Chapter Text
Sebastian never had any issues being considered a traitor to his people.
'Traitor' was a familiar term slung at him by snarling detainees in his early days, when most of his targets were those who could still be taken alive. They spit it like a slur, but it never bothered Sebastian. He never owed anything to a group of people solely because they shared the same genetic screw-ups he did- to him it was as stupid as refusing to kill anyone with blue eyes.
And once he started moving up the ranks, he didn’t have to deal with it. People didn’t often have a chance to mouth it at him through the lens of his rifle.
That didn’t mean he was loyal to the government that employed him, either. He knew the day would come when they would turn their hunting rifle to the base of his skull and put him down like a rabid hunting dog- useful, but too dangerous to leave alive.
He just expected to have more time before that day came.
He had been on more and more overseas missions, hunting down enhanced individuals running from the government. Some were terrorists, or murderers, but some were just everyday citizens who didn’t want to be locked up in a lab. All of them met their end with one of Sebastian’s bullets.
Sometimes, during these assignments, he would be accompanied by other soldiers, sent for whatever missions or assignments. He had never been social, but their company wasn’t unwelcome. It was more fun to go drinking with friends from home then strangers, and they definitely had their fun.
Sebastian didn’t mean to kill them.
He had accompanied them on an assignment, the captain believing he could provide some backup with his training. Sebastian had already completed his mission and saw no harm in it.
No one had realized it was an ambush until it was too late.
They had been surrounded, seconds away from certain death, when Sebsatian lost it.
His abilities had never been the strongest. His greatest skill was with weapons, not with his enhancements. More often than not it was easier to bash someone's head in with a rock then summon the effort to produce even the smallest licks of flame.
This time, however, the flames burst out of him like the light of the sun itself. His skin- usually immune to the effects of his own power- felt like it was melting off his bones. He vaguely remembered screaming, first in anger, then in anguish.
But maybe he confused that with the screams of those surrounding him.
The men attacking them never had a chance. But neither did the soldiers that he had been with. Even Sebastian himself, looking like an old god surrounded by scorched earth and burned corpses, was choking on smoke and covered in burns.
Like he had said, he was acutely aware of just how expandable he was. At the end of the day, he was considered less than human by the same people who praised him as a national hero. If he returned, he would be killed.
Sebastian couldn’t be bothered to care about the stares he got when returning back to town. He must have looked like the survivor of some world-ending catastrophe with his clothes half-burned off and his face covered in charred ash. No one said anything as he walked into the bar and ordered a drink. It burned going down his throat.
The nights he woke up reaching for his gun, sweat clinging to his skin with a familiar heat, all he could remember was the taste of that goddamned glass of rum.
By the next day, he was gone.
Officially, Sebastian Moran was a deserter. No one wanted to admit that a government agent who had gone through stringent training and evaluations had murdered roughly a dozen men. Not to mention, a crazy pyrokinetic with top training on the run would be an international emergency.
So to most people, Sebastian was just a spineless deserter who had run off to some brothel or another.
But to a select few, Sebastian had become something much, much more dangerous.
And to one man in particular, something much more useful.
- / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / -
Starting a new life wasn’t particularly difficult. The criminal underworld was always accepting of a trained sniper. It wasn’t long before Sebastian was comfortably making his way from one job to another, leaving a trail of bodies in his path and spending his free time in bars all across London.
He had another advantage over his competition, though. Very few mercenaries were willing to accept a hit on a superhuman target. Even if they were an empath or couldn’t do much beyond summoning a few sparks, the superhuman were surrounded with so much mystery and reputation that most everyday humans wouldn’t take one on for the world.
Sebastian had no such qualms, though, and this led to him becoming in high demand quite fast.
No one knew he was superhuman. Ever since that day, he wasn’t able to summon anything. It was as if he had spent all of the kerosene at once, and now he was just a human.
A human who had a body count that was climbing everyday, but a human nonetheless.
The money was coming in quite well. To Sebastian, however, the money was of little consequence. He could be making millions and would still live in a shitty apartment and drink the same brand of cheap whiskey.
Most of his checks went towards expensive guns and illegal modifications. Nothing made him feel better than the smell of gun oil and a properly working rifle.
Sebastian had everything he needed in his life.
That was when he first had a run-in with the man in the shadows.
The job had been simple enough. His target was some low-level thug who had been using his ability to erase minds to steal from various organizations. He had been cautious in the beginning, but a long line of successes and a frankly stupid amount of drugs had led to him taking unecessary risks and making too many enemies.
It should’ve been a quick and easy job.
