Chapter Text
“Barty, finally,” Regulus sighs when Barty enters the study where he has been summoned about thirty minutes before. Not his fault all his knives were dirty and he likes to take care of his instruments. Still having one of them in his hand, cleaning his favourite ring dagger immaculately, he looks at his friend.
“What is it, Reggie,” he flings the knife at Regulus’ head, missing him just barely, the blade getting stuck in the wood of the wall behind him. Regulus doesn’t even flinch and Barty just grins as he goes to retrieve the dagger. “I was busy.”
“Lovely,” Regulus deadpans. “Look at this.” The man turns one of his computer screens to Barty so he can see very grainy footage of himself taking down his latest target. Barty smiles as he looks at the way his own body moves. God, he is good. The woman didn’t even see him coming, jumping down from inside the building, landing with a smooth roll and ending with his blade against her throat. He had gotten every scrap of information he needed to know from her and more before he slit her throat clean, dumping the body in the bin that was supposed to be emptied the day after.
“Aren’t I the picture of grace?” Barty grins, bowing at Regulus who pauses the video.
“I don’t need to fill your ego, Crouch, I would give you praise for the execution if this wasn’t the next thing that happened.” Regulus starts the recording again and Barty’s smile falters a little when he sees a man enter the frame just when he has dipped out of the dark alley. He is a broad-shouldered fellow with stark blond hair and tanned skin. Even on the grainy black-and-white footage, Barty can see how insanely hot the guy is.
He also immediately knows who it is. “Oh fuck here we go again,” Barty sighs, twisting the dagger around his finger before holstering it at his side. “What’s this fucker doing trailing me again.”
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Regulus says, pointing at the screen where the man looks around before jumping into the bin and dragging the body of the woman back out and out of the screen.
Barty’s eyes widen and he leans in so he can see more clearly. “That mother–”
“You have a problem, Crouch,” Regulus informs in a cold tone, closing the laptop harshly. “Fix it.”
Barty turns to sit on Regulus’ desk, all over the papers, maps and plans that are organised in piles. He grins when Regulus snatches some of them away from ending up under Barty’s butt. “You mean we have a problem.”
“No, I know what I said,” Regulus counters, putting away the papers in his desk drawer and turning away from Barty to put some distance between them. “Sirius is the one who told me, otherwise we wouldn’t even know the guy was back on our trail. I don’t want to clean up your messes, Barty. You are the one supposed to get rid of the trash.”
“My dearest Reggie,” Barty muses. “You and big Black don’t have to worry. Last time he escaped me and we didn’t see him until now. I will just scare him off again.”
Regulus pulls a brow at Barty. “You need to do more than that.”
Barty rolls his eyes, raking a hand through his black-blonde hair so he can tussle it. “But it would be such a waste, have you seen the guy?”
“Yes, you horny piece of crap,” Regulus says in annoyance, flicking Barty’s forehead in scolding. “But I don’t pay you to fuck, I pay you to kill.”
“You could do both,” Barty grins, wiggling his eyebrows at his best friend, who is also his boss and lord of one of the biggest gangs in town. It’s nothing to Barty. Regulus can put on his scariest, meanest look and Barty would still see the six-year-old kid who couldn’t get out of the three he climbed into to escape a barking dog.
“Don’t,” Regulus drawls. “You have your orders, just go kill the guy please.” Regulus pushes Barty’s folded legs so he ends up back on the ground and he has space to go back to his scheming.
“You’re no fun,” Barty pouts, rounding around the desk.
“As you remind me daily.” Regulus doesn’t look up from his computer when talking and Barty knows he will not get a lot out of Regulus anymore. Once he is caught up in his plans he is lost to the rest of the world. This is why it surprises Barty when Regulus addresses him once more before he heads out the door. “And if he is involved–”
“Yeah, yeah, bring him back alive, I know,” Barty grins, waving a very dramatic hand at his best friend. “I won’t harm your boy toy.”
“He is not–”
“Bye, Reggie!” Barty calls over his words and closes the door behind him. Snickering to himself Barty makes his way down the hall to the main entrance of their headquarters. Barty does have his own place but he spends fifty per cent of the time in the Black Family mansion anyway since that’s where most of his equipment is stashed. The other twenty per cent is divided into forty spent hunting down anyone who is a problem for the Blacks and only ten in his little downtown flat.
