Work Text:
For the most part, running the Illuminati is a great gig. A decent pay, flexible hours, controlling the world, etc. Brett has a hard time finding any limitations to his job.
Except for one: his career is a secret. He can’t tell anyone outside of those already involved in the shadow government, which does not include his parents.
Which is why he has been ranked as the fifth Hand family member, right behind the dog. The fucking dog, for crying out loud. She deserves first place, obviously, but doesn’t Brett deserve something other than last??
Brett shoves open his office door. A few years ago, he might have masked his rage and hurt with a smile and pretending nothing affected him. Now, he doesn’t care. He keeps his heart on his sleeve and everyone knows to move out of his way when he’s angry.
Everyone, except Gigi, of course.
She’s been waiting for him to get back from meeting with his family so that they could go over numbers for the quarter, but she immediately winces when she sees his scowl. “I take it that things didn’t go well with your parents?”
Brett slumps into his chair. “I’ve worked so hard to impress my parents. I went to Yale for them, became a lobbyist, even joined this fucking corporation so that it might impress them. Now, I’m the most powerful man in the world, and they have my number blocked.”
Gigi’s eyes widen. “They’ve got your number blocked? Brett, that’s cold.”
He buries his face in his hands. “I know. I didn’t know parents don’t normally cut off their kids like that until you told me they don’t.”
She approaches him cautiously before placing a hand on his shoulder. “I think it might be time for you to consider…cutting your family out of your life?”
When Brett doesn’t respond, she adds, “And maybe wreaking havoc in their lives? I know revenge always helps me get over toxic relationships.”
Revenge. Brett lifts his head and smiles as the word rolls around in his mind. “You know, Jagg is running for senate…it would be just awful if his scandals happened to get leaked.”
Gigi fist pumps the air with a laugh. “Yes! Oh, we are going to destroy your family so hard, Brett.”
Destroy your family. Maybe that’s a little too harsh. “Well…maybe we’ll just ruin them, not completely destroy them.”
Gigi holds up her hand while pulling out her phone. “Hold that thought, B. It looks like Jagg just released his latest campaign ad.” She summons the TV from the ceiling and pulls up the video.
Brett leans back in his chair, uneasiness creeping into his stomach. He watches as Jagg proclaims the importance of family and a man in a wheelchair pretends to be his brother. His stomach sinks completely when Jagg calls the wheelchair man ‘Brett.’
They replaced him in the campaign ad. They couldn’t even bother to have him be a part of an ad dedicated to family.
Gigi’s mouth drops open. “Did they…just…replace you? In an ad? About family?”
Brett looks at the picture of his family he keeps on his desk. All their smiling faces beam up at him. He picks it up, takes it out of the frame, and studies it closely.
After a few moments of a breathing exercise his therapist taught him, Brett crumples the paper in his hand. He tosses it in the trash and turns to Gigi, his gaze and voice steady. “Destroy them. Specifically Jagg.”
A wicked grin forms on Gigi’s face. “You don’t have to ask me twice.” She’s about to leave when she takes another glance at her phone. “Oh, it looks like you’ve got an incoming call.”
Brett bites back his groan. “From who?”
“Cognito.”
Reagan is calling him? His stomach leaps and he forces his expression to remain nonchalant. “Send her through.”
Gigi leaves his office and Brett waits for the call to arrive at his phone. He taps his fingers and finds that his mouth is dry. He jumps when his phone begins to vibrate and he scrambles to pick it up.
Brett takes a moment to breathe in and steady his racing heart. Once he feels himself relax, he answers the call and grins, even though she can’t see him. “Hey, Reags.”
She doesn’t even cuss him out for using the nickname she hates so much. Instead, Reagan is laughing on the other end. He waits for her cackling to die down enough for her to say, “I’m just calling to make sure you’re okay. I didn’t hear about you getting into any accidents but that wheelchair looked pretty serious.” She begins breaking into another fit of laughter, which rings loud and clear over the phone.
Brett sighs, though he can’t keep a smile from fighting its way to his lips. “So you saw the ad, huh?”
Her only response is more laughter.
He should feel angry that his rival has found his weakness and is poking fun at him for it. Instead, for some reason, Reagan’s laugh lifts the weight on his shoulders. He finds himself joining in with her, chuckling over the idiocracy that is his family.
“Wow,” Reagan finally manages to say. “That made my day, I hope you know that. So did you get plastic surgery just to be in their ad or did they hire someone to play you?”
“...in Wheelchair-Brett’s defense, he casted well!”
Reagan snorts. “That’s low, dude. I don’t know what they were thinking, messing with the Illuminati.”
“They’ll get what’s coming to them.”
“Good.” She responds. For some reason, the validation shoots straight to Brett’s heart. He ignores it and listens as she continues, “Ah, good ol’ revenge. It’s a good way of coping with familial trauma. Trust me.”
”Geez, sounds like you got a lot of experience.”
”Too much.”
Brett smiles softly, fiddling with a pencil on his desk. A moment of silence settles in the phone call and he racks his brain with something to fill it, to keep the conversation going.
Instead, Reagan says, “Well, I’m sending my condolences. I’m a little sad to find out you’re not actually in a wheelchair, but relieved that you didn’t get plastic surgery and grow a goatee. ”
“Are you saying you’d miss my face? Aww, Reags. You’re too much.”
“Oh, go fuck yourself.” She has said that single phrase to him countless times, but today, there’s not an ounce of malice in her tone. “Bye, Hand.”
“Later, Reags,” he responds quietly. He knows she called only to make fun of him, but somehow, he feels better than he did before. Reagan has always seemed to have that effect on him.
He glances at his phone and studies the number she had called him on. It’s not the same as her office number, or any other number anyone from Cognito has used to reach him in the past. Brett takes a chance and saves the number in his phone under ‘Reags.’
Now, all he needs is an excuse to call her back, ideally to mock her. Brett’s smile grows at the thought. He’ll find a way.