Bloodroot

by SunshineNGunpowder21

What does a private contractor group known as the Scouts, a Russian mob, the Government, and an Arms Dealer have in common? Well, Levi thought it was the start of a stupid joke. But after stumbling into the middle of a race to discover a forgotten location called Paradis, he's no longer laughing. As a hitman, Levi is coerced into helping ex-military/treasure-hunter, Erwin Smith.

4. Prosperous in Disappointment

TW: Non-con, abuse, mentions of self-harm, heavy dissociation, slurs.

Chapter 4

Prosperous in Disappointment

"Goddamn it, Erwin! I fucking vouched for you!" Nile's voice rose, carrying across the small public park.

Fortunately, the early morning hours in the green rendered it empty except for the two men beneath the shelter of a tree. The lights from Tower Bridge next to them bounced off the surface of the Thames, reflecting just enough illumination to see the whites of Nile's eyes and the gritted teeth locked together.

A musky scent of the brackish water permeated around them. It was always the same during that time of year as the day's heat caused the smell of the river to carry a heaviness to it. Even in the late evening hours, the odor lingered with the cool breeze.

Across from him, Erwin remained nonplussed, simply listening to the verbal assault of Nile's frustrations as the brunet tried poorly to keep his voice down. There wasn't much to do except let his overwhelmed colleague exhaust himself. To get what he needed off his chest before they could have a productive discussion.

More importantly, -and this was a key trait of the blonde's demeanor- Erwin was never one to vocally compete for a space in the conversation, therefore he would not be starting now. When he decided to talk, he expected the other person to listen and be respectful of his response. Simply contending with another speaker diluted one's image and overall power they held in the debate. Something he was not willing to sacrifice no matter who he spoke to.

Having the upper hand was essential.

"Do you know the amount of shit that has been stirred by this? Do you know the type of people that were at that event? The man who fucking purchased that—that piece?!" Nile seethed, gripping the front of Erwin's jacket as if the words leaving his mouth were stoking more panic in him at his own outward acknowledgement. "He's not just some Duke or CEO that had an eye for collectibles! He's heir to a fucking Arms Dealing empire!"

"Are you upset for his sake or for your own?" Erwin leveled him with an even tone, not showing any sign of discomfort by his friend's ire or the hand still twisted in the lapels of his coat.

Nile baulked at that, as if he couldn't believe Erwin would insinuate such a thing and so casually on top of it.

"I'm upset because you put me on the spot! Was that your plan? To use me as a scapegoat for your little side hustle? God! Why did you try to steal it, Erwin?" Nile shoved into his chest enough for the taller man to take a half step back, before releasing the suit.

A large hand smoothed out the front of his lapel as if it was a mild inconvenience on his part. Once it was clear that Nile had said his piece, Erwin decided to humor him with an explanation. Not that he was entitled to it. There was still the unspoken business of Nile's lack of forewarning about the town in Mongolia, and the government's involvement.

"Our intentions were not to steal the object." A blatant lie. "However, we had intel that another party was planning on it and chose to investigate the verity of the rumors."

"You expect me to believe you—Erwin Smith—had no intentions of being at the auction, where an item linked to Paradis was, except to stop a third party from robbing it? How stupid do you think I am?"

"My objective is not to convince you one way or another. If you had so many doubts about our motives, you shouldn't have vouched for us and got them a place on the list. But the fact remains that you did, and I won't stand here and listen to you gripe about feeling betrayed. Our presence was there to try to mitigate any attempts that were made, that's the end of it."

Nile shook his head, tossing his hands up in the air as he relented his hold on his patience further. "And a fine job you did there. The fucker got away with it!"

"You continue to speak the obvious."

Erwin's tone remained composed even though his eyes were assessing, brows in a relaxed position, mouth in a tight line. A premium poker face that hinted to nothing that was churning in his mind. It was a cold exterior to have pinned on you and Nile was not immune to the unease that came with the overwhelming pressure of his attention. If he could just read what he was thinking, or prod some irrational reaction for the stoic mask, he'd feel relieved. Even if Erwin spat outraged words in return, Nile would prefer the venom to the marbled poise. In a way, it did announce the man's internal displeasure. If there was something he had learned since meeting Erwin Smith, it was that the calmer he appeared, the angrier he was.

But everyone had a breaking point. A moment when their control would snap. He wondered where that line was for Erwin.

"If you had intel about a third party trying to steal it, why not inform me? I'm with the British Government. I have connections that could've increased security measures. Hell, we could've reached out to Pixis if we really needed to."

"I was convinced my team could handle it on their own."

Nile scrutinized Erwin's dismissive explanation. "It's not like you to overestimate your team."

"Is it not?" Cerulean gaze, even through the darkness glinted sharply at him in an unnecessary challenge. "You think so highly of me to pull a perfect streak with jobs? You must have forgotten Italy. Either way, I'm flattered."

"You don't have to be an arsehole, Erwin. But seriously, you put me in a tough spot. Now I have to explain who the fuck Mike and Nanaba are and why Mike was in the middle of that shit. Speaking of, why was it them that showed up and not you? I would've figured you'd have asked for a spot on the list to try to buy that statue. Lord knows you have the money for it."

"I was working a task for Pixis, actually." Not a lie. Not the whole truth. "As for your concerns regarding Mike and Nanaba's presence, I would explain to your supervisors that they were there as contractors, not guests. It was as I said, to determine if there was truth to the rumors and to stop it. If we had further information, we wouldn't be calling it rumors and instead call it intel. With little details to go from, it left us at a disadvantage to effectively prevent the burglary. Mike already gave his statement to the police so you should have no problems authenticating it with your supervisors."

Putting both hands over his face, Nile let out a long sigh, as if deflating all the air from his lungs.

"Erwin. What the hell? Why not just tell me? Having extra people there wouldn't have hurt anything."

"Having your people, us, and security would have complicated things. You know that's the truth of the matter. Each group would've been too busy doing what they thought was best and then stepping on each other's toes."

It was hard to argue with facts. If so many groups were working to protect the artifacts, there would have been arguments breaking out regarding jurisdictions. A three-way dick measuring contest. "You always have it all figured out, don't you?"

"You've known me for a long time. None of this should come as a surprise."

Even though Nile's heated one-sided argument had tempered itself, Erwin was still apathetic and distant in his responses. It did little to ease Nile's troubles, but he wasn't there to be moral support for the brunet.

"Make sure your superiors know that Mike was only working tonight as unofficial security and that he's not a suspect. If you have push-back, contact me and I'll handle it."

No thanks. Nile did not want Erwin Smith to handle it.

His unofficial position as a contact for the Scouts would surely get him fired if it came to light. Or worse. While he knew Erwin wouldn't do anything to deliberately sabotage Nile, he wasn't foolish enough to think he wasn't expendable. Especially if there was a chance for Erwin to gain something from it.

"It's fine. They'll listen to what I tell them."

Erwin lifted an arm and rotated his wrist, the motion causing the sleeve of his jacket to shift from the face of the watch.

1:45 am.

What a long and disappointing night. And it was far from over.

"My offer still stands, Nile. Keep me informed of any developments or details you find on who stole the shield."

With that, Erwin turned away, ending the conversation as he stepped off the grass and onto the sidewalk that led through the center of the park.

"Wait."

Erwin paused, turning partially to face Nile. The sunken shoulders and wispy frame in the dark was a stark contrast to the aggression that he was directing at the blond moments ago.

"How's your guy? Is Mike ok?"

"He's a bit banged up. Nothing that isn't part of the job."

"Alright. Good. I'm glad he wasn't seriously injured."

"Hm." Erwin turned away, not receptive toward Nile's delayed sympathy. "Keep me informed, Nile. Have a good night."

"Yeah… you too."

Walking along the path, Erwin retreated to his recollection of the evening. It was true that he was working on a task for Pixis. Or better yet, had finished it and was discussing the details over dinner with the older man. The timing of the assignment was purposefully completed prior to the auction for a couple of reasons.

Firstly, to continue with gaining funds and upholding the image of diligent contractors. It was important to remain consistent even when their main focus had shifted to personal objectives.

Secondly, it allowed him to gain a concrete alibi with a Superintendent of MI6 during the time of the auction. No one would be able to point a finger at him with the assumption he had selfish intentions with the shield. The timing of meeting with Pixis simultaneously as the event also meant that he could also leave quickly if Mike and Nanaba required him, which they did but it was too little too late.

Whoever had stolen the shield was hasty in their retreat. If it wasn't for Erwin's plan to steal the item through Mike, he had no doubt the thief would have gotten away without a fight. Possibly without anyone knowing the shield was missing until he was already out of the building.

As Erwin exited the park, he made a direct line for the BMW which was illegally parked in a fire lane at the entrance. The police were likely too busy unearthing the streets to find a lead on the auction's thief to be concerned with the lone car outside the park. Especially at those ungodly hours.

Sliding into the passenger seat, the cab light came on then blanketed the four in darkness after the door shut.

"Get us back to base," Erwin ordered before anyone could raise a question. Although, judging by the somber atmosphere inside the vehicle, it was safe to assume no one was ready to breach the topic.

Floch simply nodded, putting the car in gear and withdrawing into the street. For two blocks, the car was filled with unmovable silence, each person processing the events from that night in their own minds and wondering how it could have gone differently.

