It had been quite the day. Between the interview, getting hired, and a full five hour conference with the Headmaster, a real blowhard who felt the need to regale him with disjointed stories of his youth, Soul's normal sleep time had been stolen away and he was exhausted. If he was this tired after one damned day without sleeping in, how the hell was he going to deal with his new job full time?

He'd figure it out. He had to. Who else would make sure Maka was safe?

Soul would do this music teacher bullshit, stop being a drain on her, start contributing like the fucking adult he was supposed to be. He would do that and he would keep her safe at night and then, maybe then, he'd actually be good enough to lick her damned shoe. Then, maybe, just maybe, he'd have the guts to finally give her that ring. He was never going to be good enough for her-he knew that-but if he could do this, at least he'd know he was doing his all, that he was, if not good enough, at least not a complete waste of oxygen.

He checked the scanner on his helmet, looking for her as he did every night. The Grigori had been reported in the vicinity of Necro and Vine in pursuit of a suspected assassin. The perp had made a near attempt on the mayor's son, Kyle Mortimer, who also happened to be an ADA, a rising star amidst the DC infrastructure.

Soul didn't know much about Kyle Mortimer other than his nickname, Death the Kid, and that he was a college acquaintance of Maka's, one he had met in passing a small handful of times. Frankly, he didn't much care. What he did know was that anywhere Maka was fighting someone who was trying to kill her was exactly where he wanted to be.

He flew towards the spot, unfortunately on the other side of town, and as he reached it and found no one, he tapped into the AI to provide him with an update.

Well, shit.

The assassin had found his way to the mall, probably thinking the Grigori wouldn't risk a fight there. If he thought that, he was dead wrong. Maka would worry too much that the assassin would harm a civilian not to pursue.

Yeah, he could definitely help.

He flew to the mall, a bare two blocks away, and marveled at the line of people streaming out. Well, going through that mess wasn't a real option. Time to find another way. Spying a skylight, Soul decided to make his own entrance-it could be replaced, but Maka couldn't.

Crashing through unceremoniously, he landed on the terrace overlooking the three story complex and looked around. He could hear the sounds of panicked retreat and intense fighting, but the space he looked down on, a large courtyard with a fountain at the center, was eeriy devoid of life, more than an anomaly at seven in the evening so close to the holidays.

And then, suddenly, it wasn't.

A blue and black streak zipped past him in a blur, whisper quiet and wickedly fast. Soul whipped his head around and watched the mysterious figure hurl himself from the third story balcony into the courtyard.

Unfortunately for him, Maka landed in his path just as he did and put her hands on her hips.

"Blake, stop!" she screamed. "I'm not going to hurt you. Just. Stop, okay?"

"It's Black Star!" he bellowed. "And how do you-"

She cut him off, her voice dropping. "Black Star, then. I just want to talk. Just-"

"Like I'm supposed to believe you, Grigori, after I tried to slice the mayor's son in half! Look, outta my way. I don't wanna have ta-"

"Black Star..." Her voice was so soft that without the helmet enhancing his hearing, Soul never would have caught it. "You don't have to believe the Grigori. But you should believe me." She reached up slowly and removed her mask, causing the man in front of her to gasp and Soul to wonder just what the hell was going on?

"Ma-Maka? You're the Grigori? But-I thought-"

"Whatever you thought, it was wrong. And what you're doing is wrong. Since when do you kill for money? Since when do you harm innocents-Kid's a good person. Why Blake? Why are you after him?"

The assassin stood staring at her in the empty space for a few moments and Soul had seen enough. He didn't know who the fuck this Black Star creep was, and part of him feared to know, heart clenching at the idea that Maka had unmasked for this man, laid herself bare; his instinct to protect her, even from herself, took over as he willed himself down to land a few feet behind the other man. Maka gasped as she saw and reaffixed her mask quickly.

"What the fuck?" The assassin whirled around. "Who is this asshole? You pick up some lame assed sidekick now?"

"Blake." She ignored Soul's presence and the question both. "I'm waiting for you to explain." Her tone was dangerous.

"IT'S BLACK STAR!" he screamed. "And another thing! Gods don't have to explain, so butt the fuck out, Maka!" He'd stepped forward and they were practically nose to nose. As his finger poked at her chest, Soul growled, ready to spring, but Maka was deadly calm.

