BARGAINING

The drive to The Velvet Veil was tense, the silence between Ben and Rook thick with unspoken thoughts. They had reached the heart of Bellwood's old district, a place filled with shadows and secrets. The streets were lined with worn-out buildings, their facades hidden behind a veil of mist and low-hanging fog. This part of town was notorious for places where people came to disappear, where pasts were kept quiet, and sins could be buried beneath layers of wealth and indulgence.

Rook glanced sideways at Ben, the dim street lights illuminating his partner's hardened expression. There was something different about Ben tonight—an even greater tension than usual. He seemed to be wrestling with ghosts from his past, especially after their encounter with Zomboni. Rook knew better than to ask about it now, but he was starting to realise just how deeply these memories gnawed at Ben's mind.

They turned onto a narrow side street, the SUV's headlights revealing a sleek black building ahead. The Velvet Veil stood out among the crumbling architecture—a sharp contrast of luxury amid decay. Its black velvet ropes separated the entrance from the streets, the sign above barely visible, designed for those who knew where to look. To the untrained eye, it was an upscale club, but those in the know understood that it was far more discreet—a haven for those with dark pasts and hidden secrets.

Rook parked the SUV, stepping out without a word. Ben followed, the cold night air biting at his skin as they approached the entrance. A low fog clung to the ground, swirling around them as if to keep their presence concealed. The distant thrum of music could be heard, muffled beneath layers of concrete, vibrating through the streets.

Rook's sharp eyes darted around, taking in every detail. The building was nondescript, with no flashy signs or loud crowds outside. This was a place where people came to vanish.

As they neared the entrance, a large bouncer blocked their path, his eyes scanning them with detached indifference. He looked over Ben for a brief moment, his gaze lingering as if he recognized something, but he didn't speak. After a tense pause, he stepped aside and gestured for them to enter. Ben didn't acknowledge the silent permission; he simply walked through the door, Rook trailing behind him.

The door opened with a soft hiss, and the moment they stepped inside, the ambiance changed drastically. The Velvet Veil was everything its exterior suggested—opulent, shadowed, and brimming with secrecy. The walls were draped in dark fabrics, the lighting soft enough to cast long shadows, making it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a dim glow over the polished black marble floors. Every detail spoke of luxury and exclusivity, designed to make patrons feel safe and hidden from the outside world.

The clientele matched the atmosphere—well-dressed men and women lounging on velvet couches, their voices low as they conversed with escorts dressed in flowing silk gowns. The air smelled faintly of expensive perfume and smoke, mixing with the scent of alcohol, creating a heady, intoxicating atmosphere.

Ben's gaze swept across the room, his expression unreadable. He was looking for someone specific, but Hope wasn't the type to be found easily. They didn't even know what she looked like anymore.

Rook moved closer, scanning the room as well. "Are you sure she'll be here?" he asked, his voice low.

Ben's eyes narrowed as he nodded slowly.

They both knew Hope wasn't going to make herself easy to find. It had been years since her release, and it was clear that she had taken steps to stay off the radar. Julie had told them rumours of her working in this district, but nothing concrete. She had probably changed her appearance, gone underground. They were looking for a needle in a haystack.

Rook's gaze flicked around the room, noticing the subtle security—cameras hidden in corners, staff discreetly watching patrons. This wasn't just a place for indulgence; it was a fortress of secrets, carefully monitored and controlled.

An escort approached them, her silk gown shimmering under the dim light. Her expression was practised, sultry, with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She stepped closer, her voice low and inviting. "Looking for a good time, gentlemen?"

Ben shook his head curtly, his patience thin. "We're looking for someone," he said, his tone clipped.

The escort raised an eyebrow, her practised smile faltering just slightly. "And who might that be?"

Ben didn't respond right away, his eyes sweeping the room again, looking for anyone who might match Hope's description. But then again, she wouldn't look like the silver-haired sorceress she once was. He needed to be careful, not alert anyone unnecessarily.

Rook stepped in, his tone more diplomatic. "We're looking for someone... who may not want to be found. Someone with a history."

The escort's smile faltered further, replaced by a look of mild annoyance. She rolled her eyes, sighing dramatically. "Everyone here has a history, sweetheart."

Ben's jaw clenched, but he remained silent. They needed to be cautious. They didn't know what Hope looked like now, they didn't even know what or who to look for. It wouldn't be easy to pinpoint her in this crowd.