On the main streets, most of the lights were green and hardly a soul was sharing the roads. As Floch maneuvered them onto the main highway, Erwin took the time to look in the rearview at Mike.

The angle of the mirror was off center from where Erwin sat, but even with its position, he could make out the bruising on Mike's cheek, and dried blood that still clung on his facial hair despite Nanaba's efforts to wipe it clean. The slick back locks were fully disheveled from his acrobatic pursuit through the buildings, almost reminiscent of his bed hair after a heavy night of drinking in their university days. A button was missing from the front of his jack, the sleeves of his dress coat were ripped from the seams, cotton stuffing peeked through fabric tears, and his white shirt was stained with grime and blood spots.

No one could say the man didn't give it his all when trying to stop the opponent.

"How are you feeling, Mike?" Erwin's deep voice cut through the car like a butcher knife through bone. All attention landed on him.

Mike snuffled. Had been doing that since he was in the car from the pain still lingering in his sinuses. "Sore, which means tomorrow will be a bitch."

Nanaba patted Mike's bicep as he put a hand over her thigh. "I'll check him over when we get back, but we're pretty sure there's nothing broken. Maybe a pulled muscle."

Mike snorted. "Maybe three."

Erwin didn't have much to add to that aside from a nod at the medic's intentions. He wanted to offer Mike to take it easy for the next couple days but promising his best fighter time off did not set well with him from a commander's perspective. Not when other players were making moves on anything related to Paradis, while he was still trying to distinguish who was on the other side of the board. Procrastinating would only cause to extend the disadvantage for the Scouts, not quell it.

Before another lapse of silence could fully settle into place, Mike decided to continue with the discussion. "What did Nile say?"

Erwin met his gaze in the mirror, then turned to look at the road in front. "Just that he'll inform his supervisors that you were working to prevent the burglary. We shouldn't have any issues on that front."

"Glad he decided to cooperate with it. He was pissed when he realized I got involved with the Sky Garden's security."

"In his defense, his concerns weren't unfounded. But it took little effort to persuade him otherwise."

Floch decided to change the subject, clearly concerned with the unspoken topic hanging in the air. "Does he know who stole the shield? Or do we have any idea on where to find that out?"

For a long moment, no one answered.

To say that it was an uncalculated anomaly was equivalent to admitting defeat in Erwin's eyes. Mentally, he knew that wasn't necessarily the case. Recognizing oversights, experiencing the occasional lesson of humility, and learning from those mistakes was important to grow and adapt. The last time he had a bitter reminder of his shortfalls, cost the lives of two of his subordinates. The time before that was even further in his past.

Even so, his inability to predict another operative's presence soured on his tongue and he loathed to admit it. So much so, that he was struggling to see the lesson that needed learning under the animosity that refused to let go.

While it was a calculated risk of sending Mike into the field on his own, Erwin knew the man's skills firsthand. He was one of the few that could evenly match Erwin in hand-to-hand combat and despite his size, he had the endurance of a thoroughbred. It came as a bitter, yet humbling, surprise when his phone rang at dinner and he expected a report of success, only for it to carry the grim news of defeat.

Like the sun warmed, over-ripe fruit, it churned his stomach.

Perhaps Nile was correct, and Erwin got overconfident. In his defense, he hadn't expected another party to attempt to steal the shield from under them. During the research and planning of the Sky Garden heist, Erwin had his attention spread across the guest list to weed out potential threats to his goals.

Whoever the thief was that bested his right-hand man was someone he could not afford to overlook again.

---

The languid face of the watch stared back at Erwin.

9:04am

Three hours of sleep.

Two coffees.

The loud chatter of his engineer talking at him, while the others were gathered around the table.

Mike sat two seats down, looking clean and better than the hours prior, but equally exhausted. The bruising to his cheek and under his eye was faint, however the one beneath his chin was significantly darker.

From an elbow, he had said. He was lucky the hit hadn't knocked him unconscious.

Somewhere beyond Erwin's focus, one of the other Scouts cut off Hange in midsentence, correcting something they said about the event the night prior.

Erwin used his sleeve around his thumb to wipe a smudge off the glass of his watch.

What was his next step? Who was behind the theft of the shield? What resources did they have to be successful without tipping him off? And how involved was this Arms Dealer in the search for Paradis?

Hange was speaking again, plopping into a seat and leaning their elbows on the table.

He really should be paying attention.

"—and I still can't believe that it's happened twice now that we're left empty handed. Seriously, Erwin, you're being unusually calm about it all."

Aw, yes. Calm. Was he calm?

A sharp smile hooked his lips as he lifted his attention to his crew. Floch wore a look of tentative interest along with Nanaba while Mike seemed deep in thought. Moblit had enough sense to look uncomfortable with Hange's blunt reminder as if they intended to rub salt in his open wound.

Gathering his thoughts on the matter, he replied, "An important strategy to chess is knowing which pieces you want to exchange in order to find the right moves against an opponent."

"So," Hange dragged the word out, "you're saying its good that we lost a chance to get the shield?"

Good? No. Erwin was not saying that at all. He wanted that shield and having it stollen beneath his hand was equivalent to a kick in the teeth.

But Erwin was keen on not being inconvenienced with disappointment. A failure could be turned into victory if given the right attention.

"I'm saying," he answered with a confidence that hid his ire, "that it is important to look at more than just your pieces, and that some sacrifices are necessary to gain the upper hand. There was someone involved that we didn't account for but now we're aware of them and that they have resources that pose a challenge to us."

Mike furrowed his brows. "Are you talking about that thief? You think he wasn't working alone?"

"I'm certain that he was hired to retrieve the shield by someone."

"What makes you say that? I figured he could have been an art thief or something."

"There were plenty more valuable art pieces in the lineup that would've fetched a good price. He went for the shield, so someone else we didn't account for is also interested it in."

"Alright. I guess that makes sense."

"I understand that it's been a long night, but we need to dig into where the shield went while the leads are fresh. Floch, did you get the guest list together as I asked?"

"Yes, sir," the young man answered. "I was going to work through it to cross reference people like you told me to."

"Cross reference? With what?" Hange questioned, as their attention bounced between Erwin and Floch.

It was Erwin that explained. "He's going to cross reference the people listed to the description of the culprit that Mike encountered. I'm hoping that we can narrow down the list and pinpoint who our thief is."

"Ooooh. Smart. Like a big game of Guess Who."

Before anyone could add to Hange's comment. Nanaba looked to Mike and asked, "Are you able to recall enough information on the guy that if we had a picture, you'd be able to recognize him?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, Mike leaned in his chair and nodded. "Yeah, I had an up close and personal greeting with the midget. I'd easily be able to pick him out."

Erwin hummed before pushing away from the table to stand. He wanted to get a start on learning about the Arms Dealer while his team worked on the guest list.

"Work on narrowing down the suspects from the event. For everyone else, see what you can find out on anyone else that may have been interested in the shield or Paradis that wasn't at the event."

"Did you still want me to follow leads on the other artifacts coming out to see if they are authentic," Hange questioned.

"If you can have time for it, yes. But there is still a chance the shield can be recovered if we can find out who it was that took it. Rushing to another piece instead of learning about our opponent would likely yield similar results which I am not willing to experience again. We can meet back here later this evening."

"Understood."

"You got it, boss."

---

Later that afternoon, Erwin made his way downstairs to the kitchen with his leather notebook and Cross brand pen. He had gotten a text from Floch saying he was finishing up his list and would be ready to report it soon to the group.

Even with the little sleep, Erwin's day had been productive in the sense that he had learned more about this Arms Dealer who had attempted to purchase the shield. It came as no surprise after hearing Nile's concerns that the man was a powerful figure who could pose a problem in the future. Especially, when his reach extended beyond Britian's borders, like the Scouts. As for the details of why Paradis interested him, it was unclear. Then again, it didn't really matter on the why's. Just having the extra competition meant more strategy was needed to outthink them.

As Erwin entered the kitchen, he was greeted with the heat that came from the oven and stove warming the small corner area. Moblit tossed a nod over his shoulder and returned to stirring the vegetables in the pan, an enticing aroma of a hearty meal being cooked. The extended table to the side was already partially filled with Mike, Nanaba, and Hange.

"Have you heard if there's been progress from Floch?" Nanaba asked as Erwin took his usual seat.

"He said he's finishing up and will be here shortly."

"Perfect timing for dinner then," Hange grinned, turning the glass of water in front of them that was already set on the table.

"Great, because I'm starving," Mike added as he patted his stomach as emphasis. "Although—no offense Moblit—but I have been trying to keep the weight off lately, so you're sort of sabotaging that for me."

Moblit only shook his head with a smirk. "There's salad in the fridge, Mike. Help yourself."

"Hey," Hange huffed, "don't be complaining about Mobe's food. You better eat it and show appreciation for the wonderful meal that he's putting all his effort in."

"It's not that much effort, Hange," Moblit countered but was ignored.

"I'm not saying it's bad," Mike defended. "I'm just saying that it's high in carbs. And no. I'd much rather have Moblit's cooking than a damn salad. Do we have any beer in the fridge?"

Nanaba scoffed and raised a brow. "You're complaining about carbs and now you want a beer?"

"I think I burned enough calories participating in involuntary parkour across London to warrant a beer." He brought a hand up to scratch as his stubble on his jaw. "I'll just have to go for a run tomorrow to work off the meal."