"Black Star," she tried again. "Now. Right now."

Soul's entire body tensed, about to charge, but to his shock, the man in front of him sat down in a huff and shook his head. He looked utterly defeated.

"They got Tsubaki," he said, all bravado gone. He sounded almost-broken.

Maka's face became dark, cloudy. She leaned down and put a hand on the man's shoulder, squeezing comfortingly, before looking up at Soul, eyes narrowed. "And who the hell are you?" she said, voice dangerous again. "You've been on my ass for two weeks, swooping in and getting in my damned way before taking off and leaving me to clean up the mess, yet you've never so much as offered a name."

It took him a moment to realize that she was talking to him, that she thought he was a nuisance, that she didn't know him.

It was on purpose

It still fucking hurt.

"I'm-" shit shit shit he hadn't thought about a name, hadn't stuck around long enough for her to ask before now "-uh-" he spotted a sign at Soma Intimates declaring SHE'S A MAN EATER "-uh-Eater."

"Eater?" Her lips twisted just beneath her mask in her skepticism and he knew why, because what the fuck kind of name was that, but it was too late. Fix it, Soul, fix it!

"Uh, yeah, Soul Eater. Because I-uh-devour all the villains in my path." Oh god Soul Eater? Could he get any more lame? And he'd used his name in it. He was such an idiot! She was going to figure it out. She was going to figure it out, and then-fuck, this was bad.

"Alright Soul-Eater." He could tell she was trying not to laugh, trying to keep both voice and face stern. Finally, she seemed actually stern as she continued. "I know you've been stalking me. What business do you have here?"

"Yeah, dude." The assassin stood up and cracked his neck, eyes narrowed. "This here's an 'A' and 'B' conversation, so why dontcha 'C' your way out of it already."

This time, Maka snorted, her anger temporarily dissipating. The vaunted Grigori. Snorted. Soul couldn't help but to laugh himself.

"Man-maaaaan," Soul choked out as he stifled the guffaw in his throat. "You are such a spaz. You really-really-" The guy was ridiculous. How could she have a history with this idiot? Soul shook his head, tried to regain his calm because this guy was still an assassin and Maka knowing him or not didn't matter-he was a criminal.

The thought felt strange, heavy, almost as heavy as the feeling welling deep in the pit of his stomach at seeing the two of them standing together, standing against him.

He-was the good guy here now, wasn't he?

"You still haven't answered my question," Maka said as she calmed, her gaze even as she leveled it on him once more. He knew she was trying to read her his soul and was glad it would prove impossible. She frowned, puzzled, but said nothing, simply waiting.

Black Star glared his way as well, but for once, was silent.

"Not stalking you." Soul's voice was gruff in his throat, but not in his ears, and he had to praise the Lightning Nerds again for the voice alteration feature of the helmet as he sounded far more calm and smooth than he felt. "You just happen to be there when I answer a call. For all I know, you're stalking me, sweetheart." The last word was dripping with condescending swagger. It felt both strange and familiar, like returning to an old haunt he thought he'd left behind, "And I'm here for him." He flipped a hand in the assassin's direction and shrugged, a lazy half lift of one shoulder. "He did try to kill the mayor's son."

"And you think you can just swoop in and exact your vigilante justice?" Maka asked, indignant.

"I think I can swoop in and drop him off in jail-isn't that what you should be doing, Grigori?" It was so strange, to speak to her this way. It almost felt like the barbs they used to exchange before, and much as it had annoyed him then, sharing them now was the slightest bit exhilarating.

Her eyes narrowed to mere slits. "I have the backing of the League of Heroes. I'm not just some-some-wanna-be off the street!"

"And yet, with all your fancy pedigree, you wanna let this guy walk, right? Yeah, I heard your little chat. You two make a cute couple." The last bit felt bitter and wrong on his tongue, but he hated the way she had inched forward to put herself in front of the blue haired creep as if to shield him, hated that she was protecting him.

Who was he to her and why had Soul never heard of him? She didn't-she couldn't- He cut off his own thought, the sting of it, the pain, too much. Not his Maka. Of course not. He had more faith in her than that. Hadn't she proven her own faith that night when the Weapon had died in her arms to be reborn as simply Soul?

