#phq.plotdrop

francis decided to be healthy that afternoon , the day that been pretty uneventful for a monday. he placed his order for a ridiculously expensive salad at sweetgreen and an even more expensive beet and headed back to his office content with his choices. he took a deep breath as he was about to take his first bite when a text came in --- a number with a + and too many digits which he wanted to ignore but it could be important. he let out a groan when he saw his name.

francis, we're sure romy has told you how this works works , right ?

he took his bite and angrily chewed through his salad --- he knew he should've just gone and gotten a fried chicken sandwich like he wanted. nothing good came when salads were involved. he grabbed the makeshift ' DO NOT DISTURB ' sign he made after his intern from last year kept asking if the tampons in the women's restroom were free --- how would he know ? he walked up and told the clerk --- " if they're bleeding send them to the er -- i don't exist for the rest of the day. "

he couldn't necessarily focus on the rest of the text once he saw who they referenced knowing exactly who the text was from. 9pm was still hours away and he was being told to kill a man who he didn't hate , -- council members tended to be somewhat highly regarded and he was a hope. however --- lucky for francis councilman hope had an office at city hall and a few clicks told him he would be out for a couple of hours. he grabbed a couple of stacks of miscellaneous paper and his keys -- one of the perks of being chief of staff , he had access to every room in city hall , except whatever breslin wanted him out of but he had his ways.

he exited his office , locking it before moving to the councilman's. it wasn't odd for francis to drop things off when they were out of the office , he had built that type of confidence with everyone and that extended to the man in question. he knocked at the door one , two , three times before using his key to open the door and turned on the light. he immediately locked the door behind him , putting the papers down on an empty chair. he removed a pair of gloves from his blazer pocket , putting them on and immediately began searching. he wasn't sure what he was looking for but he'd know when he saw it.

gloved hands carefully went through the man's belongings , no place was left unturned but everything was put back in its rightful place. he let out a sigh sitting on the man's chair , expression turned into one of amusement , " might have to ask for this after , " he said leaning back. after a moment he opened the man's desk , drawer one , two and three were a bust until he felt drawer four a little more hollow. lips curled into a smirk , " not so clean are we , " he muttered to himself before revealing the false bottom. gloved hand reached in and pulled out a glock 19 --- not his first choice but it'll do. he carefully removed the mag and thankfully it was fully loaded. he closed the cabinet drawer , placed the gun between the papers and headed back into his office , making small talk with the clerk so she would not suspect a thing and basically let her know he was taking the day.

once inside his office he removed the glock from the papers and placed it in his bag. he removed the gloves and texted romy that he would be late so she could just eat and do whatever without him. typically he probably would've called or sent a voice memo but he had the inching she might catch on to his lie.

_______________________________________________________

9pm came a lot faster , even more the coordinates that pantheon texted to follow. francis had definitely dressed for the occasion , wore clothes he didn't necessarily care about in case the councilman fought -- they usually did. he almost felt sorry for him as the other made their way across the street to the destination. francis put on his beanie and hoodie over it , leather gloves following as there was still a frost in the air. hands worked quickly to reach for the glock and pulled the safety , having a live round ready for the inevitable.

francis stepped out of a car , hands concealed as he made his way towards the councilman. they greeted each other and began small talk -- francis didn't mind this as he knew whatever was discussed wouldn't be leaving. " oh man -- i think you have something stuck on your teeth , " francis said narrowing his eyes. the councilman suddenly self conscious began to take out whatever fake food was stuck in his teeth -- " let me see , " francis started , " say ah , " almost in command the other complied and francis immediately took out the other's weapon. the councilman's eyes widened and grabbed onto's francis's wrist. francis jammed the weapon into the other's mouth , careful not to break any teeth or show any sign of struggle from the other before pulling the trigger. " got it , " he muttered , body instantly going limp , francis , placing the councilman's hands on the weapon , standing behind him allowing gravity to take its course.

Hazal read the text once before she took it upon herself to send a short message to her cousin, as well as Gianna Rossi, one that simply read: I'd think about leaving now, if I were you, before slipping her phone back into her purse. As the message she had personally received had stated, she knew how this went. The last time? ADA Grayson was found dead. Her eyes soon lifted into the crowd of people, she didn’t panic, panic was a luxury she had never been able to afford and had long since stopped reaching for. Instead something quieter happened - an internal shift, like a dial turning, and the room she had been moving through socially for the better part of the last hour had became a room she was reading professionally. The candlelight, the masks, the champagne, the music. All of it rearranged itself into data.

