...

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Chapter 2:

A Phantom Thief

-o0o0o-

"You stole the crown jewels."

"Uh…"

"You stole. The crown jewels."

"…I guess?

"Are you insane?"

"But they looked so pretty and expensive and− I couldn't help it!"

"Oh, for the love of−Put them back!"

"Huh?! Why would I put them back?! They weren't that easy to steal!"

"They wouldn't be that easy to sell either, even on the black market. Now, which part of 'Lie low' eludes you?"

"But I need the money!"

"Who doesn't need money? That doesn't mean I go around stealing people's bodies to make it off with some country's crown jewels!"

"That's easy for you to say. You've got a steady income!"

"My income barely even covers half my living expenses! Don't make it sound like I never have to struggle to make ends meet!"

"But−"

"Look, I know you've got a lot of shit to deal with, but you're not the only one who's dealing with a lot of shit right now…"

"…Fine, it was stupid. But we really need the money! It's a matter of life and death!"

"How much?"

"Huh?"

"How much do you need?"

"…You're gonna help me? But you're a−?"

-o0o0o-

"G."

Phantom Thief G startled, panicking for a second before finally placing the voice. "Oh, it's you. Fucking scared me, man!"

As per usual, Crown(ed) Clown wasted little time in getting to the point. "What did you steal this time around?"

G, or Timothy out of costume, did his best not to fidget nervously. "Nothing big, I promise!"

There was a disbelieving snort at that. "The last time I heard you say that, you−"

"−Stole those crown jewels. Yeah, big mistake. Won't be doing that again."

The mild exasperation turned to amusement, evident in the upturn of the lips. "Better not. You nearly got skewed last time around."

Yeah that. Timothy kicked back and tilted his head back as well. "Ugh, don't remind me. I still have nightmares about that."

Yes, and fairly vivid ones at that. Heck, he was traumatised to the decree that he would freeze up in fear whenever certain heroes showed up in news segments. And it was especially bad, because Emilia was totally into that crazy swordsman.

"You do realise he's supposed to be on duty tonight, right?" C2 offered, innocuously.

Shit. "Which district?"

There was an annoyingly casual shrug at that. "Dunno. Better be careful on your way home though."

Ugh. "Things were so much easier before this."

That got him a slight look, alongside an "Easier for you, maybe."

Yeah… "Yeah, yeah, I get it! No more possessing unwitting victims. That was the deal, right?"

C2 quirked an eyebrow; even with the mask in place, Timothy could tell. "More or less. But I did tell you to choose your targets a bit more carefully, right?"

Well… "I'm trying, okay? But I'm pushed to my limits as is because I can't go for targets outside of town. Or maybe I could, but it wouldn't be easy…"

C2 let out a slight hum at that.

Their conversation lapsed into a brief period of silence. It was not uncomfortable per se, because while C2 did not necessarily approve of Timothy's nightly escapades as the Phantom Thief G, the hero had always been willing to give Timothy pointers on which locations, people and organisations Timothy ought to avoid. On top of not arresting him, that is.

Heck, things went even farther than that; they even knew each other out of costume, given how C2 had managed to track Timothy down and decided not to inform his superiors about it. At first, Timothy had thought it was pretty weird. He had gotten over it fairly quickly though.

"What about M?"

M? Timothy raked his mind, trying to remember which of their acquaintances had been assigned the codename M. "Ah." Emilia. Right. "She'd obviously kill me if she found out."

"I don't think she'd kill you," C2 commented.

Timothy snorted. "You said the same thing about Dark Boots, and she very nearly−"

"DB is friendly, as long as you stay on her good side," C2 interrupted, grinning now. "Copping a feel is not the way into her heart. If anything, I'd say it's a pretty sure-fire way to get her to stomp on you."

Well… "You could have told me that earlier!"

There was another shrug at that. "I assumed that you'd already been taught to respect other people's bodily autonomy. Guess I shouldn't have."

Timothy scoffed. "Not that DB isn't hot or anything, but I was just trying to possess her!"