She was staring at him, angry, at a loss. Finally, she spoke, the anger draining out of her into something like resignation. "Look, Eater," she said, the words thick with distaste, "if you heard, then you heard that he's being blackmailed. They have his friend, and they'll hurt her if he doesn't do as they ask."

Soul shrugged. "So hand him over to the police and let them sort it out. Not our problem." He knew it was the old Soul talking, the one who had been the Weapon, the one who was utterly selfish, but he didn't want Maka to get tangled into whatever this was, to get hurt.

"And you'd be okay with an innocent woman dying because of that action?" Her voice was soft, but with an edge of menace.

He sighed. Went to run his hand through his hair and remembered at the last second he couldn't, bringing it down again. "I guess not," he admitted. "But I'm not okay with just letting this idiot go, either."

"Hey! Who are you calling an idiot, you freak? I mean look at you-what kind of super hero wears ratty jeans and leather? Bow down before your god you insolent peasant!"

"Blake, stop," Maka snapped. "Eater-" She shook her head. "You're making everything more difficult than it needs to be. The truth is, I have a plan. But here's the thing-I don't know who you are, where you came from, or if you can be trusted, and your soul is hidden so that I can't read it. This presents a problem to say the least."

"You have a plan?" Soul blinked at her, and it was a good thing she couldn't see how dumbfounded he was under his helmet. She had just cornered this bozo, just found out what might be going on (because who knew if it was true?) and already, she had a plan?

Only his Maka.

A fond smile crept onto his face and, again, it was a very good thing that she was blind to it.

"I have a plan. Only, it doesn't include strangers-you could be holding our friend for all I know."

Our friend now was it? Who were these people? They'd been together, had built a life together, for five years, and he'd never so much as heard her utter their names in passing. It was just so-so-strange.

"Nah, this loser ain't Arachnophobia," Black Star said dismissively.

"Who?" Maka asked, indignant.

"What?!" Soul practically bellowed because if this was about Arachnophobia, from all that he knew, they really were up shit creek without a paddle. Even as the predominant big bad guy in the city he had only heard whispers, but what he had heard was frightening.

"Look." The assassin crossed his arms, pacing between them. "I've looked into those assholes. This guy isn't the type, and with being able to fly like he did, I'd have heard of him. He's not with them, just some wannabe douche with a fancy helmet. Let's ditch the loser and be done."

"We? So you'll stop trying to go after Kid?"

The man eyed the Grigori for a moment, wary. "I didn't say that. But I'll listen to what you have to say."

She nodded, smiling slightly, and Soul's stomach twisted in knots. "Good. You won't be sorry, Blake."

"It's Black Star!"

"Yeah, yeah." She waved him off with a too fond grin that made Soul want to curl up into himself in abject defeat. Maybe he had just been a stand in all along, a substitute and this was who-was who-

He heard her sigh and raised his eyes. "Alright, look, we have to get out of here. This place is about to get flooded with law enforcement. You-" she looked pointedly at Soul "-can follow us, can hear what I'm thinking, but if you even think of betraying us, so help me, you'll wish you'd never been born. Do you understand?"

The chill in her voice was like a knife in his heart-because what she couldn't know was that he was already there. The very idea he could ever betray her, or that this Blake was who she wanted-he'd rather be dead.

"Yeah yeah, tiny tits, don't get your panties in a wad."

Hurt, it was so easy to fall back on what he used to know.

"What did you say?" Her eyes narrowed into slits again and he knew he'd fucked up because that was an insult the Weapon had used on the Meister constantly. It was a stupid one at that, because he absolutely fucking worshiped her tits and-truth be told-she was more than a little distracting in that tight green spandex number-but he didn't have time for that runaway thought train, so he derailed it and coughed pointedly.

"Look, just-" An alert that police would be entering soon flashed across his screen- "we gotta go. We can resume our friendly little chat later, alright?"

"Fine," she gritted out. "I'm going to have to carry you, Blake, with the pol-"

"Nah." Soul couldn't help his cocky grin beneath the mask, part bravado, part sheer elation that he could thwart her from carrying around his rival. "I got this."

He began to rise. Putting out a hand, dark energy shot around Black Star, lifting him up as well. "Lead on, Grigori," he spoke down at her. And as those beautiful wings of light appeared at her back, she did.