He bounds up two flights of stairs, turning left so he enters the wing of spare rooms of which he claimed one for himself. There he had been cleaning his other equipment before Regulus had called from him. He picks up the gun and two daggers still lying on the settee bringing them over to the dresser next to the door. He puts the gun in a drawer while putting the dual blades in his equipment belt.
Walking into the big closet after Barty considers going fully covered but if he is meeting the hunk of a man again he might as well forgo his normal black suit and slip into something more revealing. He fits on his body suit with slits at the waist and a little too tight crotch piece as well as a pair of almost too-small cargo pants. They are not the most flattering item of clothing he owns but it is convenient with all their pockets. In one of those pockets he stages his black nylon gloves, fingerprint-proof and still providing enough grip for him to handle his weapons perfectly. Not to mention they look sexy as hell on him.
He takes a moment to look himself up and down in the floor-length mirror that hangs on the wall behind the bed. He would like to use that mirror to look at himself in a very different situation, so maybe if he can bring the guy back alive…
The fantasy fills Barty with a giddiness he only feels when he is about to go on a hunt and he feels his blood starting to rush. This is what he lives for. The thrill of the hunt and the satisfaction of the kill. If Regulus hadn’t taken him to his family after Barty rescued him from the tree he knows for sure he would have ended up in the gang anyway. He has always had a particular desire for violence and danger. With his mother dead and his father being a prickly ministry agent who only cares about his career and promotion it was bound to happen that Barty went off the rails.
It took nothing more than that first introduction with Walburga and Orion Black for Barty to be welcomed into the family. That particular brand of crazy is something special and once Barty had found his equals he didn’t want to let go of it ever again.
That the Blacks were unhinged became clear through the fact they trained the children since they were eight to fight, steal, manipulate and dominate as the best. Barty excels in the first, Sirius is the quickest sleight of hand Barty has ever seen, Marlene can wind everyone around her finger with a few words and Regulus’ brain is a wonderful brilliant thing Barty wouldn’t even try to understand.
It isn’t a miracle that the children outgrew their parents quickly and when Regulus turned sixteen the four of them got drunk and concocted a plan to kill their parents. Despite taking over the illegal dealings of their parents Sirius and Regulus never had a place in their hearts for them. Walburga and Orion used them as soldiers more than that they were treated as kids. If you train killers, don’t be surprised if you get killed.
It was Barty’s first. He was fresh seventeen when they executed the plan and Orion hadn't even had time to say a parting word before his throat was slit and he was bleeding out on his wife’s favourite Persian rug. His blood mingling with that of her as the brothers watched was a sight Barty will never forget.
Sighing at the happy memory he gathers his hair into a half knot on his head, his blonde streaks contrasting the black hair amazingly. He should probably not have dyed his hair such a prominent colour but it looks amazing and if Barty does anything he will do it looking amazing. He tongues his lip ring while detangling a hair from his eyebrow piercing and putting it back in place. He looks dangerous and sexy, precisely how he means to.
Walking out of the room he almost collides with a person who just crosses past his room. “Woah, where’s the fire?” Barty scoffs, holding his knife in hand already as a reflex.
“It should be under your arse, Crouch,” Marlene grins at him while slamming his right buttcheek. “What has you looking all done up?”
“Got a hot date,” Barty grins as they walk down the stairs to the foyer. He wiggles his eyebrows for good measure and Marlene barks out a laugh at the gesture.
“Sure, hot stuff, and does your date know that?”
Barty shrugs. “No, but he will in a few hours.” They walk to the armoury together where they find Sirius gathering supplies that don’t give anything away of what he is up to. Barty pinches his waist making Sirius jump five feet in the air, swatting his hand over Barty’s head who ducks just in time and results in the blow landing on Marlene’s shoulder.
“Oi!” She yelps, eyes blazing as he punches Sirius back in the arm.
“Ouch, arsehole, that wasn’t meant for you!” Sirius groans, rubbing his arm while Barty laughs manically and makes his way over to the impressive knife collection they have, of which two-thirds are his. “Don’t do that crouch, you know I’m sensitive,” Sirius whines and comes up behind Barty which he thinks the younger man doesn’t notice but the moment he stretches his hand to pinch Barty back, his wrist is in Barty’s hand and he is twisting on himself. Barty pins Sirius’ arm behind his back and leans in close to his ear, letting his lips ghost the shell of it.