C2 tilted his head slightly at that. "…I get what you mean, but you do realise how that sounds, right?" he said at last.

Timothy's eyebrows furrowed slightly, and he raked his mind, trying to figure out what C2 could possibly mean.

"Never mind," C2 said, giving Timothy's head an affectionate pat. "As long as you don't do it again."

Tch, as if. "I don't have a death wish."

"Are you sure about that?"

Really. "I could ask the same of you, hero."

Whatever reaction Timothy might have expected, the hero's posture slumping definitely wasn't it. The words that followed most certainly took the cake however.

"I'm starting to think that I might not be cut out for it, to be completely honest," C2 sighed. "Heroics, that is."

Bullshit. "That's not true."

"How so?" C2 sounded genuinely surprised. What the Hell?

"Because you've got a people saving complex the size of this entire city," Timothy snapped, and he wasn't done with only that. "You want to save everyone, even the bad guys, even if it means breaking the rules, or even yourself. If you aren't cut out to be a hero, no one is."

There was a surprised blink at that; even with the lenses and mask in the way, Timothy could tell.

"…Thanks?"

"That wasn't a damned compliment," Timothy deadpanned, because really. "If you weren't so damned busy saving people, I'd let you be my sidekick."

"Your sidekick?" C2 repeated, sounding not just surprised but incredulous now. "Sidekick?" he repeated further, as if not truly believing his own ears.

And maybe Timothy's offer had been just a tad too arrogant, all things considered. "Partner-in-crime, then. I mean, it's not like your morals aren't flexible as long as it's only hurting the rich people's pockets."

"Fair point," C2 agreed. "Still−"

Still, Timothy knew well that C2 wouldn't rise to take the bait, because C2 was far too noble for that, and just like Timothy knew that, C2 knew that Timothy knew that. "So…"

"So?" C2 repeated, head tilted slightly.

"Are you here to steal back the goods or what?" Timothy asked at last, holding up his haul, because the question needed to be asked at some point.

C2's gaze rested briefly on the ruby-studded necklace before turning back to the cityscape. "Did you take it from the Third District?" he asked at last, and as Timothy shook his head, added "Then no, I'm not going to ask."

On one hand, Timothy wondered if there was something particular about the Third District. On the other though… Nah, it didn't matter. Probably. "Why are you out here then?"

"I have something for you," C2 said, retrieving the golem that had up until then been sitting quietly on top of his head. "Tim."

Timothy stiffened voluntarily, even while knowing C2 was addressing the golem, not him. He said nothing about it though, much like he didn't say anything when the golem, which had up until then been just slightly bigger than a golf ball, suddenly began expanding, doubling and then tripling in size.

Magic, Timothy thought as the golem opened up its mouth, revealing a maw that looked disturbingly much like an actual mouth; it had teeth, a tongue and everything, and from somewhere inside the void, it coughed up a box of all things.

"My birthday's next week; you do know that, right?" His voice sounded strange, a lot quieter than intended. If C2 noticed though, then he did not comment on it.

"I know that, but your number one fan doesn't," C2 commented at last. "I considered giving you this next week, but the last time I attempted to give a birthday present on time, I was attacked by a villain and got hurt so bad I got hospitalised."

Timothy didn't ask or comment, but was it tempting? Sure.

Instead, he gingerly took the package, wondering what the heck C2 had meant by his number one fan; Timothy was a thief, a criminal, and− Then he saw the attached note. "I like your style. I hope these are the right size. Regards, Jr.?" he read aloud, looking up at C2 in confusion.

"Open it and see for yourself," C2 offered with a shrug, putting the shrunken Timcanpy back onto his head.

Timothy didn't need to be told twice.

-o0o0o-

It was a pair of roller skates, looking remarkably similar to the ones that had been wrecked earlier, back when that long-haired bastard had− "How?"

