Hi everyone! This is my last chapter story, requested by xez2003. I'm sorry in advance for being terrible with updates. Hope you enjoy!
Mal entered the casino with a sour taste in her mouth. She was used to the smokey room, the dim lighting, the buzz of people bemoaning their lost money. What she hated was her job for tonight - the thought of seducing of one of her mother's cocaine suppliers, a beer-bellied man with grabby hands, made her physically sick. She would have to hold back the vomit until this deal had been struck.
I would be so much better at this, she heard Evie say in her head. It was true. Evie had always been the prettier one, and the one who actually wanted attention for that sort of thing. Mal preferred the violent side of 'agreements' her mother made, and had the skill to show it. All wasted on this creep, who had somehow made himself important enough to not be threatened - and to have the audacity to not show up on time.
On one hand, Mal was rather relieved she wouldn't have to pretend to giggle over his every inappropriate joke just yet. But on the other hand, this was only prolonging the inevitable. With a sigh and a resigned expression, she sat down at the bar. A little alcohol in her would certainly make things easier.
"Martini," she bluntly told the unfamiliar bartender. She didn't come here often enough for him to know her usual, as the Neverland Casino ("Where time stands still!") was neutral ground. Even so, Mal had no need to hide - her vividly purple hair was as much identification as any of her enemies needed, but they wouldn't dare come after her unless they wanted to risk the swift, merciless wrath of her mother. She adjusted her short black dress - it was so damn clingy - before hopping on the bar stool and swiveling around to survey the room for disgusting, entitled drug dealers. Three minutes late, the asshole.
The patron next to her left, and was soon replaced by a slightly disheveled young man. "Evening, Lou."
The bartender audibly sighed. "Were you pre-gaming? You're already drunk."
"I'm not. And I didn't drive." It was true, the man's words were slurring a little. Mal glanced over for a quick second, subconsciously noting that he was the exact opposite of the middle-aged, malodorous moron she was waiting for. Late twenties at most, with honey brown hair in disarray and a perfectly tailored suit that only half-hugged his slim figure. It was a little wrinkled - like he no longer cared to keep it pristine once the workday ended at five p.m. He was hunched over the bar, not quite closed off to the world, but close. "Come on, Lou. It's just once a year."
"You're lucky I know you aren't an aggressive drunk," Lou conceded. "But listen...it's been a long time. We all lose people. Doesn't mean we go out binge drinking. It just isn't a good way to remember your friend."
Mal's growing irritation at the tardiness of the dealer was stalled by this exchange. As Lou busied himself finding a bottle of whatever this guy's usual was, she just barely turned her head in his direction and asked as casually as she could, "Are you celebrating something?"
The young man's eyes, blue and warm as the summer sky, flitted towards her. He smiled wanly. "Not quite. But it is an anniversary, I guess." He accepted a neat scotch from Lou. "My best friend died in a car crash a few years ago today. Ran off the road when a deer jumped in front of him. He was such a good guy...he saved the goddamn deer." He swirled the scotch around in his glass. "I say best friend, but he was more like a brother."
"I'm sorry." And she was. Few things touched Mal's stone cold heart after years of abuse and trauma - par for the course, with the family she had. But this was one of them. "What was his name?"
"Doug," came the sad reply.
Mal raised her martini glass. "To Doug, who's definitely in a better place than the screwed up world we're stuck with."
After just a split second of hesitation, his smile became more sincere. He clinked his glass against hers. "To Doug." He then finished off the entire glass in a couple of gulps. Mal raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "Thanks, um...what was your name?"
"Evie," she told him. A flicker of something crossed his face, but it was gone too fast for Mal to know what he was thinking.
"Evie. Thanks, Evie. Sorry for the rambling. Just kind of...feels like the world stops moving, you know?" She nodded. "I'm Ben, by the way. I'm...uh...usually more fun at parties."
That earned a well-meaning smirk from Mal - the closest she would get to a smile. "Don't worry about it. Life's not always a party."
"Have you lost someone too?" At the look she gave him, he scrambled to backtrack. "I'm sorry, that was way too personal. You don't have to answer that."
"Like the bartender was saying," she answered after a minute of silence, "we all lose people."
"Yeah...doesn't make it any easier, though." Ben gestured to Lou to refill his drink, and then straightened his shoulders. "Are you here by yourself?"
That irritation spiked again. Fifteen. Damn. Minutes. "I'm not supposed to be, but yes," she all but growled.
Ben fidgeted for a moment, opening and closing his mouth again, before saying, "Look, I'm...more than a little tipsy right now. But if I wasn't, I'd probably be able to find a better way to say that whoever left someone as lovely as you waiting - well, that person's an idiot."
Lovely. It was the first time she'd ever heard anyone use that word. Coming from him, it sort of worked - but he didn't know her at all. She was the farthest thing from lovely. She was the daughter of a devil. "I think that was a good way to say it. Very subtly flirtatious."
"What? Oh, no - I just - ahem - I meant - " he stammered for a few seconds, which Mal quite enjoyed. Genuine distress was one of her favorite things, and this poor man was sweet enough to be very distressed. "I promise, I really wasn't trying to hit on you - "
"Why not? Maybe you're right. Maybe my date is an idiot, and I'd be better off ditching him." She rested her chin on her hand, batting her eyelashes. "Maybe I could make your night a little better."