She needed someone volatile enough to react. Publicly. A man, was a thought she settled on - men at events like this carried their pride closer to the surface, where it was easier to reach. She needed someone with enough at stake to shatter convincingly and someone standing close enough to a fault line that a single word would do the work. She needed someone who had already done half the work for her and she found him in under sixty seconds. Standing at the bar, well dressed, masked, a glass in hand that wasn't his first of the evening - she could tell by the particular looseness in his shoulders, the way he laughed a half second too late at something the man beside him said. His wife was across the room. Hazal had already noted them together earlier, the careful distance they maintained that wasn't quite natural. The wife had been in conversation with another man for the better part of twenty minutes. Standing close. The kind of close that meant something, or could be made to.

Hazal moved, not toward her target directly - never directly, but in the slow, social drift of a woman crossing a room at a party. She came alongside him at the bar in the natural way of two guests reaching the same point at the same moment. The bartender was occupied at the far end. She reached across the bar with the ease of someone entirely comfortable in rooms like this and retrieved the open bottle of whisky sitting within reach, turning to him with the quiet offer of a refill. He accepted without hesitation. Of course he did. She poured, and in the same breath, without looking at him directly, she spoke - low enough that it belonged only to him, "The man your wife has been talking to all evening - she's been to his apartment. Twice this week. I thought you should know."

She set the bottle down close to the other and stepped back from the bar. For a moment nothing happened. She counted the seconds the way she always did - not with anxiety, but with the clean detachment of someone waiting for a mechanism to engage. His glass came down first - not dropped, but set, with the controlled force of a man attempting restraint and only half achieving it. Then he straightened before he turned, his eyes found his wife across the room with the terrible precision of someone who had perhaps already suspected the information Hazal had given and had simply needed outside confirmation. He took three steps and then the restraint left him entirely. The bottle went with it - knocked from the bar's edge in the turn of his body, hitting the floor in an explosion of glass and amber that cut clean through the music. Heads snapped toward the sound. The dancefloor momentarily stilled as his voice rose across the room directed entirely at the man his wife was in talks with, seemingly past the point of any return.

The scene had arrived and Hazal was already at the far side of the room. She didn't hurry, nor did she look back, her focus remained on her exit, moving in the current of obliviousness and toward the glass door. Once the door opened and then closed, the noise soon fell away behind her as she stood on the path outside and breathed. Not relief. She didn't allow herself relief. Just air and the small deliberate act of placing one foot in front of the other as she walked away from the glasshouse. The pantheon had given her five minutes, and Hazal had done it in four.

Did he know, though? The text had mentioned his gambling not Mikki, not Penny, not anything about the actual secret that kept him up at night. He was embarrassed about the gambling. And he knew deep down that he couldn't just shut it off but he had convinced himself he could. At least for now. Until he saw his bank account fill up again and was happy to take the risk. But he had paid down half of his debt with Ellie. And, as crazy as it sounded, he thought he actually had a lead on this pyramid ask. More than that, he had come clean to Imani the night after the ADA was killed. He couldn't keep it to himself anymore, not when she was asking him to his face if he wanted to tell her something. The way things were going, she would probably find out eventually anyway. Secrets being spilled, loyalty being questioned.

He sat back in his chair and drained half of his beer. He thought about Sol's reaction when she saw it. She was a millennial who was chronically online; there was no way she could avoid it. She'd have questions, and he'd have to have answers. He had lied to her long enough. And then he thought of Mikki. Their last conversation and how he had been expecting her any day at his door. But what would it do to her when she found out that her father had issues? That his most steady vice and companion was a bookie's notebook. He felt his stomach twist at the thought. But he couldn't run away from his problems forever.

Cesar Rolando Flores was a lot of things. At many times in his life he had been a coward. A pathetic excuse for a man who found a way around all of his problems and mistakes. He had been greedy, wanting more and more without sight of giving up. His addiction had worsened far beyond what he had intended. He had felt selfish at times, refusing to upset the balance of his perfect home until the universe had the last laugh. There were so many moments he blamed himself for his wife's death, even though he knew there was nothing he could do to stop her from getting worse. Cesar had even been a cheater. Not in his relationships but on his final exam his junior year of college. Something that still lingered in his dreams as if he was still going to get caught for it.

