"Morgana! Morgana! Someone saw! Someone knows! They know my identity!" Merlin gasped as he slipped in the door of the flat they shared. And by shared, Merlin of course meant Morgana paid and he cleaned, grocery shopped, and cooked. And paid no rent.

At her computer, Morgana rolled her eyes. "No one saw, Merlin. Stop being paranoid and make me a snack."

Propping his staff up against the wall, Merlin glared at her. "I'm being serious!"

"So am I. I'm starving. A cheese on toast would be lovely."

"Fine." Merlin threw up his hands. "Fine. Don't believe me. Just wait until the whole of Camelot news is at our front door, clamouring about the masked vigilante."

Morgana rolled her eyes again and flipped the lid of her laptop shut. "Merlin, no one saw. They probably just thought you were a teenager slipping in after curfew."

"A teen—" Merlin gaped and then glared. "Thanks. Thanks, Morgana. I am twenty seven, you know."

She grinned sweetly. "I don't know why you don't allow me to buy you some sort of getaway vehicle. At least a motorbike. Come on, Merlin."

"Because you pay for everything else," he said, cheeks flushed. "It's more than enough."

"I'm not bailing you out of jail, should you ever be caught. If that helps."

Rolling his eyes with a martyred sigh, Merlin thumped into the kitchen to make Morgana a sandwich.

"That's my boy!" She called after him.

"Yours will be burnt!" He yelled out of spite, both of them knowing it really wouldn't be—it would be perfectly browned, just the way she liked it.

****
Arthur's morning had been going brilliantly. Four arrests and a drug ring busted and it was only 11 A.M. Then his partner Gwen dropped by with the morning paper.

"Masked Vigilante Saves Local Shop Owner from Violent Robbery, Stops Car from Falling off Bridge, and Snuffs Out Apartment Fire," the headline read.

He frowned furiously. The bleeding chap had been stealing the precinct's thunder for the past eleven months. Ever since he blew into town, Arthur had been hard pressed to keep morale up in his unit. The Pendragons were all about law. Arthur and Uther. Cop and Mayor. Keeping Camelot safe and orderly. Only, Warlock, as the mad man called himself, had cut crime by about forty five percent. One man better than a whole precinct? That couldn't do. He really needed to put a stop to this nonsense.

"GWEN!"

She was in his office, serene as always, in seconds. "No need to bellow. What is it?"

"I need everything we have on Warlock."

"Why?"

"Gwen, were it your job to question every order I give, I would have hired you. As it is, I did not know you came with that particular feature, or I would fire you. Unfortunately, you are much too good, and I haven't the time to train a new partner and second in command, so you're not. Now kindly bugger off and do as I ask?"

"Tetchy this morning, are we, Arthur?" She replied serenely with that irritatingly calm smile of a person who knows that her job is in no way threatened.

"We are not anything, Gwen. Now go. Warlock needs to be stopped once and for all."

"Oh?"

"Yes, he's ruining our morale, stealing our thunder—" he shook the front page at her "and causing the people to lose faith in their law enforcement agency."

"He does do our job rather well, doesn't he?"

"Gwen, not helping."

She shrugged. "Well, I think it's lovely that people help other people."

Arthur grit his teeth. "Not when they're doing our jobs it isn't!"

"I don't mind. Besides, a little competition never hurt anyone."

"You will when the public decides it doesn't need us and then cut our funding until we're nothing more than paper-pushers with hourly wages and no benefits!"

Gwen snorted. "Because that will ever happen with your father as mayor."

"Until they kick him out and elect our mystery hero!"

"And then he'll parade down the street in that costume of his, sweep off his mask, and reveal his identity," Gwen replied sagely.

Glowering, Arthur conceded the point. "Very well. It's a bit ridiculous. But all the same, I'd like to track him down and kindly ask him to leave our city."

The grin was probably entirely too indulgent for Arthur's liking, but she agreed and left. But enough, Arthur decided, was enough. This was enough.