Twenty minutes later, they were perched on the roof of the tallest building in Death City. The stars were out, hazy beyond the canopy of human interference, but still there, cold, beautiful, unyielding. Soul had always hated the night sky. Beautiful as it was, it felt like it was mocking him, judging him. It was too pristine, too perfect, too cold. He preferred the sun, hot, temperamental, dangerous, yet bright and essential and absolutely stunning.

The sun had always reminded him of her.

Yet it was night and the stars shone down in judgement, the pale freckled half moon his only ally as the two on the rooftop gazed at him with suspicious eyes, green and toxic.

Her eyes had the power to kill. Him at least.

Soul broke the silence. He couldn't take the tension, the quiet condemnation. "So. This plan?"

Maka sighed and sat on a low ledge next to where the assassin was leaning, her back to the skyline as she faced him. Rooftops posed little danger to the Grigori. She peered at him for a long moment then nodded. "Right. What they really want is Kid. So we give them what they want."

"Doesn't that sort of defeat the purpose?" Soul asked dryly before he could stop himself.

"Yeah, Pigtails, if that was your grand plan, you shoulda just left it to your god and not-"

She raised a silencing hand, cutting him off. "We aren't actually going to kill him, you idiot. We fake the assassination. Kid can go into hiding for a few weeks, Arachnophobia will have what they want so Tsubaki will be safe, and it'll give us time to-"

"That's not gonna work," Soul cut her off.

"And why's that, Eater?" The way she spat his new handle, with so much disdain, made him cringe.

"'Cause you do that, your pal is as good as dead and girl with him. I've heard things about them, their MO. Chances are once Kid is dead, they'll send people after this idiot," he thumbed towards Black Star, "to sever any tie to the crime, then get rid of the hostage to tie up loose ends."

The Grigori's mouth went from angry to thoughtful. "You're sure?"

Soul shrugged. "Can't be sure, no, but it's likely." And it was. He had heard things about Arachnophobia when he was still the primary menace in the city, none of it good. They would do exactly what he'd just said they would, without compunction or mercy. If he had been a bastard back in the day, they were fucking Lucifer.

Black Star looked visibly shaken. "And how the fuck would you even know, Eater?" he growled.

"You hear things," he answered, voice flat.

Black Star seemed ready to lunge, but Maka put a restraining hand on his shoulder, and Soul couldn't quite stifle an irritated growl.

"Alright." She squeezed Black Star's shoulder to calm him. "Supposing we believe that-the plan can still work. In fact, it will work better."

"Explain," Soul said roughly.

"After we fake Kid's death, they'll go after Blake, right?"

"Black Star!" he bellowed. She waved him off, looking to Eater.

"Yeaaaaah, your point?"

"So, we lay an ambush, capture whoever they send, and hopefully, get the Intel to strike back and rescue Tsubaki, maybe even take down their organization."

"Fuck no! What if they just decide to kill Tsu!"

"They won't," Soul offered. "They never kill a hostage until they get confirmation they aren't needed-and if she's a woman and decent looking, I've heard they'll probably just force her to work at a club anyway. Sex trade is huge for them, rumor has it."

"Fuck that!" Black Star made another lunge for him, this time tackling him to the ground. Maka was quick to pull him off, and Soul glared at his assailant, scowling behind the mask.

"It's what they do, moron." His voice was flat, bored. "Got nothin' to do with me. But they won't do it 'till you eat it since they need her to keep telling you she's fine until you do what they want."

The assassin stood hunched, hands on knees, sucking in deep breaths. Soul's scowl deepened as he saw Maka rub his shoulder soothingly. "I'll kill every last one of the bastards for this. You don't fuck with my goddess," he growled.

"So you'll stop trying to kill Kid?" Maka asked quietly.

The man beside her looked up at her, determination lining a face that had looked broken only moments before. "Yeah, count me in. If you're gonna do this, you'll need the help of your god."

Soul wanted to point out that it was really the other way around, but bit his tongue. Some fights just weren't worth it.

The next morning was absolutely fucking miserable. It was Soul's first day of work-well, ever, really. He was exhausted because he'd been out all night, and the last thing he wanted to do was try to teach music to a bunch of entitled little shits, but he would because he had no choice, not really.

Maka was sweet. She made him a lunch, for once, and kissed him goodbye at the door. She'd called in sick to school, but she promised she'd check on him in the afternoon. It felt nice, her optimism, even through his exhaustion. Even through his despair. Because he knew why she had to miss school today, knew it was because of the plans they had made last night, and he still couldn't stop thinking about how she had acted around Black Star, and it was killing him.

