Chapter Text
Being secluded from a proper society for six years so your villainous talents can be manipulated into their true potential puts a person into a completely different mindset then those around them. You look at a situation to see how it benefits you and unconsciously keep a close eye on the surrounding circumstances. This mindset changes your trust in practically everyone, especially strangers. People become profiles rather than fellow citizens casually minding their business on the busy streets. Nobody is one hundred percent selfless and simply seeing how someone reacts to a situation could tell you just how much of that percentage is selfishness.
That was one of the many lessons H.I.V.E. had offered to Otto during his days that appeared to have no end to them. This particular set of wise words came from his favorite professor at the school, Nero. During the sessions that were leading up to their long-awaited graduation, the headmaster’s philosophies had shaped from the justification for why our minds are drawn to partake in acts deemed unjust by the world around us to what we should have learned across the six years. Though to be honest, Otto had spent closer to four years actually inside the school learning valuable knowledge such as how to properly take over a country. Maybe missing out on that lesson was not the worst thing to happen; it is pretty straight forward information.
Despite the usual trust Otto had in Nero’s convictions, the final speeches about how his outlook of the world’s surroundings would dramatically shift seemed highly unlikely to him. Then he spent twenty minutes in the airport. He recognized the way people would shift in the presence of authority, the individuals he suspected of hiding something from security, and especially the countless flaws in the safety system. Cracks Otto could manipulate to hide something unwanted or even life threatening to those around him. Even while walking the streets of a quaint city in Scotland, hand in hand with the girl of his dreams, all he seemed able to focus on was the presence of evil and where there was a weakness for chaos to slip in.
Currently, his devious mentality was deciphering how life-ruining the outcome would be if he were to smother his future roommate in her sleep. Unfortunately, from every angle it ended up with his best friend possibly murdering him in return and his girlfriend dumping him on the spot. Not his ideal future.
Besides, this is just the arrangement for one month. He could live through that, right?
Otto carefully watched his brand new sneakers drag his unwilling body up the seemingly endless flights of stairs while his mind still attempted to figure out exactly what had made him agree to this. Perhaps it was the persuasive words of Wing that convinced him the situation was better than reality, or even the soft smiles from Laura while she reassured Otto this was the right step to take. However, practically the second after he had agreed his stomach immediately folded itself up into a knot so tight even the boy genius could not untie it.
It was not that he had some hidden hatred for her. In fact, they were so close Otto would go as far to call her a sister to him. At the same time, she was only an “older sister” because she would pester him, tease him, and typically only be nice if it was at her own personal gain.
A shallow sigh echoed throughout the apartment complex’s narrow concrete stairway as Otto finally reached the fifth floor. He re-situated his black duffel bag that had been slowly slipping off his shoulder from the lengthy climb and proceeded to blow into his cupped hands as a weak attempt to offer some warmth back to them. The door leading into the floor of living spaces was made of a fading light washed wood with a chipping painted number ‘5’ in the middle. His hand almost recoiled back at the freezing metal of the door handle. It was only September, there was absolutely no way London could make this staircase so cold already.
Poor air circulation. Freezing metal. The only thing to make this picture even better would be...
Otto pushed on the door hoping for it to swing open, but just as his fears predicted the door stayed perfectly still.
Pull doors. Otto hated pull doors.
They were pointless and completely impractical. Why make it harder for people when you already have a practical, easier option? Not to mention how pull doors open towards you when the most helpful way would be away from you. One of the only flaws he saw at H.I.V.E. was that any door not sealed away from the students is a pull door. The memories of countless times he noticed a fellow student in a wheelchair struggle to push themselves back as the door swung towards them made him feel the rare twinge of empathy.
Nevertheless, he dramatically yanked the door swinging it back farther than necessary, practically slamming it into the wall.
Tacky carpet lined the hall with a just as tawdry floral wallpaper peeling in the corners. “So much for a four star living space,” Otto quietly mumbled to himself while examining the walls of the apartment complex hallway. He desired to know every inch of this place; it was after all his new home until a better living space would be in the budget. As it seems for now, that was not going to become a reality for at least another month or so. H.I.V.E. gave their graduates money to make it in the real world for a while, but surely not enough to afford a nice studio in London, a city where a wide selection of rooms was not cheap nor available. Otto had figured it was as a means to motivate them into a job or the more likely option of doing villainous deeds for a quick buck.
