A/N- the ridiculous length of chapters makes up for the sporadic update schedule, right?
Also, you may have noticed that this fic has a new description to reflect where it's going. It's still utterly ridiculous crack, but with more characters and a kind of plot. Okay, not so much a 'plot' as a 'direction I intend to vaguely wander in', but whatever.
Thank you so much for the continued support and lovely reviews!
It was late September, and the leaves were beginning to colour and fall. Some mornings, Jim sat and stared out the window, examining the foliage for any signs of change. Most mornings, he stumbled out of bed and poured coffee down his throat until he managed to convince himself to open his eyes, but the leaf-watching sounded more poetic somehow.
Seb was still insisting they moved out- despite still not technically living with them- but, for the moment, the Master had convinced them to stay in the flat. Whenever the topic came up, he somehow managed to twist the conversation to 'well, I suppose if you're afraid…' That naturally led to 'of-course-I'm-not-afraid', which inevitably caused an argument over who was or was not a coward- and, on one notable occasion, whether or not a velociraptor could take out Batman.
(Verdict: depending on the climate and technology available, the outcome could swing either way.)
Jim remained torn. Moving was the only way to be safe, but he didn't want to leave their airy and impressive flat to shack up in a crappy motel room. He was used to secrecy, but not to hiding. Loki, on the other hand, didn't much seem to care.
"What's up with Frost Face?" Seb asked one day, dumping his bag on the table. He had skipped out on the early morning business call, citing 'it's four A.M and I'm fully prepared to torch your building down if you phone again' as an excuse.
"Jim's fault," the Master called from the other room.
"It is not!"
"It is."
"Definitely is," Seb agreed.
"You don't even know what he's talking about."
"I don't need to. It's always your fault."
"I'm going to take that as a compliment."
"Because there was no way any of us saw that coming," the Master said.
"So what is up with Loki?" Seb asked.
"I… may have introduced him to a new method of entertainment," Jim said vaguely.
"Are you telling me you taught Loki how to wank?"
"Please never ever put those words into anything resembling that order ever again," the Master begged. Jim had to agree.
"Christ, no. We were beating up this client-"
"- as you do," Seb nodded.
"- when his iPhone fell out. And, well, you know we taught Loki to use a mobile…"
"He seized the guy's phone?"
"Oh, even better," the Master said. "Jim gave him it."
"What?"
"He asked!" Jim defended himself.
"Do you want your death to be slow and painful or swift and very painful?"
"I didn't think!"
"That's pretty obvious," Seb said dryly. "Fuck, it was bad enough when he learned to text. What am I supposed to do now he's got access to the internet? And photo messaging? And Facetime?"
"Get a crappy old Nokia and sell your phone," Jim suggested.
"You sell your phone." Jim looked like Seb had suggested he offer his firstborn child for sacrifice.
"Speaking of phones," the Master interrupted. "We got a new message on the work phone."
"When?"
"Earlier."
"And you didn't want to mention that?"
"Sure I did. Just now."
"Who was it?" Jim asked, picking up the mobile and dialling for voicemail.
"No idea. Number withheld."
"What's the message?"
"Phones record messages for a reason, you know." Glaring, Jim hit the speakerphone button.
"New message," the phone announced. "Received today at: eleven thirty-four AM. From: number withheld. Message follows:"
The message began to play out. Jim's eyes met Sebastian's, and the look that passed between them was grim. "Fuck," he muttered softly.
"It took him a while," Seb said ruefully. "I could have sworn he'd already…"
"Maybe we overestimated him."
"Or maybe we're getting the meaning wrong?"
"What else could it mean? Why would he have waited until now? C'mon, Seb."
"Eugh. I told you we needed to fucking move!"
"In my defence, this is a mobile telephone. Moving wouldn't change the number."
"But if he knows our number, you can bet he knows our address."
"Can somebody please tell me what's going on?" the Master demanded.
"It's a code," Jim explained.
"Thanks, genius, I'd never have guessed that. What does it mean?"
"It means that Holmes has found us," Seb finished grimly.
"What? Play it again," he demanded.
Jim obliged, and The Master listened intently. When it finished, he looked up at Jim and Seb and frowned. "I don't get it. All I hear is somebody playing 'Staying Alive' on violin."
"Don't touch anything."
"Sure, fine. Everybody work on showering, eating and sleeping without touching anything."