Well, at least it was Kid she would meet with today.

Teaching went about how he expected it to. He was responsible for four classes, each more tedious than the last, and by the time the third rolled around he was ready to blast the entire institution to smithereens with the force of his glare alone.

He kept that tidbit quiet, the calm, bored mask firmly in place as he introduced himself.

"I'm Soul. Welcome to Advanced Orchestra. Now, I'm sure you all think you're musical prodigies or whatever, but you're wrong. You'll learn that pretty fast."

A hand shot up and Soul stifled a sigh. "Yeah, what?" He flicked his eyes to the dark haired girl who had dared raise an appendage.

"Um, Mr. Evans?" He almost cringed at hearing himself addressed like his bloody father.

"It's Soul," he snapped back.

He caught a snicker in the front row, a beefy redhead wearing his tie loose. "Shyeah, cause that's not a stage name."

Soul walked forward and loomed over him. "You got something to say, kid, speak up for the class." He bared his too sharp teeth in a menacing smile, and the boy in questioned flattened himself against his chair, swallowing visibly.

"N-no, I'm-uh-good-Mr-"

"Soul."

"Yeah." He cringed.

"Good." He swept his eyes across the room. "Anyone else?"

He wanted to scream when a girl timidly shot her hand up from the back. Lucky for her, with her sandy pigtails, she reminded him slightly of Maka, so his voice was even as he asked "Yes?"

"Um mister-" he narrowed his eyes "-Soul. I mean, your name is Soul Evans, right?"

He let out a breath, nodded. "Yeah, so?"

"Well, there used to be this kid-my mom told me about it when she saw your name-a piano prodigy, I guess, who disappeared." Soul kept his bored mask but it was a near thing. "Related to, um, the famous violinist? Wes Evans? Anyway, his name was Soul Evans, too, and I was wondering-"

"No relation," he cut her off handily. "Now, then, this is what we're doing. We're gonna go around the room and you all are gonna tell me your name, what you play, and what you listen to. I'm sure you all think you have actual taste in music, which I'm also sure none of you do, so when that's done, we'll listen to some decent stuff so you all can learn something about what good music sounds like, and then we'll call it a day."

There were no further questions and they went through class just as he'd said. By the end of the period, he was more than ready for lunch. By the end of the day, he just wanted to go home and sleep, preferably in Maka's arms.

Of course, he couldn't. He'd go home and eat and then Eater had to meet Black Star and the Grigori to find out how the meeting with Kid had gone. Still, that didn't mean he didn't wish things were otherwise. Soul was so exhausted that he didn't wear his helmet on the way home, knowing Maka would yell at him if she knew. He needed the wind in his face, needed to wake the fuck up. They were in some dangerous shit now-Arachnophobia was no fucking joke-and he had to be on his game if he was going to keep Maka safe. And he was going to keep Maka safe.

She was waiting for him when he came through the door, flung herself against him and kissed him soundly before looking up at him with a broad smile. "So? How was your first day, Mr. Evans?"

"Soul," he said reflexively.

"Huh?" She blinked.

"I told them to call me Soul."

"You would." Maka laughed, slapping him playfully on the arm. "So it was good?"

He shrugged. "Was fine. Bunch of pretentious little shits, but I knew that going in."

"I'll bet you were brilliant." She beamed. "The pretentious little shits will never know what hit them." She punctuated the sentiment with a chaste kiss to the mouth, then tugged him over to the table. "Sit. I made dinner."

He blinked up at her. Soul couldn't remember the last time she had cooked dinner. "Maka." He shook his head as she returned from the stove. "You didn't-" Then he caught sight of the plate she held, laden with salmon "-have to."

Fish. She had cooked him fish. She hated fish-the taste, the texture, the smell. And yet, she had cooked him fish. He smiled, soft, genuine. "Thanks."

"You deserve it!" she said brightly, then began to cut into her own piece of chicken. "Eat up! I can't stay-" She waved her fork, shaking her head unhappily "-still dealing with that jerk Eater and Star and Kid and all, but I think we have time for dessert if you don't take too long."

He didn't take too long. He'd never been one to pass up dessert.