“If you want to tango, you can just ask Big Black.”
“Wouldn’t you like that,” Sirius comments, the smirk in his voice audible. “Now let go of me before I keep you locked up here for the rest of the week.”
“As if Regulus would be okay with that,” Barty scoffs. “He needs me to do this job.”
“Then do that job and stop hitting on me,” Sirius commands, shifting his hand around to free himself.
Barty lets go and resumes the gathering of his things. “All big words, but never action. Sirius, you disappoint me every day.”
“You wouldn’t say that if I finally let you see my cock,” Sirius teases, stuffing iron chains into a black bag while Marlene holds it open.
Barty sighs dramatically, letting himself fall against the gun cabinet on his left. “I keep dreaming for that wishful day, one day my dreams will come true.”
“Sure darling,” Sirius laughs, zipping the bag.
Barty eyes the two working on preparations and when Marlene loads up one of her favourite guns he grins. “Is that for the job?”
“Mhm,” Sirius mumbles affirmatively. “We’re leaving in the afternoon. Might have a surprise waiting for you once you get back.”
“Fun, I’ll bring my own addition.” Barty fastens his throwing needles to the side of his boot before straightening his clothes and turning to the door. “Have fun you two, bring me back a souvenir?” He doesn’t listen to the muttered answers, leaving the two to their business as he is already out the door.
With a spring in his step, Barty wanders into the kitchen, because no one works well on an empty stomach. He watches the bustle of the headquarters while he eats his yoghurt sitting on the counter. People always come and go, getting orders and dropping off shipments to dealers and whatnot. Barty likes the rumble of the mansion during rush hour. It shows how big the operations have gotten and the fact that the feds are nowhere near finding out who is dealing what is a thrill that adds to all of it.
“Crouch,” the scolding sound of his favourite redhead sounds next to him. “Get you’re dirty boots off my kitchen counter.”
“They aren’t dirty, Lils, I just cleaned them.” To prove his point, Barty shows the soles of his shoes that are indeed mud and blood-free, as he is not stupid and won’t ever leave trails.
“Still, I don’t want your shoes on the place we cook dinner,” Lily sighs, pushing Barty off the counter who can just keep his balance as he lands on the floor.
“My darling, dearest–”
“No,” Lily stops him, holding his fingers against Barty’s mouth. He darts his tongue out to lick them so she might recoil in disgust but he knows Lily better than that and she just tightens her grip. “I am not in the mood for your flattery, everyone is busy with the upcoming job and you should be too, what are you doing here just launching around?”
“‘m no cumn on he job,” Barty tries to speak but his words are muffled by Lily’s hand. She eyes him sternly before she lets go of him so he can speak clearly. “Oh that’s way better, everyone should want to be blessed with hearing the sound of my–”
Lily snaps her hand back in place and almost cuts off Barty’s air supply when she also obscures his nose. “What was that?”
Barty makes pleading eyes at the redhead who is just regarding him with pulled brows. “Are you going to be a good boy?” Barty’s expression shifts to irritation and Lily bellows a laugh. “Oh, you hate me now?” Barty nods proudly and Lily finally lets go of him.
“I could never hate you, Lils,” Barty smiles, kissing her cheek.
“Of course not,” Lily smiles, pinching his cheek just a little too hard. “Now why are you not coming on the job?”
“Reg’s orders,” Barty just shrugs, knowing he can’t disclose information to anyone. Lily is a frequent visitor of the house, being the owner of a lot of the businesses they use to launder their money. She comes on some of the high-end jobs, helping to move money and cargo around and Barty has known her for years as she is the best at what she does. It’s not like he doesn’t trust her, the opposite actually but if Regulus gives him orders he will not talk about it with anyone other than him, Sirius or Marlene.
Lily knows this just as well, so she just nods in understanding and takes the empty bowl Barty is still holding in his hands. “Off you go then, good luck,” she kisses the cheek that she just pinched harshly to soothe the red skin just a little.
