Chapter Text
The new employee in the office kept showing up with a lot of visible injuries. There were cuts on his face and hands, and sometimes a limp when he walked, and one time he held his side like he was holding his ribs in place. There was no doubt it was from scuffles, especially with how standoffish this employee could be when wronged, and the office’s rumour mill speculated he was picking fights at bars.
“How did you decide it was from fights?” Rutger asked, thinking it could have been from abuse. He hadn’t seen the damage for himself.
Dorothea looked over her shoulder and out of the glass partition walls of Rutger’s office. No one could see or hear them from here though, as Rutger’s office was down the very end of the floor and Dorothea’s desk in front of his door served as a barrier.
“I asked,” Dorothea said as she off-loaded the latest reports Rutger had to review onto Rutger’s desk. “He said it himself when I wouldn’t leave him alone without an answer.”
“A fight club?” This was the only guess he could think of, not at all influenced by the fact he’d just seen the movie. It was hard to imagine the employee getting into fights frequently in bars or something, because wouldn’t he have been arrested by now? The company wouldn’t have hired him with that sort of record. But were fight clubs even a real thing?
Dorothea just shrugged in response, then she grinned, her pointy canines winking at him mischievously. In another life, she was a cat, and Rutger moved his glass of water away from her just in case she decided to knock it off his desk again.
“No,” Rutger denied.
“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”
“If our hiring process didn’t pick up on anything, then there’s no reason to look further into it.”
Dorothea didn’t look convinced. Rutger didn’t want to give in to her curiosity, but then she looked away, her expression turning into concern. This was a concern for HR, not Rutger, but if Dorothea was bringing it up, then there was a chance HR wasn’t actually doing anything.
“Just tell him to be presentable for work,” Rutger said finally, casting his eyes back down to end the discussion. “He shouldn’t be showing up to work injured, and if he is—get him to use the first aid room.”
Dorothea often told Rutger about the workplace gossip, claiming she needed a third party to tell (Rutger suspected she didn’t have friends). There were a few hundred employees at this branch, and Rutger definitely didn’t know all of them by name, but he could identify the few recurring cast members easily.
It was easy to guess which person the new employee was. Blonde-haired and blue-eyed, with a plaster on his lip and another over his eyebrow. He was walking fine, and there was yellow bruising on his jaw.
Definitely a fight club, Rutger thought. Outwardly, he just smiled and greeted him as he passed by, receiving a stiffening of the employee’s back and an urgent head nod in exchange.
Dorothea, who was hovering next to Rutger, hissed at him as they passed, “that’s him, that’s Vlad.”
Rutger just looked at her. When Dorothea kept looking at him with a sense of urgency, glancing over her shoulder at Vlad, Rutger rolled up the paper he was holding and whacked her over the head.
It was no business of his if Vlad got into fights, because the number of said fights were increasing in the city. If Rutger tried to get involved, he’d likely open his branch up to attacks from the supervillains the next city over, or he’d be inviting this city’s own brand of heroes and villains. He told Dorothea this as he entered the privacy of his office.
“That’s not true,” Dorothea protested, “we don’t have a superhero, so we won’t get a supervillain.”
“But we have vigilantes,” Rutger said pointedly. In the past few decades the country had been overrun with all sorts of over-powered people, and Rutger wanted nothing to do with any of it. He’d lived his life just fine without running into any of them.
There was one prominent group of vigilantes in the area. Three young men, if the guesses from the police were to be believed, that was constantly fighting local gangs. They wore hoods and face masks, looking so ordinary to the extent Rutger almost didn’t believe they were actually vigilantes.
Maybe Vlad had something to do with that. He hoped he hadn’t hired a gang member.
His brother was in town, and with him came supervillains.
“Go away,” Rutger said plainly when he saw Joseph sitting on his couch, in his apartment, drinking his coffee. He was mindlessly scrolling on his phone. His secretive and private brother, who barely even left the family home to go to work, who was never seen in any public events and barely had a presence online, had now ventured out of his home and went to a different city altogether.
If Joseph wanted to do something, he always went all in. Rutger admired that about him, but right now he wanted those supervillains to leave his city alone.
“You’ve been saying that all week,” Joseph said tersely, his eyes not leaving his phone, “when you’re the one who offered your spare room to begin with.”
“I didn’t think you’d be bringing those crazy fuckers with you.” Rutger threw his suit jacket at a chair. He stood in the middle of his open plan apartment, throwing his hands in the air. “Now business has tanked. No one’s buying anything.”
Joseph paused in thought. Then he shook his head.
“Even if I left, nothing would change. It’s not as if I actually brought them with me.”
