Title: Owning It
Fandom: Teen Wolf, Blue Bloods, Marvel Comics Universe (Cinematic), Mortal Kombat
Pairings: Stiles Stilinski/Jamie Reagan, Peter Hale/Erin Reagan, Scott McCall/Allison Argent
Warnings: Major Character(s) Death, rampant assholery, snark, not for Scott fans.
Summary: All because Scott made all his decisions with his dick and sided with Hunters over his friends and family the whole world went to shit. Once again, it’s up to Stiles to save the day…all he has to sacrifice is his mortality.
Timeline: This takes place at the end of Season 2 of Teen Wolf, nowhere specific in Mortal Kombat (just borrowing a couple characters, really), nowhere specific in Blue Bloods, just using the characters, and begins before the first Iron Man movie (however, the Marvel movie!verse will play a role in how things chug along).
Beta: Thanks to Icefallstears for being an excellent cheerleader/beta/idea wall
Three years later
Police Commissioner Frank Reagan was very curious about what Tony Stark could possibly want to speak to him about. He hoped that whatever it was, it wasn’t about doing favors or writing off tickets. Did he get arrested recently? Do something completely moronic while drunk that he wanted buried? Why didn’t he have more info on this meeting? Detective Baker just announced he was coming in, quietly, but gave no details.
“Sir, he’s here,” she said, opening the door and letting the man in question enter.
“Welcome, Mr. Stark,” Frank said, gesturing towards a chair. Tony was dressed business casual in deference to the Commissioner’s rank. He didn’t want to come off as disrespecting the man by showing up in greased up jeans and t-shirt from working on his cars.
“Thank you, Commissioner. I’m sorry to barge in on your schedule like this, but I had some information for you that you probably need, but others deemed local law enforcement not in the ‘need to know’ group.”
“You’re speaking of security?”
“In a way. See, I’m not here to ask for favors or anything tabloid-y like that, I’m here because you hired a certain young man to your labs –” he broke off at the raised eyebrow — “no, he’s not a problem, don’t worry. But you hired him and he’s going to be excellent, but you need to know about the security around him so you aren’t surprised. Like I was. Because apparently, not letting me know that someone needs protection when they’re out and about is a minor detail to some.”
“You sound a little put out there, Stark,” Frank said, wondering where exactly this was going on who exactly they were talking about. “Why don’t you start from the beginning? Drink?”
“Actually, if you have some coffee, that would be great.” Tony joined the Commissioner on the couches, getting comfortable for what was probably going to be a long discussion. “Tell me, Commissioner, what do you know about emissaries?”
It had been three years since his father — since his father — since he had lost his father. Three long years full of throwing himself into training, into school, and into making New York his home. Two years ago Raiden had passed him off to other teachers around the world while he worked on his Master’s and Doctoral degrees. He had made a promise to his father before he left California to go as far as he could in education and not join the force, in any capacity, until he was over legal drinking age. So Stiles did.
He had been to China, Japan, Russia, Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Ireland, England, Israel, Egypt, and random areas of Africa while putting together his multiple theses. He had, of course, learned the languages of the countries he was in, studied their mythology, spoke to the local supernatural representatives — for some reason, they had all heard of him. What the hell?
Derek, his sourwolf Alpha, had let Tony Stark redo all the security on their building so that SHIELD and Pepper and him would be notified if there was an issue. They all had a long talk about Stiles not being alone, having a pack to depend on, and what type of security concerns there were for an emissary. The fact that there had been multiple kidnapping attempts seemed to support their position.
In any case, he was proud to be graduating today with two more doctorates and another masters. He was probably waaaaaaay overqualified for his chosen career, but who cared? An idle Stiles is never a good thing under any circumstances.
So yes, he was graduating today and next week would be the beginning of his career with the NYPD forensics unit. He expected quite a few things for when he started working there, new guy and all. What he did not expect was the NYPD Commissioner, Frank Reagan himself, to show up on his doorstep.
“Emissary Stilinski, I’m Commissioner Reagan. It’s an honor to meet you.” He held out his hand to shake, which Stiles readily accepted while stepping back to let him inside. “I think we have a few things to talk about before you start your job next week.”
“Um, Stiles is fine, sir,” Stiles said, still confused as to what the hell was going on and how the hell did the top man in the NYPD chain of command know his status? “Did you want something to drink? Coffee, tea?” He felt silly standing there in his pajamas, tattoos glaringly obvious — and why didn’t anyone warn him about that when he began his training — and barefoot.
“Coffee would be great, thank you.”
“Please have a seat while I get it for you. I’m a little confused, Commissioner,” Stiles began as he got the coffee ready, “about how exactly you know about my being an emissary and why you are here at all. It’s not like I’ll be in the field or anything — or if I am, it would be rare — so I should be safe in the labs.”
He brought over a tray with the coffee and sat across from his future boss. “Well, Stiles, we haven’t had an emissary on the force in at least a decade. Sometimes certain people do run into the supernatural, and it’s good to have a go to source should we need it. I hope you’re okay with filling that role on top of your regular position.”
“Um, yes, no problem.” The NYPD knew about this stuff? “Research is kind of my thing,” Stiles said as he pointed to the filing cabinets full of his research papers.
“One thing of many, I hear. You’re a bit overqualified for the forensics unit, Mr. Stilinski. You’re graduating with how many degrees today?”
“Oh, um, two PhDs and another M.Sc., sir.”
