It was around five in the morning when Misha decided tonight wasn’t going to be one where he actually slept. Rolling out of the ancient bed of the hotel room he called home and moving to the desk he’d been given. His room, some magical memory of a hotel from the 1920s or however it worked, made up of a queen bed, wooden desk, an icebox, closet, and bathroom.
Every bit of it a century out of date and somehow still perfectly working all the same; even his window overlooking a beachfront that didn’t exist anymore.
Disconcerting, but what was he going to do?
Halfway through a stack of paperwork, vampires in Santa Monica having a territory dispute he’d need to rule on later, his phone rang. Not his cellphone, no fucking signal in here (nor WiFi, but that was another complaint entirely) but the old candlestick phone on his desk. The werewolf taking it up with a sigh and holding the receiver up to his ear as he answered, “Misha here, who am I talking to?”
The call having the static Misha associated with ghosts normally, the voice was at least legible as Fox answered, “just me, Misha. I’m about to get on my last plane, wanted to make sure you’re still good to pick me up later? I’m sorry, it must be-”
“I wasn’t sleeping anyway,” Misha answered, smiling all the same as he leaned back in his seat waving the microphone part of the candlestick phone in a short circle, “I’ll be there for you, borrowing a car from Circe and have permission for you to stay in the hotel. I just need to-” there was a knock at the door and the man sighed, apologizing as he told her, “going to be one of those days. I’ll call you back, only Circe ever knocks on my door and that means someone’s dead.”
“Long as it’s not you,” Fox giggled, finishing the conversation off, “I need to get ready to board anyway, I’ll see you in a little bit.”
She hung up, and Misha rushed the short length of his room to throw open the door, if not before double checking the hotel’s internal wall clock wasn’t reading three AM. He’d almost made the mistake of opening it for the local spirits a few times when he’d shown up, internal time separate from real time not helping, and the werewolf didn’t want to die from a simple trick.
Not feeling much better as he did open it and was greeted with a sight he hadn’t yet had in the hotel: a bell hop stood perfectly still in the hall. The man with his too perfectly still smile and face staring him down for several seconds before slowly raising a card mechanically forward and declaring, “Message for you, Mr. Lyon. A man called to let you know you were being invited to breakfast in the city today, and I was told to deliver the message immediately.”
Alright, Misha didn’t know there were actual staff here even as he hesitantly took the card and looked down at the message.
An address, Misha recognized it as the coffee shop down the street from his favorite hotel exit, and the words, Our mutual friend called a favor for this. Seven for Breakfast -BB.
“Fuck,” Misha cursed, pushing past the ghost and locking his door behind him as he marched down the halls.
Still in his sleep clothes — a pair of sweatpants and nothing else — and not caring about it as he marched to the stairs and up to the third floor. Barely remembering to count the stairs and glad he did as he needed to go back down and count them again. There were fourteen steps exactly, he wasn’t letting a few extra steps appear to bring him wherever they went otherwise.
On the third floor, he took the hall down and followed the pattern Circe had taught him — left, right, left, right, left — to reach a single wooden door at the end of the repeating halls. Knocking a few short times and waiting until the door opened to a very tired looking Circe standing there. A short woman with short-cut purple hair wearing a pair of sleep shorts and an over sized t-shirt Misha almost regretted he couldn’t enjoy, who looked up at him and asked, “are you aware of the time?”
“I can’t do your vampire job, sorry,” Misha answered, the witch narrowing her eyes even as he explained, “I’m about to go meet up with a friend for breakfast. She never asks to meet me unless something’s happened, apparently you have a messaging service she contacted me through.”
Circe sighed, rubbing her eyes as she complained, “Misha, the only people who can use the hotel’s messaging service are the ones who-” The witch stopped herself, eyes remaining closed and posture annoyed as she held her hand out for the paper. Misha handing it over and the woman looking at it for only a moment before she started, “please tell me BB isn’t-”
“The Lady lent my pack out for a job in Maryland when I was still working for Alfred, turned into a big internal issue,” Misha tried to gently drop the basics, the woman raising a brow in a way that made him figure he’d be forced to give the details later, “long story short, me and the girl I’m pretty sure sent the message didn’t hate each other by the end.” another look and he defended himself, “not an ex, I promise on God there,” and the bit of disgust in his voice at that seemed to confuse her more, “point is, mercenary. If her crew wasn’t feeling a job in the area, or she was working on short notice, she’d ask me to help out. If she knows I’m out here, and asked him for help getting me a message, it’s something important.”