"Very funny," Seb said. "You know what I mean."
"Not really," the Master said. He picked up a sealed box and rattled it. "Hey, what does this do?"
"It's a bomb that activates when picked up and shaken."
"Cool." He put it down and moved on. Seb scowled.
"Jim, control your pet," he complained.
"Hey, you volunteered."
"I did no such thing."
"You said- and I quote- 'even my fucking flat would be better than this'."
"I didn't mean it!"
"Too late," the Master said cheerily, and sent a vase crashing to the floor. "You didn't want that, right?"
"It's been nearly five minutes and nobody's had their head pushed through a wall," Jim said, raising his voice over the loud stream of swear words. "Did we leave Loki somewhere?"
"Good question," Seb said grudgingly. "Did anyone actually tell him we were going?" Jim shrugged in response, and Seb disappeared off to check outside.
"I tried to make sure everybody kept quiet about it," the Master said.
"He's not a dog," Jim scolded. "You can't open the car door, throw out a tennis ball and drive away."
"Are you suggesting we get Loki microchipped?"
The front door opened, and Seb reappeared gripping the bemused man firmly by the arm. He steered Loki into a chair, where he sat down heavily without looking up. "He was still in the car."
"Is he still on Doodle Jump?"
Seb glanced down to the screen Loki was tapping frantically at. "No, he's moved onto Temple Run."
"Seriously? He'll be telling us that 'Snake' is state-of-the-art gameplay soon," Jim said. "Should we be intervening?"
"We've got bigger problems," Seb reminded him. "What do you think Holmes' plan is?"
"I don't know," Jim said. "But you can bet it's more convoluted than 'inform the police'."
"How come?" the Master asked.
"Holmes is such a drama queen that he puts Jim to shame," Seb said.
"Impossible. It can't be done."
"Good showmanship is not the same as showing off," Jim sulked.
"Sure it is. They even both have the same word in them. 'Show'."
"As fascinating as this English lesson really fucking isn't, shouldn't you be doing something more productive?" Seb asked.
"Like what?" the Master asked, wandering over to the window.
"Like looking for a flat? In a place that isn't here?"
"We only arrived ten minutes ago," Jim pointed out.
"Yeah, and you've only got six anger management strategies left before I run out and start using your head for target practice."
"Is now a good time to tell you that a police box just materialised outside?" the Master said casually.
"That depends on exactly how much hallucinogenic you've been consumed in the last twenty-four hours," Jim said.
"Almost none," the Master said haughtily. "The TARDIS tends to take on the shape of a police box, that's all."
"What?"
"Yeah, he claims it got stuck that way, but really-"
"No- the TARDIS?" Seb repeated.
"Yeah, that one."
"As in the Doctor? As in 'the oncoming storm'? As in a powerful alien hell-bent on fucking us over?"
"More like the oncoming raincloud," the Master snorted. "Last time I saw him he cried a lot and hugged me."
"Sexually confused rivals are clearly a universal problem," Jim observed.
"So not only have we got Holmes and Watson on our tails," Seb cut in, "we've got somebody whose résumé includes taking down an alien spaceship using a satsuma?"
"I knew I'd regret telling you that story," the Master muttered. "And there were swords first. The swords were probably more important." He paused. "And it's probably not even true. I bet he made it up."
"Okay, no, shut up. Everybody shut up. Shut your stupid faces and stop ruining my life for just five seconds."
"What's going on?" Loki said dazedly, looking around blankly.
"Seb's having a bit of a crisis," Jim said, patting him on the shoulder. "Nothing to worry about." Loki nodded, soothed, and returned to his game.
"Does the Doctor know you're here?" Jim asked the Master. He pulled a face.
"The TARDIS locates threats and takes him to them. Could be it thinks we count as a legitimate threat."
"Poor, misguided machine," Jim said sympathetically.
"You are not leaving the house," Seb warned the Master. "I'm not having them finding where I live."
"Are you grounding me?"
"Yes. Same goes for you," he said, turning to Jim.
"Aww, but Seb-"
"No buts," Seb cut him off. "If you wanted to go outside then you shouldn't have pissed off a high-functioning sociopath and a nine hundred year old alien."
"I feel like you know much more about our enemies than is necessary," the Master complained. "It makes me feel inadequate. You don't care that much about me."
"I'm not even dignifying that with a response."
"You just did."
