Author's Note: Ha, it's only been 13 days since my last update. I was so sure that it was going to be a month before then. Anyway, this chapter was sort of fun to write. Introducing a new character that will probably be staying with us for a few chapters. And I know you guys sometimes probably don't bother reading ANs so if you've gotten to here, please please please consider dropping a quick review at the end.

With that set, onward we go.


"You value your life," Rather awkwardly, Alex said, "and I value my physical health. So why don't we call it a truce and we can drink tea?"

A tense silence. Somewhere, a broken cord snapped, dropping the bookshelf all over the carpet and he winced.

The girl gave him the stink eye, her hand still poised over his stomach with a kitchen knife clutched tightly in her grip as Alex gave her the widest charming grin possible with his gun to her left shoulder, "My bullets will travel faster than your knife and while I might suffer from minor grazing from a kitchen knife, you will be an entirely different story."

She seemed to reconsider her options, actions and consequences flashing in calculating flickers in her eyes and she pouted with a suspicious glint in her eyes. Alex would really have laughed if only they weren't in such compromising position.

"Why should I trust you?" She grunted, a frown creasing her brow indecisively, mistrust heavy in her postures. Though Alex found it rather hard to think about anything other than her posture in the awkward position he found himself trapped in-his back to the floor and the girl's other hand gripping his upper arm in a death vice, "You will shoot me as soon as I get up."

"Well, I haven't yet," Alex shrugged, "Trust me, I haven't killed anyone."

"Oh yeah?" Her golden curls framed her pale features, reminding him of the security footage except now her frame was enclosed by a baggy sweatshirt that would have given her the cute feminine look if only the object clutched in her hand had been anything but a knife; a pocky stick for example. Heaven knew how deadly those could be, "Fattest lie I've ever heard."

"Fine," Alex would have thrown up his hands in other circumstances. God, if only he had his hands, "How 'bout this? I'll make tea, you don't have to."

If he were the girl, he would definitely take the offer. Making tea was probably the hardest thing he had ever had the chance to learn how to. Tom had insisted that he liked his tea perfectly clear, which meant Alex had the job of taking out all the stubborn leaves and black smoky substances from the bottom of the white porcelain cup that Tom was very persistent on buying just in case Alex wanted to abandon his duty.

The girl stared at him for a long moment, "Dude, are you nuts?"

"I'll take that as a yes?" Hopeful, but not too hopeful, Alex asked gingerly.

"Tell me who your mentor is and I'll let you make tea," Finally some sort of agreement but Alex found himself unable to comprehend his end of the deal, "Mentor?"

Snorting in amusement and slight disbelief, the girl arched an eyebrow, "You said you wanted to talk to me about Scorpia, which means you must know about that sick puzzle game they're doing. So who's your mentor?"

"You know so much," Alex blinked.

"When some damn sickened man holds a gun to your head and demands you to follow their orders," The girl rolled her eyes, "Of course I'd ask what the hell is going on. Tell me who's your mentor."

"If I do tell you," Slightly confused, Alex asked, "What are you going to do with it?"

"I will tell my psycho mentor so he can kill your mentor and I get to live longer," She shrugged then grinned at Alex's absolutely petrified face, "Relax, I'm joking. Don't worry, keep that name to yourself."

"O...kay…" Alex frowned, his hands pinned gesturing aimlessly, "That's all good, and as much as I enjoy this…passionate embrace, can you please get off me now?"

The girl did slowly, throwing the kitchen knife rather carelessly toward the kitchen and, much to Alex's amazement, made it neatly into the slot carved in the wooden block. She explained with a shrug, "I grew up in a circus."

Alex holstered his gun and stood up, taking the proffered hand and was nearly pulled off his feet as the girl used more strength than expected. Slightly surprised, the girl apologized, "Sorry. You're kinda light, that's all."

"No harm was done," He offered his hand as he shook himself off, trying hard to stay standing on his feet that had slowly fallen asleep. Funny, because he could barely catch a sleep anywhere yet his legs could just up and go anytime, "I'm Harry. Harry Mayford."