An hour later, he lay in their bed, naked and panting, sweaty and worn, but utterly satisfied, just watching as she finished cleaning herself up, drying herself off before she worked on her skin tight body suit, shimmying into the little skirt and top. After putting her hair up and back, she donned the half mask last.

She looked neat, put together, in control, in contrast to the sweaty writhing mewling mess who had come undone beneath him only minutes before.

Fuck how he loved to watch her come undone, to be the one to make her lose herself completely, for him, always for him.

"You sure you gotta go?" he said with a sigh, then, looking her up and down, grinned sharply. "Always wanted to fuck the Grigori."

"You fuck the Grigori pretty much every night, and I promise you can fuck the Grigori when I get back later, if you're still up for it, but I need to get out of here." She walked closer, leaned over the bed to peck him chastely on the mouth, and only laughed as he groped her ass when she moved away.

"Later," she tossed over her shoulder as she threw her large hooded trench on over her outfit.

"Gonna hold you to that!" he called after her.

"You'd better," she called back with a final laugh, and then she was out the door.

He really would, too. Even if he was fucking exhausted.

Five minutes later, he was also out the door. Twenty minutes later he was at the warehouse, and another twenty minutes after that he was landing atop the building they'd designated as their meeting spot the night before.

Maka and the blue haired loud mouth were already there, speaking with a third figure in a black robe and a large, ridiculous skull mask.

Landing softly several feet away, Soul drew the sudden attention of the group, their heads swiveling in his direction.

"Eater, my man! Finally decided to show?" the would-be assassin called out as he approached. "'Bout fucking time. Next time, don't keep your god waiting!" He put his hand up for a fist bump and Soul stared at it for a moment before shrugging and putting out his own fist. When in Rome, he supposed. So what if the guy had wanted to kill him the night before? The idea of how close he and Maka were left a sour taste in his mouth, but he couldn't let that show. Not here, not now.

Maka nodded his way, and the masked man turned to her. "This is the one?" he asked quietly, voice a rich, smooth timbre Soul vaguely recognized.

"He calls himself Eater. Soul Eater." The distaste with which she said his name reminded him of the past. He should probably have been bothered by the little thrill it sent up his spine, but he ignored it.

"And he is?" Soul-Eater now, he supposed-thumbed at the masked man.

"Kyle Mortimer. He wanted a face to face meeting with everyone involved-insisted on it. But being seen together would not be good for the plan."

"Meeting your would be assassin without protection?" Eater asked skeptically.

The masked man shrugged. "The Grigori is here, and I am capable of defending myself." The voice was emotionless, almost clinical, until he added smugly, "Afterall, I already fought off my attacker once rather handily."

"Tch, luck," the blue haired idiot muttered from the side.

Soul couldn't help it, he snorted. "Shyeah."

"Anyway." The Grigori raised a placating hand before Black Star could react. "You wanted to meet with those who are to be involved in the plan, Mr. Mortimer, so here we are. What would you have of us?"

He figured it had to be odd for Maka to address Kid as a stranger. They had been friends from her first year of college-she'd known Kyle Mortimer for a year before she even met Soul. Occasionally, they still went for coffee to catch up, but Soul was positive that Kid didn't know Maka was the Grigori. No one did, apart from himself, the League, and now this Blake asshole. Normally, Maka didn't cross her civilian life with her duties as a hero (or she didn't knowingly, anyway; obviously their past exposed just how much these things could cross unwittingly). To be forced to do so now, he could sense her discomfort-at the deception, at the entire affair. Friends were important to Maka, and to play double to one couldn't be sitting well with her. Honestly, Soul would have preferred Kid be the one to know the truth rather than the blue haired douchebag she had unmasked herself to the night before. Soul barely knew the up and coming Assistant District Attorney, but he'd never felt jealous-that Mortimer was uninterested in woman had been crystal clear to Soul from their first meeting. He wasn't sure if the man was gay or if Maka had been right to call him asexual, but Kid had never looked twice at Maka or anyone, and that was very much how Soul preferred it.

"Ah, yes, of course," Kid finally spoke again. "To begin with, are you sure your-mmm-allies can be trusted? The Grigori is, of course, above reproach, but I have concerns that a plan that involves the man who would see me dead and another who is an entirely unknown quantity could prove far too unpredictable, one might even say foolhardy."