But Cesar had never, ever, been a snitch. Especially if it meant making up something he surely hadn't seen. When he thought about that night, all he remembered was how nice the champagne had tasted, how he had blown $1,000 dollars in his first half hour playing, and how the night had ended with running into his eldest daughter. He could barely pull Sebastian Hope's face into his mind aside from what he saw in the papers. But more than that, Cesar would rather pull his own tongue out than find himself walking into a precinct to report something he saw. Not unless it directly affected him. And even then, the police were hardly his first call. All they ever did was fuck things up.

He leaned forward again, finished his beer, and wiped his mouth with his sleeve before looking at the message again. He tried to trace it one more time before he typed out a reply.

"You should know better than to gamble with a gambler. I'm pretty sure snitches get stitches. Take your blackmail and shove it up your ass."

He hesitated for a moment before sending the message through. Then he deleted his messages, his messaging app, and threw his phone and laptop on the floor to smash them. No way in hell he was going to keep the same electronics when they had found him so easily. He cleaned up the remnants and threw them in a bag he'd be bringing down to the dumpster and went back into his bedroom. He looked around, suddenly feeling his apartment shrink in front of him, and went to work, tearing up the place to make sure there were no cameras or listening devices. When he was done, he went to his safe, grabbed one of his backup phones, and quickly plugged it in. As soon as it showed signs of life, he dialed Rachel's number. It was kind of his job to memorize these things by heart.

Nan was in the middle of crocheting a strawberry that she had plans to fill with fluff and give to her mom. Her phone buzzed and picking it up she saw the contact name 'GoPiss Girl' with the iconic meme for the contact. The original name for the number was the Pantheon and the message was to her. She scanned over the words several times: 'Nan,We've heard you can keep a secret... That was so nice of them to notice! She was fantastic at keeping secrets. She didn't get why people were so bothered by this guy.

...We've sent footage that would make Councilman Sebastian Hope the number one suspect of putting out a hit on our very famous ADA Grayson.

The first person they named wasn't familiar to her, she'd have to ask Francis about him. She was very unlike her brother in the way that he knew everything there was to know about that world. She did know who ADA Grayson is, or was, since he clearly had brought a lot of scandal and she did love scandal.

You will find a way to get it to Officer Ward of the NYPD. Or your father having an older son will no longer be your family's best kept secret anymore...

-P

Well that was ridiculous, Pierre had been a secret she had revealed when she was trying to find out more about her father. But Nan focused on the threat and knew that she was not doing this to protect Frank. She would have to do this task to protect her mom and brothers from finding out things that had broken her spirit in ways she would never actually say aloud.

Nan knew what her choice was, but just to make sure that he wasn't some really nice and generous person she texted Francis. The blonde felt like if he was the type of politician who saved puppies from burning buildings and was in the midst of solving world peace she couldn't go through with this. Turns out though he was more than likely just like any other politician.

Her plan of action came into focus as she got dressed in non-descript clothing. There was no way she would just go to the NYPD with this information. It was a roundabout route but one where she wasn't the direct messenger. Nan had street smarts sometimes. When she got towards her door, she noticed the package with a tape, who even used tapes anymore? How very 90's of Pantheon.

Grabbing her keys, the tape, and putting on her shoes, she made her way to the subway. There was no way she'd bike all the way to city hall, especially because her bike was recognizable. Making her way into City Hall, she was very comfortable with the particular roadmap ahead of her. Her steps led her to her brother's office domain. There weren't many people around on a Sunday, mostly interns. Nan asked the intern at the front desk to check her brother's office for her, because she was pretty sure she left her glasses in there when she was eating lunch with him on Friday.