Getting up to check the fridge, Nanaba reached in to grab the six pack of beer for everyone. "I don't think you need to do that, hun. I like the little pudge you have. Gives me something to grab."

"That should be my line, Nan."

"Aw, that's sweet enough to give me a cavity," Hange gushed while Mike didn't seem sure if he should feel indignant or not.

Deciding that whatever discussion was taking place was not going in his favor, he looked to Erwin who had the leather book open as he distractedly took notes. "Hey, Erwin. You agree, right? About the amount of carbs when Moblit cooks?"

"Last I checked, he had all the food groups included with his meals. You just focus on the potatoes," he replied, not looking away from the page.

Mike sulked before muttering, "The potatoes are good."

"House rules, babe." Nanaba opened the first beer and handed it to Hange. "Whoever's turn it is to cook gets to make the decisions on what's on the menu."

"Again," Mike defended, taking a bottle from the case and opening it off the top of the table, "I'm not complaining. His nights are my favorite next to yours. I just feel like I gain a stone after eating it."

"Eat less."

"Very unhelpful. I'm a big guy, I need to eat a lot."

Vaguely contributing to the conversation, Erwin couldn't help but comment on his friend's dilemma. "If you feel like you're gaining weight, perhaps that's why you were bested in the fight. Maybe you're onto something about improving your cardio."

Sensing that even though Erwin was not in the best of moods, he could tell that his friend was teasing him. Still, it did little for Mike's ego to be reminded of the poor outcome of the fight the evening prior.

With a scowl, Mike sat up a little straighter and pointed at Erwin, the motion drawing the man's attention away from the book with a raised brow. "You weren't there, Erwin. That little bloke was like a fucking flying squirrel spinning around and I swear the guy tried to bite me at one point."

Hange barked out a laugh and Moblit frowned over his shoulder "Bite you?"

"Well," Erwin shrugged dispassionately, as if the concept of someone biting Mike was just another normal thing, "that just reiterates my point. You should know by now that underestimating someone based on their size can have a bad outcome."

"I can't believe you're taking the midget's side over mine." Instead of pushing back in the argument, Mike huffed and took a sip of beer. After pulling it away, he muttered under his breath something about the small man being a feral dickhead.

Before anyone could comment further, the door opened as Floch walked in with a small bundle of papers in hand. Erwin immediately noticed that the young man did not look confident in the news he was bringing them. If anything, he seemed more troubled.

Erwin closed the cover of the journal, and everyone stared at Floch as he made his way to his seat. Even Moblit shut off the stove and set the pots aside to cool while he readied the plates, half his attention on Floch.

Erwin decided to comment on the young man's hesitancy. "Did you find anything?"

Clearing his throat, Floch set the papers on the table and scooted the chair in. "I tried to narrow the list to unknown guests. Figured that would've been the easiest method. If our guy was using an alias, then we'd be able to use the process of elimination to weed him out. Unfortunately, everyone on the list looked like they matched with their information online. I cross referenced social media, work, and family. It wasn't a huge guest list, but everything checked out normal."

"So, no one on the list fit with the suspect?"

"Well, I decided that there was a chance that whoever stole the shield may have gone through the trouble of creating a fake life online on top of a fake alias. If that was the case, I printed photos of the people that matched Mike's description of the guy." He tapped the papers together to straighten the stack and handed them to the tall blond across the table before listing off the criteria. "Dark hair, shorter than average, lean build. The height was sort of subjective, so the photos may not match how tall the person is."

Mike took the photos and started to shift through the pages. Curious, Erwin stood and came around to peer over Mike's shoulder as he shuffled the photos individually. After going through them once, then twice to make sure he didn't miss any details, a frown deepened. Then he splayed the pages out in a fan like he was folding in a game of poker. He may as well have been because the results were the same.

He had nothing.

"None of them are him."

"You're sure?" Hange asked, leaning over the table to gaze at the pictures. Taking one, she examined the dark hair and blue eyes of the subject. "Maybe you missed some details or thought you had a good look at him when your two were tussling."

"Tussling? Hange, we were fighting—"

"Same thing."

"—And no, I already told you. I had a good look at him, even before the fight started. He isn't here," he waved at the pictures on the table as emphasis.

"Hey, I was just making a suggestion. Does it look like I've been in a fight before? I don't know how your adrenaline addled brains work. OH! But that would be a good thing to look into! Moblit write that down for later."

The dry glare went unnoticed by the engineer. "I'm cooking right now."

Erwin's expression soured a bit. "So, it seems our mystery thief was an uninvited guest as well. We'll have to dig deeper to find out who he is."

Nanaba brought a beer to Floch who thanked her, before she offered her opinion. "Too bad we don't have a fingerprint or something to try. Just going off a visual description won't make this easier to narrow down."

A thought then came to Mike. If he recalled, he had unintentionally pulled some of the guy's hair out when they were grappling in the hall. The ghostly feeling of silken hair between his ring and pinky finger pulled taunt and then released was still strong after the hours that passed. With a little luck, there was a chance that a couple strands could have clung to his clothes. Maybe one was still stuck in the fibers of his slacks that were currently crumpled in a pile in the corner of his and Nanaba's room.

"Hange," he called, feeling a spring of hope at his theory. "Could you do some DNA check on hair if I managed to get some from him?"

Instead of an eager response to the idea, he was surprised to find them staring at him unimpressed. "I don't have the ability to check DNA samples off hair follicles, Mike. I'm an engineer and biologist"

"Ok, But DNA is biology."

"You're getting me confused with Forensic Science."

"Yeah, but both deal with biology and genes and stuff."

"Honey, I don't think it will work," Nanaba tried to interject gently, placing a hand on Mike's shoulder. But the man didn't heed her warning, determined to embarrass himself further.

He had an idea and he wanted to explore every possibility before he gave up on it. A habit he had picked up from his best friend who watched the interaction with what looked like growing concern. As if he thought Mike had been hit in the head too hard or something. Nanaba met the commander's gaze and motioned for some support, but Erwin merely looked away.

Let Mike dig his own grave. He wasn't in the mood to interfere with protecting his friend's image, at the moment.

"Fine. But engineer," Mike insisted, oblivious to the silent conversation happening on either side of him "You build stuff. Can't you just build a machine that will do it? Plug it into the computer and hack into the database of the police to find him?"

The room went quiet as all eyes landed on the two. Mixed reactions of confusion—did Mike understand how hard it was to make that?— and curiosity—Did he have a point? Could Hange do it?

Across the kitchen, Moblit was experiencing the other side of the spectrum as he stood frozen with a spoonful of potatoes hovering over a plate.

"What?" Mike asked, now growing defensive once more as everyone stared. He thought it was a good suggestion.

Hange sighed and pushed the glasses up their nose before placing their hands on the table. It was rare to see them exercise patience and seriousness. Of course, it had to take someone unintentionally insulting their degrees to get to that point.

"Mike, my sweet, carb-connoisseur. I love you, I do, but really, you have the methodical assimilation of a spoon sometimes."

Mike's pout turned bitter, forming an accusatory glare. "I may not know much, but I know you've just insulted me. I'm not a fucking spoon."

Nanaba sighed, "Honey, please, just drop it."

Despite the seriousness of everything happening in the last 24 hours, Erwin let out a chuckle, earning a heated glare from his best friend.

"Suck a dick, Erwin. Not everyone is as scholarly as you. Besides, it was a genuine inquiry." He turned back to Hange, "Can you do it or not?"

"With what material, Mike? It's not like I can take sheet metal, solder some wires to it, and bolt it together with some fancy lights and a glass display and it'll suddenly make a DNA analysis machine!"

"Hange," Moblit interjected, setting a plate down in front of them as a distraction.

"What? Do you hear him? I know I'm brilliant but he's asking for magic at this point."

"Alright," Erwin spoke up, determined to get everyone back on track with the topic. "While we can't find a way to check DNA in-house, we have connections outside. We can make some phone calls in the morning. While that is in progress, we can work to backtrack who would be interested in the artifact and was not in attendance at the auction."

"Fine." Mike conceded, nodding his head to Moblit as he was handed his plate next. "We'll see whose laughing when the DNA sample comes back to prove who it was."

"I'll let you be the one to call our contact at the yard then," Erwin nodded. "Joking aside, I'm impressed you managed to get a sample at all. Clever thinking."

"Don't patronize me." Mike stabbed a fork into the savory meat and used a knife to start cutting a piece off.

"I'm not. Just commenting that you did good."

And it was true. While not feeling optimistic, Erwin hoped Mike was onto something.

---

Unknown

(17:10) SitRep.

(17:10) Done

Unknown

(17:11) Compromised?

(17:11) Shouldn't be.

Unknown

(17:11) Witnesses?

(17:12) Not enough info to be threatened by.

Unknown

(17:14) Any reason for the heir to be suspicious?

Well, that was subjective. Suspicious of what? Of whom it was that stole his shield before he could make a profit? Sure. Who wouldn't be?

Instead, Levi typed out a quick response.

(17:16) Nothing to lead to the boss.

Unknown

(17:18) Bring it to the club in 2 hours

Levi studied the screen of his phone as the messages-as in plural—stared back. Strangely enough, it was almost a full conversation that was taking place. He wasn't sure why he was still staring at the bubbles in the chat. It wasn't like he would win a blinking contest against the device, yet it stirred something uneasy in his chest.

Working for Lovof was not ideal.