C2 gave a somewhat dismissive wave at that. "I know a mad scientist with resources and limited adult supervision. Tell me if you find something to complain about, and I'll let him know what to work on. Also, he wanted an autograph, so…"

Timothy blinked, brain taking a few moments to catch up. "An autograph? My autograph? But I'm not a−"

"Jr. loves science and mischief and hates authority," C2 noted, pulling out a pen and a piece of paper. "If you want more gadgets, then I'm sure he'd be more than happy to help you out."

Huh? "C2, you do realise helping me out isn't… you know?"

C2 gave a mild shrug at that. "You said it yourself, didn't you? That I have a massive people saving complex and don't mind bending a few rules here and there."

Well, technically Timothy had said 'breaking', not 'bending', but sure, 'bending' did sound a lot better, even if it was likely that C2's actions probably exceeded what could be considered 'bending'.

"If you had been stealing only for the kicks, then I would have stopped you," C2 commented, looking out over the cityscape while Timothy struggled to put down a cool-looking signature onto the paper. "But you're not, so here we are. Besides−"

Timothy stilled, lifting his gaze as he picked up on the slight change in tone.

"−You're running around all on your own, with little to no support, G," C2 elaborated, shooting him a somewhat pointed look. "If something were to happen, I'd feel guilty."

Months ago, Timothy would have likely bristled, because no one had asked C2 to become his minder. Now, a tiny bit wiser, he could definitely appreciate it, at least to a certain degree, because whereas he had people looking out for him during the daytime, there was no one looking out for him at night. No one except C2, and that was only from time to time. "You shouldn't," Timothy muttered. "But I do try to be careful because I don't want to cause trouble. I mean, if I got caught−"

He didn't finish the statement, because the scenario had certainly occurred to him, even if he generally preferred not to think of it, ever. But− He put the finishing touches on the signature and folded the paper. "C2, do you ever think about… about what would happen if you got−?"

"If I got unmasked?" C2 sighed, vanishing the pen and piece of paper back into his pockets. "Sure."

Timothy sensed that there was a whole lot contained in that statement but was unsure of whether or not he should pry. On the other hand, he was still a kid, and being nosy was− "Has any villain ever−?"

C2 gave a dismissive wave at that, seemingly unconcerned. Even so, because Timothy had spent so much time in C2's presence, he could tell that it was forced.

"I've had a few close calls," C2 finally admitted, getting back to his feet. "But enough about that. Stay safe and out of the Third District. And, if you happen to spot someone with greyish skin and yellow eyes walking around at night, keep your head down. Unless they're walking towards you of course, because then you should run like Hell and hope they don't follow."

C2's smile was stiff, obviously forced, and Timothy swallowed, knowing there had to be a good reason for such a warning. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

-o0o0o-

Intermission:

Encounter in the Laundry Room

-o0o0o-

It was Thursday morning, roughly one week after the whole blackmailing incident and six days post-delivery.

Allen Walker, aged sixteen, was not having a good day.

As things were, the company certainly didn't help.

"You bombed your history exam? For reals?"

Allen didn't feel like dignifying that with a response. It seemed highly redundant after all.

"Gee, if you needed help, then you should've just called me. I know I've been busy and all, but I haven't been that busy."

Allen supposed not. Still− "I had a shift last night. It's not like I could've brought my textbook along." And he had managed to forget about the exam too, up until the very end of his shift.

"Ouch," said his companion.

"Yeah, ouch," Allen agreed, because ouch was just the beginning of it.

"Have you started on your report yet?"

The question gave him a slight pause. "What report?"

A single green eye flickered towards him. "You know… your report?"

Mission report then. "Submitted it last night."

There was a slight hum at that. "Diligent."

Allen snorted. "It was three sentences long and I sent it as a text."

"You're definitely gonna get chewed out for that," his companion informed him, as if he was not far beyond the point of giving a damn already.

That said however− "It's still better than me submitting it on an actual post-it. I mean, have you seen my handwriting?"

"…No, but if it's anything like your drawings, I can sort of imagine."

Fair enough. Still− "Like yours is any better."

"Hey, I can write neatly when I need to. I just generally don't."

Yeah. Whatever. "Did you need anything, Lavi? I'm trying to do laundry here."

