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It takes them longer to find parking in the neighborhood than it does to actually reach Not Stone’s apartment building. It’s a two minute drive from the hospital, probably no more than ten minutes walking distance, and Stiles can immediately understand why Kaley questioned the affordability of it for a resident. A quick Google search confirms that the apartments here rent for over four thousand a month. That’s even more than he and Lydia are paying for the Upper East Side right on Park Avenue.
This place is in the Bronx. Not to be a city snob, but there’s no way in Hell that Stiles would pay that much for an apartment anywhere, much less the Bronx. He shakes his head and puts his phone in his coat pocket. “This place better have good toilet seats for the amount of money they’re charging in rent.”
“Really?” Braeden says, giving him a skeptical look. “This neighborhood is sketchy as fuck, and there isn’t even a great view. How much are they?”
“One of the vacant two bedrooms without a terrace is going for $4574 a month,” Stiles says. “There’s no way Not Stone can afford this place on a residency salary. We aren’t paid well during residency. Did he come up on Lydia’s radar when she was reviewing financials?”
“She’s still going through them,” Peter says, his lips curled downward into a frown. “Can that computer friend of yours run the residency list to see if Adam Stone even rents the apartment? He could very well use another alias, which would prevent him from appearing in any searches we’ve done.”
“I could ask Jarvis to check, but that means asking Stark,” Stiles says. “I can do that, but the man is bored since dying, and I promised Pepper that I’d confine his research to less urgent things.”
“Hold up,” Braeden says, turning in the driver’s seat to stare at him. “By Stark, you mean Tony Stark? Like the Tony Stark? Ultra billionaire superhero? And you know his wife well enough to make promises to her?”
“I’m dating Bucky Barnes,” he reminds her. “While he isn’t a superhero himself, he is superhero adjacent. He’s on a team with them, and they’re working on this Hydra case. I’ve been passing on what I find out to him for the team to investigate, but I’ve been doing some research with them.”
“So that picture that Peter sent me was real?” Braeden asks. “The one of him looking like some hero carrying the old man. That wasn’t photoshopped? He told me he has fans now because he assisted Captain America, and I thought he was full of shit.”
“Wow. Really?” Peter asks pointedly. “That’s how little trust you have in your mentor and partner? I’m greatly insulted, Braeden. I’ve been hurt by those remarks. I am truly appalled by your lack of faith as well as your foolishness to think that I could create such a masterpiece of artistry in photoshop.”
“He did help Sam save the residents in my building when Hydra outsourced to some thugs,” Stiles confirms. “He was a hero for about an hour before he returned to his villainous ways.”
“Sam,” Braeden says flatly. “Of course, you’re on a first name basis with Captain America. Why did I not know that you’re socializing with superpowered people? Didn’t you always complain about them being vigilantes? I seem to recall you ranting about it to Scott once or twice.”
“Dude, this is the first time I’ve seen you in years, so how would you know?” Stiles asks. “As for my superhero opinions, I do still believe that some do more damage than good. However, some of them are fighting criminals while also giving back to the local communities they destroy.”
“Would you have had that mild change of heart if you hadn’t fallen for the former Winter Soldier?” Peter asks knowingly. “Somehow, I think you would have stubbornly refused to adapt if not for James, sweetheart.”
“So, we’re here, and I need to go upstairs to see if Not Stone is in his apartment,” Stiles says, deliberately changing the subject to avoid confirming that Peter’s probably right about that. “I know I can’t go alone even if we don’t know if he’s here or not, but he isn’t going to let me in if I have strangers with me.”
Peter and Braeden exchange a glance. Stiles realizes that they actually have been working together a lot because that’s definitely silent talking going on right now. Braeden slowly nods and says, “We’ll go up with you and hang back so he doesn’t see us if he is there. If you go inside, we’ll go wait by his door so Peter can eavesdrop, and we can bust in if you’re in danger.”
“All that was decided with a simple glance?” he asks. “I’m impressed. Good work, team.” He snorts when Braeden rolls her eyes. “Hey, I’m trying to be a supportive alpha here. And I actually am impressed. It’s obvious that you’ve been working together because the communication has improved greatly since we killed Monroe and her minions.”