That should be obvious. But Levi was one of the rare members that were coerced into servitude to pay off a debt. The other members were there willingly by their own misguided life choices and questionable free will. The point was that there was a routine which Levi had grown accustomed to when dealing with Lovof or his underlings, especially when it came to communication.

The heist, while successful, was untreaded territory before last night. The not-so-singular messages had only happened twice before when Lovof wanted proof of some gruesome deaths being carried out per his specific details. Nothing about the Sky Garden job fell into the previous categories or routine he was acclimated to.

Perhaps Lovof was aware of how difficult the task had been, specifically being in such an open venue with many witnesses. Or maybe he (or whoever was sending the messages) wanted to ensure that Levi hadn't made a mistake to lead the rozzers to the Mitras' doorsteps. If that was true, the lack of faith was more of an annoyance than an insult.

On the other hand, Lovof may have been right to show concern over the ambiguity of his prized dog. Afterall, it was Levi who foolishly offered up his family name to a guest at the event.

The memory caused him to cringe as he reflected on it for the umpteenth time that day.

Ever since he returned to his flat, he had been worried that Zeke would fill out a report to the cops with his description and name. It was unlikely that the police would show up at his place seeing as the flat was under an alias. Still, Levi didn't want to take any chances, so he let Furlan hold onto the shield until he stopped by to take it back. If the rozzers showed up to arrest him, it would be easier to get away without worrying about having the rock with him.

But it wasn't just Zeke who he was concerned about.

Even as he sat in the back of the cab, on his way to Furlan's apartment, Levi was filled with a sense of anxiety that was almost foreign to him. He felt stripped and bare. As if eyes were looking for him and he were laid out exposed.

Surely either Zeke or the tall, blond brute would have reported him. Both men had enough of a description to cause him trouble, especially if the yard had the public out looking for him.

The thought caused him to glance in the corner of his eye at the cab driver who was oblivious to the hitman's scrutiny.

How daft could he be to give Zeke his name? What the fuck was wrong with him?

And more importantly, what the fuck was wrong with Zeke?

It didn't take a genius to put two-and-two together. Judging by his non-elite status, the fact that he disappeared before the auction even began, and that he wasn't even on the guest list had to raise concerns to the man, especially when security started to scramble the building looking for the thief. So, why not explain that to the police? Why not admit there was a suspicious character at the bar who foolishly tried to pay for a drink with petty cash, and who had no business being there?

On the other hand, there was a slim chance that Zeke considered the details to be too paper thin or maybe he just chose to omit anything about Levi for his personal reasons.

But why?

What did he gain from that?

"We're here, sir," the voice of the driver tugged Levi from his thoughts.

Passing the cash to the driver, he stepped out of the cab and started toward the apartment building. The sky was overcast and the last of summer's days were leaving a stickiness to the air. Levi wished the sky would either open up and rain or be a sunny day. The combination made walking around in his windbreaker miserable with the humidity.

As he entered the building and made his way to Furlan's door, he was greeted with the unimpressed appearance of his tired friend. It looked like Furlan didn't get any sleep either.

"Hey," the blond greeted blandly, leaving the door open as he retreated to the living room.

Stepping into the apartment, Levi took his shoes off but kept his jacket on as he shut the door and followed his friend.

"I was looking over that shield and I have to admit, it's an interesting piece. There's some strange writing around the edges, or I assume it's writing. I tried looking online for similar symbols to decipher it, but I couldn't find anything that matched. I wonder if it's a dead language or something."

"Hm. Fascinating stuff. I just hope you didn't damage it during your inspection. I really don't want Lovof on my ass if it's not in the same condition as it was last night."

Patience unusually thin, Furlan rolled his eyes and tossed a hand in the air. "Lovof can eat a bullet. Relax, it's still perfectly ridiculous and pristine, like your quirks."

Clearly, Furlan was in a mood, especially to openly threaten Lovof. Even if he was in the safety of his own apartment, it was bizarre for him to be so blunt about the Russian Don.

Plopping unceremoniously on the couch, he added, "It's not like throwing it around on the rooftops was any better than me just looking at it."

Levi stood beside the kitchen island where the case sat on the counter. A deepened tug of his lips was all that revealed his disapproval of Furlan's temper. With his hands stuffed in his pockets, he glanced over at the television playing something with three blokes driving sports cars.

"You can take a seat, mate," Furlan jerked his head to the spot beside him. "No need to hover over there. My bad mood isn't directed at you."

Levi merely shrugged. "It's fine. There's no point getting comfortable. I can't stay long."

Furlan must have expected as such because instead of countering, he leaned his head against the back of the couch and draped an arm over his eyes.

"So? How much are you getting for the job? Better be a good chunk of money off the debt for all the trouble."

Levi frowned at the reminder that he was still supposed to 'negotiate' the pay with Lovof. He'd completely forgotten up till that point.

Trying to stay indifferent, he shrugged again because he had nothing really to say to that. Realizing after a pause that Furlan couldn't see his shoulders, he decided to stick to the truth. "I still need to discuss it with him."

Furlan lifted his arm just enough to peak at Levi.

"He didn't even give you a number before the job?"

"You know how he is. Said I needed to keep track of the work I did for it, then we could come to an agreement… Tsk, like I would have receipts or some shit."

Furlan scoffed and covered his face again, one knee swaying back and forth to burn off the energy bundled by his nerves. "An agreement. Sure."

A scowl etched across Levi's face. Furlan really was in a piss-poor mood. Not that Levi could blame him. His usual frustrations were currently being overpowered by the stronger anxiousness that was to come later in the evening. Absently, his mind drifted back to the cluster of messages on his phone that set his teeth on edge before he released a sigh.

Levi hated to admit that it hurt a little to hear his best friend sound so cynical over Levi's situation. Like he thought that all Levi did for Mitras was a waste of time. Like he wasn't doing enough to get out of debt. Maybe that wasn't how Furlan meant it, but it still sounded like it to Levi's withered resilience.

Sensing the mounting tension between them, Furlan decided to break the pause, "You must be closer to paying it off now, right? How much do you still owe him?"

Levi pulled a hand from his jacket pocket and ran his fingers against the top of the silver briefcase, distantly recalling the scribbled financial breakdown in his notebook.

"32,000 pounds. Roughly."

That caused Furlan to fully remove his arm from his face where he let it drop on his lap. He fixed Levi with a puzzled look as if he didn't hear him correctly. "What happened to being 38,000 pounds like 8 months ago?"

Returning his hand to his pocket, Levi shrugged again. "Izzy's last tuition fees. And books."

"She didn't tell me she needed help with books. I thought her end of the agreement was to pay for school supplies."

"One of her classes had a larger list of materials that took up most of her savings. She was short on money for books, so I helped her out."

"Well, fuck man. I wish I'd known. One of you should've told me, I would've helped."

"You'd just had that repair done on your car and weren't exactly flowing in money after that. It wasn't a big deal. A few hundred pounds."

Furlan's frown deepened, and his brows furrowed. "A few hundred pounds adds up and can become another job. A job, mind you, that could get you killed."

"You think my luck will run out one of these days?" It came out as a question but they both knew it was a pointed statement. Especially when accompanied but the keen stare from sterling eyes.

"I pray it doesn't. You're my best friend, and I'd be devastated if anything happened to you." Furlan matched the heat in his gaze and shook his head. "But I'm not looking at this through rose colored glasses either. You got lucky with that suicidal maniac and only lost half your sight. It only takes one bullet to make its mark."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"The problem isn't that you don't know. The problem is that you don't seem to care."

Levi's eyes narrowed as he asked crossly, "Excuse me?"

"Eh, not like that. That came out wrong. What I meant was that… you don't… you don't do what's best for you. Instead, you're always worried about me, and Izzy and we appreciate that. We do. Everything you have done up until now. You've not only saved Izzy, but you gave us both a chance at a life we'd never have had otherwise. All three of us would probably be still on the streets, in jail, or in some situation with worse people." Furlan paused, frown deepening, then backtracked, "Maybe not worse. Lovof's a twat, but you know what I mean. I think you've become so desensitized by your work that you've lost sight of life. You only visit me and Izzy when you're not on some job."

"I don't have the luxury of going to school or hanging out at bars," Levi's impatience was starting to bleed through. He really didn't want to get into an argument with his friend before he went to meet his boss, but their tempers were frayed and there was no one else around to take the brunt of it from either of them. "As far as society is concerned, I don't exist, and it should stay that way. For everyone's safety, not just yours. I don't regret my decision but it's how you said. It's probably the lesser of the evils than if we never took the deal to begin with."

"I get that, Levi. But it was you that took that deal." Seeing Levi's eyes narrow, Furlan raised up his hands to placate him. "I agree with you. I'm not saying otherwise. You made the deal, and it was the lesser of evils. I'm not trying to get into an argument with you, it's just that I wish you'd not owe Lovof anything anymore."

"Same. But until that day comes, I'll continue as I have been. It's worked so far."

Furlan huffed exasperatedly, closing his eyes in the process. For a moment, he didn't say anything as if sensing that now was not the time to have that debate. Reluctantly, he gave up the ground and responded, "I guess so."

Another pregnant pause swelled between them and Furlan glanced at the tv screen, though it was clear he wasn't really paying attention to the show. Levi was mulling over his friend's concern and the shared sense of pointlessness with paying off the debt.

