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Brad was buried in a stack of improperly formatted quarterly reports, wondering for the millionth time if it was really worth it to keep saving Mythic Quest from the other idiots in charge, when he was broken out of his despair by the sound of his ringtone (the World of Warcraft theme, which he may have chosen specifically to piss off Ian, who hated being reminded of competing games.)
Eager for a distraction from the tedium, he glanced at the caller ID and had to do a double take. Abed rarely called him, and he'd never done so while Brad was at work. Brad wasn’t sure if it was because Abed didn’t want to bother him or just because he had better people to talk to during the day, but either way, Brad doubted this departure from routine indicated anything good.
“Yeah?” he answered.
There was silence for a moment and he began to wonder if Abed had called him by accident, but then Abed spoke. “Brad?” he asked, and his voice had an odd quality to it that Brad couldn’t place.
“Yeah, it’s me.” He paused. “...Is everything okay?”
Silence again, and Brad was starting to become concerned. “Abed? Are you all right?”
“Yes,” he replied, in the least convincing tone that Brad had ever heard him use. Then, “...No.”
“What happened?” Now Brad was actually concerned. Abed never admitted to not being okay; Brad had to wonder what could've been so bad that he would willingly do so. Whatever it was, he hoped it wasn't beyond his capabilities to fix.
“...Troy's gone.”
Ah.
Here’s the thing: Brad was not easily surprised. People were so predictable once you figured out how they worked, and Brad was very good at figuring out how people worked. So he couldn't exactly say that he hadn't expected this at some point—he'd even warned Abed, but Abed had insisted that Troy was different, that he wouldn't let Abed down like so many people had. Brad hadn’t had it in his heart to argue with him (not least because he'd secretly hoped that Abed was right).
But just because he had seen this coming didn't mean that he wasn't disappointed. This would fucking wreck Abed, maybe more than anything else that had happened to him before.
“What happened?” he asked again, this time softer. Handling this would require some delicacy, and, despite what some may think, Brad was actually capable of tact. He just usually didn't bother.
“Pierce died,” Abed began, and Brad wasn't going to pretend that he wasn’t delighted to hear it. Abed had told him a bit about how Pierce had treated him (and other people, but that was of little concern to Brad), and Brad had wanted to rain down bloody vengeance, to tank his company's stocks and get him so tangled up in legal battles that his wealth would be reduced to a pittance—but Abed had told him to leave it alone. This wasn't exactly justice, but it was satisfying nonetheless. But Abed wasn't done.
“And in his will, he left millions of dollars to Troy, on the condition that he leave Greendale to sail around the world on Pierce’s boat.”
“And he agreed,” Brad said flatly. It wasn't a question. Of course he had. In any other circumstance, Brad would've considered anyone who turned down that opportunity the worst kind of fool. But in this instance, Troy had abandoned the one person in the world who truly deserved his loyalty, and all for a paltry sum handed out by a self-absorbed, racist prick in a move clearly designed to wreck his personal relationships. Brad had known Troy was an idiot, but he’d never thought he was that much of an idiot.
“Yes,” Abed said, and the weight that lay in that word was immeasurable. “He left earlier today.”
And then Abed went on to tell him exactly how bad it had been, about his terrifying hallucination, about how he’d felt that he’d fucking died from it, and how Troy had known all of that and left him anyway.
Brad’s first thought (of which he wasn’t entirely proud) was that if he'd known that all it would take for Troy to abandon Abed was to throw him a couple million dollars, then it would have been easy to buy him off before Abed got so attached, before things could have gotten this bad. It’s not like he would have done it—Abed could make his own mistakes, and besides, seeing how happy Troy had made Abed, Brad wouldn't have been able to bear taking that away from him, even if it might have been better in the long run.
His second thought was—
“I'm going to destroy him,” Brad vowed, a deadly sense of calm settling over him.
“Don't.”
“No, really, I'll ruin him.”
“Brad, stop. That's not why I called.”
“Then why did you call?” If Abed hadn’t wanted Brad to make use of his talents to get revenge, then what else could he want?