"Maybe you've heard of someone," Rook continued, his voice even. "Someone who used to go by the name Hope."

At that, the escort's demeanour changed entirely. Her eyes widened just a fraction, and she glanced around quickly as if to make sure no one was listening. When she looked back at them, there was a wariness in her gaze.

"I don't know anyone by that name," she said quietly, though her eyes betrayed her lie. She hesitated, clearly weighing the risk of saying more. "But there are rumours..."

Ben's patience was wearing thin, and Rook could sense it. He nodded slightly to the escort, signalling that they understood.

"Look," the escort sighed, glancing around before lowering her voice. "I don't know what you're looking for, but if you're after someone with that kind of past, you might want to check the far end of the room. There's a girl... short black hair. Goes by the name of Hope. Doesn't talk much. Keeps to herself. But some people say she's got a history, a real colourful one."

She paused, eyeing Ben and Rook warily before continuing. "There are whispers about her... something about how she used to be notorious around here. Big clients, popular ones—the kind you don't want to mess with—they'd visit her, sometimes harass her. Not the usual crowd. People started thinking she was mixed up in something bigger... something darker. She never talks about it, though."

Ben's eyes sharpened as the escort's words hit home. This was the clue he had been waiting for. Without another word, he turned on his heel and headed in the direction the escort had pointed to. Rook followed closely behind, his gaze briefly flicking back to the escort as she disappeared into the crowd, clearly relieved to have passed on the information.

As they made their way deeper into the club, the atmosphere seemed to grow more shadowed, the conversations quieter. At the far end of the room, they saw her—sitting alone, draped casually across a velvet couch. Her hair was short and dyed black. Nothing about her reminded Ben of her past life. Her skin, still carrying the faint tan she'd always had, contrasted sharply with the dark silk dress she wore.

Ben stopped for a moment, staring at her. He had expected to feel something—rage, maybe, or bitterness. But instead, all he felt was a cold emptiness. This wasn't the Hope he remembered, but the weight of their shared history still hung between them.

She hadn't noticed them yet. She was watching the room, her eyes distant, her expression detached. She had perfected the art of being invisible in plain sight.

Rook glanced at Ben, then back at the woman. "That's her, isn't it?"

Ben's jaw tightened and nodded firmly.

Without waiting for Rook, Ben strode forward, his footsteps heavy, his presence commanding. Rook followed, though he knew better than to try and stop Ben now.

As they reached the couch, the woman finally looked up. Her eyes widened just slightly as they met Ben's, a flicker of recognition passing through her expression. She straightened up, her guarded demeanour quickly replacing her brief shock.

"What do you two gentlemen want?" She eyed Ben, her gaze darting back and forth between him and Rook. "You know, double costs extra, right?"

Ben stepped forward, his voice cold and steady. "We're not here for your services."

Hope raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. "Then what do you want, if not the usual?"

Ben's glare hardened, and he spoke with quiet authority. "We're here for you, Hope."

Her body tensed, the sarcasm draining from her voice as the name sank in. Her eyes flickered with recognition, and she studied them carefully. "That's a name I haven't heard in a long time…" she muttered warily, eyeing them both. "Who are you?"

Ben stepped forward and pulled his coat aside, revealing the burnt, cracked Omnitrix on his wrist. The faded green glow beneath his sleeve was unmistakable.

Hope's eyes widened in disbelief. She leaned back, her confidence faltering. "Ben Tennyson? What the hell are you doing here? I haven't done anything wrong! I've been clean since my parole!" Her voice rose defensively, as if she were preparing to be dragged back to prison.

Ben's eyes scanned the room, making it clear that her surroundings told a different story.

Hope sighed, exasperated. "Look, it's not exactly easy for an ex-supervillain like me to find a decent job, okay? Not when my resume includes torture, kidnapping, and nearly ending the world." She gestured around the bar. "This place may be a shithole, but at least it pays the bills."

Rook, trying to remain composed, tilted his head. "But why the change?"

Her expression hardened, the frustration bubbling over. "Why the change? Because maybe supervillains deserve a chance to come clean, too! You think I enjoyed spending my entire life getting my ass kicked by you?" She pointed at Ben. "I wasted years trying to take you down. But when I was in prison, I realised something—there had to be more than this. I didn't want to be just a villain forever."