“Exactly, and that’s on top of the three Bachelor’s and two masters you already have if my information is right.”
“I promised my dad I would wait until a certain age before joining.”
“Yes, I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” Stiles replied quietly. It was still like a punch to the gut every time he thought about his father.
“So here’s the bottom line. We have excellent security set up in the labs, but if you need to leave the lab for work then you must take someone with you. No going out on your own.” He held up a hand to stop the protests about to spew out of the young man in front of him. “I’ve been made aware of the kidnappings, the attempted kidnappings, the attempted murders, and the contract that was put out on you a couple years ago and then canceled. I keep the people who work for me as safe as I can, and you’re not an exception to that rule.”
“Yes, sir.” Wow, this dude was just — if he was a werewolf, he would have been an alpha for sure, thought Stiles. “There will most likely be SHIELD agents in the unit by the time I get there, as they are aware of what I am, as well. I do request, though, that you keep this to yourself. I don’t want to come off as a special case before I even step through the door of the building.” In fact, Stiles would try and make himself as invisible as possible. Worse thing he could do would be to stand out.
“I think I can handle that.”
Frank sat in the living room with a glass of whiskey, book on his lap without being read. His father, Henry, found him there with his own nightcap.
“You want to tell me what’s wrong? You’ve been quiet all night.”
Frank just looked at his father, wondering how much he should say. But his father had had his job before him, so maybe he could help. “Do you remember the last time there was an emissary on the force?”
“Are you shitting me? There’s an emissary on the job?”
“Well, he’ll be in the labs. Kid is 21, fluent in a ridiculous number of languages, an expert on DNA and computers, and I suspect a love affair type situation going on with research.” Henry gave him a confused look at that last part. “No, seriously, Pop, he has multiple filing cabinets full of research papers he wrote just because he could.”
Henry let a long breath release at the news that whoever it was was not going to be in the field. “You better keep it to yourself. I’m serious, Frank, the only people who should know are Baker, you, and Garrett. Find some way to keep in contact with him that won’t single him out and bring notice, and make sure he never goes out alone.”
“I already know that, Pop. I’m just –”
“I’m wondering if I should tell Danny, just so that there’s someone in the field who knows.”
“Does Danny know about that side of things?”
“Does Danny know about what side of what things,” Danny Reagan asked from the doorway.
Chris Argent was finishing up surveillance on his target. That little shit was going to pay for completely ruining his life, him and his fucking pack.
Once that was done, he could get rid of that other annoying shit, Scott, who was still following him around. How that idiot had made it this far in life without dying from lack of brain activity, he’d never know.
“Stiles, what’s wrong?”
“What do you mean, Derek? Nothing’s wrong.”
“You’re doing that ‘shit’s gonna happen’ twitchy thing.”
“Aren’t you the eloquent one, Alpha mine? Did they teach you to speak like that when you were getting your English Lit degree?
“Oh, shut up, Stiles.”
“Now, now, children, play nice.” Peter walked in the door looking every bit the lawyer he was. “What seems to be the problem now?”
“That’s what I trying to figure out, Uncle, but Stiles had decided to play innocent.”
“I’m not playing anything, dude,” Stiles exclaimed, flailing about while trying to get up from his chair to pace. “I just don’t know what the problem is yet. The only thing I do know is that there is a problem to begin with and it’s against the pack. When I know more, you’ll know more.”
“Don’t call me dude.”
“Right, like that’s gonna happen.”
Peter Hale looked around his new office space. Working for the District Attorney’s office was a definite change of pace, but one that would make his whole pack happy. It definitely bothered Talia that Peter had defended criminals before, her sense of justice being insulted. He had been working here for approximately two years now and was quickly becoming a go to guy for the tougher cases.
Peter knew how to manipulate with the best of them, how to get people talking when they didn’t want to without resorting to any kind of physical threat. It was his talent, so to speak. But some situations didn’t call for manipulation; some situations called for honesty, because at this point in his life — after all the trauma and tragedy he’d been through (and caused) — he wanted an honest partnership. He had mourned his wife, he had mourned his child, and while it still hurt to think of them — of all the family, really — he was building something good here and it was time to find someone new.
There was a scent around the office that was completely enticing and mysterious. He had yet to find the owner of said scent, but he would one day.
Except someone with a related scent was approaching his office now. Interesting.
“Mr. Hale?” a tall man said, knocking on his door, “Mind if I come in? There’s a few things we need to discuss and it was easier to locate you than your nephew.”
“Please, Commissioner, have a seat. What can the Hale pack do for the NYPD?”
“Why do I have to clean the den floor?” whined Cora as she picked up stray papers and other objects.
“Because we’re going to have guests tomorrow,” answered Derek for the fourth time. “We’re each doing our own part for this.”
“And what’s your part?”
“I’m making dessert, Stiles is cooking the main meal, and Peter is taking care of appearances when you are done cleaning.”
“I have other things to do, you know.”
“This is for pack security. A couple hours out of your day to clean the space and do your part is not a hardship, Cora. Stop whining like a five year-old. And catching up on Dr. Yang and Dr. Hunt’s relationship drama is not exactly what I would call important.”
“Ha! I knew you watched that show.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“There is some protocol that Mr. Hale imparted to me for dinner tomorrow,” Frank said to his son, Danny. “I need to know that you won’t ignore it. This is important, and I don’t want to insult a group that could be an ally for the Department. If we insult them, it’s possible that we’ll alienate all the packs in the city.”