She took the opportunity to slip the tape out of the pocket of her overalls and slid it discretely into a folder of mail that was waiting to go into Breslin's office. Breslin was always working, so she figured it would take very little time for the tape to make its way from the front desk to Breslin to the NYPD.

as  much  as  he  liked  to  think  otherwise  and  fall  back  on  familiar  instincts,  he  knew...  this  was  different.  his  sole  purpose  for  ever  becoming  a  reaper  was  to  be  close  to  and  protect  his  kin.  how  could  he  do  that  if  his  personal  and  what  he'd  thought to  be  private  troubles  separated  him  from  the  only  life  he'd  known  since  his  attempt  at  assimilating  back  into  civilian  life?

a  volatile  mix  of  pride  and  ego  typed  the  response:  go  fuck  yourself.  but...  sonny  didn't  send  the  message.  over  and  over  his  mind  worked  the  problem,  searching  for  fixes  and  estimating  damages.  without  ever  pressing  send  he  casually  locked  his  phone  and  slipped  it  back  into  his  pocket.  he  was  a  man  of  duty  and  his  chosen  mission  since  honorable  discharge  was  looking  out  for  his  brother,  and  he  couldn't  continue  to  do  that  if  he  were  to  be  excommunicated  from  the  reapers  for  being  such  a  liability.

it  was  a  blink  and  you  missed  it  moment  when  sonny  disappeared  from  the  furthest  stretch  of  the  light.  he  moved  like  silence  on  the  wind  and  headed  east  in  pitch  darkness.  it  hadn't  taken  too  long  for  his  eyes  to  adjust  and  he  was  as  quiet  as  a  wolf  moving  through  the  trees.  in  his  head  was  a  vague  idea  of  what  the  comms  cabin  might  look  like,  as  there  were  some  general  tells.

eventually  he  found  himself  on  the  edge  of  yet  another  clearing.  this  one  of  course  much  smaller  and  with  dirt  road  access  still  amongst  the  wooded  area.  it  was  a  place  that  didn't  want  to  be  obvious  nor  an  eyesore  when  it  came  to  the  grounds  as  a  whole.  staying  just  inside  the  tree  line,  sonny  circled  the  rim  of  the  clearing  and  did  a  quick  assessment  of  the  cabin.  reconnaissance  informed  that  there  were  three  men  present,  though  there  was  always  chance  for  more  inside,  two  of  them  were  rather  large  and  gave  off  a  security  presence  while  the  one  he  could  see  through  the  window  at  the  table  setup  with  screens  seemed  to  be  the  tech  guy.

time  was  ticking  away,  those  pantheon  fucks  wanted  the  place  to  go  dark  for  the  next  hour  and  the  top  of  the  hour  was  quickly  approaching.  swiftly  he  darted  toward  the  cabin  from  the  trees  making  minimal  sound  and  pressed  his  back  flat  against  the  west  side  wall.  he  could  hear  them  talking  and  chatting  more  clearly  now  and  that  made  pinpointing  their  exact  locations  that  much  easier  since  he  was  going  in  blind.  he  always  carried  at  least  a  knife  but  that  would  only  come  out  if  needed  for  defense  of  his  life,  he  wasn't  looking  to  kill  anyone  for  this.  there  was  also  the  problem  of  shielding  his  appearance  because  when  these  guys  came  to  later  sonny  didn't  want  them  to  be  able  to  identify  their  attacker  and  therefore  whomever  was  behind  whatever  the  fuck  was  gonna  go  on.  so  he'd  have  to  surprise  these  guys,  if  lucky  from  behind,  otherwise  he'd  have  to  keep  his  head  down.

rounding  the  back  corner  sonny  moved  along  the  back  wall  of  the  cabin.  one  of  the  guards  was  having  a  smoke  by  the  east  wall  and  was  alone.  back  to  him  and  looking  out  to  the  vehicle  parked  in  front  but  off  to  the  side  of  the  cabin.  so  he  crept  closer  until  he  was  directly  behind  the  bigger  man,  and  with  the  speed  of  a  mongoose  he  covered  the  man's  mouth  and  nose  with  a  crushing  grip  while  the  forearm  of  his  other  arm  sank  against  the  guy's  throat.  in  needing  to  minimize  the  defense  and  thrashing,  sonny  cracked  the  side  of  the  guy's  knee  with  a  well-placed  kick  while  not  losing  the  intensity  of  his  chokehold.  the  moment  the  man  buckled  to  a  knee  on  the  ground  sonny  used  his  leverage  to  force  him  face  down  into  dirt  and  smothered  him  with  his  body  weight  until  the  fight  in  him  diminished,  sensing  the  right  moment  of  weakness  he  pulled  his  arm  from  around  the  guy's  neck  and  gave  him  a  hard  crack  of  his  fist  into  the  temple  to  effectively  knock  him  out.