"It's like watching children squabble," Jim grinned.
"I'm a child?" Seb repeated incredulously.
"He's right," the Master agreed. "Seb's more like a really old babysitter who won't let you stay up past your bedtime and then complains that she doesn't know how to work the television."
"And I put too much work into analogies?"
"If the shoe fits…"
"It's alarming that Loki is actually causing the fewest issues right now," Jim said.
"He's easily distracted," the Master shrugged. "See, you can-" He reached out to pick up Loki's sceptre. In less than two seconds, he found himself pressed up against the wall, face twisted hard against the painted bricks. His arm was pulled up and trapped behind his back, and Loki had a small but very sharp dagger pressed to the back of his neck.
"I don't suggest trying that again," he said measuredly. He glanced back at the phone on the chair behind him, and released the Master. The dagger disappeared somewhere back into the expanse of leather and straps that passed for Loki's clothing as he scooped the mobile back up protectively.
Seb glanced idly over at them, before speaking again. "So, about Holmes."
"I could handle it. Easily."
"Are we going to ignore the fact that Loki nearly sliced my jugular open?" the Master demanded. "Does nobody care about that?"
"I'm sorry, how thoughtless of us," Jim said. "You're right, let's talk about that at length. Exactly how quickly did he get you into that hold?"
"The way you fought back really was very impressive," Seb added.
"Oh yes, very funny," the Master said.
"I thought that you really showed him with that bit where you froze up and whimpered slightly."
"I did not whimper!"
"Don't worry, it was a quite a manly whimper. But my favourite bit was-"
"Yes, okay, I get it!" he said, much more loudly than was necessary. "So we're under house arrest?"
"Yes," Seb said firmly. "Well, Loki isn't, but I don't think he'll be going anywhere all the same."
Loki suddenly let out a cry and they all jumped. "What?" Jim said.
"What does it mean?" He jabbed his finger against the 'on' button, over and over. "Why won't it turn back on?"
"It's out of battery, genius. What, you didn't think to steal a charger too?"
"I…" Loki said desperately.
"Luckily for you, I've got an old one in a drawer somewhere," Seb said.
"And that'll fix it?" Loki said, eyes wide and hopeful.
"Yeah, if you give it an hour or so and give me a series of reasonable, monthly payments."
"An alternative offer: if you allow me to use this 'charger', I won't cut out your eyeballs whilst you're sleeping."
"Nice try, but you don't know where I keep my knives."
"Then I'll use a spoon."
"Would that work?"
"Would you like to find out?" Loki grinned. Seb sighed.
"Fine, whatever. I'll plug the damn thing in if it'll mean you shut the fuck up and agree to lie low for a couple of hours... maybe a day. I'm not letting you dicks get me thrown in jail."
"Whatever," the Master said. "As long as you've got a television, everything will be fine."
With a soft ping, the electricity went off.
"Definitely a power cut," Seb said, returning to the lounge where the three of them sat waiting. "So no charging phones, sorry."
"And no television," the Master said sadly.
"I think my laptop might have a few minutes of battery left," Jim said thoughtfully.
"I'll fight you for it," the Master volunteered.
"I'm not fighting you to use my own laptop."
"Good. That way I get it, and I can use your corpse as a footrest."
"Are you really having a breakdown at the thought of a couple of hours without electricity?" Loki said, having recovered from his initial distress enough to mock them. "In Asgard we don't have anything of the sort, and everybody copes perfectly well."
"Until the prince goes insane and tries to commit genocide," Seb pointed out. Loki ignored him.
"So we've got no laptops," Jim said, "no television, no phones, no Internet, and you're not letting us leave the house. What do you propose we do next?"
"I'll give you five hundred for Mayfair."
"Fuck off."
"Six hundred."
"Nope."
"Four hundred."
"N- wait, what?"
"Four."
"You said six a minute ago!"
"I did not."
"You did!"
"Prove it."
"He said six, didn't he?" Seb asked Jim, who shrugged.
"I'm Switzerland." Loki frowned. "It means I'm neutral," Jim elaborated. "I couldn't care less if I was physically trying."
"You said six hundred," Seb insisted.
"Prove it," the Master repeated.
"Whatever. Doesn't bother me- you're not having it either way."
The Master huffed. "Fine. Five hundred."
"You can take your five hundred and shove it up your-"
"I think he means no," Jim supplied. "My turn."