He turned the corner and carefully kept track of the decreasing numbers on the wall until his room number appeared in the distance.
Poor air circulation. Freezing metal. Pull doors. Second-rate carpet. An odd smell of whiskey and bleach. Yet somehow these were not even the worst parts of this new residence.
Otto turned his head from the number ‘527’ which was their room number to a familiar blonde American girl with a smile on her face and was offering a small wave to him. She was coming from the other side of the hall rolling her light pink suitcase behind her with a matching backpack sitting on top of her white designer brand shirt.
“Hey roomie!”
There she was, the cause of Otto’s terrible mood. His temporary roommate, Shelby Trinity.
As expected, she crashed into him with a hug which Otto returned much less enthusiastically. Once the two separated from the more or less one-sided hug, Shelby almost instantaneously demanded to know all the details of Laura and his trip to Scotland. Her list of requested details ranged all across the board: what the flight was like, the weather, meeting the Brand family, and most importantly how her best friend was doing. Otto could talk for hours about a new piece of technology without any problems, but asking him to recall a story with a copious amount of details was not his strong suit. “Let’s just wait to go inside,” Otto suggested trying to push-off the inevitable four-hour conversation he would be pushed into.
“About that…” Shelby began with a sheepish smile replacing her once excited expression. “Remember how you asked me to get the keys for the both of us?”
“And remember how I said you could not mess this up?” Otto reminded her already being able to predict where this tale would end up.
“Technically it is not fully my fault I did not get the keys,” she responded pointing a finger at Otto as if the blame only being partly her fault proved his accusation wrong. “I may or may not have applied for a residence card a month late which means-”
“You’re not a temporary citizen here,” Otto cut her off upon making the realization and rolling his eyes as he said so. He was familiar with the laws though, Shelby should be perfectly fine to own an apartment, so what had happened?
“Ding! Ding!” Shelby said giving finger guns in time to the phrase. “Here to get the keys you need identification and if you are from out of the country, proof of a source of income here in the UK. Without a residence card, I can not apply for any of the jobs I actually want,” she explained. “So I requested your keys, and the woman at the front desk laughed in my face. She instructed me to the door. So like any wise H.I.V.E. student would do, I snuck past her and quickly hid up here.”
“Ah, not even a day living together and The Wraith has already returned to her usual mayhem. I am positive a certain boyfriend would hate to hear you already broke your deal,” Otto teased, referring to one of the last conversations the two had at H.I.V.E. Wing had promised Shelby that he would not “use any ninja moves” if she did not get into any trouble the entire month they were apart.
“Aw, if the big guy truly loves me, and I know he does, he should have seen this coming. Now move aside so I can open the door, brainiac,” she taunted, walking over to Otto who followed instructions and took one step out-of-the-way.
He scuffed before turning towards the door and trying to study her unlocking methods. In all of his years at H.I.V.E. Otto has not once been close to successfully cracking the infamous Trinity secret. He was practically desperate to know just how the otherwise not exceedingly smart blonde was able to unlock anything she wanted. Memories of failed attempts of using Wing to get the information and multiple bets he found losing every time refreshed themself in his head. Otto hated to think about any of his failures. “I told you to stop calling me that,” he said, the built up annoyance surrounding the nickname being beyond obvious.
“Not a narcissist anymore?”
“I have not had a narcissistic bone in me since my first year. Nero cracked those out of me fast,” Otto joked trying to look past Shelby’s shoulder to see if he could sneak a peek at what she was doing. She noticed his attempts and shifted her body so there was no possible way for him to catch a glimpse of anything.
A click in the door signified her guaranteed success and Otto hastily pushed on the door to see if he could add another bad event on to his list. Luckily for him, the door swung open with his push to reveal an entrance hallway with a door on the left side. Just from around the corner you could begin to see their living room. The two shuffled into the room, practically pushing like children to be the first one to enter the new home. Otto could not stop looking around as he walked through the small hallway into the living room with an open kitchen and dining table right behind it.
“Which room is Wing’s?” Shelby asked, pointing between two doors: one by the living room and the other by the kitchen.
“The one next to the kitchen.”
“Great,” Shelby remarked sarcastically. “When one of us inevitably starts a fire from attempting to cook, his room will be the first to go,” she sighed while rolling her suitcase over to the door and opening it enough for Otto to see the darkly painted walls and a window with swaying curtains.