It was a coincidence, but Rutger was beginning to feel a lot more superstitious these days. Joseph might be cursed, because as soon as he travelled to the neighbouring city, ‘villain’ behaviour started there. At this rate Rutger might have to sponsor a superhero of his own in order to protect his own interests.
“What’re they even trying to do?” Rutger wasn’t really wanting a response. With an air of resignation, he shuffled across the room and perched himself on a barstool and leaned on his kitchen counter. His business wasn’t in any short term danger, but if it kept up, his employees might start leaving. He couldn’t blame them, but he really didn’t want to replace them.
“Probably trying to steal something from the labs.” Joseph set his phone down, looking at his defeated brother with tired eyes. “One of them, anyway.”
“Because of the press release?” Rutger asked, thinking of Gaithar’s latest conference. Joseph shrugged. “Then why are they targeting other trade routes? They went after the museum—I don’t think it’s because they want to return the things on display there.”
Joseph didn’t have an immediate response, and Rutger could tell he was thinking. Not about the situation—no doubt Joseph had already spent all day coming up with every possible answer and situation—but if he should say something to Rutger.
Rutger was definitely being kept out of some kind of loop. He wasn’t sure if he should be asked to be let in.
“Are you sure you want to know?” Joseph paused, then cleared his throat uncomfortably. As he reached into his pocket, he continued with difficulty, “knowing you, you’ll try to help.”
“Trying to stop theft is a good thing.”
“Then are you trying to be one of those vigilantes?”
The vigilantes that had nearly got themselves killed. He’d seen security footage on the news of their carelessness, and Rutger had grimaced as he watched it during his lunch break. They’d nearly got caught in a large blast at the museum.
“I’m not,” Rutger said eventually. “We have a business to run, remember? I can’t be silly like that. I’d get myself killed.”
Joseph popped medicine in his mouth. It was a hard pill Rutger had never seen before, probably something Joseph had been prescribed in his latest trips to the doctor. It looked oddly like a dull jewel, gleaming in the artificial light without charm.
“They probably didn’t know who they were dealing with,” Joseph said eventually. Rutger nodded in agreement, then slid off the stool.
“I’m cooking,” Rutger announced. Joseph’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. To explain himself, Rutger said, “the housekeeper has today off. That’s why the laundry wasn’t done.”
Vlad dropped the papers he was holding. They spread across the floor, catching the attention of everyone in the room. Rutger slowed his pace, checking to look at what was happening.
Vlad seemed sheepish and embarrassed, his cheeks bright red as he bent to pick them up. Dorothea muttered something about how tired he looked, and Rutger had to agree. He looked the most exhausted out of everyone there, his dark under-eyes rivalling Joseph’s shadows and there was a trembling in his legs as he squatted.
Dorothea went to help Vlad—in turn embarrassing Rutger, who hadn’t thought to do that—and both of them ended up handing Vlad some of what he dropped, with Vlad holding the disorganised mess close to his chest as he thanked them, not looking at them. Stupidly, Rutger thought he resembled a fawn.
Then they got in the same elevator, and Rutger couldn’t be the only one to find it so awkward. He looked up and around himself, then he risked glancing at Dorothea and Vlad, and both of them seemed to think it was fine, so it was just Rutger who felt this way. Great.
“You look tired,” Dorothea said with concern to Vlad from in-between them. Rutger knew she was asking to get an answer, but the concern was probably genuine. “Are you getting enough sleep?”
“Oh,” Vlad said slowly, then he blinked rapidly for a moment, “oh, I’m working a part-time job. I ran a bit late last night, so…”
“Part time job?” Rutger asked.
“It’s where you do work on the side for some money,” Dorothea told him, “or if you can’t work a full-time job for whatever reason.”
“I know what it is,” Rutger said, annoyed at Dorothea’s teasing, “but why work one? Don’t we pay enough?”
There was an uncomfortable silence, and this time it was shared between the three of them.
“He’s an unpaid intern,” Dorothea said quietly.
“We do those?”
“Yeah?” Dorothea gave Rutger a funny look.
“Ah…” Rutger thought about it for a moment, then said to her, “make a note for later. Remind me.”
Dorothea nodded and took out her phone. Vlad watched the exchange cautiously, and Rutger saw fear creep into his eyes.
Well, Rutger thought, he could push through any changes quickly, so he was sure Vlad would hear good news some time this week.
“No,” Rutger said firmly to Dorothea. He was twisting around in his chair, spinning and catching himself with a foot.
“But-”
“I’m not talking to the police,” Rutger said. Dorothea winced at his biting tone.
“She’s already here. She’s waiting to see you, and I don’t think she’s going to go away so easily…”
“Don’t tell me it’s the police commissioner,” Rutger said despairingly. All movement stopped, and he sank further into his chair.