"I hate this game," the Master sulked.
"Just because I'm winning," Loki said, smiling beatifically.
"That's as good a reason as any to hate a game," Seb agreed.
"How long are we supposed to lie low for?" Jim complained, shaking the dice in his hands. He paused. "Wait, why am I asking? This is my organisation. I'm the boss here."
"Of course you are," the Master said kindly.
"I am!"
"We believe you," Loki agreed understandingly.
"You're all going to die in pain and fire."
"And you owe me £50," Loki said, pointing at the square Jim had landed on. Jim gave him a look that had reduced lesser men to tears and stood up.
"I'm getting food," he said.
"Do you have beer?" the Master asked Seb, who nodded. "Then I'm getting beer."
Once they'd left the room, Seb looked at Loki's numerous piles of cards and money and raised his eyebrows. "You are winning," he said.
"I had noticed that, yes."
"How are you doing it? You've never even played this game before."
"I use a very complex and innovative strategy."
"Ahh. So you've been stealing the cash."
Still smiling, Loki reached into his boot. He pulled out just enough of a crumpled, brightly coloured £100 note for Seb to see.
"You asshole," Seb said in disbelief.
"Oh, as if none of you are cheating," Loki snorted. "It's not my fault that you're all pathetic at it."
"Hey! I am not pathetic."
"Then appearances can clearly be deceiving, because from here-"
"All of your crops on that farm game are dying."
Loki twitched slightly.
"Hey, pass me another beer," Seb said.
"No can do," Jim said. "We're out."
"What?" Seb said, aghast. "We can't be. I had a fuckton of beers. That is how many beers that I had. A fuckton."
"Well, apparently we drunk a fuckton."
"So there's nothing left?" the Master clarified.
"There's always apple juice."
"Loki!" the Master shouted, lifting his head. He had decided, for reasons best known to himself, to lie face down on the floor.
"I'm right here," Loki said in irritation.
"Good, then you can go get us beer."
"Why can't you go?"
"Grounded. 'member?"
"So send Sebastian," Loki sulked.
"He might get noticed."
"I'm a world famous serial killer from outer space, and you think Sebastian will attract attention?"
"No, but we like him more than you," Jim said.
"Well, it's more that we hate him very slightly less," the Master clarified.
Loki glowered. "Fine, if you insist. Sebastian, give me your wallet."
"Funny joke."
"Oh, that's right, I was going to pay for the alcohol with Monopoly money."
"Can't you just offer the cashier sexual favours?" the Master called. Rolling his eyes, Seb handed Loki a bundle of notes.
"Shop'll only be open for another hour, so get a lot," he said. "And leave the sceptre here."
"No."
"Fine. That is, if you don't think you can protect yourself without it…"
Mumbling insults under his breath, Loki left the flat sceptre-free, taking great care to step on the Master's hand as he went. He didn't seem to notice.
"How much has he had?" Jim asked, staring at the Master.
"I don't know, but he's not drunk."
"Can't get drunk," the Master complained. "At least, not easily."
"Ahh, you'd get on well with Jim. He never gets properly wasted." Seb was slurring his words slightly, having consumed at least half of the drinks, but it took a lot more than beer to keep Sebastian Moran down.
"Losing control, blacking out and vomiting everywhere?" Jim pulled a face. "I like to remember my fun in the morning."
"Prude," the Master complained.
"I robbed a bank for fun last week."
"Yeah, but you did it sober."
A short while later, the front door burst open suddenly. "What fresh hell?" Seb groaned.
Loki ran into the hallway and slammed the door shut behind him, panting heavily. When he looked up, three heads were craning curiously around the lounge doorframe.
"Problem?" Jim asked innocently.
"No, I felt like running the entire way back," Loki snarled. He stormed into the lounge, picking up the sceptre on the way.
"Where's the beer?"
"In the shop."
"What?"
"On the shelves, in the shop, because I never got there."
"Why not?"
"I encountered something… unpleasant on the way."
"Sherlock?"
"The Doctor?"
"Worse," Loki said darkly.
"There is no worse."
"There is, and she's Russian."
"Loki Laufeyson," Seb said warningly. "If you are going to tell me a trained Russian assassin is walking the streets outside my flat, you may find that a trained London assassin snaps your neck like a Twiglet."
"Moran VS Romanoff," the Master whistled. "My money's on the lady."