“I know, Pops, don’t worry. I’ve run into a few werewolves before and haven’t had a problem. They were all family people and not looking to hurt someone, even helped rescue some kids from a collapsed building. Just tell me what I need to know.”
Frank and Danny Reagan, and Abigail Baker entered the third floor apartment of the Hale’s building to an amusing scene.
“Why do you always speak like a villain? A British one, at that. It’s like you went to How to Be a Creeper Villain 101, and aced creepy speaking styles sure to mark you as the bad guy.”
“I didn’t attend the school, I’m a professor there.”
“If I go downstairs and turn over that one portrait by the kitchen window I’m gonna find a shrine to Severus Snape, aren’t I?”
“Pshhh, give me some credit, Little Red. Wilson Fisk is more my style.”
“Enough.” Derek interjected, hoping to stop the snark fest those two were on, knowing it could continue for ages. “Our guests have arrived. How is it that Cora is the only one acting her age?”
“Oh, I can change that!” Cora chipped in.
Danny Reagan was shaking with laughter but trying to hide it. His worry that these people would be stuck up was for nothing.
With a sigh, Derek turned back to the guests. “I’d apologize for them now, but it’s best to wait until the end of the evening to encompass everything all at once,” he said to them with a smirk. “Commissioner Reagan, Detectives Reagan and Baker, let me introduce you to my pack. Cora Hale, my little sister; Peter Hale, my uncle; and Stiles Stilinski, our emissary.”
Everyone shook hands and moved to the dinner table. Stiles brought out the appetizers as they settled. They all waited for Derek to take a bite before beginning on their own plates as per protocol.
“Thank you for having us here, Alpha Hale,” the Commissioner said to Derek. “I hope you don’t mind if we mix business with the meal or we’ll be here all night?”
“That’s more than fine, Commissioner Reagan. Please, call me Derek.”
“Thank you. In private like this you can call me Frank.”
“Thank you. ”
“Now, as I told Peter, Tony Stark came to visit me a couple weeks ago –”
“Oh, no, what did he do?”
“He wanted me to be aware of the security concerns surrounding your life, Mr. Stilinski. Particularly this issue with hunters. I’m hoping we can work together to root out the non-code following ones both from the NYPD and just in general.”
“I definitely like that idea,” Stiles said while reaching for more salad.
“Where did you get this food? It’s fantastic,” commented Detective Baker, adding some more roasted eggplant with garlic to her plate.
“Stiles is the main cook in this house,” offered Peter, seeing Stiles’ shy smile at the praise.
“It’s a hobby,” he said simply.
“Kid, if you ever got leftovers, feel free to donate to my desk,” Danny said, liking his food, too. He could smell the main course and could already tell it would be delicious.
“So, my son Danny here is a detective at the 1-2, and Abigail is the detective assigned to me. Either of these people can reach me with information if it’s needed. Also, they’re the people who will contact you if I need some assistance,” Frank explained to the room at large.
“Did you know that your protections on your buildings are broken?” Stiles asked, clearing away the first course to get ready for the main course. “I noticed it when I was doing my interviews. I was hoping to get your permission to fix the ones I have access to.”
“Do you know which buildings need them? Are any of them okay?” Baker asked, taking out her tablet to make notes.
“1PP and where my lab is, and also where Peter works.”
“What do you need to fix that?”
“Some privacy, a drink and deli sandwich to replenish my electrolytes and energy afterwards.”
“We can arrange that,” the Commissioner agreed, making eye contact with Baker to have her get on it. She nodded her acceptance of the order.
“How about you come by my station house tomorrow so I can introduce you to Baez, my partner, and also my captain, just in case you need to find me?”
“Yeah, okay,” Stiles replied, setting out the brisket, mushroom and barley, sweet potatoes and salads.
“Introduce him to Jamie and Sergeant Renzulli as well. I’m pretty sure all Sergeants are in the know, but Jamie probably has no idea.” He turned to Stiles in explanation, “Jamie is my youngest son.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Danny said.
“There’s something you need to understand about the future,” Stiles began, hating to have to bring this up at all. Around when I turn 30 I am going to stop aging.”
“By stop aging do you mean just cosmetically or as in –” Baker began.
“I mean that I’ll effectively be immortal. It’s a consequence of a ritual I did. That’s a way longer and more depressing story than we need to get into right now. I just thought it prudent to get it out there, maybe a plan can start being made on how to deal with it with all of us working on it.”
“Baker, make a note and we’ll brainstorm another day.”
“Do you by chance have someone in DA’s office as well?” Peter asked, changing the subject.
“Yes, my daughter Erin. Haven’t run into her yet?”
“No, I haven’t quite had the pleasure yet. I’ll make sure to remedy that this week.”
“He’s right, you do talk like a Brit bad guy,” Danny remarked, much to the amusement of everyone.
A month later and Stiles had gotten comfortable with his new job. He made sure not to show off his intelligence level like an asshole, and did his best to keep his rambling to a minimum. It was better to ease them into his quirks instead of shoving it in their faces.
Stiles mostly worked on the vehicles brought in or the computers. No translation was needed yet, so those skills hadn’t been brought to light. There was — unfortunately — plenty to keep him busy, so his more annoying traits via ADHD weren’t so glaring as usual.
It also seemed like Tony Stark had given a donation to the labs, as all the equipment was state of the art, and no one was complaining. He made sure to send Tony a thank you, for which Tony replied it was only right. He then went on to complain about “Agent” a lot, which made Stiles wonder if there wasn’t a big old man crush happening there.