He could, however, only trust the girl to not kill him but nothing else until they could establish some sort of clandestine agreement without being in constant fear of being ratted out. She took his hand in a firm handshake, "Claire."

Her hands were rather rough and suddenly Alex didn't find her explanation of growing up in a circus unexpected anymore. Her blond hair tussled with attempts to bat them down clear as daylight. Dark bags underneath her eyes told him more than she could about her living conditions. Claire looked frail but the dangerous glint in her eyes and the way she handled herself told him that it would be a very very bad day if he ever decided to have another brawl with her.

Alex shrugged, "So, should I go make tea and we can talk?"

"Oh right," Claire gestured for him to have a seat on the sofa that had managed to escape unscathed from their, rather untimely, brawl, "I don't have anything for tea. I don't drink that type of stuff. Let's just talk. You're not safe here, kid."

A long pregnant pause, "Did you just called me a kid? I'll have you know I'm twenty-two."

"Oh sorry," She didn't look sorry as she nonchalantly flipped her hair over her shoulder, "You look like you're twelve."

"And you look like you're five," Deeply wounded, Alex shot her a dirty look in rebuttal.

"You look more like a little brother," She snickered, "Are you seriously twenty-two?"

"Yes," Alex shot back with the best you-shot-me-in-the-chest-it-hurts-like-hell look.

Claire sighed, "I'm seventeen and I'm still more mature than you are."

Ouch, that stung.

"Anyways," Dismissing it, she shook her head, "So what you want to talk about? You'll have to make this fast. Even though I've destroyed all the bugs here and around, my mentor will drop by sooner or later and he will definitely kill you if he sees you. Something about earning bloody points."

"So," Alex leaned back, finally having the quiet moment to nurse his probably bruised ribs, "You stole that painting because of the hints to the puzzle, right?"

"Yeah," Claire glanced at him, "But it was a waste of time. It's completely irrelevant to the clues. We've looked at the painting top and bottom and all over, nothing."

"Why did you think it was somehow related to that painting?" Alex leaned in curiously, unable to fathom the logic and invisible links between the clues, "I understand the numbers are somehow related to Christopher Columbus, but why the painting?"

Claire reached to the center of the coffee table, "Cookie?" Alex shook his head and she continued with a bite upon replacing the jar, "I bunged around the internet about some sort of Old Man Columbus stuff. This painting popped up on the museum's page and it was donated by some bloke who won it in an auction like two weeks ago. Seriously sketchy about the history, so I looked up the bloke. Turned out his name's Vlad Lylian Veitch, or something even shadier."

"Vlad Lylian Veitch…VLV," Alex raised an eyebrow, "What 'bout the three L's?"

"That," She said cheerfully, "I have no idea. But hey, you mentioned you're a police right?"

"Yeah?"

"Sweet! Can you drop off the painting on your way up? I don't really need it anymore."

Alex paused, his eyes mirroring his skepticism in his reply, "Come again?"

The girl's thoughts simply couldn't stay anchored in one place, ricocheting everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Alex could almost believe if James and Tom were brothers of this girl. They simply had so much in common. Well, except she seemed rather dauntless to…everything while Tom had sworn with his life that he was never going to accompany Alex on any of his stupid parkour runs.

"Can you drop off the painting for me?" Claire was either completely oblivious or she was a damn good liar, "If the police search my quarter for whatever reason, I don't want the painting to be here. But be a damn waste if I burn it."

Alex sat up straighter, "So I'm supposed to waltz into the station, walk up to my boss, and give him the painting?"

"Yeah," Claire then got up and fumbled around the drawers that was leaned against the wall, the lamp looked dangerously closed to snapping from where it was dangling off to the side after their fight but Claire paid no attention to it, "Well, I can write you a note."

"You know I might just get fired for not apprehending you, right?" Standing up with incredulity, Alex remarked dryly.

Claire paused in strife, setting the pen down and bit her lips, finally, finally, starting to reconsider her actions. Thank the lord.

"So in your line of duty, you get injured a lot, right?"

His point of ricocheting thoughts was well-made.

Alex rolled his eyes, "Not really, but it's just earlier this week that I got dumped down a slope," He tapped his jaw, "Still an ugly bruise."