"I thought you'd have bet on Natasha."
"I'm really glad you two think this is funny," Seb said to Jim and the Master. Anger had sobered him slightly, and now his voice was stern. "It means that I can feel better about kicking you out and leaving you to die. How the hell is it that your three arch rivals are all here at the same time?"
"God hates me," the Master suggested.
"God's afraid of my progress," Jim countered.
"I am a god."
"Shut up, Loki."
"Sebby, don't you have an arch enemy?" the Master asked. "Because you're not allowed in the club otherwise."
"I have a lot of enemies," Seb said warily.
"Ahh, but who's number one? Who is it you hate more than everybody else in existence put together?"
"You."
"You walked into that one," Jim commented.
"Come on, give us a name," the Master pressed.
"… John Watson," Seb said, in a tone that challenged anybody to try and fuck with him. Naturally, everybody did.
"Seriously? More than Sherlock?"
"Yep."
"How come?" Jim probed.
"I've got my reasons."
"Yes, and we're asking for them," the Master said patiently.
"They're stupid. Old. No longer relevant."
"So is Loki, but we keep him around."
"Can we please focus on the fact that there's a team of people outside specifically dedicated to hunting us down?" Seb said.
"Been there, done that," Loki said, in the kind of tone that suggested he needed to be flicking through a magazine in order to accurately convey just how few shits he gave.
"Do you have any candles?" Jim asked Seb.
"Objection," the Master said immediately. "There is literally no reason you two could want candles that isn't either uncomfortably intimate or bizarrely ritualistic."
"Try that it's getting dark and that we still don't have any electricity."
"Oh. I suppose there is that."
"I'll go see," Seb said.
"I can-"
"You can sit down and shut up and try not to get shot by anyone. Same goes for all of you. And don't go near the windows. Fucking Christ."
"I think Sebastian's a little annoyed at us," Jim commented as Seb left the room.
"I heard that, you fucking dickfaced gobshite!"
"A little," the Master agreed.
Sebastian decided to take a minute out to himself.
When the hell did I end up being the sensible one? he wondered as he pulled a lighter out of his pocket. He was lighting a cigarette when he heard somebody moving behind him. He dodged the kick easily, knocked the gun from the woman's hand, and had her pinned to the ground within a few relatively painless seconds.
"Agent Romanoff," he greeted. "That was just embarrassing."
"I called it!" the Master shouted triumphantly from indoors.
"You did not, you said she'd win!" Jim objected.
"Prove it."
Seb looked up. Having heard the commotion, Jim, Loki and the Master had all appeared in the kitchen, leaning out the window.
"That's fine, open yourself up to snipers," Seb told them in disbelief. "I'll keep your bodies and stuff them for an exhibit entitled 'assholes too stupid to live'."
Further argument was stopped by Seb shrieking and falling backwards.
"You really should pay more attention to your surroundings," the woman addressed his slightly twitching form, tucking the Taser back into her pocket. She looked up and smiled. "Hello, Loki."
"Natasha," he said warmly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I was just talking to your brother," she said. He stiffened slightly, but quickly recovered himself.
"Oh, Thor? How is he?"
"Not so good, actually. Apparently his dick of a little brother ran away from home again, and came back to the planet he was expressly banished from. You know, the one where he caused several billion pounds worth of damage, killed countless people, and eventually had his ass handed to him by a shy scientist from the physics department. Ringing any bells?"
"Vaguely," Loki murmured. "Ahh, Banner. How is the beast? Tell me, Natasha, do you still flinch when he's near you?"
"Bruce wouldn't hurt a fly."
"Oh, I know he wouldn't- but the Hulk very nearly did, didn't he? And it's not always easy to tell where one ends and the other begins. Tell me, have the nightmares stopped yet? Or are you still afraid?"
"I've never been afraid in my life."
"Really? Not even when I took Barton?" Something froze in the agent's face. Jim and Seb exchanged a mildly confused glance. The Master looked as though he was considering making popcorn. "You never wondered just how much was still him?"
"I see you got to keep your toy," she said coldly, nodding her head at the sceptre.
"This little thing?" he said innocently. "It provides a nudge, that's all. It's certainly not powerful enough to make somebody do something they really, truly don't want to. If somebody wants to resist it, they can. They will."
"You're lying."
"Obviously," Jim scoffed under his breath- but no matter what the woman was insisting, Loki's words did seem to be getting to her.