SHIELD was keeping quiet, not interfering much unless they needed some research done here or there.
He’d been introduced to everyone Danny had said he wanted him to meet, had coffee with him a couple times to pick each other’s brains. It was turning into a nice sort of friendship.
Scott couldn’t believe how well the Hale pack was doing. Those traitors, they should all be paying for Allison’s death. Stiles should pay for his mom not speaking to him anymore and kicking him out of the house. He didn’t understand, how could she not see that it was all Derek and Stiles’ faults?
He staked out the roof of the building next to theirs trying to figure out a way in when a police officer came up on him. “Hands in the air, turn around nice and slow.”
“Sorry, Officer, I was just trying to get some air.”
“Uh-huh, tell me another. You’re under arrest for attempted breaking and entering, trespassing, and I’m sure a few other things. Put your hands behind your back.” He was cuffed and read his rights, hauled downstairs and into the waiting car.
Man, he hoped Chris wasn’t too pissed about this.
Stiles was going to pay for getting him in trouble again.
Stiles entered Commissioner Reagan’s office, very curious about why he would be called up here. Nothing supernatural had occurred as far as he knew.
“Am I in trouble? Because I don’t think I’ve done anything to be in trouble. Lately.”
“Have a seat, Stiles,” offered Frank. Beside him on the couch was Danny, Derek, and Garrett.
“Uh, Derek, what are you doing here?”
“Just take a seat and listen, okay?”
“Sure thing, alpha-mine.” Stiles sat down, umpteen scenarios already running through his head being created and discarded just as quickly.
“When you first got the job, you remember I mentioned at that dinner that Tony Stark had given me a folder about security concerns?”
“Yeah, yeah, we spoke about hunters and other types of people who would or have come after me.”
“Right, well, it seems one of those past issues has come back into play.”
“Past issues? Derek, which issue are we talking about here, are you okay?”
“Everyone is fine, I’m fine. The problem is that Argent is back and he’s been stalking you, picked up some new playmates.”
“How long has he been here? What’s he been up to? Who is he playing with? How did you even know?” Stiles questions shot out rapidly and with increasing volume.
“The thing is, son, you know one of his new playmates.”
Silence. Stiles ran through everyone he knew that Argent also knew and one name shined brightly above them all.
“Scott’s here, isn’t he.” Derek came around and put his arm on Stiles’ shoulder, pulling him in for a half hug.
“Yeah, the idiot’s here, and he’s decided to play for the other team.”
“And it looks like he’s still working with Argent.”
“And it looks like to cover all his bases, you’ve been green lighted.”
There was a moment of silence before Stiles just leaned forward, head touching the table.
“I should have written him off as soon as I learned he’d never seen Star Wars.”
He didn’t think it was possible for Scott to actually get dumber. In the original timeline Scott had taken it upon himself to better himself, get better grades, make better decisions — not that he really did.
Stiles wondered if long, long ago — four years — the Moon Goddess had heard his and Raiden’s prayers — probably Peter’s as well — for her to not grant him True Alpha status and the reasons why.
He watched his former best friend from the observation area at the precinct. He didn’t particularly want to talk to the guy, but Scott’s hate for all things authority was very well known by his pack. They explained it quickly to Danny and Baez when he told them they wouldn’t have any luck breaking Scott. “His father is a douche FBI agent, fulfilling all stereotypes you’ve heard. So now he equates any male authority figure with his dad, no matter how much they are trying to help, and female authority types with his mom, who kicked him out of the house three years ago.”
“So what do you suggest then, answer man?” Baez asked, frustrated at Scott’s mulish behavior. “And why would he follow Argent if he doesn’t like male authority figures?”
“Ah, well, Mr. Argent is Allison’s dad, so therefore he is correct in all things and his goals are righteous.”
“You’re kidding me, here,” Danny said in disbelief.
“Nope! I bet he’s even blaming me right now for everything that’s happened. Did I tell you about how he blames me for Allison’s death?”
Scott had been yelling his name in holding, making a racket, blaming him left and right for his troubles. Stiles was just happy he hadn’t shifted accidentally.
“How exactly can that idiot blame you for her death? You didn’t shoot her, right?” asked Danny’s captain.
“Yeah, well, here’s the thing,” Stiles began, noting that quite a few detectives and officers were listening in, “dear sweet Allison was killed by three deputies. What Scott seems to forget is that said deputies worked for my father, the Sheriff. He also forgets that they shot her in return after she fired on my dad, killing him instantly.” Here everyone stood straighter, almost at attention, at the news that this guy in the box was defending a cop killer. “He also forgets that dear, sweet Allison killed my dad because he wouldn’t get out of the way so she could murder the six year-old girl that came running to us for help. Seems Allison had already gotten her brother and dad, mom wasn’t home, so she wanted to finish off who she had there.” Stiles could feel Scott’s glare through the mirror, not caring that he could hear every word being spoken.
“Scott decided that the perfect time to let me know how he felt about Allison’s death was while I was sitting shiva at my father’s home.”
Everyone in the room glared right back at Scott, even though he couldn’t see them. “So what’s he doing here, then? Trying to kill you?” someone asked.
“Oh, no, Scotty boy probably can’t kill, would be too scared to. No, I’m betting that he was playing scout for Mr. Argent. Now, there’s a man who has no problem killing. At all.”