“Oh goodie, we’ve impressed our alpha,” Peter says sarcastically, but Stiles notices him looking rather smug at the compliment. “What did you think we meant when we said that we’ve been working together, sweetheart? Braeden has excellent skills for getting into places that one such as myself is unable to go. In particular, she’s human so there aren't any pesky mountain ash concerns for her.”
“I suppose that that does come in handy,” Stiles says. “Considering some of the things that you have to procure, I expect protection circles using mountain ash are common. Anyway, the plan is solid. I’m hoping that the element of surprise works in my favor and means he lets me in easily.”
“Just be your usual charming self, and it’ll be fine,” Braeden deadpans, her lips twitching slightly when he looks at her. “Okay, yeah, that probably won’t work, so I vote for lying.”
Stiles snorts and gets out of the car. The apartment building is down the street, the closest parking spot about a half mile away. “You know, it seems like a weird kind of sign that Not Stone lives on Gerard Avenue. We might finally put a knot into this thread.”
“I prefer not to think about Argents,” Peter says smoothly. “Not that there are any left other than Christopher unless he decides to procreate with Melissa.”
“Considering they’ve been divorced for months now, I don’t see that happening,” Stiles mutters, almost bumping into Peter when he stops in the middle of the sidewalk. “Careful, dude. I almost knocked you over. You also forgot that we don’t know the whereabouts of Crazy Kate since she killed Daddy Dearest all those years ago.”
“Did you say that Christopher and Melissa are divorced, sweetheart?” Peter asks, turning to stare at him. Stiles hears Braeden snort as she keeps walking towards the apartment building. Peter glares after her before giving Stiles a look that’s trying too hard to appear disinterested. Interesting.
“My dad told me that Mr. Argent spent Thanksgiving with him and Natalie because he’s divorced, and he didn’t have anywhere else to go for the holiday,” Stiles says, studying Peter closely. He isn’t sure if his interest is because Ms. McCall is single again or if maybe it’s for Mr. Argent. Considering they’re both hot for older people, it could be either one. “I guess some of the younger pack members also spent the day with them. I didn’t quite understand why Dad had them over when Scott’s in town, but I’m also not sure why Liam would have an alpha bond with me, so who knows what’s going on with all of that.”
“Because McCall is a selfish waste of space who doesn’t deserve the honor of being a true alpha by any means, much less taking over Hale land,” Peter says simply. “I suspect his pet druid has something to do with it all, but I know enough to avoid killing a druid who isn’t outwardly hostile, so we’ll have to wait for him to die of natural causes.”
“Hmm, natural causes are well and good, but it’s also possible that a threat could go to Beacon Hills that resulted in his death much sooner,” Braeden muses in an intentional tone that has Peter smirking.
“No,” Stiles says firmly. “I might not trust Deaton, but my dad lives in that Hellmouth, so we aren’t having anything dangerous show up there just to test a theory. Besides, it’s Scott, and he was my best friend for a long time. Let him have that town because the land is cursed. The Hale family deserves a fresh start somewhere not drenched in their blood and bad memories.”
“So what I’m hearing is that we can test the theory after John and Natalie finally move to the east coast,” Braeden says matter-of-factly. “Have you told them about the pack estate yet? It’s surprisingly classy considering Peter’s pretentious ass bought it.”
“I might have been avoiding an awkward conversation with my pops about magic and alpha bonds,” Stiles says slowly. “So, no, they don’t know anything about it, but I’ll have to face him sooner rather than later. I mean, Christmas is in two days. Jesus, two days, and I haven’t bought anything other than the cruise for Dad and Natalie. I don’t usually have to worry about it because I’m working, but there’s no way I can ignore my first Christmas with Buck and Lydia will expect something since she’s here.”
“I’m disappointed in your lack of preparation, sweetheart,” Peter says, clicking his tongue like he’s scolding him. “You only have this afternoon and tomorrow to purchase something nice for the special people in your lives, which seems stressful. Holidays are important, especially for a pack. Next year, we’ll plan a grand celebration without Hydra attacks and mysterious messages from unknown parties interrupting the festivities.”