"Tell yourself that if it helps you sleep at night, Agent Romanoff."
"Nice try," she said, "but playtime's over now."
"What is it you mean to do, Natasha?" he asked, fingers curling and uncurling on the sceptre.
"Seize you," she said. "The others wanted to wait, but what can I say? I'm eager."
"You're still avenging," he said, lip quirking upwards. "You're still avenging him, and he's not even dead. How quaint."
"I'm bringing you to justice," she said.
"Putting me on the first flight back home?"
"What do you mean, home?" she lashed out. "Because my understanding was that you don't have one. Sorry, are we not supposed to talk about that?" she said when she saw his expression. "Had you not told these three about how your father didn't want you? About how he wasn't your father at all?"
"I couldn't care less," Loki said.
"How about your brother?"
"I don't have a brother."
"Good, I'm glad you agree. You see, that's what Thor told us- did you know that? When we said he was your brother, he said 'he's adopted'. He made sure we all knew that. Do you see? It's not just that he doesn't have any link to you, he doesn't want one. I'd say that your own family hate you, but you don't even have a family. Isn't that- wait, are you crying?"
"No!"
"You actually are," she said in confusion, tilting her head to the side slightly. Seb coughed, and she looked at him. He took a step forwards.
"Lady, I don't know who you are," he began, "but you're kind of a bitch."
"Excuse me?"
"It's true," Jim agreed.
"I'm sorry, did you miss the part where he-"
"He's the bad guy, he's allowed," the Master dismissed, waving his hand.
"That's not how it works!"
"It kinda is," Jim said.
Seb glanced over at Loki. "You alright?"
"I am fine!"
"I think you had ought to go now," Seb said firmly, turning back towards Natasha.
"I don't think you understand," she said. "This man is a criminal. A mass murderer. In fact, you all are. I could take you to any court in the world and have you brought down in minutes. As you said- you're the 'bad guys'."
The Master leant forwards.
"Prove it," he said.
"What?"
"Prove it."
"I don't need to, I know."
"Do you have CCTV footage of us committing any crimes in the last few months?"
"No, but-"
"Do you have reports from the police detailing recent offences?"
"Not really, but-"
"Then how do you know?"
Natasha looked lost; presumably this was not how she had envisioned this encounter going. Her face darkened. "It doesn't matter. To be honest, I'm not exactly planning on doing this the traditional way. I don't care much about any of you, but I am not leaving here without Loki. Thor would prefer him alive, but I'm… not so fussy."
"Okay, listen," the Master said. "You say we're the bad guys. Okay, we get that. We can deal with that. But you know what else we are?"
"In one big, gay love-fest?"
"Nah, that's just Jim and Seb."
"Is this really the time?" Seb was, as ever, ignored.
"Nah, see- we're almost kind of like a family," the Master continued. "And it's fucked up in every single sense of the word, and I hate every single one of them more than you've ever hated anyone in your life, and I've tried to kill them at least ten times each-"
"I thought we were only on nine," Jim frowned.
"Yeah- there's an, uh, substance mixed in with your washing powder that you probably shouldn't inhale too deeply."
"Oh, very nice," he said approvingly.
"And they're all bastards and idiots and assholes, and-"
"Time to move on," Seb suggested.
"Okay, fine. From the ridiculous amount of sitcoms I've watched since Jim's twenty-eighth laptop password change, I've picked up the impression that families protect each other." He paused. "Or maybe I got that from 'Lilo and Stitch'. I forget."
"Either way," Jim continued for him, "doesn't change a thing. The facts remain that you are not taking Loki, and you are not going to tell anybody our location."
"No?" she said. "And why not?"
"Because you really should pay more attention to your surroundings," Seb said from behind her. Her head bounced off the brick wall with a dull 'thud' and she crumpled in his arms, leaving a bloody smear on his shirt.
"You've got red on you," Jim said helpfully. Seb scowled.
"Do we leave London?" the Master said.
"Guess so," Jim replied sullenly. He liked London.
"Just for a little while," Seb suggested. "It sounded like she's working alone for now, but she knows about us. It's only a matter of time before she approaches Holmes and Watson."
"Or until the Doctor joins them," the Master lobbed in.
"Exactly. And I don't really fancy taking on Team Angel Princess just yet."