He tried to reassure himself that had it not been for Isabel's school, he'd be nearly finished with paying off Lovof. Maybe he could've been down to six months left of work if that was the case. Regardless, Isabel would be earning her degree at the end of the semester, so any extra loans from the Russian Don would come to an end. If he was lucky, he estimated three more years of service before the current debt was paid. Maybe less if they were larger, riskier jobs.

"I would ask if you'd seen the news, but we both know the answer to that," Furlan's voice brought him back to the present.

Shifting on his feet, Levi looked to the television as one of the drivers on the show built a car made out of bricks while another car was made out of cowhide and bones. What the fuck was he watching?

"If I had to guess, I assume its not about cars made out of useless material."

Furlan's lips quirked up. "No. It was about the details of some short criminal that robbed a regal event last night. Brunet male with a height of 152cm to 170cm. No leads but that was the only description the security could give. The guy apparently blew out two windows of the Sky Garden too."

That caused Levi to consider if his earlier theory was correct. If Zeke really kept the interaction with him to himself instead of alerting the authorities.

"That doesn't bode well for them. There's plenty of people that match that description."

"True," Furlan agreed. "Plus, your hair is more black than brown. They really are bad at their jobs."

"I didn't really give them much time to assess me either."

"I doubt it would have helped them if you did. But I'd say you're in the clear." Furlan glanced over his figure, blue eyes lingering on the cut on his brow and the busted lip. The bruising was beneath the layer of concealer along with his scar. "At least you don't look like you jumped off a skyscraper and got into a fight with ten other guys."

"Courtesy of Isabel and her make-up hacks," Levi teased.

"You keep giving her credit, but I think you're a natural at application."

He rolled his eyes. "Furlan. Shut up."

His friend chuckled but it tapered off as Levi glanced at his watch. "You're heading out?"

"Yeah," Levi answered, dropping his arm by his side while the other reached for the case. "Need to give this to Lovof and figure out the pay."

"Good luck, mate. Stop by afterwards and we can drink and relax. I have a comedy that we can watch and I'll even order take-out. Unless you've already eaten." The olive branch that Furlan offered was appealing to his frayed mind.

"Nah, I still need to eat," Levi answered. "But that sounds good. I can't imagine this taking too long."

"Alright." Furlan stood from the couch and walked with Levi to the door. He watched as Levi started to put his shoes on, noticing the bulge under his jack by the movement that hinted to the gun in his shoulder holster. As usual, he didn't comment on it. "What are you feeling? Curry? Pizza? There's that Italian place down the road that has some delicious fettucine."

Levi straightened with the case in hand. "Italian is fine. Is it my turn to buy?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll get it this time."

"Alright, thanks. I'll see you in a few."

"Yeah, be sure to tell that fucker to jump off a cliff for me."

Levi relinquishes a frail smirk before leaving the apartment.

---

It felt like Levi was stepping into another world altogether rather than another building less than 4 miles away from the Sky Garden. Unlike the panoramic skyscraper with antiseptic interior and perfectly manicured garden with soft music playing, the club was an entirely different spectrum. No natural light could penetrate the interior and the space was washed in reds, purples, yellows, and blues between the pockets of darkness. The obnoxious bass beat heavily in the speakers and the vibrations rattled through his chest as he shuffled through the sea of bodies.

It was a large club with different sections and bars scattered throughout the floor. Each area had different lights, and perhaps it was supposed to be a theme, but Levi equated it to a designer vomiting horrendous patterns wherever they could. One area had black and white blocky designs painted on the walls and floor. Another was an open square area with useless aluminum ductwork tied haphazardly off the ceiling, bathed in red lights. A spacious dance floor packed with sweaty people took up a large section of the floor that was placed in front of a set of purple lit platforms. It was here that scantily clad women and men were grinding on poles, tables, or cages for entertainment.

Levi glowered at the space where people were jeering with handfuls of cash hanging in the air for their favored dancers to take in their mouths or thongs.

The amount of germs and bacteria being passed around made his skin crawl. Fortunately for Levi, the Don did not conduct meetings in the common space below.

Making his way to a broad set of stairs, he passed a man who looked like a bouncer at the railing, but he knew it was one of Mitras' members watching for unauthorized people of the public.

'Unauthorized' meaning people that weren't being escorted to a private room by one of the dancers, or VIP members. Prostitution was just another source of income for the Russians which doubled as employee benefits.

You couldn't get healthcare working for Mitras, but you could get your dick wet for a discounted price.

The stairway was completely dark with only the neon "XXX" lights at the top floor reflecting off the mirrored walls and highlighting the handrails. Levi avoided touching those vectors and wondered, not for the first time, how many drunks had fallen down the steps.

The top floor was significantly quieter and less crowded as the VIP members lounged in crimson fabric chairs with dancers in their laps and drinks in hand. The private bar tucked in the corner had charming brick archways of shelving holding premium bottles of liquor and a finely dressed bartender wiping the counters with a rag. Another claret neon light was set in a golden frame and centered on the wall above some corporate looking fucks, reading:

"I've been dancing with the devil, and I love that he pretends to care"

Fucking ironic.

Heading down the hall, there was a faint light in the center of the ceiling to guide him to the door in the back. No more neon lights swathing the area in rainbow tones, no more deafening music, or pungent smells caking the air and burning his sinuses. The back of the building on the second floor was quiet, secluded, and where the Russian Don conducted business when he was interested in pleasure as a reprieve. He had offered Levi a time or two to partake in a dancer, even offering it up free of charge, but Levi promptly refused.

He'd rather throw himself off a damn building.

Reaching the black door, it opened before he was driven to knock against it. It was not a surprise seeing as the man downstairs likely announced his arrival.

As the door swung opened, it revealed that broad fucker… Anatoly? Anthony? Why was he still trying to remember his name? It didn't matter.

Maybe it was his nerves making him anxious.

Entering the room with the case in hand, he automatically scanned the office as the door shut behind him.

An ancient wooden desk, likely the weight of a house, was situated in the center with a narrow window on either side and thick curtains drawn. A leather chair sat in front of the desk, perfectly aligned on the opposite side of the highbacked, winged chair that was currently occupied by the Russian Don, as if it was to symbolize a throne rather than a work seat. The lights in the office were moderate and lit the area as if it was a normal place of business and not a dark den of immorality and viruses like the rest of the building.

"Akh, dobryy vecher, Levi. I hear everything went well with your assignment."

(Ah, good evening, Levi)

"Yes, sir."

On cue, the burly man came up beside him and held out a hand in which Levi passed the case to. Then he closed the distance to Lovof and set it on the desk, opening the lid and spinning it in a presentation to the Don. Meanwhile, Levi stood a few paces away, waiting for whatever prompting was coming next while his boss evaluated the prize.

Lovof, who sat upon his leather throne, glanced down the bridge of his nose through thin-framed reading glasses he wore, pushing the opened laptop to the side and dragging the case closer for inspection.

"What a gorgeous piece." Thick fingers carefully plucked the stone from the foam insert on either side, lifting it to the light to see the details up close. "Slightly damaged and there's some weathering, but that's to be expected with its age. Perfect. Simply perfect."

Levi still didn't understand the value of the rock. Didn't even know who purchased it or for how much. Lord Tybur must be having a conniption after last night.

Setting it back into the case, Lovof ran his fingers over the face of it before closing the lid and setting it beside his feet. Taking his glasses off and folding the wire frames, he continued, "I have just the spot to put it too. Once again, you've done well, mal'chik. I knew it was a challenge that you could accomplish."

"Thank you, sir."

The burly mafia member stepped away from the desk after Lovof's assessment and stood against the wall with his hands behind his back. The diligent bodyguard, always present. Levi paid him little mind.

"I'll admit, when I heard the news specifying descriptions of you, I was concerned that you were compromised. But then the details were so insignificant that I laughed. Ne tak li, Antonin?"

(Isn't that right?)

The bodyguard in the corner, Antonin, answered, "Da, ser."

Leaning back in the chair, the weighty Russian raked his gaze over Levi, not bothering to hide the scrutiny. "Tell me, did you encounter Lord Tybur at all?"

Levi really wasn't in the mood to hold a conversation. "I saw him there but made sure to avoid any interaction."

"Seems you did so flawlessly if he failed to contribute any witness statements regarding you. All is going according to plan. I have a meeting with him in a few days, so we'll hear what he has to say on the matter... Ah, but you don't care about the business transactions, do you?" He said the last bit with an oily tone.

"Not usually."

"That's a shame. My offer still stands if you're interested in learning the logistics of Mitras' operations. You don't need to stick to the usual jobs to pay off your debt. You have potential to fill bigger roles in the organization if you put your mind to it."

Another shameless attempt to integrate Levi further into the mafia. Sounded horrible.

"I'm good at what I do, sir. I'll stick to what I know."

Lovof didn't seem dissuaded from it. "Sure. Of course. You younger lot like to just scrape by doing the bare minimum, don't you? Lack the drive and ambition of people from my generation. But that's fine. If you want to continue with the jobs, so be it."

Opening the top of his drawer, he pulled out a manilla envelope and set it on his desk in front of him. Levi's sterling gaze dropped to it, and he resisted letting his brows knit together in confusion.

"I know from our previous discussion; we were going to negotiate the pay from the last job. As it happens, I have another assignment that needs completing in a few days' time. I think it's fair for us to save the negotiations until its completed, seeing as it is another unusual task for you."