“I think the special people in my life will understand that my apartment building was set on fire and that I was nearly ambushed by a half dozen Hydra soldiers with guns,” he says dryly. They reach Not Stone’s building, so he walks ahead of them. “I’ll let you know if I need you.”
“We’ll be listening,” Peter reminds him. “If he becomes confrontational or refuses to answer your questions, we’ll interrupt to ensure that he becomes more cooperative. Don’t worry about his body, alpha. I have contacts in the city that can help with the disposal when we’re finished extracting information.”
As Stiles enters the apartment building, he casts a charm on the three of them to avoid being seen on camera. He doesn’t know if there’re security cameras, but he’d assume so considering the price of the apartments. He’s relieved to see that there aren’t people milling around, at least. He confidently walks to the elevator because he knows that people are less likely to notice you if you act like you’re supposed to be there. The last thing he wants is to make an impression that could result in someone recognizing him.
It’s nice to know that Braeden and Peter are on the same page in regards to the fact that Not Stone isn’t going to be alive by the end of this visit if their suspicions are accurate. If he isn’t the one responsible for Hazel’s death, it will be a fast death, though. If he is responsible, well, he’ll let his left hands play first.
It doesn’t take long to reach the right floor, and he walks down the hall to Not Stone’s apartment. He stands there until he hears the ding of the second elevator arriving. Braeden and Peter were on that elevator, so he’s good to proceed now. For a second, he feels like he’s in some kind of spy movie, which is a bit much considering he’s also kind of in a supernatural movie.
He rolls his neck and forces a casual smile before he knocks on the door. His intuition is rewarded when he hears footsteps inside walking towards the door. There’s a pause, and he wonders if Not Stone is going to answer the door or not. Finally, he sees the door opening, and Not Stone is standing there looking relaxed and douchey as always.
“Hey, Stiles,” Not Stone says, looking curious. “What are you doing here? I didn’t know I’d mentioned my address to you before.”
“Hey, Adam,” he says. “I really need to talk to you, dude, but work isn’t the best place. You know how gossipy that place is, and this is personal. Hope you don’t mind the unexpected visit. I’ll owe you one.”
“ You want to talk to me about something personal?” Not Stone asks, looking skeptical. “You’ve never been particularly friendly, man. Why aren’t you talking to one of your harem? I’d think any of those women would be creaming themselves to help the Golden Boy.”
The guy is definitely a good actor because he pulls off douchebag asshole without any redeeming qualities really well. Stiles is an asshole, too, but at least he does have some redeeming qualities. “Still not a Golden Boy, and this is something that I need a male opinion about.”
Both of Not Stone’s eyebrows go up, and he looks reluctantly interested. “Sure, what are friends for? Come on in,” he says. “Are you having problems with your erection, man? I know you’ve been dating that Jay guy, and he’s really fit, so it could be a lack of self-esteem since you’re pretty wimpy compared to him.”
If Not Stone turns out to be in witness protection for some totally innocent reason, Stiles is going to scream because he really wants to punch the asshole right now. Instead, he rolls his eyes and taps his thumb against his fingers, counting to five several times to resist the urge to just kill the guy. That wouldn’t be smart, so he just feigns a laugh.
“Yeah, real funny, dude,” Stiles says, quickly looking around the apartment before facing Not Stone. “My dick works just fine, but thanks for being concerned about it. Jay doesn’t have any complaints about my build, either. We aren’t having any problems in that department, Adam.”
“Then what do you want to talk to me about, Stiles?” Not Stone asks. “A male opinion sorta limits the topics, I’d think. If it isn’t sex related, what’s left? Are you getting tired of knob gobbling and trying to figure out how to break up with the guy? Cause I don’t get why anyone would want dick when there are women around, especially some pretty boy hotshot doctor like you.”
“You’re disgusting, dude,” Stiles says bluntly. “Knob gobbling? Really? I know you like to play at being an obnoxious frat bro, but there should be limits of some kind, especially at your age.”