“It is,” Dorothea said. Rutger slapped a hand on his forehead, thinking for a moment. He really didn’t want to see her, but it’d make it easier for him if he could turn her away gently now than deal with this later.
“It wasn’t even our place that was hit,” Rutger muttered, then louder he said reluctantly, “bring her in.”
One of the labs was successfully robbed by one of the supervillains. They called him Shadow because that was how he appeared on video footage—of all the villains that it could be, at least it was one of the less destructive supers. The one who’d raided the museum had melted through steel beams.
Dorothea ushered in a uniformed woman, her hair its usual shade of pure white and braided and her expression as stern as always. Rutger watched her lock eyes on him as if she could read all his sins.
“Police Commissioner Justia.” The woman flashed her badge at Rutger, and Rutger just sighed. They’d met plenty of times before, but every time when she was in uniform she did the same thing. Her severe gold eyes were as piercing as always, and Rutger sighed again, this time to muster the energy to deal with her.
“Come in, take a seat.” Rutger was no longer at his desk but standing, guiding her to a pair of armchairs Rutger had put in his office specifically for this sort of visit.
Justia sat, turned down any snack but accepted a glass of water, and Dorothea disappeared to get them.
“What is this about?” Rutger asked as Dorothea left, already having a few guesses.
“The latest robbery of Gaithar Labs.” Justia named the business rival in the area, and Rutger hid any thoughts he had about them carefully. “I’ve been told your lab is working on something similar, so I’ve come to inform you it’d be wise to increase security.”
“Is this something that needs a visit from you in person?” Rutger asked, a little amused. When Justia’s mouth tightened at the corners, it told Rutger everything he needed to know. This was the will of a higher up to curry favour, and Rutger couldn’t help but grin at that. Corruption runs strong in this city but Rutger, who benefited from it, decided not to do anything about it.
Dorothea returned and set down a couple of glasses before hovering by the door, quiet as a mouse. Instead of responding to Rutger, Justia instead took a few mouthfuls. This was enough to confirm what Rutger thought—if Rutger was wrong, Justia would have corrected him by now.
“If anything happens, we’ll let you know,” Rutger said reassuringly. He sat back, crossing his legs. “And I mean you, specifically. It’ll make you look good, right?”
“Because it’s my jurisdiction,” Justia corrected. “I have no influence in other cities.”
As always, Justia lacked ambition. Rutger respected that about her, but it made it hard for him to talk to her when she didn’t want anything from him.
“Thanks for the warning,” Rutger said, who had already been shoring up the various locations most at risk. He didn’t think they could fully stop any superpowered criminal, but he was hoping to at least be annoying. “On a different topic—what’s up with those vigilantes? They were there during that explosion at Gaithar labs.”
“They survived,” Justia said shortly. Then she hesitated, clearly debating on what to say. Justia represented one of the last true bastions of justice left, but it came at the cost of failing to properly lie to those she deemed ‘good’. Rutger was considered one of those (a judgement he didn’t agree with), and this meant he saw clearly what she was trying to hide.
“I see,” Rutger said in understanding, “I asked something difficult. You don’t need to say any more. Good luck on your hunt for villains.”
“Thank you,” Justia said, getting to her feet. She left quickly, heading straight out.
Rutger didn’t move from the armchair for a good while. When she was out of the building and well on her way out, Rutger finally said to Dorothea, “those vigilantes are probably classed as supers.”
“Like Shadow?” Dorothea asked, taken aback. “That’s a bit…why are there so many supers around all of a sudden?”
It was thought the first few that emerged decades ago were the result of failed experiments or messy chemical spills. There were various ways, all involving accidents, and if Rutger was interested enough he could probably find who all of these people were.
He didn’t want to know, is what he told himself. He definitely didn’t want to know anything. The vigilantes were just a few stupid people who thought literal crime fighting was somehow justice, and the supervillains were just going to be here for a quick vacation and then they’ll go back to where they came from.
If he found out, he’d probably be obligated to tell Justia, and then he’d be arrested for stalking if they crossed the line.
So he just didn’t need to tell Justia. Rutger didn’t think about this with any real depth—he wasn’t his brother—and instead looked at Dorothea with a wide smile.
“Go look for all accidents that have potential to make supers,” Rutger said, “let’s start local.”
Dorothea looked at Rutger with dead eyes.
“It’s paid.”
“I can’t do that and my job,” Dorothea objected. “You definitely can’t file anything properly, and who the hell is going to review the work before you send it away?”
“Then grab someone else to do your job,” Rutger said, matching her air of complaint. “You said you needed an assistant, right? You must have someone in mind.”