Poor air circulation. Freezing metal. Pull doors. Second-rate carpet. An odd smell of whiskey and bleach. No keys. Breaking into their apartment. A missing residence card.
‘Come on universe, throw another curve ball! At this point I can take anything,’ Otto thought, taking his duffel bag off his shoulder and beginning to walk over to his bedroom door.
“By the way Otto, you need to go get our keys because we are here illegally! Preferably soon so we do not get kicked out!”
Perfect, continuous flights of stairs awaits him yet again.
He threw the duffel bag towards his bedroom and retraced his steps out the door. Otto found his way back to the frigid staircase and soon began his long descent down to the main floor.
‘This was so like her.’
Of course she would mess up something so simple by being lazy. She really had not changed one bit across her days at H.I.V.E. and Otto did not think she was ever going to be able to. There was only one project he ever did with Shelby. While Otto had spaced his presentation work out across the week, Shelby had taken a less studious approach by doing it all in one night. The worry of whether she had completed it kept Otto up until his fed up roommate put him to sleep with a push of certain pressure points. Not Otto’s favorite way to fall asleep, but it did prove successful. He urged himself not to get too irritated by the situation since he has to live with her for thirty more days but anytime he tried to distract himself, his mind brought the anger back up. Was it really that hard to apply for residence, especially when the paperwork is placed into your hands with stars next to where you need to sign?
At least he would have a good comeback in their first fight and countless names he now could call her in response to her quips.
Soon enough he made it to the lobby and got the keys without a problem. ‘Back up the stairway’ Otto thought looking up the countless stairs. ‘which I would not have to do if someone could have done something a six-year-old can do with its eyes closed.’
After Otto’s ten flights of stairs, the only thing he felt motivated to do was flip through the channels on their television while laying on the couch. He ignored his bag that was lazily slumped against his door frame and continued to tap through the different shows. Eventually he landed on a science station explaining the process behind manufacturing rubber. Definitely boring, but better than the few options that were available.
“Why are you watching this snooze fest?” Shelby complained walking up behind the couch seeing the industry show flip to commercials. “I understand you are a huge nerd, but while I am here only interesting shows,” she commanded snatching the remote out of Otto’s hands and going through the same process he had just done: flipping through lackluster channel after channel. She, unlike Otto, noticed a button on the remote with a familiar logo Shelby had not seen in a long time. The screen faded to black once she pressed it and soon after that logo came from the darkness.
“Netflix? Shelby you realize we do not have enough money to live a day-to-day life right now? H.I.V.E. gave us £2,000 each and rent here is £2,500. Do...are you using your parents’ account?” Otto asked, noticing she has flipped over to the ‘login’ menu rather than the screen where she would sign up for an account. Sure enough a username and password were entered taking them to a selection of shows and movies. “Capitalizing off your parents really is your specialty,” he remarked taking the remote back from Shelby and beginning to sort through his much more varied options. Otto eventually decided on an animal documentary, just something that would get his brain thinking.
Shelby laughed a little. “I have been doing it since I could walk. They are complete pushovers,” she told Otto as she walked around the couch and eventually sat next to him. As the documentary played in the background, she opened her laptop and began typing. Otto could not stop himself from peeking over her shoulder at what was going on.
An application. Shelby was filling out a job application.
Guilt hit Otto like a bus as he recalled the countless thoughts he had on his way down stairs about how he would manage to kick his new roommate out. The list of insults he had lined up in preparation for a fight; all bringing up her failure to file for a residence card. If they fought now after seeing Shelby attempt to find a job, it would be mean even for him. “So what is the application for?”
Shelby turned from her screen to Otto, her worried expression causing even more guilt to weigh on him. “A local gymnasium needs an instructor to teach kids and lucky for me, my particular skill set is a nice fit. Obviously, I will need a better job later on, but this might just be the perfect starter job,” she responded, continuing to fill out the document. “I do not need a residence card, so might as well apply. Sure it's not the glamorous job I was hoping for, but I feel terrible for not getting the keys.”
He knew he needed to say something, but finding the right words is hard when you were just imagining victoriously winning an insult battle with her minutes prior. Then he saw his opportunity: a grammatical error. “You used the wrong form of there right here,” Otto said pointing to a spot in the beginning of a paragraph about her desire to teach kids one of her passions.
“Thanks...if you don’t mind-”
“Of course I will help you edit your job application.”