“I’m not playing at anything, man,” Not Stone says, his posture changing slightly. If Stiles hadn’t spent weeks training with Mr. Argent after Monroe started her little war, he probably wouldn’t have even noticed it. He did do that, though, so he’s clearly aware of a fighter stance. “You’re the one barging into my apartment on my day off talking about needing a man’s opinion. You never mentioned how you knew where I live, you know?”
“Didn’t I?” Stiles asks, forcing his most innocent expression. “I got it from Admin last year when I was considering sending gift cards to the other doctors for Christmas. Unfortunately, my benevolent act failed because I had to replace my laptop, but I still had the addresses.”
Not Stone frowns slightly before laughs. “Not the Golden Boy, my ass. I can’t see Lewis or Patel letting anyone else see our addresses. Seems like it’s a violation of privacy, in fact. I wonder what the hospital board would think about it.”
“Who said I asked for them?” Stiles arches his brow and smirks before he walk over to the bookcase. “You know I’m a big prankster, dude. I learned how to break into Admin in my first month of residency.” That’s not even a lie. He did it for the challenge, of course, and he’s never really done it since, but whatever.
“Don’t touch my things,” Not Stone says suddenly. Stiles stops mid-reach for a copy of Dracula. “I don’t like it when other people touch what’s mine.”
“That’s odd considering you break into lockers to touch other people’s things,” he says casually, looking at Not Stone and holding his gaze as he touches the spine of the book. “We can consider this tit for tat since you snooped through my locker.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man,” Not Stone says, walking towards him. “What are you doing here, Stilinski? Besides making false accusations that you can’t prove, of course.”
“You probably want to stop there,” Stiles suggests, deliberately pulling the book off the shelf and opening it. “I might look wimpy to you, but I’m able to handle myself whenever needed.”
“I said don’t touch my things,” Not Stone says sharply, grabbing the book out of his hands. His smug frat bro attitude is nowhere to be seen now, which was Stiles’ aim, but he’s slightly disappointed because Not Stone is definitely not one of the upper echelon in Nergal as he had hoped.
“Dude, you were doing so well,” Stiles says, shaking his head. “Definitely a strong 7 out of 10 for frat bro douchebag. But you were too easily provoked. All it took was catching you off-guard and touching your stuff to get you to drop the act. How the hell have you managed it at work for so long? Or in school?”
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but this is your only warning to back off,” Not Stone says, his jaw clenched as he grinds his teeth. “I’d have taken care of you months ago because you’ve always been a liability, but they don’t agree. And what the boss wants, the boss gets. But you came into my domain, and the boss isn’t around.”
“Your domain,” Stiles repeats. “Who’s this boss then? The one who won’t let you kill me? Sounds like you’re part of the mafia or something.”
Not Stone grinds his teeth even more. “Just walk away or I’ll finally get rid of you.”
“What are you going to do, Adam ?” Stiles asks curiously. He decides to take some shots to see if any land. “Throw me off the balcony the way you did Dr. Wash? Or shoot me up with some virus the way you did Hazel? Or maybe you’ll just beat me and leave me for dead the way you had Roger Lamont do with Wendy?”
“Wash signed his own death warrant when he refused to do his job,” Not Stone says, lurching suddenly. Stiles has been waiting for that, though, and he moves quickly, putting a recliner between them. Not Stone scowls, his face looking older as his eyes harden and he cracks his knuckles like he’s an extra in an old Dolph Lundgren movie. “And that homeless bitch got what she deserved. Asking questions and nosing around like she was Sherlock Holmes. Just like you’re going to get it, Golden Boy.”
Two hits, and one miss complete with a look of confusion. Someone else gave him the information on Hazel then. He didn’t get it directly from Lamont and didn’t recognize Wendy’s name. But he killed Hazel.
“Her name was Hazel,” Stiles says, flexing his fingers as he half-listens for the door. He isn’t sure when Peter and Braeden will decide to join him, but neither of them realize just how much more confident and capable he’s become since they killed Monroe. He’s embraced his magic, acknowledged the darkness inside, and learned how to use the remnants and gifts that the Nogitsune gave him. He isn’t going to freak out and need help.