Circe sighed, looking ready to speak before she looked at the card again, a look the man couldn’t describe coming over her for a long time before she passed it back. The witch rolling her head back as she declared in an exacerbated tone, “Tell your girl that Blue still fucking owes me for the girl he killed in the hotel last century, and he’s still banned from the city. She kept the hotel up with her crying for a month before we found the body to exorcise her.”
“I’ll let her know,” Misha agreed, and the witch slammed the door in his face as he made his way back to the stairs. Right, left, right, left, right, and there were fourteen steps on the first try this time. No one stopping him as he returned to his room and quickly changed for the day out with his normal outfit.
Still buttoning his shirt as he ran down the hall, the hotel trying to trick him with twelve steps to the first floor before he went back up and waited to try again. Lucky enough to get it on the second time down, signing out at the front desk and going to the front door where he took out his key ring.
Each of the dozen keys having its own exit, he picked the one marked Restaurant with tape and marker. His personal favorite as he turned the key and stepped out into the cramped storeroom of the restaurant. From there just letting the door close behind him and turning to open it into the slow running kitchen as a man down at the counter turned and asked, “early morning, Mr. Lyon?”
“Have time for breakfast,” Misha answered taking out his wallet to order, “box of lo mein, no drink for me this time I’m getting coffee in a little under an hour.”
“And don’t forget the fortune cookie this time,” the man added on with a laugh even as he called the order back, Misha feeling a bit embarrassed about that. One time sounding a little too genuinely disappointed after checking his takeout bag, and he’d yet to live it down.
Ah well, twenty-four hour Chinese restaurant that was a three minute walk from his room with good luck, who was he to complain?
A short wait later and Misha sat down to eat, making sure his phone’s signal was working again and picking the morning music. Too serious a day for Ska, wasn’t feeling up to Weezer or Coldplay… eh, always a good morning for a musical soundtrack, and Wicked sounded good for zoning out. Letting himself sink into the music while he ate and enjoyed the morning air, and then walking with a half dance to the music as he made his way down the sidewalk with five minutes to spare.
Maybe not the best move, crosswalks were always a bitch, but it was only a few blocks and he made it to the coffee shop only a minute late. The man not needing to look for long, or at all, before seeing his friend sat at one of the tables outside.
Misha held back a laugh at the sight of her, forcing even his smile down as he walked up and asked, “should I order?”
“She’ll bring it out in a minute,” Red answered, smiling up to him as she gestured to the chair across from her, of course feeling the need to add on, “you still can’t fucking dance, I see why you don’t.”
Not having bothered putting on new clothes, they would have changed to her current one by the time a few hours were up, Red was dressed as her nature forced her to. Long red skirt, bodice and puffy long sleeved white blouse from somewhere between history and the costume store, white stockings and little buckle shoes, and of course the long red woolen cloak.
Her black hair hanging free around her face, the girl looked around twenty if you held a gun to Misha’s head and made him pick an exact number, though closer to indescribably having a face that could have been fourteen or a healthy thirty. She had the sort of ambiguity to her appearance and age that Misha could only compare to the uncanny valley of a heavily photo shopped model.
She was also making him want to kill her already, a thought Misha had to put down with some skilled mental gymnastics. Isolating the fact it wasn’t his normal thought process, knowing that was just the effect Urban Legends, Stories he guessed more accurate in this case, like her had on people. Childhood belief in her was as a victim, someone killed by the wolf, the magic making her needed to feed on that. What better way to feed on that knowledge than getting killed for a little bit, and why wouldn’t werewolves be a little more susceptible to her?
Neither speaking, Red looking at him with a raised brow while she waited for him to get the influence under control until Misha sighed and gave a thumbs up. Not having long after that to speak before a woman stepped from the shop carrying two cups and announced, “large black coffee, large soy latte with three pumps of caramel,” as she sat them down.
Red switching the cups around as she took the black coffee Misha, and Misha took up his latte even as he asked, “so, how bad are things you asked Bluebeard for help delivering a message?”
“Well, someone forgot to text and tell me they moved across the country, so had to learn that from Allie being confused when I showed up at her desk,” Red explained with a sigh, sipping her coffee while she leaned back in her chair, “Blue agreed to slow down his marriage proposals to once every two months, and he pays well when he needs something robbed or someone dead. I’ve been doing jobs for him more now that he learned to keep things professional. He knew the number for your hotel’s message service and his castle had a door that opened up in Sherman Oaks.”