Barty smiles and waves before he leaves through the backdoor. With the mansion being built in a remote area of the city they aren’t easily found but the downside is that the action is a drive away. He walks over the grounds to the stable-like building. They aren’t keeping horses but the building is filled with vehicles. Barty grins as he walks over to the black and green Kawasaki Ninja ZX-6R motorbike.
“Hello baby,” he talks to the vehicle, gliding his hand over the leather seating. “Ready for a ride?” The motor is brand new and he is in love with it. Getting out his helmet from one of the cabinets on the wall he prepares to take off. The door of the stable opens automatically and with the roar of the engine, he is off.
When he enters downtown he stows his bike in between two high buildings, clicking the chain double-looped around the wheels to a pole. He will murder the person who tries to steal it.
Looking at his handywork Barty nods and sneaks around the corner of the buildings. The place where he murdered the woman yesterday was just two streets over. he looks around to see if he is being followed. Nothing to note, yet.
When he finds the bin he had dumped the woman’s body in Barty makes himself one with the wall. There are several places in the alley where the guy could have been waiting for his time to take the woman. There is a ledge on the left building, wide enough for someone to stand on and look down into the alley. Barty also sees the camera where Regulus had pulled the footage from, it is honestly a bad thing he hadn’t seen it before, he should have blacked it. he ducks and throws a very precise needle at the little black bulb. There is a cracking sound and Barty jumps to catch the needle from the air when it deflects from the glass.
When he lands back on his feet it only takes a millie second before there is a strong arm wrapped around his throat and a knife poking into his chin. Busy as he was with the blacking out the camera, Barty had not heard the man sneak up on him and he mentally slaps himself. He is really not on his A-game today.
“One move and your dead,” the low voice comes into his ear and Barty shivers, filling with excitement. The violent tone gets his blood pumping and he has the spontaneous urge to sink to his knees and offer himself to the man.
“So violent,” Barty snickers, not moving any more than he has to speak. “what did I ever do to you, action man?”
“You killed someone and left her in a dumpster, that’s what,” his capturer snarls, digging the point of the blade a little more into Barty’s skin, almost breaking it but just holding off. He wouldn’t mind getting cut by the man at all.
Barty’s eyes flit around the alley, trying to calculate his chances and escape routes. Unlocking his bike will take a second and he has to get this guy there without making him suspicious that he is being lured into a trap. The alley comes out on a side street that will lead them to the main. No way Hunkbonk wants to get caught fighting out in the open so he has to make him chase Barty.
A smirk forms on his mouth as the plan crashes through his brain at lightning speed. The ledge, a jump over the wall, a quick chase through the back alleys, striking down, tying up, taking away. Brilliant.
Setting his plan into motion Barty chuckles fakely. “Oh, yeah she was no fun. No resistance at all didn’t even see it coming.”
“I would shut up now if I were you,” the man mutters, his voice trembling with anger which makes Barty’s blood rush shout quickly.
“What are you going to do? Cut me? Bleed me dry?” Barty asks, his tone more hopeful with every word he says. “Yes please,” he moans, bucking his hips a little to annoy the guy. To his surprise, he feels the outline of a hard cock digging into his arse and that is just wonderful. “Oh, is that another knife in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” Barty cackles.
“I will cut you.”
Barty shrugs and the fact that the man doesn’t react in tightening his grip is the sign Barty needs to know he can execute his plan flawlessly. “No, you won’t, or you would have indulged me by now. Such a shame, honestly, I would love for you to play with me, Silver Locks.”
“What is wrong–”
The guy doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Barty has pushed back his hips with such force that the guy’s grip falters and he has the briefest window to sprint to the back of the alley. “I have the feeling the desire to hold each other is a little one-sided, sorry!” Barty throws over his shoulder as he grabs onto the drainpipe next to the ledge and swings himself up to grab the edge to pull himself up.
It is the first time he dares to take a second and looks behind him. “The view is better from up here, Muscles,” he smiles brightly while the guy rears back a little, probably to give himself some meters for a run-up. Barty is surprised when the man jumps against the wall and almost walks against it to land on bent knees and one hand right in front of him.
“You talk too much,” he growls, leaping for Barty but he has already made the run over the ledge to the wall jumping over it with the grace of a cat. He takes off in a sprint, dodging bins and fire escape stairs to make it close to where his bike is waiting to take them both back.