Abed was silent for a moment, and then said, in a quiet, almost hesitant voice, “You said that I could talk to you about anything.”
Brad realized with a dawning sense of horror that Abed had called him seeking comfort and reassurance.
Didn’t he know who Brad was? He didn’t have a comforting bone in his body! Nobody went to Brad Bakshi for a shoulder to cry on and that's exactly how he liked it.
And worse, what possible reason could Abed have to come to him rather than one of his other friends at Greendale? Surely, for all their incompetence, they would be able to help Abed through emotional matters far better than Brad could.
But it wasn't the time for speculation; right now he apparently needed to be there for Abed (in a manner for which he was not remotely qualified but would nevertheless try his best).
The rest of the conversation was characterized by Brad presenting an outwardly calm and reassuring demeanor while internally panicking that any moment he would fuck up and permanently damage Abed’s faith in him, not to mention his psyche. He usually adapted well to being on unfamiliar ground, but this was so far removed from anything he had any frame of reference for that he had little confidence in his improvisational skills.
Still, it seemed like he did something right, because Abed stayed on the line for half an hour, and by the time he hung up he seemed to be doing at least a little better. Brad basked in that relief for a few moments, before finally allowing his thoughts to turn to schemes of brutal and merciless revenge. Sure, Abed may have forbidden Brad from actually enacting any, but even he couldn’t keep Brad from dreaming.
Over the next week, as Abed continued to confide in him rather than any of his school friends, Brad’s resentment towards them grew until he spent every day simmering in a low-level, constant rage. He was careful to never let it reach the surface where it would be visible, but his employees weren’t as subtle as they thought they were when they speculated about why he was being more vicious than usual. And yes, he could’ve refrained from taking his anger out on his co-workers if he really had to, but it was cathartic and there was little risk; if anything it would have the benefit of making them less likely to fuck with him in the future.
Besides, he needed a way to decompress from the strain of suppressing his natural instinct to pick at vulnerabilities in favor of helping Abed.
One unforeseen side effect of the whole situation was that Abed now assumed that he had carte blanche to call Brad whenever he had something he wanted to talk about—everything from needing to be talked down from a panic attack on December 9th to celebrating when his first short film got picked up for a festival. Brad would never admit that Abed was right, and he would certainly never admit to anyone that it was the only good thing to come of the whole affair.
.-.. . -... .-. . .- -.-
He was a little sad at how little effort it had taken to convince David to let them blow off the workday at a bar in the name of team-building, but just because it was disappointingly easy didn't mean it wasn't worth doing. He'd even managed to get David to invite the testers—they spent an oddly high amount of time around them anyway, and Rachel was great at being judgemental, which was always amusing.
The bar itself wasn't Brad's usual haunt—he preferred the one on 65th—but it was the closest one to the office. And it had the additional bonus of not employing any bartenders he'd slept with, which could have led to an awkward situation.
Once they'd finally all gotten their drinks (which took a while, given Ian's stubborn insistence of interrogating the bartender about the contents of everything on the menu), they were treated to a pathetic and ineffectual toast from David, which made even Dana roll her eyes.
Clearly someone had to take up the mantle of motivator, and Brad was always willing to show up David. “To drinking on company time and making David pay for it!” he suggested, laughing at the disappointed face David made when Brad received the appreciative reception he'd clearly been aiming for.
He was still busy gloating when he heard someone behind him say—
“Abed?”
There was so much vulnerability in their voice—a fascinating mixture of hope and wonder and dread—that he almost felt embarrassed for them. Then again, this had the potential to be extraordinarily entertaining.
He turned around to see a man raking his eyes over Brad’s face like he’d been drowning and Brad was the first breath of air he’d had in weeks. Brad was almost flattered, even knowing it wasn’t for him.
“What’s up?” he asked, trying to get a feeling for how to play this. The guy looked familiar, but not enough that Brad was able to place him.
Confusion was clear on his face. “I’m back,” he said as if it were obvious. It probably was, to him. “I finished the trip.”