Misha nodded and made a noise of acknowledgment, a little curious as he asked, “this not a job then? Figured the Pigs usually don’t help you on big holiday jobs, Christmas right around the corner.”
“Blue’s paying me to take out some guy while I’m out here, married a girl Blue took a fancy to last decade,” Red answered with a small smirk, tipping her cup as she added on, “private security, considering whether I want to make it an assault and have some fun or just set up nearby and risk a drive by.”
“You always have more fun when you do it the loud and proud way,” Misha pointed out with a laugh and, wondering if he could get a paycheck out of it, asked, “how much are you getting paid.”
“20k, even split if you want in,” Red offered, and yeah that was tempting. Why didn’t he go the supernatural mercenary route?
It didn’t particularly matter, and Red sighed as she added on, “anyway, not why I’m here. This is purely professional courtesy, even if you’re not in Richmond anymore, alright?”
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
“Something big going on?”
“Big job’s going through non-guild channels among mercenaries, someone’s under the table — even by our standards — hiring a bunch of people out to Richmond,” Red explained as she scanned the streets around them. Her eyes narrowing for a long time as she seemed to search for something before finally adding on, “as far as I know about five or six teams have considered the offer or sent someone out for recon, doubt more than half will take the job though. You don’t put out that sort of job unless it’s something big and seems like it’ll pay well, but far as I know it’s not from any of the big money makers out there.”
“You and the Pigs didn’t take it?”
“Like I said, Blue’s getting us a lot of our jobs and it’s not any of the big names putting it out,” Red pointed out, which Misha knew just enough about mercenary work to know meant big fucking risk.
Still, meant better opportunities for him as he hesitantly asked, “how much prep do you think we’d need for this job? I can’t get in too much trouble, Circe will kill me and I need to pick up Fox in a few hours. Is that-”
“Two hours for me to get equipment ready and positions set, we do the Norfolk trick?”
Tempting, but more risky than Misha would have liked and he thought about it for a short time before offering, “what we did down in Staunton, when you helped me with that older vampire?”
“I’m not playing a prostitute again for less than fifteen thousand, and the private security types usually arrange that sort of thing through their own channels. wife’s a little less picky with the infidelity, but that’s beside the point,” Red countered with a tiny bit of amusement behind the look.
Misha was about to offer to play the prostitute when she offered her own idea, “going off that though, could do a modification on the routine. Brick and I ran a scout selling cookies act while Napoleon and Haymitch were sniper and spotter. I’m not letting my appearance slip again for that though, takes too long to restore it to something I can stand and I don’t trust you to be the only one in full fighting condition — no offense.”
“None taken.”
Red nodded, sipping her coffee as she stared off in the distance and cursed, looking over to me to ask, “what the fuck would get us inside? Gated home, private security all around, even just getting past the front gates peacefully would be enough to let us fight our way in before he could get to a panic room.”
Misha nodded, clicking his tongue as he leaned back in his and sipped his latte, “can’t do the sniper routine? I mean, I assume there’s a lot of glass walls with this sort of guy or we could-”
“Fancy beachfront house, every building with sight range is either of similar height, too well guarded, or too far or too tall for us to get a good angle.”
Which did make it click for the man, smiling as he rose to his feet and made a quick call, the woman watching in confusion as he told the tired asshole on the other end, “hey, I need your help in San Bernadino, the park, right now. Bear Wallow Trail, about a mile down, no time to explain. I know it’s short notice, but get down here now and bring these supplies. Three tarps, four gallons of water — are you writing this down? Right, three tarps, four gallons of water, a gallon of chocolate ice cream, and a… what is it, silver knife?”
“Silver ritual knife,” Red played along even in her silent judgment for the act.
“Silver ritual knife, you can get it from the witch queen in Hollywood, trust me, okay? It’s fey shit, I don’t know how this is going to go down if you don’t get here in two hours. Alright, I’ll see you soon.”
Misha hung up with a proud smirk, already texting Circe if Peter calls in a couple hours told him I got teleported back to the hotel by the fey, no sooner pressing send than Red asked, “is there a purpose to that? I don’t know this city well, but I know San Bernadino is no where near the beach.”
“The purpose is not what Peter’s bringing us,” Misha countered with a smirk as he took up his key ring, jingling them slowly, “it’s what he’s left unattended at home.”
**
The Ocean waters were calm, for as little that meant on a boat, this far out the shore a thin line in the distance and with no other boats too close to them making for safe work. Misha and Red laid next to one another on the deck of the cabin boat where Red had set up her rifle on its tripod.