“You know this?”
“Yeah, there’s probably loads of bodies to his name, but because his family had connections to all sorts of law enforcement — and I’m talking men and women who joined specifically for that type of reason, to cover up his family’s business — there’s no mention of him in reports or the like. His whole family is batshit insane.”
“Right. Maybe we should take him back to holding, do a little research,” Baez suggested.
“Great idea. Officer, why don’t you and a friend take him back down to holding. Don’t let him out of your sight and keep a few people with you at all times. He’s stronger than he looks.”
Danny, leaned back on his desk for a few moments while Scott was lead out of the room, cursing Stiles the whole way. Stiles, the little shit, was holding up cards rating the insults until McCall was out of the room completely.
“Sounds like we need a board and some storytelling, here, so we know what we’re dealing with.”
Once the digging began, it became extremely clear that this wasn’t just a few bodies here and there. Once Stiles helped input where the family had been and when, the NYPD analysts were able to match up Argent appearances and relocations with missing and/or dead people all over the country.
“Uh, Commissioner, I think we’re going to need to call Homeland in on this. And I’d like to do it before McCall’s FBI agent father gets here to make a mess of things.” Stiles had told Danny about McCall’s grudge against his father, especially since his father had helped Mrs. McCall kick him out of the house.
“Do it. This is horrific. Stark’s file didn’t have the Argent family history in it.”
“Oh! I should call Tony, he probably does have a file on them, and it would save time,” Stiles volunteered, wanting to get this whole bullshit drama over with.
“Go for it, I want everything he knows,” Scott Pierce said from the end of the table. The analyst was just too happy to get some outside help, who knew one family could have such a kill count?
“Should I get Peter in here, too? He might know more than me about the family and about other families like theirs.”
“I’ll have Erin bring him over. We’re going to need to know legal courses of action as well.”
Turned out getting Peter in on it was the right move. He had more information about families that allied with the Argents over the years, those that thought like them and those that broke away out of disgust. Gerard had been a busy man, and not as careful as he thought.
They were able to attribute 482 deaths to Chris Argent alone, 956 to Gerard, some of those overlapping. Kate Argent was well into the three digit range. Thank God Gerard had died in prison — Stiles had made sure it wasn’t a fake out — and Kate wasn’t going to rise again because Peter and helped him burn the body.
Rafael McCall was trying to find out what was going on with his son. He had been alerted that he was under arrest in New York, but nothing more than that.
“Melissa? It’s Rafe, please don’t hang up.”
“What do you want, Rafael?”
“I was just alerted that Scott’s in jail in New York. What’s going on?”
“Is that where he is? Interesting. Well, I’m sure as hell not paying his bail.”
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say about our son?”
“He is only your son in name. And of course you have no idea what’s going on with your son, as you’ve been missing from his life for a good decade and a half. Why show concern now?”
“Yeah, that’s right, you’ve had nothing to do with us, so don’t go all holier than thou on me on this, Rafe. Scott turned into something and someone I don’t know. I kicked him out years ago, and you sure as hell wouldn’t be proud of him. And don’t you dare go and bail him out. That boy has to learn there are consequences to his actions.”
“Does Stilinski have something to do with this?” he demanded of his ex-wife.
“John? John’s been dead for three years, you asshole, and it was Scott’s girlfriend who did it. Read the fucking news.” And with that she hung up.
“What the fuck has been going on?”
“You know,” Stiles started while the pack ate dinner together that evening, “I don’t think Scott or Chris know that I’m your emissary. I’m pretty sure from the way Scott was ranting and raving that they still think I’m the normal one and just a tag along. Maybe we could use that to our advantage?”
“No, we’re not putting you at risk that way,” Derek stated, brooking no argument. “We’re going to reach out to the allied packs in the city, see if they can help us nail down who he has with him for help, who he has hired for the contract and give all the information to Detective Reagan so they can take care of things for you.”
Stiles stared at him for a bit letting the plan run around his brain until finally nodding in agreement with his alpha. Ever since his training time with the Harrison pack Derek was actually a good alpha who knew when to be dominant and pull rank, and when to sit back and let his pack do their own thing. He welcomed opinions from them all and didn’t try and intimidate them anymore.
Well, unless Cora stole the Oreo’s again.
“Okay, what’ve we got?” Commissioner Reagan asked of his people the next morning. Somehow word had leaked to everyone involved that Stiles was an emissary and that he had been working on fixing the protections on all the station houses. Anyone who goes that far out of their way to help when they don’t have to, and to do it quietly, deserved their help staying safe, never mind that he was one of theirs.
“Stiles and all his contacts came through, and we now have a more complete picture of the Argent family slayings.”
“Well, what would you like me to say, massacre? Spree? Arbitrary murder hunt? Combined, Commissioner, the Argents have killed approximately 2000 people and gotten away with it for three generations.”
Mr. Pierce’s statement silenced the room as they all swallowed that information. If that was only three generations, what had the prior ones done?
“We actually do have hard evidence, evidence that wasn’t lost in chain of command or purposefully lost, contaminated or whatever over the years. I know we were gearing up for some big takedown, but we have enough to straight-out arrest Christopher Argent on multiple counts right here in New York. He also has warrants in California, Arizona, Nevada, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, South Carolina, North Carolina, Virginia –”
“Okay, we get the picture,” interrupted the Commissioner, relieved that it would be that simple. Suddenly a loud beep filled the air. “What was that?”