It took Brad half a second to realize what that implied, and then he had to stop himself from grinning in delight as he appreciated the opportunity that had just fallen into his lap. So this was Troy. Now that Brad knew who he was, he could recall seeing him in the photos of the study group that Abed had sent him (the ones that Brad pretended to hate but actually kept in an encrypted folder on his phone).
This was almost too perfect. Sure, Abed didn’t want Brad enacting vengeance on his behalf, but even he couldn’t blame Brad for capitalizing on this, not when it was simply too good to pass up.
It was unfortunate that he hadn't seen Abed in person that recently—but on the other hand, neither had Troy. Besides, Brad had always had an excellent memory. He straightened up, letting his body fall into neutral stillness, and tilted his head, the way that Abed always did when he was confused.
“Troy,” he acknowledged, flattening his voice to emulate Abed's subtle inflections. “What are you doing here?”
What followed was one the most enjoyable interactions Brad had had in recent memory. At first, he'd been a little concerned that his Abed impression wouldn't be as good as he thought it was, but Troy's distraught expression quickly reassured him.
While he was entirely cognizant of his co-workers behind him the whole time, he knew they would be too invested in getting a glimpse into his personal life to disrupt the proceedings, so there was nothing to be concerned about there. He did have a brief moment of worry when, during his impassioned declaration that money wasn’t worth anything to him, Rachel sounded like she was being strangled, but luckily Ian shut her down before he had to take any action, leaving him free to keep twisting the knife.
By the time Troy started crying, he was having difficulty suppressing his glee.
Finally, they arrived at the coup de grâce.
“But I—I love you,” Troy said in a broken plea.
“I know,” Brad replied, and the look of devastation on Troy's face was one of the sweetest things he'd ever seen.
Abed had told him stories about all the time that he and Troy spent watching Star Wars together often enough for Brad to know that twisting something so sacred to the two of them into brutal rejection would hurt Troy more than anything else Brad had done today.
When Troy finally started to make for the door, it was time to give the game away. As spectacularly enjoyable and entertaining as this had been, he couldn’t allow Troy to leave with the impression that Abed never wanted to see him again (for all that it was so exceedingly tempting); as much as Troy deserved it, Brad would never take that away from Abed.
“So,” he asked, ditching Abed’s mannerisms in an instant, finally allowing his vicious satisfaction to show, “what do you think?”
Troy’s expression when he realized who Brad was would have been enough to make this whole thing worth it on its own.
“Holy shit, Brad, did you just pretend to be this guy's boyfriend?” Poppy asked.
He finally turned his attention back to his coworkers who were looking on, gobsmacked. He wished he were able to take a picture of their expressions, because they were almost priceless. (But only almost, because Brad could put a price on anything.)
“And broke up with him? That's cold, even for you.” Brad relished the horrified look on Rachel's face and the admiring one on Jo's.
(Jo was too often the only one in this den of madness that he respected.)
“Oh, so you're not gay?” David asked, clearly relieved, and Brad had to stop himself from grinning in anticipation as David fumbled himself into a hole of awkward homophobia.
He was so glad he’d arranged for Rachel to come out during the ethics committee scheme rather than doing it himself as he’d briefly considered. David’s awkward reaction to Rachel had still provided him with all of the fodder he’d needed to entertain himself, and, more importantly, it had freed up Brad to reserve his coming out for a later date, saving it for when it would cause the most emotional damage.
And it looked like that moment had finally come.
“I am,” he said.
David clearly didn't understand. “You're what?”
“I'm gay,” he clarified.
David's purpling face was almost as good as his indignant screeching.
Ian was the only other person who appeared outwardly surprised, which was about what Brad had expected. He’d never tried to be subtle, so Ian was likely the only person self-absorbed enough to remain oblivious.
“David's latent homophobia aside,” he dismissed, returning to the actual matter at hand, “that's not the point.”
Brad stepped closer to Troy, who mirrored him, taking a nervous step back. “You see, I am not a nice man, Troy,” he began, and Troy looked like he wanted to throw up. The fear on his face only increased as Brad continued, as did Brad's satisfaction. It had been too long since he’d genuinely tried to make someone afraid of him; it was good to know that he hadn’t lost his touch.