"You're probably right," Jim said reluctantly. "All right, go get your stuff together. Don't steal too much. We've established that Sebby doesn't know how to share."
"Uh, guys?" Seb called, arms full of unconscious redhead. "What do I do with this?"
"I don't know, put it in the recycling bin?" the Master suggested.
"We'll dump her a few miles out," Jim said. "We'll be long gone by the time she wakes up."
"Thank you," Loki said stiffly as the Master and Jim passed him.
"What, you believed that drivel?" Jim said.
"Give me a break," the Master agreed.
"Affection, the super-villain way," Seb murmured. They were saved from any further awkwardness by the lights blinking back on as electricity flooded the wires. Once over the shock of sudden brightness, they all moved at once.
"I call dibs on the iPhone," the Master declared, near-on sprinting back into the house.
"I will pull your bones through your skin if you touch my Angry Birds game," Loki said at the same time, cape swishing as he rushed inside.
"I don't know if any of you noticed," Seb said, gesturing with the body in his arms, "but I'm currently kind of incapacitated."
"Quit bitching," Jim said. "I'll help you drag her to the car."
"Cheers."
"They're all gone, so let's hear it," Jim said as he took the woman's legs and swung the body up into the air. "Why choose Johnny boy and not the main attraction?"
"Bite me."
"Aww, come on. Why won't you tell me?"
"It made sense nine months ago. Now it's only leftover bad feelings."
"Fine, so why did you hate him so much then?"
"Thought it was obvious," Seb grunted as they hauled Romanoff into the boot of the car.
"Hardly," Jim argued. "You two have more in common than anything else."
"Shut it."
"You gotta admit it. You're both ex-military, you both lived with a genius- don't look at me like that- you both had a significant other 'kill themselves'-"
"Yeah," Seb said, shutting the boot lid with a neat 'click'. "And his came back for him."
Jim had the good grace to be quiet after that.
"I'll give you £500 for Mayfair."
"I'll give you £500 to shut up and quit bugging me."
"Really?"
"No, of course not."
The Master scowled. "I hate this game."
"Time to go!" Jim said cheerily. It was the very early hours of the morning, them having decided that the cover of darkness was their friend.
"Who's driving first?" Seb asked.
"You are," Jim and Loki answered as one.
"How come?"
"I don't understand Midgardian vehicles," Loki said.
"I can't be bothered," Jim said.
"I offered," the Master said.
"I'll drive," Seb agreed. "Before we go, can everybody please put back whatever they've taken before I have to do so using force?"
"I'm taking the charger," Loki said immediately. "I will actively choke you to death before I surrender it."
"Fine," Seb said tiredly.
"If he's keeping that, I want to keep something," the Master griped.
"What did you take?"
The Master unzipped the bag he was using to carry his things in. "Some money, some bank cards, some belts, some clothes, a vase, a saucepan, a wine bottle, a wine glass-"
"Are those my fucking socks?"
"I tried to be as thorough as I could."
"What did you plan to do with this stuff?"
"Sell it. Burn it. Make sure you couldn't have it."
"Shut up and get in the goddamn car," Seb snapped.
"You know this isn't the end, right?" Jim checked with Seb as they climbed into the vehicle they'd 'acquired'. "If you really think running away-"
"It's not running away," he disputed. "We're just-"
"Lying low, yeah, you said," Jim said, rolling his eyes.
"We should have killed Romanoff when we had the chance," the Master said.
"And piss off the Super Rainbow Squad before it even forms?" Seb said. "Nah. Hopefully she'll get a concussion, though. Forget who we are or where we were."
"That'd be nice," Jim said wistfully. "But you make a good point. Something big's coming, Sebby. Sherlock and John and the Doctor and every single Avenger this time around."
"I know," he said grimly, climbing into the driver's seat.
"It's going to be so much fun."
"That's one way of putting it."
"Are you worried?"
"I'm more worried about the prospect of driving for hours with a car full of psychopathic, hyperactive, overgrown and weaponised children." As if on cue, there was a screech from the backseat.
"Is that razor wire?" the Master was demanding. "Where the fuck did you even get razor wire?"
"I did warn you not to touch my Peggle game, did I not?"
"You might have a point," Jim said. He stared out the window as Seb started the engine. "The trees here still haven't changed colour," he noted. "Maybe it's a sign."
"Or maybe they're evergreens, you dickhead."
"… or that," he agreed. And with that, they pulled away.