Her eyes found the spot and she winced in sympathy, "Yikes. A slope, huh? Hurt like hell?"

"Nah," He shook his head, "Gone after a while."

Claire arched an eyebrow, "All right, come closer."

"Why?" He did anyway. It wasn't as if she was going to stab him anymore. They had a good truce between them. Not great, just good, because he still hadn't made tea yet and without him holding up his end of the bargain, who knew what would happen?

"A little closer," Claire said a tad bit impatiently at Alex's tentative inching forward.

Hesitant, Alex stopped until they were within an arm's width, "W-" He didn't get the chance to enunciate his first word before her fist came crashing to the unmarred side of his jaw, sending him stumbling into the sofa with a pained and surprised yelp, "What the fuck?"

Claire flapped her hand, "Ouch, you have a thick jaw."

"And you don't have a brain," Nursing the collision point between him and the hard edge of the sofa, Alex shot back, "What the fuck was that far?"

"Chill, dude," Claire rolled her eyes, "Now you can tell your boss man you got beaten by me and I got away."

"How's that supposed to help?" Alex cried in outrage, "A police officer beaten by the suspect?"

"Beats talk of conspiracy, right?" With a grin, Claire reached beneath the sofa and pulled out the painting, brushing away a particular long strand of dust in mild surprise and disgust as if she had never seen a dustball before, "Here you go. Safe journey, Harry."

Ushering him out the door with her finger poking insistently into his back, her trigger-happy attitude made Alex roll his eyes despite the blossoming blue and purple on his jaw like an early spring blossom in bloody leaf-falling autumn.

"Oh right," Claire disappeared into the house then came back a moment later with a piece of paper between her index and middle finger in an offering, "Call me?"

"...Are you hitting on me?" Alex asked after a long pause, "You do know I'm five years your senior."

In a singsong voice, Claire cleared her throat before she spoke, "Love knows no boundaries. Besides, you look my age. If anyone asks, I'll tell them you're seventeen."

Shrugging, Alex accepted the offering gratefully, pocketing the paper as he lugged the painting out the door.

He swore she chuckled at him as she closed the door.


"So let me guess this right," Wolf settled in his chair, eyeing Alex with something akin to bloody-hell-the-fuck-did-you-do as he commented, "A little girl gave you that bruise-symmetrically aligned on your face by the way-and left the painting for you to find?"

"There was also a note," Alex amended, "Saying that she wants to return the painting because she doesn't need it anymore."

Wolf leaned forward, his elbow on his desk and forearms flat against the wood, "I damn well won't accept this explanation if not for that bloody bruise on your face and the expensively ripped uniform sleeve. You understand me?"

"Completely, sir," Alex bobbled his head like a haywire figurine that had been deprived of love and care for a long time, a sad lonely figure on a nowhere island, waiting to be found yet unable to leave. Forever attached to the-

"Mayford," Wolf snapped his fingers, "Zone out again and I'll personally see you clean the whole file room."

"Sorry sir," He grinned, "Just thinking."

"Well, you don't have to think anymore."

Now that caught him unaware. Alex eyed Wolf warily, his posture tensed in apprehension. A small grin was slowly lighting up the man's face and Alex did not like it. A smiling Wolf equaled a dead or barely alive Alex. A small amused hum breached the silence. Shit. Something really bad was going to happen. No more words were necessary.

Alex slowly eased himself out of his chair and pointed awkwardly at the door, "Sir? I'll just go and get out now…"

"Sit down, Mayford," Wolf smiled kindly, "From today on, you no longer have to think. You just have to act on orders and your partner will do all the thinking for you."

Ah.

"No bloody hell thank you."

"It was never a 'please consider' but a 'you bloody damn well will accept'," Ever the commander, Wolf mirrored his smile with authoritative condescension then he averted his gaze and looked past him, beckoning whoever it was behind the glass with a hand.

The officer pushed through the door gracefully in attention before approaching the desk, looking absolutely dashing and completely un-assassin-like in his police uniform, a highly amused Scorpia-brand smile tugging his lips as Alex arched an eyebrow, "Mayford, meet your partner Fletcher Lionel. Officer Lionel, Officer Harry Mayford."

