV just turned on and there's a girl there"
Everyone's head turned toward the expensive television mounted on the white wall opposite the door and, like Tate said, there indeed was a girl shown.
She looked to be in her mid-teens, about fifteen or sixteen with long brunette hair. Her smile was not threatening but every occupant in the room felt edgy nonetheless. This mysterious girl sat at a desk and her hands were folded in front of her. A vase of flowers was to her right, to her left a remote.
"Gentlemen, I thank you for your cooperation in coming to this secret location" she said with a voice like honey.
"Are you the one who brought us here?" asked Reid. Jace could see he was already profiling her and wondered if Reid just did it on instinct.
The girl smiled, "I am. My name is Ferrah and I'd like to introduce you to a new project that my colleagues and I have been working on for some time. I assume you've all become familiar with each other. Jace, the admirable fighting hero, Tate, the lovable ghost with a chip on his shoulder, Reid, the supremely intelligent agent, Hook, the villain-turned-good-guy who wants nothing but to hold the girl he loves in his arms and Daryl, the strong warrior who only wants to do good by his brother. I'd like to welcome you, but in order to do that... well... I'm afraid that you won't like what I'm about to do next" she scooped up the remote beside her and hit a button. In an instant the door they had all entered by slammed shut, locking all five men inside.
The archer immediately went to the door to try and pry the bolt or bash it through but it was sealed shut and everyone stood up in alarm, even Tate.
"You've locked us in?!" Jace said in alarm.
The girl's smile didn't falter, "Please don't be alarmed. There are enough supplies in this penthouse to last you until the trial is over."
"What the hell is this?" said Hook. His attractive face was crinkled in alarm.
"My good sirs, I assure you that you're completely safe. And now that I have your full attention I can offer you welcome"
Everyone turned to look at the TV, even Daryl had stopped trying to blast the door down to turn and hear what this girl had to say.
"Gentlemen, welcome to The Fangirl Trials"
With that, the television switched off, leaving the men with a black screen and silence.