She crossed her arms, glaring at them both. "And now I have two nuisances who are going to ruin it all for me."

Rook stepped forward, trying to calm her. "We're not here to ruin your life, Hope. We need your help."

Her expression remained defiant. "Help with what?"

"Vilgax is back," Rook said, his voice steady but urgent. He took a step closer to Hope, trying to gauge her reaction.

Her initial response was indifferent. She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms tighter across her chest. "Yeah? Well, good luck with that," she replied dryly, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "But I don't see what any of this has to do with me." She turned slightly, her eyes darting to the door as if she were considering ending the conversation then and there.

Rook could see her defences were up. She wasn't going to be easily swayed. He chose his words carefully. "You know what Vilgax is capable of, Hope," he said, his tone more measured now. "We're not asking you to return to that life. But we can't stop him without someone who understands magic."

Hope gave a short, humourless laugh. "And what makes you think I want to help you?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "And last time I checked, your cousin, Gwen, is a better sorcerer than me, no?"

A sharp tension filled the air, and Ben spoke up, his voice rough, each word landing like a weight. "Gwen is dead."

Hope froze. The sarcasm melted from her face, replaced by a brief flicker of surprise. She studied Ben for a moment, perhaps expecting some sort of cruel joke, but his eyes—cold and detached—told her the truth. She could see the pain, even if he tried to hide it.

For a moment, there was silence. The air between them felt heavier than before. Hope shifted uncomfortably, her eyes casting downward. "I… didn't know," she murmured, her voice softer now, carrying a hint of guilt. "I'm sorry."

Ben didn't respond. His face remained impassive, as though the pain of Gwen's death was so deeply buried it barely registered anymore. But even in his silence, the weight of her loss hung between them.

Rook took the opportunity to speak again. "Few days ago, Vilgax attacked the last active Plumber base, Killed everyone– but me." he stopped as a look of mourning shot across his face. "He stole the file on Gwen."

Hope frowned, her brows knitting together. "Gwen's file? What does he need them for?"

"We're not sure. But Gwen, before the time of her death," Rook stopped again as he tread on the matter, eyeing Ben. Ben remained indifferent. "Was studying dark magic. We believe that he's attempting to continue her research. And if Vilgax succeeds, we're all finished. That includes you."

Hope let out a slow breath, clearly growing frustrated with the conversation. "Look," she said, shaking her head. "I get that this is a big deal for you. But I'm not getting involved. I told you, that life—the villain stuff—it's behind me." She gestured around the room again, her frustration rising. "As much of a shithole as this place is, it's still better than what I had before. I've got a job, and I'm not going back to the way things were."

Her tone was resolute, and Ben could see there was something more beneath her words, something she wasn't saying. The bitterness in her voice, the way she clung to her new life, told him she wasn't just reluctant—she was afraid. Afraid of what might happen if she stepped back into the world she had fought so hard to escape.

Rook, sensing this, tried a different approach. "We're not asking you to become Hope again," he said, his voice softer now. "We're asking for your knowledge. You don't have to fight Vilgax—you just have to help us understand how to stop him."

Hope's expression remained guarded. "And what happens after that, huh?" she asked, her voice growing sharper. "You think I don't know how this goes? I help you stop Vilgax, and then the world remembers who I am. They'll call me a villain again, and before I know it, I'm back in that hellhole of a prison."

She bounced her leg, her anger simmering beneath the surface. "Do you have any idea what it's like? People like me don't get second chances. You think anyone looks at me and sees a person trying to change? No, all they see is a supervillain who screwed up. I've worked too damn hard to claw my way out of that pit, and I'm not risking it for you."

Her voice cracked slightly, though she quickly composed herself. She stood still, her arms crossed, her jaw set. It was clear now—she wasn't just refusing out of bitterness. She was terrified. She knew the system wouldn't give her another shot if things went sideways.

Ben's eyes remained locked on her, his expression unreadable. He understood her fear, though he wasn't willing to show it. He knew what it felt like to be trapped in a life that felt impossible to escape, even when you wanted out. But Hope's past was different. Her fall had been harder, her climb back steeper.

"You think I don't know what it's like?" Ben said quietly, his voice colder than before. "To be a prisoner in your own life? To have the world look at you like you're something broken?"