It felt like a ball of lead dropped in the pit of his stomach at the prospect of another job so soon. While it wasn't strange to have back-to-back jobs, it wasn't all that common either. And more importantly, it wasn't a so called 'unusual' task.

Just what did Lovof want from him this time?

When Levi didn't offer a response, Lovof tilted his head and started to tap his fingers across the desk.

"Do you have issues with that, mal'chik?"

He said it in such a smarmy way that Levi felt a shudder at the veiled threat. As if his previous worries were being confirmed.

"No, sir."

"Very good." Lovof lifted the envelope and handed it to Levi who had to close the distance to reach it.

Opening the packet, he pulled out two pages detailing the information for the next job. On one page was an address, date, and type of event. Fuck, another expensive venue? The second page had a picture of a taupe woven tapestry with some demon creature and child on it.

It took significantly more effort than Levi was proud to admit in hiding his displeasure.

"Am I supposed to steal this next?" His question came out dryer than intended, revealing a hint of his internal thoughts.

While Levi hated meaningless deaths, the selfish part of him began to prefer the simple killings as opposed to another heist. Furlan was right, he better be paid well for it.

"That's correct," Lovof steepled his fingers in front of his chin as his dark eyes stared unblinkingly at Levi. An unrelenting evaluation of his composure. "The event is a lavish celebration that is held every year at the family's manor. Typically, the head of the Fritz family uses the disguise of a house party to conduct the renewal of contracts with local clients so to avoid interactions throughout the rest of the year. Smart on their end to avert a client being seen with them or accidentally putting something in their calendar about the meeting. No one would think twice about investigating an annual soirée."

"So, I'll need to sneak in to get this."

"You will attend it and have the heir to the Fritz family show you where the tapestry is at. I fear they take good care to keep it out of easy reach. Dina Fritz, the matriarch, will be busy with clients and likely be moving around the house to conduct her business. By having her son escort you, it will keep from raising any questioning glances from the head of the organization."

Oh, yes. Because Levi was such a social butterfly that he could convince some guy to show him where the rug was so he could steal it. What the fuck was Lovof thinking?

"I'm not sure I understand how I'm supposed to convince him, sir," Levi replied instead. It wasn't like Levi was gushing with natural charisma.

A sugary smile curled beneath his mustache and the wrinkles around his eyes made it look a touch too sinister. "I'm glad you asked. You see, I have it on good authority that the man has a thing for—how do you English say it…? Twinks. So, who better to fill the role than you, mal'chik?"

… the fuck?

"Whether you satisfy him or charm him into showing off, I expect it'll be easy to convince him of revealing the tapestry's location."

Indignation flared hot in his belly, and it took all his self-control to hide the glare that threatened to ignite behind his eyes. Simply holding back a repulsed grimace proved difficult and he failed to catch the subtle changes in his facial expressions. His brows dipped ever so slightly, his lips tightened, and his eyes narrowed just in the corners. It was so minuscule that it wouldn't have been noticed by any other person.

But Nicolas Lovof was not any normal person. He'd been working with Levi for years and had learned to spot these tiny cues to the inner turmoil of the stoic young man.

And like the apex shark he was, the Russian zeroed in for a bite.

"You have something to say, mal'chik?" he taunted innocently.

Levi maintained his aplomb facade. "No, sir."

Damnit. Levi knew Lovof was not going to let it slide so easily. He enjoyed putting Levi on the spot and always searched for a way to instill disobedience as a cruel reminder of his place. Therefore, it came as no surprise when the man opened the drawer and pulled out a shiny steel letter opener.

"Come here."

Obedient like the good dog he was, Levi stepped around the desk until he was standing in front of the Russian with his arms hanging by his sides. Lovof's chair turned to face him.

The dull edge of the letter opener rose to his throat, digging into the crease between his trachea and muscle. Even as Lovof applied pressure, as if trying to separate the trachea from his throat, pry it forward and out of the front by his Adam's apple, Levi remained unmoved aside from the slight wince.

He knew that showing anything other than yielding compliance would urge further punishment from the Russian. Even so, the threat was still very real, and it wouldn't be the first time the man had inflicted unnecessary harm to him out of spite or twisted glee. The scars and cigarette burns beneath the fabric of his clothes was enough of a reminder that Levi was just a plaything with a purpose to the man. All he had to do was flip his wrist just right and the blade would pierce his flesh or puncture his trachea.

"If you have nothing to say, then what need do you have for your vocal cords?"

Levi suddenly had the urge to swallow but held it back. How was it so unfair that he could kill this man in so many ways, but couldn't for fear of the backlash it had on his friends? He was clearly stronger, younger, more familiar with executing men, and yet he submitted to the Russian Don so effortlessly.

"Govori mal'chik, ili ya ikh udalyu."

(Speak, boy, or I'll remove them.)

"I was. Under the impression that I was repaying my debt- by taking out your enemies," he strained, feeling the blade dig painfully as he spoke, "not offering my body to them. Sir."

Not whoring myself out for a fucking old ass rug, you piece of shit.

"Ah, but that's what makes you so much better than my other members. You're a man of many talents; so loyal and versatile. You just told me that instead of learning Mitras' structural operations, you wanted to stick to the jobs I supply to pay off your debt. Therefore, I'd be remiss to not utilize you to your full potential in such jobs, don't you agree?"

A twist of the letter opener and he swore he felt the skin split apart under the pressure. A warning and promise all wrapped in that sharp centimeter slowly slicing through the layers of tissue.

"…Yes, sir." The bruising pressure was forcing a rasp in his voice.

"Don't be so ungrateful, Levi. This is a new experience, something different than enacting violence. If you're lucky, you may even find it pleasurable."

Levi tried to tamp down the repulsion at the thought of letting some stranger fuck him. Sexual preferences aside, he still had standards. And his standards were along the lines of people keeping their fucking nasty hands away from him or else find them removed from their own body.

What was wrong with killing this Fritz heir anyway? He could just as easily kill him and take the tapestry. Why make him play games when he could acquire it the usual way and be done with it? Hell, Levi could even do it in a style that left the tapestry free of blood and brain matter, unlike the other employed members that Lovof also used for hits.

Levi was the best. His best. It didn't make sense to not utilize him for the intended purpose of killing his targets.

As if reading his mind, Lovof scowled darkly at the young man as he ordered, "Don't even think about killing him."

"Why not-?" Levi realized his mistake as soon as the breath of the words left his lips.

A rapid rotation of the Russian's wrist ignited a burning diagonal across the front of Levi's throat. A stuttered hiss and flinch were the only natural reaction out of his control which he immediately reigned in, falling still and pliant in front of Nicolas Lovof. But the grimace remained, and tears dampened his lashes from the searing agony firing electrons in his brain. Like flashing warning lights that something was very wrong and warranted concern.

His breathing had deepened, sweat was beading across his brow. A hot, sticky wetness trickled down his heated flesh toward the collar of his shirt, but Levi forced himself to ignore it. Ignore the thought of the stain it would create, the need to wipe away the blood, the battling sensation of affliction and the tickle of liquid beading down his chest. Ignored the way Nicolas Lovof watched with sick amusement, daring Levi to move, to clamp down on the wound, to sneer or take a step back.

But he didn't.

Levi remained directly in front of him, arms by his side, gaze either on the desk or the wall behind his employer—never at the man. Never challenging him.

"Ah, may have gone a little deeper than intended." The middle-aged man brought the letter opener up between them to examine the edge, frowning and tsking at the blood on it. "Need to wash this now, it's disgusting."

Disgusting.

Levi's blood was always referred to in such a way whenever Lovof inflicted harm on him. Filthy. Obscene. Nasty. Dirty sewer rat that turned to attack dog, but never free from the streets. Always beneath Nicolas Lovof's luxurious Italian leather boots.

It was a constant reminder of Levi's place.

"Are you hurt, mal'chik?"

"N-no, sir."

"You sure? You're bleeding all over your clothes."

He was bleeding. Enough to voice internal concern, but Levi continued to remind himself that the blood was gradually trailing down his throat. The burn was intense, but there was no spray, no pulsing squeeze in tune with his accelerated heart, therefore it wasn't arterial.

Another positive,—fuck, was he really scraping for positives in his current situation—was his breathing remaining uninterrupted, so the trachea was still intact. But the pounding in his head was there. The continuous leaking that said it was deep enough to cause some damage that would likely lead to lightheadedness soon.

But not arterial. His life wasn't in immediate danger.

Not immediate.

"I'm- fine, sir." God, it hurt to talk.

"Well, if you're sure, then what do you say?"

Sharp teeth bit into his tongue to keep his control in check before answering tightly, "… Thank you, sir."

"For?"

"For reminding me of my place."

"Good boy." Lovof set the letter opener down. "And you'll do what I say, correct? Because the Fritz family are important people, and I don't want you putting them in harm's way unnecessarily. So, you'll offer yourself up to the heir to do as he pleases so he'll show you the tapestry, won't you?"

"…" Teeth latched onto the muscle in his mouth again, grinding down, but keeping his face as neutral as he could aside from the tight brows and bunched jaw muscles. His mind was bouncing back and forth, from listening to the shit Lovof was spewing out of his mouth and the warm liquid down his neck.

"Or… I could just have Isabel do it. That's what I paid her for, isn't it? All those years ago."

Levi eyes flicked to Nicolas Lovof whose previous sadistic amusement had been replaced by a narrowed gaze and grafted smile.