“Um, that would be my email. Sorry, sir. It seems that Mr. Stilinski decided to send us an early Christmas gift.” With that, Scott Pierce put up on the large screen the photos Stiles had just mailed him along with a list of names. “These would be all the gentlemen that Argent has backing him up, their faces and names to match. Also, the possible contract takers for the green light on Mr. Stilinski. How the hell did he get all this? Why isn’t he working for our department?”
“A good question. You can ask him if he wants to split time, but I think he’s happy in the labs taking things apart. He has a good head on his shoulders, a keen mind that doesn’t really stop working.”
“I think I’ll have a conversation with him once this is over.”
“Have at it. Okay, people, what’s the plan? Can we find records on any of the people in the photos? Erin, can we bring them up on conspiracy charges? Do we have all the evidence?” His people got to work.
“Erin, Peter, thank you for joining me.”
“Certainly, Commissioner. What can I help you with?” Peter answered.
“No problem, what do you need?” Erin said at the same time. Peter did his best to concentrate. This was the woman whose scent was driving him crazy. It had taken everything he had not to put his nose in her neck and take a sniff yesterday. He would have to find out from the Commissioner how much she knew.
“I need this conversation to stay between us. Did either of you have any resistance anywhere when it came to getting warrants for arrest on this case?”
“We decided that I would be the requesting ADA as Peter has a past history with the Argent family. We had a couple of problems which were quickly resolved when Peter found that they were on Argent’s payroll. Payments were traced back through a ridiculous amount of shell corporations to one of the companies the Argent family halted operation on a couple of years ago. We’ve got them isolated, arrested, and awaiting questioning.”
“Excellent. Please send me those names so I can compare to some of the officers I found trying to stick their noses in. I don’t want any of these people getting away, no one like that deserves a spot on my force.”
“Yes, sir,” they both responded before parting ways.
Arrests started being made in large groups where possible, most of Chris’s backup being taken away. All that served to do was to make him even angrier. Scott was in jail, his men were disappearing left and right. He needed a new plan.
One that left no room for any result other than Stilinski’s death.
Stiles was sick and tired of being inside. Every day for the last week he had been practically held captive either in his lab or at home while the search for Chris Argent continued. He needed movement, he needed air, he needed freedom. And he needed it now, damn it.
He called up Tony, as Pepper was still out of the city doing business, to see if he wanted to come with him to a pickup game of lacrosse, for which he quickly agreed. “But I don’t even understand it,” Tony whined as they walked towards the field.
“Don’t understand what?” Jamie Reagan asked from a few feet away. He was dressed in running shorts and a t-shirt, looking to have already been exerting himself.
“Stiles wants me to watch him play lacrosse.”
“I don’t want you to watch me play lacrosse, Tony. I want you to play with us, learn the game and then join in.”
“Uh, yeah, no. I’ll sit in the stands and watch and be confused from there.” He pointed to the stands on the far side of the field. “Let’s just hope that at some point it all makes sense and I’ll no longer think you’re crazypants.” With that, he marched off to the stands leaving Jamie and Stiles alone.
“How have you been? Dad and Danny told me about what’s been going on.”
“Ah, yes, my own personal stalker issue. I’ve decided to rename him Edward. Isn’t it just so much fun? I’ve really grown to love and care for all the people that have been not so subtly guarding me.” Stiles gestured to a couple of men not too far away in plain clothes.
Jamie laughed quietly and shared a small smile with him. Stiles shyly smiled back and turned to walk to the field where the other players were.
“Do you know how to play?”
“No, never played. I was just with Danny’s kids playing some football.”
“Oh, um,” Stiles flailed a bit not sure where to go from there, nervous for some reason. “Did you want to watch with Tony? Maybe explain to his thick skull what’s going on?”
“Sure, no problem,” Jamie agreed easily, thankfully not noticing Stiles’ awkwardness.
“Right, okay. Well, see you later, then.” Stiles quickly walked towards the other players, putting everything out of his mind.
The good thing about playing on a team half full of werewolves? It definitely ups your game and skill level.
Lt. Sid Gormley just sighed the sigh of the weary as he sat down at his desk again. His people were having no luck locating Christopher Argent, and this needed to be solved. In no way was it acceptable for there to be a green light on one of their own. He was using a burner phone, most likely, so they couldn’t trace him; he was using cards under an unknown alias — if at all — so they couldn’t trace him; he probably relocated once McCall was arrested, so they couldn’t trace him. This wasn’t a pattern that he liked.
Stiles was enjoying the hell out of this morning. He was playing a bitching game with normal people who weren’t Jackson, thank you very much, and having a blast. So who could blame him for not seeing the problem before it was on top of him?
Chris Argent did his best to seem casual and like he belonged as he neared the field.
Jamie was laughing at Tony’s commentary on the game that still confused him. He didn’t think hanging out with the genius billionaire would be like this.
But something stopped him cold, bringing Tony’s focus on him. “What? What is it?”
“I need you to stay calm so we don’t alert anyone. Call 911, tell them that Argent has been spotted, give them our location.” Jamie didn’t wait for confirmation, he just casually, but quickly made his way off the stands and circled around to come around from the back of Argent. He quickly sent a text to his brother and father to let them know the situation, as well. He signaled the two plain clothes police officers to follow him, regretting not having more than his ankle piece on him.