the  front  door  was  wide  open  and  leaning  against  the  siding  of  the  cabin.  with  the  other  guard  shaped  man  standing  in  the  doorway,  he  heard  the  tech  nerd  laughing  a  bit  behind  his  screens.  once  more  sonny  rounded  the  corner  and  tried  his  best  to  keep  aligned  against  the  wall,  with  lightening  fast  reflexes  he  snapped  the  door  shut  with  a  hard  kick  so  that  it  surprised  the  guard  with  a  hard  smack  to  the  face.  stunned  and  muttering  some  curses,  one  hand  covering  his  face  while  the  other  pushed  the  door  back  away  from  him,  sonny's  fist  was  what  came  flying  into  his  face  next.  the  breaking  sound,  that  crunch  under  his  knuckles,  was  the  guard's  nose  and  he  wailed  in  pain.  but  sonny  followed  up  with  another  punch,  that  one  landing  right  on  the  button  and  knocking  the  guard  out  cold.

by  that  point  the  techie  at  the  computer  and  screens  had  stood  from  behind  them  and  began  shouting,  mostly  in  surprise  and  asking  what  the  fuck  was  going  on.  of  course  sonny  didn't  answer.  he  just  moved  swiftly  into  the  cabin  with  his  head  down  and  following  the  sound  of  the  tech's  voice  to  pinpoint  exactly  where  he  was  in  the  room.  he  went  down  easy.  a  single  punch  and  he'd  hit  night  night  mode  on  the  floor.

it  was  then  he  finally  turned  to  the  screens  and  glanced  around  at  the  computer.  sonny  checked  the  time  and  his  pulse  wasn't  raging  like  a  normal  person's  would.  it's  steady  rhythm  hadn't  really  even  registered  stress.  there  was  some  though  because  he  was  cutting  it  close  on  time  and  he  still  had  to  sort  where  exactly  he  cut  the  lights.  they'd  said  for  an  hour  so  he  couldn't  cut  wires  or  break  everything  down. instead  he  sat  and  began  moving  through  the  computer  system  and  after  a  couple  of  minutes  he  eventually  found  the  controls.

there  was  a  moment  of  hesitation.  giving  in  to  terrorism  was  the  complete  opposite  of  his  training.  what  was  going  to  happen  when  the  lights  went  off  and  the  entire  grounds  went  completely  dark?  what  about  all  the  people  carelessly  partying  away  inside  the  glasshouse?  sonny  pulled  his  phone  from  his  pocket  and  read  the  message  again.  for  one  last  time  he  weighed  the  right  and  wrong  and  debated  the  choice  he  had.  it  didn't  feel  like  much  of  one.

in  his  history  there  was  a  ledger  of  just  how  much  everything  he'd  ever  done  or  seen  had  cost  him.  he'd  always  been  able  to  reason  the  price  and  justify  the  cause  and  means,  but  he  was  lost  with  this  one.

The room felt smaller as memory crept in. Unbidden, unwanted. The day her father disappeared. The day the police refused to continue efforts searching for him. The day her mother was led away in handcuffs and for years, the only glimpses of motherly warmth she was able to obtain were within the walls of a prison visitation center.

Then came the night she met the people who operated above the law she now swore to uphold. She had told herself it was temporary. Just until her mother got out. Just until the appeals were filed. Just to help make ends meet. See, she was only a child raising other children. It was a responsibility on her hands. She had no other choice. It was just until the debt was balanced.

Though there would never come a day where she met the true meaning of balance.

They’d paid for the lawyer who knew which levers to pull. They’d ensured the right records were “reconsidered.” They’d made the sentence shorter than it should have been. And when she stepped into law school years later, when scholarships didn’t quite stretch far enough, they’d filled the gap without ever saying the word loan. They never needed to. Gianna had learned early that freedom was never free. At least, not where she came from. Not on the streets she grew up. Not for people like her.

No one knew the trade off. No one knew what it entailed. No one saw the thread running quietly through her career - the favors traded, the quiet protections offered in exchange for silence.

And now, there was a different devil that came knocking.