He had been laying across a rooftop, patiently waiting for a clean shot into the restaurant across the street. His target was at some dinner with what Sebastian assumed to be either friends or business associates.
Doing the job in such a public place usually wasn’t a bright idea, but his employer had insisted on ‘sending a message’. It didn’t matter. It was stupid, but it wasn’t like Sebastian was worried about being caught.
No, he was too experienced for that.
He was just about ready to take the shot when one of the men at the table turned and met his eyes.
Sebastian couldn’t breathe. The man shouldn’t have been able to see him, but he was sure those dark eyes were fixed directly on him, seeing right through his goddamn soul. It was like a moth trapped in amber, or being pinned under a microscope for examination.
The man offered him a wink and a sly smile.
Don’t.
The simple word was just a thought in his mind, but it gave Sebastian pause. He knew he should continue with the job- it was just some random street thug at the table with a keen eye, and he still had a job to do.
That’s what he told himself at least.
In reality, Sebastian was already packing up his gear.
As he left the rooftop, confused and angry but not wavering in the slightest, he could’ve sworn he could feel the strange man’s eyes, still trained on him.
- / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / -
He was on another job when he met the man again.
It was a cold night, and Sebastian had hours of waiting before his target was set to arrive. The one remaining effect of his abilities was that he wasn’t too affected by the cold. He had been laying for quite some time, long enough that a thin layer of snow had settled across him. But he was still alert, only the slightest chill starting to set in.
The streets were empty. The snow seemed to muffle any noises, draping the city in an eerie silence. If the ghost of Christmas Future himself was to appear in front of Sebastian, he’d consider it par for the course on a night like this.
All in all, it was the perfect night to meet something beyond human.
Come downstairs.
He didn’t register the thought entering his mind. It was like it had always been there, as if it was the only thing that made sense.
Sebastian rose to his knees. A normal human would have trouble making their joints work after so long in the cold, but he moved like a predator- smooth and silent.
He slowly descended the stairwell. On his way up, he had assumed all of the doors to be locked and deserted for the night.
Light seeped out from under one of the doors. The handle didn’t budge, but the lock was easy enough to break.
A long hallway stretched out beyond him. The thick red carpet and pristine walls vaguely reminded Sebastian of some horror movie he had seen once or twice. He took a few wary steps into the corridor, allowing the door to shut slowly behind him.
Faintly, he heard the sound of music.
It was almost as if he was watching himself walk to the door the music was coming from. He didn’t have to make a conscious movement to reach for the doorknob, his hand was moving on its own. And without hesitation, he opened the door.
The man from the restaurant was sitting at a table in the middle of the room. He had a bottle of expensive champagne in the middle of the table and two glasses. The formality contrasted the decrepit nature of the room, which clearly had been in a state of disrepair for years.
Sebastian took all of this in a state of disinterested state of detachment. That was, until he rested his eyes on the man.
To an outsider, there was nothing odd about him (aside from the fact that he was sitting in an abandoned building on a cold winter night, but that wasn't unheard of in Sebastian's line of work).
He could've easily passed as a rich businessman, or a lawyer. His suit fit him perfectly in a way that even a fashion-blind man like Sebastian could notice was tailored. Sebastian didn't usually go for men, but on the occasions he did, it was men with a body like his.
Looking closer, a trained eye could recognize something off about the man. It wasn't anything exact, but long-ago Sebastian had to learn the subtle signs of someone who was dangerous. Maybe it was the glint in his eyes, or the way he lifted his lip to show just a bit too much of his canines. He was a predator- a killer, like Sebastian.
Except anybody could see Sebastian was dangerous. He was a trained hitman- and built like one. Seeing that same look on some twink in a suit was... well, a more poetic man could put something more impressive to it, but all Sebastian could think was that he was looking at some freaky little creep.
But that wasn't what made Sebastian falter.
Just like at the restaurant, the man looked Sebastian dead in the eyes.
That same sense of breathlessness hit him like a kick to the chest. He nearly stumbled back from the intensity, but quickly recovered himself. At the very least, the shock had put him back into somewhat of a functional headspace.
Something about the man seemed vaguely familiar. He couldn't think of what it was, but there was a nagging feeling that he had felt this way before. Not to this extreme, yet...
"Take a seat." The man finally spoke, gesturing to the seat on the other side of the table. His voice had a faint Irish touch to it. He gave Sebastian a lazy grin- so unlike the stiff, overconfident, cloying expressions he was used to from the usual people he met with.
When Sebastian met strange men in abandoned buildings, they had something to prove. Not this man.
