Chapter III

"Peter Rook," Peter said quietly, slipping three hundred dollars into the doorman's sleeve, "I have a table reserved."

The doorman glanced down at the blank clipboard before himself, then over Peter's shoulder, "And him?" he questioned, nodding to Walter, whom looked horribly out of place in the nightclub scene.

"He's with me," Peter answered.

The doorman raised his eyebrows, and returned his attention to Walter with a smile. Walter seemed confused.

"He's my dad," Peter growled, agitated. He grabbed Walter's shoulder, and pushed him into the club, plunging them into a dark world of loud, pounding music and substance abuse.

A huge man in a black suit greeted them, "Mr. Rook," he said, stooping his head slightly with respect, "Raze has been expecting you. This way." and he lead them past the dance floor, where a faceless mass seemed to sway and jump in a feverish trance to the painfully loud music, the white flashes of a strobe light thinning their limbs unnaturally and making them appear as near specters. Peter and Walter followed the huge man to a side door, and up a flight of stairs, before arriving in a nearly silent lobby. Their ears slowly recovering from the downstairs cacophony, they began to hear a faint piano melody.

"Raze will be waiting in the office," the stranger stepped aside, allowing for Peter to pass into the office.

Peter paused, stilling Walter with a palm to the chest, "Wait here," he said quietly.

Looking further confused, Walter was left standing in the lobby, his worried face being the last thing Peter saw as he shut the door.

Peter turned to the large desk before him, were a tiny figure sat, cross legged, in the high-backed office chair, grinning widely, "Mr. Rook. It is nice to see you well."

Raze was a about the size of a child, but his large, dark-rimmed eyes hinted at cruelty and brilliance far older than his youthful appearance. Peter had yet to decide if Raze were male or female, as he held a boy's shape, but long, auburn tresses, and Peter referred to him as male, as it seemed natural. Raze had not corrected him. Raze often wore a young boys' school uniform to catch the unwary off-guard, but Peter appeared unaffected.

"Raze," Peter agreed gruffly.

Raze smiled again, uncrossing his legs and dropping from his seat to move to Peter. He threw his arms around Peter's waist, "I was worried about you." his soft voice was hinted with an accent Peter had long ago placed as German.

"Don't play games with me tonight, Raze," Peter warned, "I went through hell to get this, and I don't have time for it."

Raze frowned innocently, "You're tired, aren't you? Please, have a seat," he took his hand, leading him to a low seat by the window, looking down on the club. They sat as Raze continued, "I heard about Massive Dynamic. Some terrible trouble, there, I'm afraid. You weren't hurt, were you?"

"No," Peter answered. They were silent for a few moments, and Raze at last crawled in Peter's lap, resting his cheek on his chest, "Raze, the data isn't complete."

Raze looked up at him sharply, his pale eyes flashing in warning, "I thought we weren't playing games," He said softly.

Peter swallowed, "It isn't complete. We've reviewed it completely, and there are parts missing."

Raze climbed out of Peter's lap, his footsteps taking him back to the desk. His slight form was contorted slightly with silent anger, "I don't half-deal, Mr. Rook," he said quietly. He lifted a stuffed bear from the desk, cradling it to his chest, "…I might start to think you were stealing from me."

Peter felt the air rush from his lungs as he found himself on the floor, the huge, black-suited man pinning him in place as he struggled. Raze plunged his hand into the bear, drawing out a snub-nose revolver and aiming for Peter's temple, "Tell me you are joking. I like jokes, and I may let you live."

"We had to get out of there!" Peter hissed, grimacing with pain, "The feds were swarming the place! We got out as much as we could, and cleared the database!"

Raze's eyes widened with maddened anger, his gun arm shaking, "Incomplete data is useless to me, Mr. Rook," he said, "it holds no onus, in the underground…"

"You won't be of much use to anyone with a bullet in your brain," there was the click, and Walter trained his barrel on Raze's temple, "Let him up."

Raze muttered a curse under his breath, his gun dropping to the floor in defeat, "Let him go, Edgar," he said.

"That's a good boy," Walter smirked, as Peter pushed himself from the floor. Raze glared at them both, before swooping up his bear and plucking angrily at the stuffing.

"I can't pay you for incomplete information," he grumbled, "But I can't go without the information entirely. It's quite the predicament you've got me in. Don't be a meanie, put the gun down."

"So?" Peter said, rubbing his sore shoulder as his father holstered his firearm.

"So I'm going to give you another go. Get the rest of the information in one week, or I'll kill you both."

Peter balked, "But we cleared the database!" he exclaimed, "there's no possible way-"

"Find a way!" Raze snapped, glaring, "You don't think I got here because everything was tulips, do you? I don't care what you have to do, who you have to kill, just get it." he waved them out of his office.

"Don't worry, Peter," Walter smirked quietly, "He's just fussy because it's past his bedtime."

"I'll enjoy killing you, old man!" Raze called.

xXx

"You know," Walter was saying from his sprawled position on the sofa, his eyes gazing distantly at the muted television, "for being multi-millionaires, we certainly don't live like them." he paused to push up his eyebrows with his chopsticks. He glanced over at Peter, who read intently over the files they had just apprehended, "Peter? Are you listening?"

"What do you want, Walter?" Peter grumbled.

Walter shrugged, "I don't know. I just figured some things would change for the better, when we started doing this. Hotel rooms and a lot of thinking. I could have done this when we worked at the lab."

"What's your point?" Peter questioned, his eyes unmoving from the screen as he crunched a won-ton.

Walter was silent for a few moments, watching the television, "I miss the Vista Cruiser. I don't like the Viper, it's too showy."

"Uh-huh," Peter replied.

"I miss Gene. She was such wonderful company. Such an affectionate cow." his eyes seemed to glaze with nostalgia, "I miss the thrill of the cases, I think. Always something new to do; it was never boring, was it?"

"Nope," Peter replied.

"I miss that girl. What was her name?"

"Astrid."

"Yes. I miss her quite a lot. I wonder if she's angry with me. I'd be angry with me. What about you? What do you miss?"

"It doesn't matter, Walter!" Peter snapped, "We knew what we were getting into, when we decided to do this, okay?! What's past is past, and who cares?!"

Walter flicked a chopstick at the door, "The past keeps popping up to bite me in the ass," he murmured with a wry smile, "And yours does, too, I think. Olivia's going to catch us, you'll see."

"Stop saying that!" Peter snarled, "It's not an assurance! No one can catch us, Walter, don't you understand?! Things will never be the same, alright?!"

Walter was silent, and sighed, crossing his arms behind his head to watch the ceiling.

"I miss them, too," Peter said at last.

xXx