He crept up behind his target, seeing that he did something, but not knowing what, and announced himself. “Christopher Argent, put your hands up and turn around. You are under arrest for multiple counts of murder, conspiracy to commit murder, kidnapping, attempted kidnapping, assault –”
“Fuck you!” Chris said interrupting him, charging him. If he was going to go down, he would go down fighting.
“Stiles!” Jamie heard Tony yell, but he ignored it as he met the charge and got underneath the other man, flipping him. As soon as Argent was on the ground, Jamie turned him over to cuff him. “Stay with him,” he said to the officers, not wanting to let the guy move. “Check him for any and all weapons, and I mean check thoroughly. He’s known to hide things everywhere.”
The officers acknowledged him and started their search, finding a scary amount of knives, syringes, razors, and wire.
It took only a matter of seconds for Chris to be hauled off and taken towards more officers waiting, apparently a squad car was nearby. “Hold up, don’t take him anywhere until more backup arrives, please. We don’t know if there are more.”
Jamie finally looked over to the field where Tony was leaning over a prone Stiles, yelling at people to back up and give him space. More sirens were wailing in the background as Jamie got the guarding officers to sit on the stands with Argent while he went to check on Stiles.
As he neared his new friend, he saw what had alarmed Tony so much. Stiles was lying down on his back, hands clawing at the ground next to him in pain from the knife sticking out of his chest.
The waiting room was full of people impatient to hear about Stiles’ status. The Hales were prowling around the perimeter of the room while the Reagans sat down in the front, not wanting to miss the doctor when he came out. Tony was on the phone to Pepper while Coulson kept SHIELD updated. Between SHIELD and the NYPD, the hospital was the safest place to be right at that moment.
The EMT’s had been grateful that Tony and Jamie had managed to keep anyone from pulling the knife out before they arrived; it was probably what saved his life.
A young doctor came into the room asking, “Family for Stilinski?” He was very surprised when a room full of cops, Tony Stark, and a few others all stood up. Derek stepped forward and explained, “Stiles doesn’t have any living blood relatives, but I do have his Power of Attorney.” Derek handed over the paperwork.
“You mentioned a Stiles, but I have Perzem — Perz –”
“How do you say it?” Danny asked Peter absently.
“You don’t. Hence why he goes by Stiles.”
“Doctor, he likes to go by Stiles, much easier to say. Now, please, will you tell us his status? We’ve been waiting here for hours.” Derek did everything in his power to remain in control and not shift in the middle of a hospital out of frustration.
“Yes, well, the good news is that we were able to repair the damage from the knife. It luckily did not hit any major organs, but it did chip one of his ribs which did knick his lung. Everything is fixed to that extent.”
“But?” asked Commissioner Reagan, stepping up beside Derek. “There was a definite ‘but’ in there.”
“Ahem, yes. Um, it appears that the knife was coated with some kind of poison. We’re looking now to see what it is and treat Mr. Stilinski, but at the moment we have placed him in a medical coma to keep him stable until the cure is found.”
Jamie put his head between his knees and just breathed to keep himself calm; Danny punched a chair; Cora hugged Peter to keep both of their faces hidden; officers started grumbling; both Derek and Frank took deep breaths before responding.
“Do you need anything from us right now?”
“No, we should have an answer soon, hopefully. Is the young man an officer?”
“No, he works in the forensics lab.”
“Oh, okay. ”
“But that doesn’t make him any less one of us,” Danny said, anger still evident in his voice.
“How long is not long?” Derek asked.
“A few more hours, probably. You should take this time to go home, get some rest, maybe bring him back some clothes and something to keep busy while he’s here the next couple of days. I want to keep an eye on him to make sure there are no side effects once the cure is given.”
“I’ll take care of getting him some stuff, I know you don’t want to leave right now,” Danny offered. “I’ll go with you,” Jamie volunteered, not wanting Danny to go off anywhere alone at the moment. He was liable to take it out on some random jerk on the street with prejudice.
“Yeah, okay, kid, let’s go.” The other officers started working out between themselves who would stay to keep the others updated.
“Derek, please let me know as soon as you know anything new,” Frank requested, getting his things together. “I’m going to go home and update the rest of the family and get something to eat.”
“Yeah, thank you for being here, sir.”
“I wish we didn’t have to be.”
“We all wish that,” Derek said staring at the closed doors the doctor had returned through trying to hear what was going on.
“Don’t strain yourself right now, they’ll tell you once they know,” Tony told him, coming around to get Derek sitting and calmed down. “How about I get some food over here for those of us staying?”
Murmurs of agreement went around, and Tony ordered some pizza.
Inside the hospital, Stiles dreamed violent dreams of the future he left behind.
Stiles was sitting in a café enjoying a latte while waiting for Liu Kang to show up, he was going to take him to meet Raiden. Stiles knew that he needed some sort of training and he had found some stuff about the man in his dad’s papers.
Four men burst into the café guns blazing, not caring who they hit. “You freaks! Die like the animals you are!” It had been happening more and more lately. Stiles overturned the tables and tried to drag the other customers behind them, yelling for them to get down and take cover. One of them men seemed to take interest in him and was doing his best to kill him. Stiles just willed all of them out, to be pushed out of the store. That’s all it takes, right, according to Deaton? To believe? Well, here he was believing with everything he had that those assholes needed to go.
Before his eyes the four men were thrown through the glass storefront and away from them. Before he knew what he was doing, Stiles was up and grabbed one of their guns, shooting all four of them before they could regain their senses.