His words hung in the air, but they didn't break her resolve. Hope shook her head. "That may be, but the difference between you and me, Ben, is that you still get to be the hero. People still look at you and see someone worth saving. I don't have that luxury. If I help you, I will lose everything I've built, and I'm not willing to throw that away."

Rook stepped in again, hoping to appeal to a different part of her. "This isn't just about saving the world. If Vilgax succeeds, he will destroy everything. Everything you've worked for, everything you've tried to build here—it'll be wiped out."

Hope bit her lip, her brow furrowing as she considered his words. She knew they weren't lying. Vilgax's plans were never small, and time magic was beyond dangerous. But the thought of getting dragged back into that world, of risking her fragile sense of stability, was too much.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice quieter now. "I can't. I'm done with that life. If you're smart, you'll find another way to stop him. But you won't drag me back into it."

Rook and Ben exchanged a look. Hope's fear was palpable, and it was clear she wasn't going to be easily convinced. The pain of her past, the fear of returning to prison, was too much for her to ignore.

Ben took a slow, deliberate step toward her, but Hope stopped him.

Hope's eyes flickered with uncertainty, but she shook her head. "I've made my choice, Ben. I'm sorry, but I can't help you."

Rook let out a slow breath, clearly disappointed but understanding. "I know you're scared," he said gently. "But we're not asking you to go back to that life. We're asking you to help us stop something worse."

There was a long pause. Hope looked away, her hands tightening into fists at her sides. For a moment, it seemed like she might reconsider, but then she turned back to them, her expression hard again.

"I said no," she repeated, her voice more certain this time. "You're going to have to find someone else."

Ben stared at her for a long moment, his face a mask of cold indifference. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving Rook standing in the doorway.

Rook hesitated for a moment longer, his eyes lingering on Hope, trying to find some last glimmer of hope in her expression. But she was resolute.

"We'll find another way," Rook said softly, before turning to follow Ben out of the club.

As Ben and Rook walked away from her, Hope let out a long, shaky breath, her hands trembling slightly. She had made her decision, but it didn't feel like a victory. The weight of her past clung to her like a shadow, and as much as she wanted to believe she could escape it, a part of her knew that her past would never truly leave her.

As the music of the bar spurred and danced, the heavy tension that had filled the room seemed to dissipate, but Hope was left sitting alone, her heart pounding in her chest. She exhaled a shaky breath, her hands still trembling slightly from the encounter. She had made her decision to stay out of it, and yet the weight of it hung over her like a storm cloud, dark and suffocating.

Her gaze lingered to the people of the bar, bottles and glasses clinking, her mind swirling with the conversation that had just taken place. Vilgax. Dark Magic. Gwen's research. Rook's words echoed in her mind, growing louder the more she tried to push them aside. Forcing herself to focus on the present, she reminded herself that she wasn't that person anymore. Hope was gone. She had worked so hard to leave that life behind.

Then her phone buzzed on the bar table, pulling her out of her thoughts. The soft vibration sent a jolt through her, and she quickly reached for it, swiping the screen to answer.

It was a call from her son's babysitter, Marta. Her breath caught for a moment as the familiar, excited face of her three-year-old son appeared on the screen, his bright eyes sparkling with joy as he waved enthusiastically at her.

"Hi, Mommy!" he called out, his little voice cutting through the tension that had built inside her.

Hope smiled softly, her heart clenching with emotion. "Hey, sweetheart," she said gently, her voice softer than it had been in years. "Are you being good for Marta?"

Marta's face appeared for a moment on the screen, offering a quick smile and wave. "He's doing great, Hope. We're about to settle in for the night, but I wanted to check in with you. Is everything alright?"

Hope's smile wavered slightly, but she forced herself to keep it up. "Everything's fine, Marta. Listen, I might need you to stay with him overnight… maybe a few days."

Marta's eyebrows raised slightly. "For a few days?" There was no judgement in her voice, only curiosity and concern. "Are you sure?"

Hope hesitated. Her son, still giggling in the background, showed her a toy he had been playing with. She watched him, her heart tightening as the weight of Rook's earlier words began to sink in. "If Vilgax succeeds, everything you've built—everything you're trying to protect—it'll be wiped out."

She bit her lip, fighting against the surge of anxiety building within her. "Yeah, I've got… work to do. I won't be able to come home right away," she said, her voice faltering slightly before she caught herself.

Her son, overhearing this, looked up at the screen. "You're not coming home?" His voice was small, confused.