Misha at a pair of binoculars next to her, working out their math on the notepad and phone beside him as he complained, “really wish Peter owned a helicopter.”
“This is safer, less government oversight using it this close to a city, though not ideal for firearm use,” Red relented, even as she grumbled through adjusting her scope, “though why did you need to trick him away from his house if you have a key for the boat?”
Misha shrugged, ready to deny her an answer before finally admitting, “he doesn’t know I have a key. I made a copy in case there was ever an emergency where I needed to get out of LA fast, and I didn’t trust the roads. Figured it’d be a good emergency escape, at least get me a couple hundred miles down one shore.”
Red made a grunt of understanding that didn’t hide the frustration on her face as she finally snapped, “never going to make this fucking shot. You understand what sort of skill you’re asking for here? We’re constantly rocking, we’re at a distance most people can’t hit anyway, it’s a one in a million chance of hitting something. Maybe a little better for us, and that’s just because I’ve been using rifles longer than most people.”
Misha nodded, not looking up from his math even as he said the only answer she needed, “you’ll never need to stop bragging if you make it though. Think this won’t get you a little respect in mercenary groups?”
Red glared at him for that, though she didn’t complain anymore as she followed his instructions on adjusting the scope. The slow movement of the boat, constant rocking, and overall issue of shooting from a boat making an already difficult job impossible.
All until Misha told her, “he’s fucking suntanning and barely moving, if there’s a time to aim for the torso and pray it’s now.”
Red grunted in agreement, the woman staying silent for several seconds until she let out a slow breath and the ocean echoed with the rifle’s blast.
Misha knew the procedure for doing this so openly, and Red rolled the rifle into his hands as he scrambled to toss it in the cabin of the boat. A few people on their own boats in the distance, barely specs to be seen, looking around confused even as Misha walked back out putting on his best confused act himself. Fists on his hips, looking around, hand to cover the eyes and offering a small wave to a boat that came by looking around by the time he was strolling back onto the deck.
Red doing her best innocent act herself laying on the deck of the ship, her cloak acting as a nice sized blanket even as Misha wondered if she actually knew why people sunbathed. Her face the only exposed part of her, something that would have probably drawn some suspicion from people thinking about it enough to care even as he let his binoculars scan the shore once more.
“I get him?” The woman asked from her place on the deck, one of her buckled shoes tapping an annoyed rhythm on the plexiglass.
Misha hummed to let her know she was heard though waited to answer until he found the man’s house once more. Freezing at the sight for a few seconds before letting out a chuckle that turned into cackling laugh that got the woman’s attention.
“I’m going to Hell,” Misha confessed, tossing the woman the binoculars for her to take a peek, “you didn’t kill him, at least not right away, though… well, Blue will probably be happy enough with the results.”
Red remained silent while she searched, the smallest smirk crossing her lips letting Misha know he was right as she admitted, “might get paid a little less if it doesn’t kill him, but can’t imagine he’s not happy with a little castration. He’s the biggest asshole I know, if you’re laughing at it I can’t imagine he won’t.”
Misha grunted in agreement and checked his phone, shitty as the reception was out here, with one notification from Circe announcing, U owe me a Dr. P & ice crem in her terrible texting attempt and another a reminder for Fox’s plane. The werewolf grunting as he told her, “we get back to shore now I can probably drop you off before I pick up my sister, that way-”
“Misha, we go to shore right after the shooting it looks suspicious or something like that,” Red countered half-heartedly as she laid back on the boat, “also I haven’t been on a boat for more than killing someone and leaving since the last World War, let me enjoy myself.”
He wanted to complain about that and point out they’d also technically stolen the boat, though after a bit realized no, actually, I don’t care. Smirking as he went to the minifridge on board and found some beer still stored there he took the time to retrieve.
Ready to lay back and enjoy the weather until he came back up the deck and saw her, briefly thinking it’d be so easy to kill her right now before feeling like throwing up at the thought. The woman completely unaware even while he shook up one can while she wasn’t looking and asked, “want a beer? Peter only keeps the shittiest IPA known to man, but he’s got enough for us to have about three each back there.”
“So you finally learned how to treat a girl back in Richmond?” Red asked with a smile as she sat up and held a hand out. Expertly catching the can Misha tossed even as she continued, “here I was starting to think the southern gentleman trope was just a myth.”
“Oh, it has its moments of truth,” Misha shrugged as he started a quick retreat towards the back of the boat. Still pressing his luck a bit as he called back, “how much is the friend discount on killing someone!? You take out Peter, I’ll let you have the boat!”