Sebastian took a seat.
He could feel that his posture was wary. If anyone else were to enter the room, it would be like looking at an animal with its hackles raised.
"I appreciate a well-trained soldier," he spoke as Sebastian sat. "You've been perfectly obedient."
"Did I have a choice?"
The man offered him a wide grin. His canines glinted in the soft light. "You're smart," was all he offered in return.
There was silence between them for what felt like hours, the man simply staring through Sebastian as if he were a window to casually gaze through to check the weather.
Finally, something clicked in Sebastian's mind.
He had felt this before, hadn't he?
Years ago, when he was first starting as a superhuman mercenary for the government.
The target had been some citizen- nothing special, either a waitress or a bartender. The details blurred after so many years and so many faces.
One thing he did remember, however, was her ability.
She was a telepath. One of the rarest abilities. It was often rumored they were just as common as any other superhuman, but they were hunted to near extinction by governments that were too scared of them being used as human weapons by their enemies.
Before Sebastian had the chance to neutralize her, she lashed out at him in panic.
It was the same feeling he felt around the man- a breathless vulnerability, as if he was on display for something much more powerful than he could ever dream to be. For just a second it had thrown him off, but not for long.
If he remembered correctly, she had been the first superhuman he had been explicitly told to kill. If he had been at all hesitant, the primal, clawing fear of being near someone like that swept them aside.
However, she had been inexperienced and young. This man was anything but.
Sebastian took a deep breath, then gazed back at the man with the iron grip he reserved for intimidating thugs who were looking just a bit too cocky. It took a mental effort to clear his mind and focus on only one phrase, but he had been trained in it all those years ago.
What do you want?
The man's lips quirked into a gleeful grin.
"Oh, you are smart, aren't you?" He cooed. "I was hoping for that. It’ll make this so much more fun.”
Sebastian gave him an unamused expression. He hadn’t been this put off by anyone in years, and he definitely wasn’t going to show it to some pretty boy with fancy tricks.
“Do I need to repeat myself?” He asked in a gruff tone. “I have a job to do.”
“Not anymore.”
“Excuse me?”
The man, already grinning, spread his smile even wider. “Why, you’ve been hired. Congratulations! I even bought some champagne to celebrate the occasion.” He spread his hands, waggling his fingers for flourish as if he had just announced some exciting present or surprise.
Sebastian stared back blankly. “I don’t work for you.”
“Not with that tone, you’re not. I don’t tolerate an attitude from my men.” He reached to the table, smoothly popping the cork off the bottle. He poured two glasses, continuing to speak. “I’ve considered your resumé for some time. You had quite the competition, but you managed to win. Exciting, isn’t it?”
“Funny,” Sebastian responded in a flat tone. “I don’t remember submitting a resumé.”
He gave a pleased hum. “That is funny, isn’t it?”
“Cut the shit. I know what you are, I know you’ve been watching. You want me to work for you. Tell me who you are.”
The man didn’t respond to his demands, simply smiling and swirling his drink in his glass.
“Does it bother you, Moran, killing your own people?”
That gave Sebastian pause.
He answered honestly. “Why should I owe them any more loyalty than anyone else?”
“Some of them think we’re better than everyone else.”
He shrugged. “Maybe they are. Maybe they aren’t. I don’t give a shit.” Sebastian took a moment, then asked, “What do you think?”
The man’s eyes glittered with something that set Sebastian on edge. His fingers twitched, wanting to reach for his rifle, but he didn’t dare move. He knew that the man would disapprove, and although he would never consciously admit it, a part of him wanted his approval.
“They’re not better than everyone else. But I am.”
Sebastian only had to look at him to believe that.
“You asked who I am. But you already know that, don’t you? You’re a smart little soldier. DOn’t disappoint me now.”
He was right. There was a name Sebastian had heard, whispered in fearful tones by those begging for Sebastian to help them, to kill the man who tormented them.
But you can’t kill a name from the shadows, can you?
Sebastian hadn’t truly believed he was real for quite sometimes. How could he be? Telepaths of any power were rare, but one who could rip your thoughts from your skull and force you to do any manner of things? It was nothing more than a ghost story.
Until now.
“Moriarty.”
The man- Moriarty- fixed him with his sharp, gleaming eyes. They were filled with pride.
“I’ll be in contact when I have a job for you. Our contract is exclusive.” Moriarty stood, setting his barely touched glass back on the table. He began to stride out of the room, humming a merry tune as he did so.
Before he left, he called back one thing.
“Don’t disappoint me, Sebby!”