“I can do other things with my mouth if you like?” Barty calls out with a laugh, passing a bin and pushing it in the way of his chaser who jumps over it with surprising ease. “Oh, you are good?”
Barty takes a sharp left and pulls himself up to a wall. It’s only the nose of his boot left, dangling down but it’s enough. The man grabs onto it, yanking hard so Barty tumbles from the wall his back hitting the stone ground roughly. “Oompf, if you want me on my back so bad–”
“Are you going to come with me in peace or do I have to gag you?” The guy snarls, standing over Barty. He could easily kick up his leg right into the man's balls, but that would be such an awful waste. He hooks his legs around instead, twisting and making the man tumble to the spot next to him.
“A gag could be fun,” Barty considers, holding a needle close to the man’s gorgeous chestnut eyes. Barty blinks, temporarily losing his words. That never happened to him before. The feeling of his words being ripped from his throat involuntarily is something completely foreign to him and it happens from just looking at the man’s eyes.
The few seconds Barty forgets to breathe are enough for the man to roll them around again. It snaps him back to reality and he grabs for his ring dagger, moving so swiftly the motion is almost invisible. A trickle of blood comes down the man’s jawline and Barty rolls away from him, knicking his calves so the man goes down. “Look what you did,” Barty pouts, gesturing to the man’s face. “Now I ruined your pretty face.”
“You are a dead man.”
“Au contraire, Puppy,” Barty clicks his tongue. “I am thriving. Think you can get up to continue our game?”
“This isn’t a game!” The guy shouts, losing his control and Barty grins. Hook, line, sinker .
“Hypocrite, I bet you crossed off a few names in this lifetime,” He tuts as the man gets back on his feet. Barty takes the time to study his feathers better. The golden brown skin contrasting his platinum blonder hair starkly. The studs in his ear get Barty’s mouth-watering and he wants to feel the spikes against his skin more than anything else. He is tall and broad, exactly the type of guy Barty would take to his bed. He can take this one, literally.
Like a cat on prey Barty ounces and he tackles the man back to the ground pinning his arms. When one gets tugged loose, Barty’s leg extends and with his boot, he puts pressure on the man’s wrist. He holds his dagger in the same place the man had held his just a few minutes ago. “I should kill you,” Barty drawls, dragging the tip of the dagger from the man’s cheek over his ear to his throat. He lowers himself a little so his arse is hanging above the man's crotch and when he looks back at those chestnut eyes something flashes in them.
Lust. Desire. Want
Barty grins broadly, moving the knife to the man’s throat with a backhand grip. “Oh, you are liking this, sweet cakes?”
“What’s with the nicknames,” the man growls out, his voice hoarse in the most sexy way Barty has heard. He feels his own cock twitch happily in his way to tight clothes and Barty would give everything to just stuff it down the man’s throat.
He doesn’t. Barty might be a criminal but he is no rapist. The question is supposed to be a diversion. Barty knows every trick in the book and making conversation is one of the tricks he perfected to the point that it always morphed into flirting these days. Not that he minds, his stellar charisma and million-dollar smile were gifted to him to be used. “If you tell me you’re name I can stop using anything that makes me think of you, duckling,” Barty shrugs, turning the dagger to have the point digging into the golden skin covering the man’s Adam’s Apple. “Care to tell me?”
“Suck my cock,” the man spats, keeping his head arched back to avoid the knife.
Barty snickers. “Oh if you are asking me, I will happily consent.” His eyes shift over the man’s muscled body and the water pools in his mouth by the thought. “But only if you tell me your name and who you work for.”
It is clear now this man doesn’t work alone. He is a hitman for someone, just like Barty is for Regulus. A dirty job worker, the clean-up crew so to speak. But it seems like this guy has a little bit more of a moral compass than he does. He is on a vengeance mission here, not one of necessity.
That thought gets confirmed when the guy snarls. “If you tell me why you killed Mary.”
“Who’s Mary?” Barty asks, veining innocence. This makes the guy snarl so viciously Barty doesn’t know if the dagger at his throat will even stop him, or if he will just shoot up, kill himself and take Barty with him to the grave. “Oh, was she the woman? Sorry, my bad. I kill so many people I can’t really tell them apart.”