“I don’t care what her name was,” Not Stone says. “You should have seen her face when she realized I wasn’t some white knight sent by Dr. S to help her the way she believed. Oh, yes. I used you as a way to gain her trust because everyone trusts Dr. S. She was begging me by the time I stuck the needle into her arm.”
“See, it’s funny that you think you can provoke me,” Stiles says casually, walking a few steps back until he reaches the sofa. He climbs onto it, sitting on the back of it with his feet on the cushion, not looking away from Not Stone. “Those are just words. I’ve heard far worse from people much scarier than you. Why don’t you tell me your real name now so I can stop calling you Not Stone in my head? It just takes up more space than you deserve to have in my thoughts.”
“Sure, why not? You can’t tell anyone when your brains are spread out on the pavement below anyway,” he says. “Or maybe I’ll just shoot you in the head. Bit messier but far more satisfying. I wish I had a sample of our work. It would be a more suitable end for you, but, alas, I used the sample I had on that homeless bitch.”
“You’re boring me,” Stiles points out, faking a big yawn. He sees the annoyance on Not Stone’s face. It’s nice to know that his talent at pissing people off is actually coming in handy for once. Dad would never believe it, not that he’ll ever find out about this. “All I hear is a good little soldier talking big because the actual ones with power have his balls in a vice grip so he has to do whatever they tell him to do. Puppets aren’t threatening, Not Stone.”
“I’m no one’s puppet,” he says loudly, a nerve obviously struck. He does a gesture with his arms that’s almost funny if it wasn’t so pathetic. “Hail Hydra! I’ve worked with the John Garrett. I survived the collapse of Barbershop. I successfully infiltrated SHIELD for years without detection, and you think you can sit there and call me a puppet?”
“I have no idea who that is or what a barbershop has to do with anything, but I recognize SHIELD,” Stiles says simply. “Your whole monologue was dull and just a list of unimpressive feats, I’m afraid. I’d rate it 3 out of 10, and that’s me being generous because you helped me save that kid that one time.”
“I’m Staff Sergeant Adam Kaminsky, high ranking agent of Hydra, and one of the last Centipede Soldiers remaining,” Not Stone but apparently still an Adam says. Stiles has no idea what a Centipede Soldier is, but he figures Bucky might. “I’m going to enjoy killing you, Stilinski. I’ve had to work with you for two years now, seeing the way others gravitate towards you and trust you for no reason, hearing constantly how Stilinski did this and did that and isn’t he wonderful. Even the boss thinks the sun shines out of your ass, and I hate it.”
“Way to sound petty and bitter, Kaminsky,” Stiles says, noticing the mention of the boss again. A boss that knows him? Or knows of him? “Not everyone can be a loveable genius smartass. It’s a curse that I’ve had to learn how to live with over the years. Now, why don’t you do us both a favor and move your hand away from the gun that you’ve got behind you and just tell me who the boss is? Any other members of the local Hydra cell would be appreciated, too. And, in exchange, I’ll make sure that you don’t suffer too much when you die today.”
Kaminsky blinks, seemingly surprised that Stiles isn’t an idiot who doesn’t realize he’s armed. Most likely armed himself as soon as someone knocked on his door unexpectedly. The moron doesn’t listen, though. He pulls out his gun anyway. “Hail Hydra!” he yells as he shoots.
Stiles slides down the sofa, rolling onto his feet as the bullet whizzes past where he’s been sitting. He hears the door open, glad that bullets are the boundary for interference. Not because he’s necessarily worried about getting shut—even if he was shot, his body will heal quickly—but because he doesn’t want the neighbors involved.
“Tell me something, Kaminsky,” Stiles says, flexing his fingers and tapping into the darkness within. He flicks his wrist, sending the gun flying to the other side of the room as Kaminsky starts to look worried. “Do you believe in magic?”
“What are you?” Kaminsky asks, backing away from him. “Your eyes…what happened to your eyes?”
“Who’s your boss?” he asks, jerking his head slightly and sending Kaminsky into his bookcase hard enough to knock some of his ‘don’t touch my things’ onto the floor. “Give me names, and we might have mercy.”