The redhead grinned, making no move to make himself less of a hindrance. And he was most certainly a hindrance, because the tumble drier was meant to dry clothes, not serve as a place to sit when there was a number of chairs and stools available. "What? Can't I just show up for a friendly chat?"

Allen closed his eyes for a brief moment, feeling a headache coming on. "Lavi, I've been this close to stabbing someone all day, and at this rate, it's gonna be you."

"I don't think that'd go down so well with the Agency," Lavi noted, but removed himself nonetheless. "Not to mention the landlord."

Yeah, right. "I'm sure Kanda would put in a good word for me."

Yeah, as if, but was it an amusing thought? Sure.

"Threats of violence aside," Lavi commented, straightening from his slouch. "Chief's specifically instructed me to bring you back to HQ. Kicking and screaming if needed."

Allen did not like the sound of that. "Why would he ask you?" he muttered, loading up the drier. "He could have just texted me."

There was a mild shrug at that. "Isn't it because we know each other out of costume? Also, because we live in the same apartment building?"

That was fair. Still− "He could have just texted me, or called, instead of sending someone to hunt me down on my day off."

Lavi Bookman, alias Iron Hammer, let out a slight snort at that. "He has texted you and repeatedly made calls asking you to come in for another check-up about five times already. Even Chief's patience has its limits."

Check-ups. Ugh. "It's a waste of time. I'm healed, I'm working and I'm sure as heck not going back after what happened last time."

Lavi paused briefly, taking a moment to process the statement before his grin returned with full force. "I'm sure DB wouldn't mind playing your knight in shining armour again, you know? According to my info, she spent at least two minutes staring at your sleeping face."

Yeah, and that was part of the problem, really. A significant part of it, as a matter of fact.

-o0o0o-

Allen might have had a lot of opinions as far as his "mentor" was concerned, many of them negative. However, in time, he had actually come to regard his years under Cross' tutelage in a somewhat new light. Sure, the training had been harsh and dangerous, but what doesn't kill you makes you stronger and all that. Besides, being with Cross had taught Allen much about the profession; the ins and outs, the ups and downs, and in addition to that, the fact that hero identities were kept secret for a reason; several reasons, as a matter of fact.

This was the reason as to why Allen, when registering with the Agency, had put such effort into them leaving his civilian name off the record.

Many others hadn't, and recent events had shown what a bad idea that could be.

Having your name and face on record was bad, especially if said record also included your hero identity and all that.

Up until the last eight months or so, heroes getting killed had been a fairly rare occurrence. Sure, a few had gotten unlucky while fighting Akuma and others had managed to get themselves killed in surprisingly normal ways, but overall, deaths, especially on duty, had been close to non-existent.

So, the events of the last couple of months had certainly shaken things up a bit, starting with the Agency's information and registration policies.

They had also made Allen a whole lot more aware of the hazards of working as a hero. Because sometimes, if you were unlucky, you might get attacked by a murderous superpowered villain. And, if you were really unlucky, said villain, who could now also be titled the Hero Killer, might become fixated upon you.

Luckily, the Hero Killer had scarcely made an appearance since that rather close call back in February. Of course, that was not to say that there had been no activity whatsoever; the Agency had a nasty habit of covering things up for fear that it might spread panic amongst the general public.

One of those heavily restricted pieces of info that the Agency refused to part with was on the creation of Akuma. Thus, Allen had been and was still breaking quite a number of rules in not reporting Jan to his superiors. However, to be fair, Allen had his reasons; proper protocol demanded that civilians who had gained access to restricted information had to have their memories wiped, and Allen scarcely dared to think about what kind of mental damage that could potentially cause, especially to someone that young.

"So?" Lavi said, looking at him expectantly. "Are you coming or what?"

Allen heaved a heavy sigh. "Yeah, yeah, might as well get it over with. Let me just go up and fetch my jacket."

-o0o0o-

CBA: Something came up. Shouldn't take too long, but I won't bring my phone. I'll text you when I get back.

TM: ＼（＠*v*＠）／

CBA: Fucking stop that.

-o0o0o-