When Troy complained that Abed hadn't told him that he had a brother, Brad almost laughed. If Troy had felt entitled to every detail of Abed's life, then maybe he shouldn't have betrayed him and broken that trust that he so carelessly demanded.
The trust that Abed had, sadly, all too readily given.
“Did you know he called me every day for a week?” Brad informed him lightly, making sure that he didn't give away how concerned it had made him. Judging by the way that Troy looked like he was about to start crying again, he needn’t have worried.
And Brad was happy to make him feel even more guilty, making sure he knew that Abed's mercy was the only reason Brad hadn't destroyed him earlier and much more thoroughly. And, of course, reminding him that he wouldn't be afforded such grace should he fuck up again.
He didn't bother to hide the smile that spread across his face when Troy started literally backing away from him. He was so easily unnerved that, in any other situation, Brad would've been disappointed in the lack of challenge. Today, however, he wouldn't argue against anything that worked in his favor.
“Oh, and Troy?” He asked, right as Troy was about to leave. “Next time, I won't be so nice.” The terror on Troy's face was extremely gratifying, and he knew that he would be looking back on it fondly over the next several weeks.
He watched the door close behind Troy, who was making a valiant effort of pretending that he wasn't running away, and his threatening smile curved into one of satisfaction. He hadn't gotten to have quite so much fun in a while, mainly because his co-workers were tiny babies who'd combust if he glared at them and he regrettably needed them semi-functional. (It certainly wasn't because he'd grown reluctantly fond of them and didn't actually want to cause any permanent psychological damage.)
This would serve as a nice reminder of his capabilities.
Still, he was pretty sure that neither Troy nor his co-workers had realized how nice he had really been. It would've been all too easy to let Troy continue to think he was Abed, let him leave believing that he'd devastated him so much that all of the adoration and friendship Abed had felt for Troy had been twisted into bitter hatred.
It was what he deserved, and Brad would've been glad to do it. Unfortunately, while he’d be ecstatic about Troy leaving broken and determined to never contact Abed again, it's not what Abed would have wanted. So Brad would reluctantly allow him another chance to prove that he wouldn't let Abed down again.
And if he failed this time, then there was nowhere he could hide from the devastating retribution Brad would inflict upon him, regardless of whether Abed approved or not.
Behind him, David finally (and belatedly) finished piecing everything together.
“Wait, Brad, you have a brother?”
Brad turned around and gave him the withering look that never failed to make him shrink in embarrassment. “Obviously.”
“Really, David?” Ian asked. “Seriously, how was that not clear?”
David flushed. “Look, I didn't think that you would've kept something that big to yourself. Why didn't you tell us?”
“And why the hell would I do that?” Brad drawled. “Just because you feel the need to incessantly bother everyone with details of your personal life doesn't mean that the rest of us do.”
“Oh come on, I don't do that, right?” David looked around at everyone else, seeking reassurance that nobody granted.
“Damn, Brad, that was like... Really mean,” Dana noted, as if she were somehow still surprised at the lengths to which Brad was willing to go to achieve his goals.
“Yeah, that was the point,” Brad replied. “He broke my brother's heart so I broke his.”
“That was so hardcore,” Jo breathed, awestruck. “Can you do that to anyone?”
He flashed her a sharp grin. It was great to finally have someone around who fully appreciated his work. “Well, nobody here has pissed me off enough yet, but I’ll let you know when it finally happens so you can watch.” Jo let out a happy squeak as everyone else shifted around nervously, and his smile broadened. Good. They’d been getting too complacent recently.
Rachel recovered first, and shook her head in something like disbelief. “It's so weird to see that you actually care about someone,” she said slowly, as if her worldview had been permanently altered. “I always thought that the only thing that mattered to you was having a money bin.”
Fantastic, there they went, getting ideas.
“Don't be ridiculous,” he scoffed. “Of course I don't care, but anyone disrespecting my brother is disrespecting me. I can't let that shit go unpunished.”
“Really?” Ian raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said that your brother asked you not to and you agreed.”