She opened the folder, exhaling slowly as her gaze skimmed over the notes. Or rather, the threats. They wanted something inside that office - something that could make ADA Grayson look like a man who threatened a councilman. It was placement for narrative control. It was framing a dead prosecutor and using her to do so.

Refusing wasn’t an option - not when her entire career was on the line. Not when everything she'd clawed towards all her life was threatened right before her eyes.

You have 24 hours.

She picked up her phone and began typing an email to City Hall. An attorney requesting access regarding zoning compliance and oversight. It was the perfect excuse to get her inside the building. To get her close to Councilman Hope.

By morning, she was standing outside Hope’s office thirty minutes early. She had signed in downstairs, offered her identification, mentioned procedural review and zoning bylaws in the same calm tone she used in court. It was transparency, due diligence - all of which were legal claims to be here.

Hope’s assistant barely looked up when she was ushered inside and told to await his return. The office itself was predictably curated - framed photos, awards angled just so for a man that invested his career on optics.

Those same optics that would were crucial for her own motives. It was February in New York, therefore, no one would think twice that she wore leather gloves - claiming it was too cold to go without, though the reality was vastly contrasting. There was no fingerprints she wanted to leave on these notes.

He'd be back in the office any minute.

Now, one hand slipped into her bag, fingers closing around the folded notes the Pantheon had prepared. She crossed the room, movements robotic as she placed the pages inside a pocket of a leather folio that rested partially open - positioned just enough to be found yet not enough to look planted. The action itself took less than three seconds.

She was in her seat when the door swung open upon Hope's return, rising to shake his hand in greeting. Her expression never faltered. If her pulse had shifted, it didn’t show. She had learned long ago that fear got you nowhere when the only thing that mattered was surviving.

“Let me know if you need anything further from my office,” The irony tasted metallic in her mouth. As she stepped back into the corridor, heels echoing softly against marble, she didn’t look back. The discovery would soon show up in the headlines. In turn, the implications.

If anything could have served as proof to show how fast an evening of fun could turn into disaster, the past few months had been brimming with it. For once she'd thought the evening to be just that; a calm day, a masquerade that allowed people to shed the masks of daily life to exchange them for an altogether more luxurious version. It had seemed so simple and that had been her mistake.

Her phone chirped. One moment in a conversation, the next she'd excused herself. It was easy to pretend like this, yet her facial expressions shifted. Had it not been for the masks the brunette's disdain would have been on full display.

Loyalty is such a performance, isn't it, Stella. [...]

How quickly a mood could sour, how fast a pulse could quicken. On the outside she was all smiles, kept her composure as she moved away with a nod and a promise to return with drinks. There would be no drinks, not this time. A quiet corner was needed, preferably one not looking too suspicious. Such a corner wasn't found as she moved through the crowd, eyes glued to her screen.

"Excuse me." Twice she bumped into someone along the way. The message on her lit up display was clear and it wasn't one she liked at all. There was more at stake than a simple, little secret. Stella could have dealt with a ruined reputation or a campaign against her, but this? It held weight, complications; a plethora of things she'd rather keep out.

[...] lock the side door of the conservatory. Keep it locked.

She was hit with a reality she didn't appreciate. A frustrated sigh slipped past her lips before the brunette took a hold of her features, the smile bright as she moved through the crowd. Fingers were rushing across the keyboard, a few texts sent. Aslan, a note for him to get out with wording that left no doubt about what was happening and yet held no more than two words.

Her eyes moved, scanning the crowd. August was nowhere to be seen. Another text sent in rushed typing, just asking if the other was okay and to stay away from the conservatory. Perhaps that's all it would take to make sure all was well. Then one last, Harvey. A polite note to get out, to meet her down by the dock simply because it didn't seem as though a simple note would do the trick. Did he know about the shadow looming?

Stella felt foolish at the thought, having dared to believe for just a fraction that the night would be simple. Glamorous and over the top but simple. Foolish indeed.

Feet carried her toward the doors, eyes moving behind the mask. Whether it was luck or the skills acquired during her other job, she made it to the door without obstruction. If things hadn't been so damming she'd have given little of a fuck about the result. Alas, in this case her hands were tied. The truth would have been far more chaotic, would have meant a potential end to what she considered freedom.