“You are a sociopath,” the guy says, accusatory.
“Nope,” Barty says shrugging and digging his foot in a little harder making the man flinch under him. “I just don’t give a lot of shits.”
“Same thing.”
“It is really not,” Barty clicks his tongue and purses his lips. “But if you want to make me the bad guy, sure have at it.”
“You are literally the bad guy!” the guy scoffs, but a manic laugh follows and Barty is starting to like this game they seem to be playing.
He smiles sweetly. “Not in my story, babycakes. In my story, you are the bad guy, working with the wrong man and you will tell me who they are right now or I will take you with me.”
“Do that,” the guy laughs, bringing his head forward against the blade still against his throat. “Then I can find out all your secrets.”
Barty bellows, surprised by the man’s sudden cheek. “Oh, you are fun.” The smirk on the guy's face broadens but Barty is not letting up on his vigilance. “Okay, I’ll cut you a deal. You come with me now, we fuck and you leave. We don’t ask questions and will act like nothing happened after, what do you say Munchkin?”
“No can do, baby boo,” the guy answers with a wide grin. Barty elates at the use of the nickname, seeing it as a sign that the guy is working with him, wants to work with him as well. “We both know you’ll double-cross me and keep me chained up somewhere.”
“Wouldn’t you like that,” Barty takes the dagger away from the muscular neck, putting it against the man’s carotid artery. He can feel the pulse of his blood through the blade and with his life literally in Barty’s hands the man closes his eyes, still not giving the answer Barty needs from him. “You just have to give me names and that fantasy playing in your head right now can become reality,” he deals, scraping the blunt edge of the blade over the golden skin.
A sweat is visible on the smooth forehead and Barty wonders how easily the man would sweat when doing real work. It makes his head spin and he can’t trust himself to keep de dagger on such a delicate place. He slides it down to the man’s chest, planning to dig the point into his sternum but is stopped in his tracks when the point hooks onto a small hoop under the clothing, exactly where the man’s nipple is.
Barty starts drooling. Literally. He can’t help the spit falling from his mouth as he groans. “Oh fuck me, how can I ever kill you when you are just so edible.”
“You shouldn’t,” the man hushes, eyeing the dagger as if it were a snake about to bite. “You should let me go and come with me. I think I can sway my boss to let you into our circle. The fun we could have.”
It’s all lies and diversion, but for a brief second Barty feels like it might be worth it. He will happily be murdered by this man if he can have a taste of him before he goes. He shakes his head, pouting as he digs the dagger into the man’s chest, easing the pressure from his wrist just a little. “I think this is what we call a stale-mate. You don’t want to come with me, I don’t want to come with you. We should murder each other but actually don’t want to. What should we do, puppet?”
Barty leans in closer, the dagger holding them apart as he brushes his nose against the other man’s, taking his lipring into his mouth to play with it while looking into the soft eyes. It’s the only part of the man that’s not buffed or sharp-angled. Something real, something lovely .
The expression of the man chances as a lightning strike. All the wonder disappears and Barty doesn’t know what is happening but he feels a sharp pain in his forehead and the man who had just been under him is now back on his feet next to him.
Fuck, he is good. Barty thinks as he rolls out of the way of a flying shuriken that cuts off a loose hair hanging beside his ear. Barty knows when it’s time to give up and count his losses. He will not win from the man today and he can’t bring himself to lose one of his needles by throwing it at him in a last attempt to strike him down.
“Well, this has been fun, Sugar Cane, but I fear my time has run out,” Barty bows, before doing a backwards roll and pushing up the wall he couldn’t climb over earlier. He manages it now and watches, waiting for the man to chase him but he doesn’t. He just glares at Barty with thunder in his eyes.
“You will not get away with it,” the guy promises, holstering the dagger he had picked up from where he lost it. Why he didn’t throw it at Barty the shorter man doesn’t know but it fills him with glee.
“Oh, I am counting on it. I really want that second date,” Barty winks and before the guy can change his mind and still come after Barty he gives a sarcastic wave. “I will find you, Honey Pops!”
With that he jumps off the wall on the other side, breaking the fall with a roll and taking off in the direction of his bike. He is not being followed anymore.