Fat. Fucking. Cunt.

One day, Levi was going to murder this man. One day.

"I'll do as you ask, sir. That was our agreement." He tried to keep his tone neutral, but the underlying warning was there, clear as day.

Lovof ignored it.

"That's true. It was our agreement. But Isabel sure is getting the better end of the deal, isn't she? Rescued by her big brother and living the life of freedom while he pays off the debt for her purchase. And here I am, never having the chance to sample the goods I paid for."

Lovof knew he was pushing Levi. Shoving him. Prodding him. Antagonizing him in hopes that it would break his resolve to remain compliant. He was doing a damn good job of testing Levi's self-control, because all the raven-haired man could think about was how he planned to kill the Russian one day. To drag it out in a way that kept the man conscious and aware of what was being done to him. For every mention of his friends' names, he would add one more minute of torture to his life.

If Lovof sensed the volatile ambition growing beneath the seething Ackerman, he did well to hide any concern.

"Then there's Furlan Church, the third wheel of your group. What has he contributed to this? Why isn't he offering to help pay for the debt? It can't be because of how soft he is, can it? You know better than most how weakness can be weeded out by the roots... Of course, if it's the violence that turns him off, there's other roles he could fill to help you pay off what's owed. He's a thin young man. Handsome too. I wonder if he'd prefer to take your place… Oh, but that's right. You wanted to shoulder the burden yourself. Some sick martyr for your companions, hm? I suppose there's some dignity in that…"

A knot was writhing tighter in Levi's chest, and he could feel his breathing quicken through the rise and fall of his diaphragm. Levi didn't dare answer, not trusting his grasp on his fragile countenance enough to not say something to make it worse. The struggle to not react to the taunts was taking up most of his focus as Lovof continued his consequential threats.

"You make a good point, though Levi. We agreed you'd pay off the debt by taking out my enemies. Not by sleeping with them. Tell you what. You have Isabel take your place for this and if she's successful, I'll consider the debt paid in full. The three of you can scamper off and pretend to be a happy family in the real world without working for me anymore. If not, you do the task as I told you to, and continue with whatever job I give you from here on out until you pay it off yourself. While you may be close to finishing the debt, I won't expect questioning in the future on what I have planned. So, make your choice wisely."

"I'll do it."

The answer came through without delay.

There was no reason to think it over. No matter what, Levi would take the brunt of the assignments. It didn't matter what it entailed. If he needed to whore himself out, he'd do it. So long as Isabel and Furlan were safe from Lovof.

Besides, the Russian Don was correct. Levi was almost done paying off the debts. His suffering only needed to hold out a little longer and he was strong enough to endure it.

Who gave a shit what it was.

"Are you sure, mal'chik?" he mocked scathingly as a hand reached Levi's throat to brush his fingers across the warm blood. Pulling his hand back, he examined the claret liquid by rubbing it between his fingertips. The color and texture reminded Levi of thick ink. "My offer is only valid once. I'll even let you make a phone call to Ms. Magnolia if you'd like to wait to give me an answer."

"I said, I'll do it," Levi quipped firmly, his ire seeping between the vowels with a harshness.

Lovof glowered acerbically at him, offended by the not-so-hidden venom in Levi's response and, yet there was a woven insanity behind his gaze as if the reply pleased him.

"Very well… How are you feeling?"

The question caught him by surprise, but his wrath was still strong enough to keep him from dropping his guard.

"I'm fine, sir."

The bleeding had slowed and the discomfort in his temple had somehow been pushed to the back of his mind once Lovof brought up his friends. He'd have a hell of a headache coming on soon if he didn't stop the bleeding and drink some water.

"I'm pleased to hear it."

Levi couldn't look at the man without feeling his ire spike. Instead, his attention drifted to the silver case below the table.

"Is that all, sir?" He just wanted to get the fuck away from this building and shower. He was done dealing with the Russian Don for the day.

"No. I'm afraid I can't let you go yet."

Jerking his gaze back to Lovof, he felt his skin prickle when he noticed the man's eyes trailing leisurely down his body. He wasn't even trying to be subtle about it now.

"I'm sure you can understand," Lovof started, "my hesitancy to send you on such an important errand without knowing if you have the ability to complete it."

What… what was he implying?

As if sensing his thought process again, he explained, "My men have kept tabs on you between jobs. It's no secret, as I know you're aware of it. But it's fascinating that they have never reported you having company over. Are you a virgin, Levi?"

"I know what it takes to fuck someone," Levi retorted, not even trying to hide his narrowed eyes.

"That's not what I asked."

"No. I'm not." Not that it's any of your fucking business, pig.

"I'm glad to hear it. It would be awkward to send a virgin to seduce a target when they were inexperienced. Some people get off on that, but I think it's more of a hassle than its worth. Still, I think we could benefit from some practice, eh mal'chik?"

"Practice…?""

That same callous grin returned as if the heavy Russian was chuffed with his proposal. There was an eagerness in his dark eyes that deepened with his crow's feet.

"Get on your knees."

Levi didn't move, eyes widening from their glare as if he wasn't sure he heard correctly.

Lovof raised a scraggly brow. "It's not a request, mal'chik."

A thick hand reached across the desk to the sleeping laptop that he pressed a button to reawake the screen. Then, with a slow but smooth movement, he twisted the device around to show Levi.

The image was a camera filming the outside of a brick building with a sign of a university placard and number announcing the female dorms. No specific dorm was being targeted, but it didn't matter. Just the threat of a member of Mitras outside Isabel's building on campus was enough to drop Levi to his knees as his fists clenched until his nails bit crescent indentions into his palms.

That was two more minutes of added torture before Lovof would be granted death.

Levi didn't need Lovof to spell out what was going to happen next. It was clear as day, even before Lovof set to unzipping his pants, lifting his hips enough to tug his trousers and underwear down until his short, girthy cock sprang up.

Levi vaguely watched as Lovof stroked himself to full hardness, but mentally he was drifting away. Letting that warm blanket of anger wrap around him and try to shield him from what would happen next.

I can't kill him yet.

The thought sounded like a faint echo inside his skull, but he latched onto it tight. No matter how confident he was in his skills, he knew there was something he wasn't accounting for that would come back and bite him in the ass.

No loose ends, Kenny's voice bounced inside his consciousness.

No loose ends. Killing Lovof without a real plan to counter any retaliation would leave loose ends. Those loose ends would target him and his friends. Through the haze of the anger combusting behind his eyes and the tremor of adrenaline in his system, Levi could not clearly untangle the threats into manageable pieces. It was like a raveled mess of rope that he knew was an issue but had no way of fixing it.

Trying to problem solve when he was working so hard to block out what was happening outside of him made it impossible to think of an alternative. Especially, when his mind was working to protect itself by pretending that it was all happening to someone else instead.

Instantly, a hand slapped across his cheek, jerking his head to the side as the office around him snapped back into focus. The sting echoed against his right eye and bruise from the night before, setting a high-pitched ring in his ear.

"Don't be zoning out, mal'chik. I want you present when you suck my cock."

Levi turned his head back, eyes focused but dark in an unspoken threat. Lovof was getting off on knowing he was playing with fire by putting his dick anywhere near Levi when all he was thinking about was his death.

"Open your mouth and show me you're ready for the job."

Reluctantly, Levi's lips parted but he was struggling to force his body to lean into the man's lap. Humiliation and pride were battling hard inside him and suddenly the bodyguard stationed along the wall felt like a physical presence at his back.

A thick thumb pushed into his mouth and pressed against his molars, prying open his mouth further. With the rest of the Russian's fingers hooked unkindly under his chin, Lovof jerked him forward until Levi's hands were supporting himself against the man's thighs.

"I'm not going to give you another chance, mal'chik. You do this well or the deal is off. I'm not going to guide you through it."

Fuck. Just get it over with, he reasoned, trying to quell his shame. It's just another job. Bear through it, Ackerman.

Swallowing hurt. The motion from the slap had reopened the wound on his throat that had almost stopped bleeding. The trickle was small now, but the pounding in his temple was a reminder that he still lost no small amount of blood.

Lovof angled his cock forward toward his lips where he brushed the pre-cum along the rosy skin as if applying lipstick. His other hand was still holding open his mouth, tugging him closer until Levi was hovering right where he wanted.

"Go on, boy."

Both hands released their hold on him, and Levi knew it was up to him now. As much as he wanted Lovof to just use him while he mentally disappeared, he realized it would not be so easy. Lovof wanted him to be aware of it all.

Conscious and willing.

Taking a hand to grip the man's uncut cock, he stroked it a few times, inhaling a deep breath to steady himself before leaning to take it in his mouth.

"Watch the teeth," Lovof warned unnecessarily through a sharp intake of breath.

The Russian wasn't huge, but his dick had a girth that filled his mouth. It brushed firmly over his tongue and tasted salty from the day. The flavor made him want to cringe, but he tried to force it down with the intention of getting it over with. Lifting his head slowly, he tried to find a rhythm as he started to bob in the man's lap, trying to block the thoughts of sweat and disgust at what he was doing with the older man. Inch by inch, he took the cock further in his mouth.

"Ah, good. More tongue."

Levi wrapped his lips around the cock, pressing his tongue to the underside as he dove back down at a steady pace. It was no trouble sliding his full length into his mouth, but it still tickled the back of his throat in a way that threatened to override his gag reflex.

