A/N: I had a hectic few days, and I can't promise I won't have a few more, but I'm back with the prompt that gave me the most grief figuring out.

Day 21 | Moses (Crusher), Boris | Rated: K+

Mafia

"What do you need next? A drop of blood?"

Moses's voice sounded hollow and tired, even to his own ears – it made his attempt at a joke fall flat. Or maybe that was because, after a ten-page BEGA contract and multiple intense training sessions to measure his potential, he wouldn't put it past Boris to make more demands.

They were candy-coated, but they were demands. Moses wasn't dumb, but unfortunately he was desperate. He would sign his life away to Boris, with his questionable past and overnight monopoly of a corporation, if it enabled him to save Monica and keep his family from falling apart.

Boris could be telling the truth about turning over a new leaf, but that didn't matter as long as Moses got paid.

"Nothing so archaic as that," Boris said with a chuckle. He was seated at the opposite end of the table, too far away for the fact that it was just the two of them. His voice was jovial, but his eyes were calculating. "There is, as it happens, one more thing."

Moses clenched his fist against the tabletop, but didn't say a word.

Boris smiled and picked up the last folder on his side of the table. Wordlessly, he got to his feet and walked it over, setting it down in front of Moses like it was something to be excited about.

"What's this?" He wasn't one for the theatrics, so he didn't open the folder eagerly like Boris seemed to be expecting.

Boris didn't miss a beat. He flung open the folder himself to reveal a colorful spread of sketches and photographs, some of them of Moses himself. Others depicted the interior of a jacket lined with pockets and the many pieces of the heavy duty launcher Boris had made for him. There were even samples of fabrics and suggested color palettes.

Moses frowned.

"Our PR team put this together with you in mind," Boris explained. "To set you and your teammates apart from the lower level BEGA trainees, they believe each of you should have a unique and customized look. Of course, they want your input on the final design."

It was abundantly clear, the deeper Moses got into the BEGA Corporation, that they were almost more interested in selling their brand than beyblading itself. The success of the business relied on the symbiotic relationship between BEGA and its bladers. Naturally, they wanted to dress their top tier up and parade them around as picture perfect examples of what they could offer other prospective members.

And, in order compete with the allure of the BBA's finest, they needed to be memorable. Every World Championship tournament had spectators showing up in replicas of Tyson's baseball cap or Kai's signature face paint. It was about being marketable, just in case the glamour of going pro was more important to some than the money. Moses knew which one he cared about.

He made a noise of acknowledgment and asked, "What about this part?" He pointed to a list of words on the corner of the page. They all sounded violent.

"Oh, those," Boris said as if he'd forgotten they were there. "PR recommends you go by a code name to fit your image better. Those are just some suggestions. You can choose whatever you like, pending their approval."

Reading through the list made his stomach turn. He didn't want to be known as Clash or Brawler or whatever else they'd come up with for him. It went against the entire reason he'd even signed on with BEGA.

"I'm not using a stage name," he growled, pushing the folder away. Stage names were for people like Ming-Ming, the frilly pop star they hired, who reminded him of Monica before sickness when she laughed. They weren't for people like him, who were trying to make a boatload of cash fast to save a life. "I'll wear the coat and carry the launcher, but I don't think changing my name is necessary."

With an air of finality, he stood up from the table and strode past an oddly quiet Boris to the door. His fingers had just brushed the handle when the other man spoke up.

"It's a shame."

Moses squeezed the handle hard, anger and something akin to fear mingling together to make his chest tight. He didn't like Boris's tone.

"What is?"

He could hear Boris's footsteps closing the distance between them, each step like a nail being hammered into a coffin. The more he got to know him, the more he could see where pieces of his old self shone through the cracks.

"Section 2, Subsection D of your contract calls out the refusal to cooperate with ad campaigns and marketing attempts laid out by BEGA as grounds for termination. I don't want that!" He hurried to add the second part when Moses rounded on him with fists at his sides. "But I'm not the only person running this company. I would hate to see your sister suffer should they choose to see your aversion to compromise as a slight against BEGA."

The air became heavy. Boris was like a holographic image that looked different from every angle; Moses could believe he was issuing a kind warning or an outright threat depending on how he read the situation.

Normally he was one to stick to his guns, but he knew he wouldn't risk Monica if it was a threat. He would do what he was told.

"You can call me whatever you want," Moses growled as he wrenched open the door, "as long as you uphold your end of the bargain." When he let go of the doorknob, it was indented with the shapes of his fingers.

"'Crusher', then, I think," Boris chuckled, steely eyes shifting from the door handle to Moses himself. He knew he'd played the trump card judging by his self-satisfied smirk. It was enough to make a person's skin crawl. "Are you going to see your sister now? Give her my best."

"Yes, sir," he choked out and left.

He visited Monica afterwards, and the nurse was sure to let him know she was having a bad day. But when he walked in the room and introduced himself as BEGA's strongest beyblader, Crusher, she laughed like she wasn't sick at all. There were perks, he supposed, to signing away your moral compass. He just hoped they would last.

A/N: These are two characters I would have never predicted I'd be writing about lol. I'm not super confident in my characterization, but I think it's at least passable. I just don't have much of a feel for either of these guys.

Out of all the BEGA kids, I feel like Crusher has the most compelling reason for joining the team. I think he also seems like somebody who has a good enough head on his shoulders to see through Boris's charade. He just needs the money too much to let himself back down. I love the part in G Rev where he pulls back in the battle against Tyson at the dojo because he can't callously destroy Dragoon to further Boris's plot.

Also I know it's a dub thing, but I like the idea of his real name being Moses in any case.

This one reminded me a little of my Unpopular Character fill in some ways, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out nonetheless. I had a tricky time with Mafia, as I said above. Figured a nod to BEGA as a questionable organization and a possible Easter egg about mafia initiation practices would suffice lol.

Thanks for reading. :)