With his best what-the-fuck-are-you-doing-here smile, Alex shook his new partner's hand, "Please to meet you."

"Likewise," Fletcher returned with an accurate you-will-see expression before diverting his attention to the commander who was watching the scene unfold before him like a drunken squirrel on a Saturday night who happened to stumble across a TV in the middle of nowhere, "I was just transferred here a few days ago. If it's all right, I would like to take a look around first."

"That's a brilliant idea," Wolf looked immensely serious as he celebrated the idea before spitting out the rest, "Mayford would love to show you around. He's quite the tour guy."

"Yeah," Fletcher decided to break out the touchy reunion party first, "Harry used to work as one too."

Wolf looked momentarily taken aback, a golden post that would have stormed the internet and become the next trendy meme if only Alex had his phone with him and if only he had enough guts to do it, "You two know each other?"

"We're practically brothers," Alex chirped helpfully, watching the horror and realization flash through the commander's eyes as he calculated the simple math of 'Mayford plus Mayford's friend equals…?', "Fletcher's a family friend and we spent a lot of time together way back. I knew he worked in the police but I didn't know he was getting a transfer until a few days ago," A short delighted laughter that must have gone off-pitch because Fletcher glared at him to cut the laugh short, "I certainly didn't know he was getting transferred here."

Fletcher settled a hand on Alex's shoulder in a disarming 'family-friend' manner, "I honestly didn't think I'd land my best mate as a partner. Thank you, sir, I'm sure you had a play in this. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

Wolf clearly realized his decisions a tad bit too late and tried to reign back the runaway horses, "Mayford, you said you didn't really want a partner. Perhaps I can still arrange that?"

"Nah," Alex batted his hand with a dramatic shake of his head, giving Wolf a withering condescending look with laughter barely suppressed, "I'm all good here, sir. If you don't mind, I'll go take Fletcher on a quick sight-seeing trip. No worries, my radio will be open."

"Fine," Wolf settled back in his chair, already scheming the fall of their partnership, "Remember, this partnership's only temporary. I'll disband it if I see fit."

"Gotcha," Alex grinned then grabbed Fletcher and rather forcefully dragged them to the door, "Later, Wolf."

As soon as he closed the door and making sure that Wolf's prying eyes weren't able the stare at them through the clear glass window, Alex hissed, "What are you doing here?"

"Thought I should watch your back," Fletcher brushed past him toward the door, a few officers gave them a glance but otherwise paid no attention, "Seeing that beautiful bruise you scored today just proved my point."

"I asked to be punched, okay?" Alex ran to catch up with the man, literally throwing himself into the passenger seat before Fletcher fired up the engine, "Where are we going?"

"You asked to be punched," Fletcher eyed him dryly, pausing in mid gear-switching "Really."

When he put it that way…It wasn't as if he just walked up to her and asked to be punched. Actually, that was exactly what happened. Literally. "I gave her my consent."

"For your information," The man sighed with exasperation as if dealing with Alex was the nightmare of Godzilla, "We're going to steal a jewel."

"...Go back five seconds?"

"I know you heard me and I'm sure you know I don't look like someone who jokes."

That was very true. So steal a jewel it was. But there was one thing that Fletcher got wrong. That man had an excellent sense of humor, though dark and eerie borderline haughty narcissistic, it always ended up infuriating Alex or driving him further down the path of self-deprecation. Fletcher was not a good role model for him. Well, unless he was on the road of becoming a Scorpia agent-which was exactly what was happening.

"Ha ha ha," His bleak laughter neatly covered the end of Fletcher's phrase, "Very funny but that's too far. Seriously, where are we going?"

"Partridge Square."

Ha, he nailed it. Of course they weren't going to steal a jewel. Fletcher had finally given him a place; though the lack of reluctance in his voice made Alex wondered if he had somehow fallen into another one of his neatly arranged trap. The man had the weirdest way of pretending to divert his attention when in fact the answer was right splat in front of him. Though Fletcher had once again nearly made him believe that they truly were going to steal a jewel. Jeez, how can you find jewels to steal at…Partridge Square.