“Everyone get out of here now. If you’ve been hit, let me know immediately, we’ll find a place to take care of it.”
How many more innocents were going to be killed like this?
Linda Reagan was once again checking in on Stiles, knowing how much her husband liked him, respected him, and mostly was entertained by him. She smoothed back his covers, fixed his pillows and tried to quiet the obvious nightmare he was having. He was supposed to be in a medical coma, but that didn’t seem to stop his mind from wandering to scary places.
Cora was still throwing up, nothing seemed to be working. Stiles didn’t understand what could affect a werewolf like this.
He was clenching and unclenching his hands, which seemed abnormal, and also whimpering. She checked his chart once again to be sure, but yes, he seemed to bring himself out of the medically induced state. As she was about to leave to get the doctor he shot up, eyes open, and muttered something quietly: “Mistletoe.”
She called the doctor and then rushed out to the waiting room to check with Derek Hale if that meant something.
Stiles was running as fast as he could to keep ahead of the Supernatural Enforcement Unit. Fucking asswipes had been hunting in this area for a week now and already he had come across two dead selkies, a dead werewolf, and a tortured and dying kitsune. It was disgusting what the world had become, what the government had allowed to happen. Anyone who spoke out against the new rules was eliminated without hesitation.
He had to get to Raiden, they had a plan to fix all this. Ahead of him a child’s head was blown apart by a sniper shot with exploding rounds, the mournful howls of her parents cut short by their own deaths. Stiles couldn’t stop crying as he ran on, doing his best to stay under cover so as not to be a target.
Government sanctioned genocide, that’s all this was.
Mistletoe. Derek and Peter shot up from their chairs, making Linda take a few steps back. “Quickly, just tell me what it means to you.”
Peter put a hand on Derek, letting him know he would take the lead. “Mistletoe is a poison, as you know. But in the — in our world, mistletoe is specifically used as a weapon. People like Stiles, they are extremely susceptible to it, and hunters –” here he stumbled a moment — “hunters like to coat their knives and bullets in it to make it more effective.”
Cora came around and hugged Peter from the side. “Argent knew exactly what he was doing with that knife. He prepared it for maximum effect. It’s people like him that are the reason there are so few emissaries around.”
“You understand that this will take a lot of discipline, time, and dedication.” Raiden sat in front of him having agreed to train him in his gifts. “You must learn to harness the energies around, own the power given to you.”
“I have to own them, make them mine.”
“Exactly. Let us begin.”
“Stiles.” The voice was coming from far away. “Stiles, you need to pull it all back, you’re going to fry the whole floor if you don’t control yourself.”
They were all dead. His father was dead, the Hale’s were dead, the Harrisons were dead. The werewolf population was whittled down to 5% of what is was, never mind the other species.
It was just death. Death everywhere you looked.
“Stiles! Control it!” demanded Derek, worried about what would happen if the field of chaos going on in Stiles’ room spread out further.
“Stiles, own the power, make it yours,” whispered Peter. He’d heard Raiden use the same phrase during Stiles’ training.
Papers stopped fluttering, the machines stopped beeping incessantly and the tension in the air died down.
“Stiles, can you hear me? Can you try opening your eyes?” Derek asked, taking hold of one of Stiles’ hands. Linda she had ran back to the doctor immediately after their explanation, filled him in on what they thought the poison was and he in turn ordered coal treatment to start with. It took another 10 hours before he was completely stable and clear of the poison. Now, they just had to wait.
“Sourwolf?” he asked groggily.
“Yeah, Stiles, I’m here.”
“Little Red, don’t you scare us like that again,” Peter said, having hold of his other hand. Cora was holding onto a leg, all three doing their best to keep the scenting subtle so as not to freak out the others.
“Mr. Stilinski, it seems like you really are the trouble magnet Peter claims you to be,” Frank remarked, obvious signs of relief on his face.
“It’s not so much that I’m a magnet for trouble as trouble just finds me extremely attractive,” Stiles replied, coughing a little. The nose cannula was really itchy and he wanted it gone, but the oxygen was nice. “Does anyone want to fill me in?”
“Argent decided to attend your scrimmage, wanted to give you a gift,” Danny started. “Instead, he gave us all the nice gift of getting himself arrested for — at the minimum — attempted murder of a member of the NYPD, and as a bonus it was in full public view. Jamie got back up on the way, Tony called 911. No one saw the knife he had until he had thrown it, getting you right in the chest there.”
“He’s all locked up and the judge has denied him bail already,” Frank added.
“Wait, how long have I been here?” Stiles asked, coughing a bit and trying to reach his water.
“It’s been about three days now,” Derek answered, still not completely calm even knowing that Stiles was going to be all right. He grabbed the cup of ice chips and placed a couple on Stiles’ lips.
There was a bit more discussion on the details, but he was getting pretty tired. Everyone there gave him their well wishes and started to leave to go about their day. The pack stayed, of course, not wanting to leave him alone.
All of them were happy that the last of the Argents was taken care of.
Maybe now they could live in peace? Pretty, pretty please?
Oh, Lord, Stiles hoped he didn’t just jinx them.
“Coulson, what did you need me for? Stiles is still in the hospital and I want to go see him. Pepper is flying back tonight to see him, as well.”
“Sorry, Stark, thought you might want to see this.”
“See wha — oh. Oh, oh! Am I looking at what I think I’m looking at?”
“We found him. We’ve found Steve Rogers.”
END ARC 2