He gave a short, incredulous chuckle, smiling shyly. "I actually have no doubt you could make my night better, but, um..." He must have noticed the gleeful sparkle in her eyes. "You're messing with me."
"A little bit."
Ben groaned dramatically. "I should have known. A mysterious, beautiful woman interested in my problems...I'm still not even sure you're real. Maybe I really have had too much to drink and I'm just talking to a hallucination." He called for Lou again. "Obviously the solution to that is to drink more."
"Obviously."
Lou pointedly came over without another drink. "That's enough, Ben. I'm cutting you off before you kill your liver."
"We'll take a couple of glasses of water," Mal suggested, and Lou was more than happy to oblige.
Ben stared rather disdainfully at the glass. "I don't think I want to be any more sober than I am now."
Usually, Mal's every word and action was calculated. Cold. Cunning. Usually she thought before she spoke, so the words came out as threatening or as diplomatic as she felt like being in that moment. But something about him - it's because he's just like you, Evie pointed out - made her throw that aside and blurt out, "How long are you here? I'll ditch the date as soon as I can, and then we can leave together. I promise, I'm also not trying to hit on you - but you shouldn't be alone tonight."
Ben's eyes locked with hers, but he seemed more surprised than grateful. Something seemed slightly off, but Mal couldn't quite put her finger on it - you're right, Evie. He is just like me. A little too much like me.
Those were not the eyes of a drunken man.
As soon as Mal came to this realization, all hell broke loose. A shot was fired somewhere behind her, and people began screaming. Ben grabbed her out of her chair and pushed her to the floor, keeping his torso above hers like a shield. More shots.
"Stay down, Mal." Then he brought the lapel of his suit jacket to his lips. "Red team, status report."
"How do you know my name?!" Mal demanded stupidly. He was a cop. She was...well, her. Obviously he knew her real name. And obviously she didn't know his.
'Ben' ignored her and listened to the voices buzzing through a skin-colored earbud on the side that had been facing away from Mal. He was not drunk. Not even a little. This had all been an ambush. Mal turned her head to where the action was, which confirmed her suspicions. The cocaine dealer had arrived, and upon his arrival had been met with law enforcement. Clearly one of his trigger-happy brutes decided that gunning down the police was a good idea, and now there was a full fledged fire fight in the casino.
On the bright side, Evie's voice reasoned as the dealer was shot in the shoulder. Two of his thugs were already in handcuffs. You don't have to talk to him.
The shots died down, and Ben stood up, offering Mal a hand. She scowled at him and got up by herself. The casino was flooded with cops, some tending to their own wounded, some leading prisoners to the cars outside. Quickly, Ben cuffed her and spoke into his lapel mic again. "Finish up with Agent Charming, I'm headed back to HQ." He looked a thousand times more put together than when he had come in - what a difference posture and confidence made. Quite the actor.
Not nearly as apologetic as he should have been, Ben gestured ahead of her. "Shall we?"
This is what you get for being nice. That was Maleficent's voice, loud and clear. You pathetic idiot. "I hope you rot in hell, you miserable bastard."
"I'll take that as a yes." With one hand on her back, he led her through the bullet-ridden room, outside to a waiting unmarked car. A female officer patted her down and found a couple of knives. Mal's handcuffs were further chained to a larger pair of cuffs - for her ankles, she rightly guessed. He didn't say a word the entire drive, and as much as Mal wanted to taunt him with the fact that he had nothing on her, that she had just been there waiting for a date, she remained stonily silent as well. It was a power play, and one she was not going to lose - for the sake of whatever pride she had left.
Mal had been a frequent visitor at Auradon's police station as a teen. So she knew when they drove past it and made no signs of turning around. She momentarily forgot her power move. "Where are you taking me?" It was just now occurring to her that perhaps Ben wasn't a cop at all. Rival gangs were always recruiting and they'd been ballsy with their initiations in the past, though kidnapping the second-in-command of the Green Dragons would be a step up.
Ben gave her a long look, and then revealed a length of black fabric. Despite her lack of cooperation, he placed it over her eyes and tied it behind her head. "I really am sorry about all of this, Mal."
"Do you really think I care about apologies right now?"
"No, I guess not." Mal heard the driver's side window roll down, and then a beep followed by the sound of a garage door opening. "We're here. I'll answer all of your questions when we're inside."
"Before or after you shoot me in the head?" Ben, however, was done talking.
So in her tiny cocktail dress and chained feet, she shuffled through whatever this place was, her eyes still covered. She could hear the click-clacking of fingers on a keyboard, coming from all around her. Papers shuffling. Heels on the floor - not only hers. A quiet murmur of voices. Certainly not the gun-toting, loose cannon company she had been expecting.
Finally, a door shut behind her and the blindfold came off. She was in an interrogation room, complete with a desk, two chairs, and a two-way mirror. Ben was the only one in the room with her. He had a key, which he used to unlock all of the cuffs, and a file folder bearing a very official-looking seal. Again, he just gestured for her to sit down and took a seat himself. She didn't.
Mal knew better than to attack him right now, just as she had known better than to get herself shot back at the casino. She was weaponless, and though probably stronger than him, she wouldn't make it out of this room without having to contend with all his friends. So she crossed her arms and waited as he opened the folder and spread out the pictures and documents inside.
Some of those pictures looked horribly familiar. He pushed one to what should have been her side of the desk, and looked up at her. "Mal, I'm an agent for Auradon Central Intelligence. And I want to talk to you about Evie."