Hope's heart twisted painfully at his question. She hated this—hated leaving him, hated that she was even considering stepping back into the life she had tried so hard to escape. But she knew she had to. If Vilgax got what he wanted, there wouldn't be a home to come back to.

She forced a smile and leaned closer to the screen. "I have to go do some work, sweetie. But I'll be back soon, I promise. And when I get home, we'll get some ice cream. How does that sound?"

His face brightened instantly, his worries forgotten in the promise of a treat. "Chocolate ice cream?"

Hope chuckled, though the sound was hollow in her own ears. "Chocolate ice cream. And I'll take you to the fairground, too, just like we talked about."

He clapped his hands in excitement, and for a moment, the knot in her chest loosened. But it didn't last long.

"We'll be fine here," Marta reassured her, her voice soft. "Take care of what you need to. We'll see you when you're back."

Hope nodded, grateful but unable to shake the heavy feeling settling over her. "Thanks, Marta. I'll call again when I can."

The call ended, and the screen went black. Hope stared at her own reflection on the blacked out screen. The silence that followed felt suffocating, and the weight of Rook's warning pressed harder than ever. If Vilgax succeeds, everything you've built—everything you're trying to protect—it'll be wiped out. Her son. The fragile life she had constructed for him. The safety she had fought to provide.

She couldn't afford to stay out of it anymore.

She tapped her fingers on the bar table, her legs bouncing as her mind raced. She had tried so hard to escape Hope, to leave the life of magic and chaos behind. But could she really risk losing her son's future for the sake of clinging to the illusion of safety? If Vilgax succeeded, everything would fall apart. She'd lose him.

No. I won't let that happen.

Her hands balled into fists, determination replacing her earlier hesitation. She couldn't tell Ben or Rook about her son—there was no need for them to know. This wasn't about them, or her past. This was about protecting her child, his future. And for that, she would do whatever it took.

With renewed resolve, Hope grabbed her coat from the bar table and slipped it on. She moved toward the exit, hesitating as she paced quickly to the door. Part of her wanted to explain to Ben and Rook why she had been so reluctant. But no, she pushed the thought aside. They didn't need to know. Her son was hers to protect, and no one else needed to be involved in that.

She took a deep breath and opened the door, slipping out into the street, the sky a beautiful violet as the sun was setting down. The soft hum of conversation and music seemed far away now, distant as her mind focused on one thing—finding Ben and Rook.

As she approached the parking lot, she saw them stepping outside, their backs to her. Ben's tall figure was as imposing as ever, his coat pulled tight around him, while Rook followed closely, his usual calm demeanour steady and watchful.

"Ben!" she called out, her voice carrying through the cool evening air. She jogged toward them, her breath quickening with both urgency and frustration at what she was about to do.

They both stopped. Ben turned slowly, his face unreadable, while Rook gave her a curious, surprised glance.

For a moment, Hope stood there, catching her breath. She hated this—hated that she was about to get involved again, hated that she had no choice.

"I'll help you," she said, her voice firm, though tinged with reluctance. "But I'm not doing this for you." She locked eyes with Ben. "I'm doing this for… someone else."

Ben's expression remained cold, though there was a flicker of understanding in his eyes. He didn't ask for an explanation. He didn't need one.

Rook stepped forward, his tone cautious but respectful. "We appreciate it, Hope. We won't drag you into more than necessary."

Hope folded her arms across her chest, her gaze hardening. "Let's just get one thing straight," she said, her voice sharp. "I'm not Hope anymore. This doesn't mean I'm going back to that life. I'm just helping you stop Vilgax, and then I'm done. Got it?"

Ben gave a short nod.

Her mind drifted briefly back to her son, to the promise of chocolate ice cream and the fairground, before she shook herself back to the present. She didn't need to tell them about him—didn't need to explain why this mattered so much. Her son was her priority, and that was all they needed to know.

"Let's just get this over with," she muttered, still reluctant, but resolute as she moved toward their vehicle.

Ben and Rook exchanged a glance but didn't speak. There was an unspoken understanding between them now. Hope had agreed to help, but something more was driving her—a secret she wasn't ready to share. For now, they had what they needed, and that was enough.

The three of them climbed into the SUV, the engine roaring to life as they pulled away from The Velvet Veil and headed into the night. The weight of the mission hung heavily in the air, but for the first time since their journey began, there was a flicker of hope.