Lovof groaned and bucked his hips up to meet Levi, hitting the back of his throat and it convulsed around the intrusions. He couldn't keep from gagging around him, trying to force the cock out on reflex, but Lovof locked a hand on the back of Levi's head and pressed down. The motion shoved his nose into his pubic hair and Levi gagged harder, wanting to vomit.

The cut on his throat felt like it was being split open as Lovof started to thrust into his face with enthusiasm, holding his head in place like strings on a marionette. Saliva was leaking sloppily down his cock and Levi's chin, squelching with each snap of his hips.

Twisting his head back, Lovof loosened his grip enough for Levi to retreat to shallow bobs until he regained his breath. Then the brutal thrusts started to pick up again until the short reprieve was no longer allowed. Whenever Levi tried to turn his head free to breathe, Lovof would dig his nails into his scalp and slam harder into his throat.

"Keep going, mal'chik. You're doing good. Take it all," he murmured lowly as Levi choked and swallowed around him.

The flex of muscles around the cock only encouraged the Russian as he groaned and tossed his head back. Then he picked up the pace and chased the pleasure in Levi's tortured throat. Damp eyes were creased in misery and wet his lashes, but he tried to blink the saltiness away, not wanting to give the Russian the pleasure of seeing his tears. But breathing was becoming difficult, and the pain flared with each thrust down his bleeding throat and each choke ripped from him.

A bead of sweat trailed down toward his eye, warm wetness started to reach his clavicle. Lovof's thrust were becoming frantic and violent as Levi tried to will his throat to open and his eyes to close.

Suddenly, Levi was being shoved backwards off the Russian's lap by his hair. The motion caused his eyes to shoot open and a gasp of air to enter his suffering lungs as the obstruction plopped out of his lips. Before he could make sense of what was happening, Lovof pushed him back until he was pressed into the panel of the desk, and he stood over him with a leg on either side of his knees. Fingers still intwined in his hair, Lovof stared down at him with flushed cheeks and heavy panting while he used his other hand to guide his cock back into Levi's mouth with a single, long thrust.

Levi 's eyes widened as his head was pressed into the wooden desk, bouncing slightly against the drawer handle by the violent thrusts as the Russian fucked his face with unhinged need and heavy grunts.

Blood, sweat, and a stray tear soiled his pale skin. Pre-cum tainted his mouth and he choked on another gag. Not because of the size of the nasty dick in his mouth but the fact that Levi was utterly disgusted with himself. The filth. The humiliation.

He tried to reassure himself that it was better this way. That he didn't regret it because if he didn't do it, Izzy or Furlan would have been forced to carry it out.

It was better this way.

Yet, all the reassurance in the world could not keep the callous scenarios of how he wanted to brutally kill the man in front of him. Of everything in the world, in that moment, Levi only wanted to ram his knife into the Russian pig, over and over and over and over and over again.

"Ah, yes, yes." Lovof's hips began to stutter just as dizziness was starting to rattle Levi into a shaking mess.

Both hands curling into Levi's silky hair to hold him in place, Lovof's orgasm rushed through him as he shoved his cock deep into Levi's mouth. As the twitching cock emptied down his throat, Levi tried to tug free, and a muffled noise vibrated around the blockage of his airway. Unsympathetically, Lovof held him in place, leaning his hips forward to press Levi's head harshly into the desk.

"Swallow it all, mal'chik," he ordered breathlessly, "I know you want to spit it out, you little clean freak. If you don't swallow it, the alternative is on your face."

A cruel smile curled as he watched Levi gag, writhing while black spots started to fill his vision. As his throat convulsed to swallow the cum, Lovof released his withering dick from Levi's mouth. Instantly, Levi gasped for air, coughing and feeling the rawness of his throat.

Inside and out, his whole neck was a bundle of agony.

Tucking himself back in his pants, Lovof patted the top of his head patronizingly, almost like a parent would reassure a young child with.

"I would offer to take that off your debt, mal'chik, but as you said, you aren't a whore. So, we'll keep it marked down as practice."

Distantly, Levi's mind conjured the phantom feeling of cartilage snapping beneath his palms, the satisfying crack of a bone breaking, the muscle memory of a trigger pull. Levi wanted to kill him. He couldn't put words to what he felt, the internal maladies turned ritualized forms of torment and torture. His distress and shame clashed within, a cataclysmic birth to rage directed at the man before him.

Yet, through his shaky breaths, what halted his instinctive desire to eliminate his boss right then and there, were his hands trembling and how his body felt utterly out of his control. As if the strings to the puppet were tangles and snipped, leaving his movements to be jerky in motion.

He felt dizzy from the lack of oxygen and the interrupted blood flow to his brain. Just beneath the surface of his skin, the raw emotions were clambering and clawing each other, fighting tooth and nail to the surface but too messy for Levi to distinguish one from the other.

Hands were quivering, the unpleasant briny taste still coating the inside of his mouth. He felt unclean. Nauseating. Filthy. He needed to get clean. He wanted to go home. He wanted to get away from this man before he lost control and did something he would regret and put his friends in harm's way.

But as Levi clambered to his feet, he didn't know just how to feel in that moment. Shame, rage, humiliation, hatred. The last, he found, not only directed at Lovof but equal measure at himself. He was so used to compartmentalizing his emotions into manageable pieces that now he felt like it was a tidal wave set to drown him. Some invisible pressure crushing him from all sides.

Wait. This sensation seemed familiar. The physical sickness, the foggy brain, the out of body feeling. Was he going into psychological shock?

No.

No. That couldn't be it. He was fine…

Levi blinked and suddenly he was in the darkened hallway as the burly Russian closed the door behind him. When did he leave the office?

Confused and still lightheaded, his sterling gaze looked at the envelope suddenly in his hand. Brows knitting together as he tried to recall what happened between Lovof finishing and Levi standing in the hallway, but he was drawing a blank. The next thing he knew, as if his body was on autopilot, he was walking out to the VIP lounge.

Levi had never been to the beach.

What a random ass thought.

But he never had. It was the truth.

Furlan and Izzy had invited him, he remembered. Two years ago? Or was it three? Either way, he turned them down because it was out in the open with tons of people around. For others it was a relaxing experience, but for him, it would have been a nightmare as his instincts constantly warned of unknown threats.

Where was he going with this?

Oh, yeah. Furlan had told him about riptides. About how it was something that was not easy to recognize in the ocean and when two currents met, it could drag a person out to sea. Some were strong enough to pull people out hundreds of yards from the shore without any hope of swimming out of it until they reached the end. It sounded terrifying, but at that moment, he wondered if it felt similar to this.

The way his control was out of reach and all he could do was tremble and try not to puke and dry his eyes from choking, and God—he wanted to throw up.

His walk out of the building was almost a blur, when normally his focus was usually sharp and aware of other potential threats around him. The foul smell of cheap cologne and alcohol permeated the air, and the bass of the speakers was impossible to distinguish from the blood in his ears. Bodies bumped into him as he cut through the dance floor, while the flashing lights blinded him as they flickered across his face. Somewhere, he heard a girl shriek beside him and he wondered if he looked like a bloody victim staggering out of one of Furlan's horror movies.

By the time he made it outside and across the street, the cool evening air gave his lungs a blessed respite, centering and grounding his flighty thoughts to the present. However, the breeze did little to quell his unruly emotions or heavy breaths.

As he closed his eyes and tried to regain a semblance of his composure, there was a vibration in his pocket. Willing himself to relax, he pulled out the phone and saw three unread messages.

Furlan

(19:31) Hey, when do you think you'll be back? Just wondering when I should place our food order.

Izzy

(19:44) Big Bro! Guess what? I got an 88 on my practice NCLEX exam! It doesn't sound great but trust me that it is! If I can score that well on the official, I'll have my nursing license!

Furlan

(20:09) I went ahead and ordered some ravioli and fettuccine. Figured we can warm it up in the microwave. Let me know when you're on your way, mate.

Suddenly, Levi darted into the nearest alley where he had just enough time to brace a hand against the side of the building before he vomited stomach bile across the concrete.

Fuck!

He heaved until nothing else came up and a fresh sheen of sweat was broken across his pale skin. There was no way he could face Furlan. Not after everything he was put through and the previous spat they had before he left. Even if it was resolved before it became a full argument, Levi knew that showing up to Furlan's in his condition with the blond's already poor mood would stoke a real argument between them.

More importantly, Levi's grasp on his shame and anger was fragile at best. His composure fucked. He didn't trust himself not to do anything he'd regret, not when there was an overwhelming urge to break things.

He would go home.

He needed to go home.

All Levi wanted to do was hurt someone, even if it had to be himself. And he couldn't have the satisfaction to hurt himself if Furlan was around.

He couldn't hurt anyone if he was alone.

---

Wow this chapter ended up longer than I expected!

Please don't hate me! Yes. Levi has it bad. But it will get better for our fidget-spinner, I promise!

My take on him in the beginning of this story is that he doesn't have much purpose or drive. Going through the motions to help his friends is noble, but not quite the calling he was meant to take. I felt that in such a situation he would be prone to dissociation and wanted to highlight how concentration and loss of time can affect people with this disorder, especially when there was that toxic mixture of dichotomy between wanting to kill the person who took advantage of you and wanting to just zone out from it.

As for Furlan's choice of tv, if you know the Grand Tour, you probably know which episode he was watching. XD