“Not sure you can offer that!” Red laughed back, barely audible even this close, “come on, what’s so bad about Peter you’re dragging him around like this?! I mean come on, what did he-” Even from the bench seat Misha was settling into he could hear the can hissing and bursting, and Red yelling for a brief moment before she presumably started chugging the can as best she could. Angry, though still laughing through it all as she yelled over, “he asks me to kill you I’m doing it free unless you can give me a good reason to hate him!”
“You kidding?! What didn’t he do to me!” Misha answered with his own laugh laugh, letting it die down as he settled back into his chair and sipped his drink, mumbling the last part more to himself than Red, “Hell, very least deserves it for fucking leaving us.”
**
Two hours later and they were pulling into the airport, laughing as they finished their latest song with Red pausing the music for Misha while they found Fox’s terminal. The auburn haired woman stood beside a single suitcase which Misha and Red both stepped out to help her with.
Well, Red helped with by putting it in the trunk while Misha hugged Fox and laughed while she asked, “really, you and Red working together again? I thought you were supposed to have some time off while I was visiting?”
“Wasn’t planned, was just coming by on professional courtesy,” Red shrugged even as she moved in for her own hug from Fox, almost whining as she asked, “when the fuck did you get so old, Fox? Misha at least has the decency to not look his age, you though?… I’m hurt.”
“Yeah, I know,” Fox said as she pushed the woman away with a laugh, “was wondering who the fuck was with him though. I heard the Weezer karaoke before y’all were in the parking lot, and there’s not a lot of people who can match Misha’s energy for Buddy Holly.”
Red actually looked a little embarrassed about that, swiftly moving to sit in the backseat as she complained, “my latest coworkers are pigs and my sister’s supernaturally annoyingly hot ex, and Misha’s one of the few people who aren’t a Story I can speak with with them not making a big deal about resisting killing me. If my options are dealing with the siblings fighting, Blue, Charming and I trying not to effect one another while talking, and this? I’ll sing to whatever mediocre band Misha puts on the radio. There’s a reason I let him drag me to watch Into the Woods.”
Fox climbed into the passenger seat with the a look of confusion that turned into a muffled laugh as she looked over and asked, “you brought Red Riding Hood to fucking watch Into the Woods?”
“Annabelle decided she didn’t want to go the morning of, I had the extra ticket. I thought it’d be funny to see how she reacted to it and turned out she was like two hours away,” the man tried to defend himself, slowly adding on, “it was funny.”
“They got Charming down perfect,” Red agreed with a shrug, a few seconds later adding on, “Wolf was actually hot once he got a human form though, they made him way too ugly.”
Fox turned with a raised finger looking like she was trying to find the words to question it, and Misha saved Red by announcing, “I just need to drop Red off on the way and I’ll show you the hotel. The rules are in the glove box if you want to start studying, but I’ll try and be hanging around with you most of the time.”
“Good, need to give you your birthday present anyway,” Fox said as she fetched the paper Misha had been forced to study religiously. The man offering her a small glare as she tried to reassure him, “nothing big, just a pencil set since you were complaining about leaving yours and never seemed to get around to getting your own. I was landing on your birthday, I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to get you something.”
Misha couldn’t argue with that, though Red seemed to be as she scolded him from the back seat, “could have reminded me it was your birthday, would have given you this years punches in person finally.”
“I’d rather you not,” Misha argued, and Fox shrugged as she told Red, “still time.”
Any continuation of the conversation soon stopped by Red’s phone ringing, the woman answering it and quickly wiggling her hand through the air for a pen. Fox tossing her a notepad from the glove box and Red writing out the message she was given as they drove.
No one speaking until they pulled in front of the address Red had given for her extract and she told him, “you’ll get your money wired by next week, meantime take Fox here out on a nice dinner without shaking her drink and prove you actually know how to act like a southern gentleman. I need to head out, just got a really tempting offer in Richmond I need to run by the pigs.”
“Thought you said that was too risky for you to take on?” Misha asked even as Red skipped out and checked her notepad once more.
Red overly happy as she shrugged and admitted, “that’s before someone went through the guild themselves for this job. Someone just put a 100k on your replacement’s head, and that’s good enough money to make me consider trying this new guy out.”
Red left before Misha could say anything, sat perfectly still until his sister slowly laid a hand on his and asked, “friend of yours?”
“Yeah,” Misha agreed quickly taking his phone up as he scrolled through his contacts, “and I need to tell her to get somewhere safe before anyone gets the chance to take up that job.”