Alex frowned, his mental database coming up with nothing as the name was thrown in, memories came up empty like a haunted ghost house, "Partridge Square. What's that place?"

"It's an auction center," Fletcher explained as they made a swift right turn, ignoring the rather outraged driver whom they had cut straight in front of.

"Are we buying something?" What could Fletcher possibly want from an auction center? A new set of spy-scope? His faint amusement clearly wasn't appreciated as Fletcher shot him a glare at his short chuckle. That man must be a Jedi or something, stupid mind-readers.

"No," The ELI5 tone was back and somewhere along the tone was the implicit threat that if he kept asking rhetorical questions, something very very bad will happen, "Like I said, we're stealing a jewel."

"From the auction house," Now was the greatest time to apply the mind-blown gif on a casual bystander's face so that Fletcher could laugh his head off at Alex's absolute clueless confusion that had morphed into shocked realization in split seconds, "What?"

"Remember the painting the girl stole?" Fletcher prompted then continued without waiting for a verbal or physical response, "It was donated by a man named Vlad Lylian Veitch," Claire mentioned that "And the owner of this jewel is his son, Luke Lylian Luxembourg. He took his mother's maiden name as his last because of the rocky relationship he had with his father before the parents' divorce."

"Sounds like the start of a tragic story."

"Mr. Veitch was a rather…persistent client of ours a few years ago," Fletcher continued as he magically maneuvered their vehicle past five others, flashing past the yellow light with speed that would have made the Flash proud, "He went against our agreement and demanded more for less pay. We had a disagreement and his wife ended up dead. Crossfire from his own. Police found her body later at an abandoned storage. He had dumped her body there in fear."

"Ouch."

"His son Luke-"

"Luke Skywalker," His remark was not appreciated.

"-was rather devastated and it ended up in a shoot-out. Veitch demanded that we back him up because he was our client and when we refused, he shot one of our own," Fletcher grimaced, "I can see why the Head would want to take this chance to eliminate the man."

"Who was shot?" Alex frowned. Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to believe that Scorpia's head would care so much about a mere agent. Though, if truth be told, he would be angry too if his backstabbing client shot one of his own agents no matter how trifle his relationship with the agent was.

"It was the head's son," Fletcher's grimace was clear but Alex doubted that there was much love lost between Fletcher and the son. It was more of a pained grimace for the unnecessary bloodshed.

"But why steal the jewel?"

"The jewel's a part of Veitch's personal collection that his son must have managed to take when they split. Without the jewel, the collection is incomplete and Veitch would do anything to take it back. I'd think the Head would, under the pretense of this game, take it. It's not money that we don't have after all."

The car was pulled into the grand central, neatly sliding into the opening space before the car on the right ever had the chance to react and it wasn't until afterward when they both got out of the car did the driver yelled insults at them that Fletcher completely ignored as he shouldered a bag. Perhaps in a different time, different place, they would have been best mate. The four of them, Tom, James, Fletcher and him, could have been the kings of the world. Complete domination.

"Pay attention," Fletcher snapped a finger in front of him once pushing into the rotating glass doors, "If anyone asks, we're here as security guards. Head immediately to the restroom and switch out your uniform to a guest suit apparel," He tapped his bag with his slender fingers without looking at it and instead offering a nod to one of the security guards as they brushed past, "If I'm correct, we won't be the only one here."

"What do you mean?"

"It won't take long before the other agents realize the connection between VLV and LLL," Fletcher spared him a glance, casually pulling the rim of his cap toward his face as they made a turn past the white pillars, "We will sit there and be part of the general audience. Once the other agents show up, we wait it out, then take it from them."

"What if there's more than one agent?" What was that sad old saying the Chinese had? The mantis stalks the cicada, but behind them lurks the oriole. He hoped that they would be the Godzilla at the very back.

"That's why I said we wait it out," Fletcher said as he jerked his head toward the restrooms, "C'mon, auction starts in fifteen. Let's hurry it up."

And judging by the smug look on Fletcher's face, they would be Godzilla.