“Now, sweetheart, don’t lie to the man,” Peter says, his tone fond as he smirks at him. “He lost his chance at mercy from us when he tried to burn you alive.”
“Actually, you’ve reminded me of something else I want to know;” Stiles says, pinning Kaminsky with a look. “Why do you think that Wash gave me something important enough to kill for? And why on Earth was Lucas shot?”
“You should have been home when our men showed up,” Kaminsky says. “We know Wash had to have given you something important because we didn’t find anything when we killed him. We know he had research documents that can help us perfect our gift to the world. If you’d been home, no one would have been hurt at the party. Lucas would have been a confirmed kill elsewhere because he knows something he shouldn’t. Now, we have to make sure he never wakes up.”
“I believe that you’ve been asked repeatedly for names,” Braeden says, pulling a hunting knife out of a sheath on her thigh. He blinks because damn that’s hot. He might be kinda almost sorta in love with Bucky, but he can still appreciate sexy people. “Why don’t you tell us what we need to know, Kaminsky? I can be really gentle when I want to be.”
“I’m not telling you anything else,” Kaminsky says, his voice hard and his jaw clenched again. He seems to realize that this is the end because he’s no longer so cocky and willing to indulge Stiles’ questions because he assumes he’s going to be an easy kill.
“He believes that he’s telling the truth,” Peter says, shifting into his beta shift, eyes glowing blue as he lazily flicks his claws. When Kaminsky starts to scream, Braeden has her hand over his mouth and her knife at his throat before he can make a noise. “You might want to walk away now, sweetheart. This is likely going to get messy because he’s made it personal with you.”
“I think I’ll hunt for the original photos so Kaley doesn’t have to worry about them falling into the wrong hands,” he says, turning his back on them and walking over to the desk in the corner. He can hear noises behind him, can taste the sweet sour flavor of pain growing thick in the air, and he feasts on it as he sits down.
The computer doesn’t even have a password, which is pathetic security efforts from a supposed high ranking Hydra agent. The top drawer has a half dozen USBs tossed into it, so he decides to check those first. He also finds a digital camera in the second drawer that he gets out. Before he gets started, he sends a quick text to Dreamboat.
Have Jarvis search for any information on a Staff Sergeant Adam Kaminsky, formerly SHIELD and alleged high ranking Hydra member. Also look into John Garrett, a barbershop, and centipede soldiers. Stone is involved, killed Wash and Hazel. Didn’t seem to know Wendy. Doing more research.
Once the text sends, he opens the first file folder and sees photos of naked woman starting to appear. Great. It isn’t bad enough that he’s still reading through Mata’s Bumble messages but now he’s got files from some perv who takes photos of his partners.
His phone buzzes, and he opens the response from Bucky.
We found Abernathy Driskill. He’s alive and cooperating with our questioning. I’ll fill you in when we’re home this afternoon. I’m not familiar with anything you just sent, but I’m glad you’re getting some answers. You can finally get some of those threads knotted together. Be careful, Doc. Just because he’s answering your questions doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous. If he tries anything, defend yourself. Understood? I’ll see you later.
Stiles reads the response from Bucky and is curious about Driskill. Somehow, he knows Bucky actually does mean cooperating and not in the way that Kaminsky did this morning. Though he did get the answers without any threats, magic, or blood, so it wasn’t a bad interrogation or anything. Looking back at the laptop, he grimaces at the naked ladies.
“Okay. I’ve changed my mind. I’m taking all of this with me so I can search through it at home later because there are way too many files to look through here. Besides, it’s creepy to be seeing naked women when you’re doing pest control of the jerk who took their photos, likely without their consent,” he says, closing the laptop and putting the camera and USBs on top of it. “He seemed protective of his books, so I think I’ll check those, too.”
“Do mind the blood by the bookcase, sweetheart,” Peter says cheerfully. “He’s dripping all over and making such a mess. It’s going to cost me a small fortune to have this cleaned up, but it’s going to be worth every penny. No one goes after our alpha and just walks away. He’ll be carried out in pieces when we’re finished with him.”