Brad sighed. What a time for Ian to pay attention. “Yes, Abed always has been sentimental. It's a shame, but it's usually easier to just accommodate him rather than trying to change his mind. He can be incredibly stubborn sometimes.”
“Gee, I wonder where he got that from,” Poppy muttered.
“So do we ever get to meet him? I'd love to know what a non-evil Brad looks like,” Rachel asked.
Brad barked out a laugh. “God no. I want him to stay as far away from you idiots as possible. He’s young and impressionable; the last thing he needs is you all corrupting him.”
“If he's that impressionable, I'm a little worried that he's going to you for help. Wait, did you make him think that you're, like, nice?"
Brad rolled his eyes at Dana. “Please don't insult me. Nobody thinks I'm nice.”
Dana shrugged in tacit agreement.
“Anyway,” Brad continued, "does anybody have any more insulting trivial questions about my personal life or can we get back to getting drunk?”
“I don't know, do you have any other secret brothers that we have to worry about? Wouldn’t want to be caught off guard again.” Poppy was clearly joking, and it would've been so easy for him to laugh it off too, but something stopped him.
Maybe it was the knowledge that if he warned them about Zack now, that might forestall their belief in whatever lies he spread if, god forbid, they ever encountered him; maybe it was because it would be hilarious to confirm Poppy's clearly facetious comment, (maybe it was because he was so foolishly attached to these people that he was idiotic enough to trust them with another part of himself) but for whatever reason, he found himself telling the truth.
“One.” His lips pursed involuntarily. “His name’s Zack and he’s a dick.”
Rachel raised an eyebrow. “More of a dick than you? I find that hard to believe. What did he do, kill someone?”
Brad had far too much control to flinch, but he evidently wasn’t doing as good a job of schooling his facial expression as he thought he was because Rachel’s eyes widened and everyone else suddenly looked very concerned (except Jo, whose face broke into an excited grin). “Wait, did he?”
“That's irrelevant,” he dismissed.
A glance at Rachel's face told him that she thought it was very relevant indeed so he continued before she could interject.
“It doesn't matter because you'll never meet him.” He really fucking hoped that was true.
“Anyway,” he hastily changed the subject, “who wants another round? David's wallet isn't going to bankrupt itself!”
David groaned and everyone else cheered and Brad felt something eerily close to fondness spread through his chest. He shook it off and went up to the bar to order a tray of top-shelf tequila shots. Hopefully the hangovers everyone would face tomorrow would have them cursing his name too much to remember any moments of vulnerability that he may or may not have shown tonight.
.-.. . -... .-. . .- -.-
A few days later, Brad was in his office devising ways to get around the new EU restrictions on gambling when his phone rang, and he was only slightly surprised to find that it was Abed. It seemed that Troy had finally stopped being a coward.
He picked up, and Abed wasted no time on pleasantries.
“Troy came back.”
“That's great, Abed!” Brad didn’t have to feign his approval; for all of Troy’s many, many, faults, Abed felt that his life was happier with Troy in it, and hopefully Troy wouldn’t fuck it up this time.
“Yeah. And he said some interesting things.”
“Oh, really?” Brad asked, in a tone of mild interest.
“He told me how scary my brother was; how he mistook you for me at first since we look so much alike.”
Brad hummed thoughtfully. “Now that you mention it, I might recall something like that.”
“Yeah, apparently you made him cry and threatened to destroy him if he hurt me again?”
“You know, it's all coming back to me now.”
“You didn't have to do that.”
“No,” Brad readily agreed. “I didn't.” But I wanted to, he didn’t say, and Abed didn’t need him to.
Abed was quiet for a moment. Then, “You didn’t have to do that,” he repeated. “But... thank you.”
Brad leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, whatever,” he dismissed, knowing Abed could hear the smile in his voice. “Anyway, hopefully he'll prove himself worthy this time, because I won’t be so restrained if this happens again.” Brad didn't say that the only reason he'd held back this time was because he cared about Abed too much to entirely disrespect his wishes.
“Yeah. I know.” Abed didn't say that he appreciated it.
But that didn’t matter, because they both already knew.