The Grigori let out a long sigh. "I can vouch for Black Star. If he gives his word, he'll keep it. The other, I-" she paused, seeming to think "-I don't know who he is, and I can't read his soul, so I'm really not sure. Whatever his motives, though, I don't think he's Arachnophobia. If he were, Blake would probably already be dead." The fact they were talking about him as if he weren't standing two feet away was absurd. Soul was about to say something to that effect, but the assassin beat him to it with a protest of his own.

"It's BLACK STAR," he bellowed.

"Yeah, fine." She waved off his concern. "Anyway." She turned to Kid. "Our options are limited, and I don't think this plan puts you in any more danger than you already face. It's ultimately your choice, but I think this is our best option."

"Mmmm…" the man hummed thoughtfully, then paused. After several tense moments, he nodded, squaring his shoulders. "Alright. I agree that your plan is the most viable option. But I think it best I disclose the reasons they want me dead, since if we are to make this plan work, it would be best we all understand the organization we are dealing with."

"Wait, wait, you knew they wanted you offed?" Black Star scoffed, incredulous.

The masked man shrugged. "Of course. That I would know is a large part of the reason they want me dead to begin with. You see, I have been in charge of making a case against them since I started as an ADA last year. It has been done in secret, you understand, but the organization has their moles just as we have ours. While our contacts remain undiscovered, theirs do as well, and that the case is being built is known to them. As I have always been the driving force behind that case, the move to be rid of me was obvious, and that such a plot was in the works came through one of my contacts a few weeks ago."

"So they want you dead so you don't start prosecuting them?" Soul put in, shaking his head. "Why? Someone else will just-"

"No." Kid shook his head. "No one would take my place. My inside contacts are mine alone-they are known only to myself and won't speak to anyone else. Moreover, most authorities discredit the very existence of Arachnophobia as an organization. They keep a very low profile and are… disturbed by my persistence, I suppose. Taking me out would cripple the investigation and the case, a fact of which they are clearly aware. They are close to something, to their goal. Though I am not entirely clear on their endgame, I know it's big-that the implications would be widespread and devastating. But I am also close to being able to drag this case into the light, to exposing them. I'm finally close to discovering just who is behind the organization. Weaken the head, and surely the rest will crumble. They are a cancer in our city, and I will cut out the tumor." He was clenching his fist so hard Soul could hear the knuckles crack through the heightened hearing of his helmet.

"Alright, alright, so they want you dead because you're working to expose them. What's that got to do with us?" Black Star cut in.

Kid sighed, murmured, "No wonder you were such a useful tool."

"Whadyousay?" the assassin bellowed, taking a step towards the ADA.

"Stop." Maka stepped in front of Black Star, then turned to Kid. "So they're well organized. So well organized that they leave little trace, have the authorities fooled into believing their actions are those of many instead of a larger group."

"Precisely." Kid nodded. "Your reputation is well deserved, Grigori." He turned again to Soul and to Black Star. "My point, of course, is to suggest the danger here. We are dealing with a group so methodical in their secrecy that few believe they exist at all. To most, they are whispers in the night spoken among thieves, myth, legend. The boogey man. Only, these whispers, this monster under the bed, is all too real, and they are planning something massive. This plan of yours," he looked to Eater-clearly, Maka had informed the ADA of the part that came from him, "well, catching operatives in the act, capturing them, this could potentially be the break I need. But it's risky. When it is done, all of us will be on their radar."

"And Arachnophobia doesn't take kindly to people meddling in their shit-I know, I've heard," Soul offered.

"Have you, now?" He could practically feel the man's eyes narrow, though the mask hid it well.

Eater shrugged his response. "You hear things when you keep your ear to the ground. Look, we know the risk-you've covered your ass. So we doin' this thing or what?" Truthfully, it was the last thing he wanted Maka involved in, but he knew there would be no swaying her, not with friends involved, not with people in danger. At least now he could be there, too, could make sure she stayed safe.

"Hells yeah!" Black Star cut in. "Ass fuckers have Tsubaki. We're gonna fuck them back!"

Rolling his eyes behind his helmet at the outburst, Soul turned to Kid, who nodded. Maka also nodded, and, all agreed, all in, all that was left was to hash out were the finer details. By the end of the night, they had a decided plan.

Soul only hoped it actually worked, that in the end, it didn't get them all killed. Their asses really were in the fire now.