Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Mitch was in his flat, loading and unloading his gun, something he did when he wanted to take his mind off of things. His phone was laying on the table in front of him, his eyes kept glancing at it every once in a while, waiting for the inevitable call to come through. He hadn't had a mission in two weeks, and it was starting to show. He was increasingly irritable, he had dark circles under his eyes and his stubble was beginning to show. Mitch was the perfect soldier, always completed the mission and usually followed orders. Not having a mission was like cutting off someone's life support, if he didn't keep his mind occupied he would remember. And Mitch hated remembering.

Flashback

Mitch was at the bar getting drinks. Katrina had just said yes to his proposal and he'd gone to get them celebratory drinks. As he started making his way back, the sound of gunshots carried through the air. Mitch's head jerked towards the beach as terrorists came started to open fire at the people in the hotel. The bartenders body shook as bullets ripped through it, barely missing Mitch. He stumbled into the pool as he saw bullets being shot into the pool. A body fell in and started to stain the water a ruby red colour. He struggled out of the pool and his eyes searched frantically for the woman he wanted to make his wife.

Utter chaos had broken out as people fell down like dominoes and the screams of the dying seemed to shake the ground. More broken cries of "Katrina!" left his mouth. As he started to make his way towards the beach, a searing pain erupted in his leg. He collapsed onto a sun-bed and looked down to see a growing patch of blood coming from his upper thigh.

Nevertheless, he got back up, the desperation to see her mixed with the adrenaline coursing through his veins kept him going. Disorientated and in pain, he stumbled onto the white sand of the beach. The blood from the bodies stained it red and as he looked around, he saw sprays of blood coming out of wounds and gashes of the other tourists.

A fresh bout of bullets started to pierce the air and every time the sound of a firing gun was heard, Mitch flinched and ducked, the instinct to survive driving his actions. As more people went down, he saw a glimpse of Katrina's white bikini near the shoreline. A sudden hope surged through his veins as he started to limp towards her.

"MITCH!" Her yells could hardly be heard over the screams and gunshots. But it was enough. He was only 30 metres away when he saw him. He didn't even have time to scream out a warning before another gunshot was heard. It seemed to be so much louder than the rest, echoing around the beach. Mitch's eyes widened as he watch the woman he loved, the woman he was going to marry, the woman who was going to have his children, fall to her knees. A look of shock plastered across her face.

The desperation increased ten-fold, he was nearly there. Another gun was fired and he felt the bullet pass through his left shoulder. He was so numb that he didn't even feel it. A grunt escaped his lips as he collapsed onto the floor. Mitch bagan to crawl towards her, dragging his legs behind him as he saw another man holding an AK-47 pass him. The man stood over Katrina and his eyes connected to Mitch's for a split second before he pulled the trigger once more. Katrina's body just jumped slightly as all life left her eyes. A helplessness filled Mitch's heart as he came within touching distance of her, broken sobs escaping his mouth. A sudden fatigue over came him and black spots danced around his vision before he became dead to the world.

Flashback over

Mitch shook his head as he tried to get the haunting images out of his mind. A part of him died that day. That part was called Stiles. In his place Mitch was born.

The shrill ringing of his cellphone helped him escape the demons plaguing his mind and a serious look crossed his face when he saw the caller ID, Irene Kennedy.

"Mitch, you need to come in." Her voice came through the speakers in the phone, loud and clear.

"Ok, to HQ?"

"Yes."

Mitch hung up the phone, one of the reasons he liked Irene was that she was always swift and to the point. He picked up his coat by the door and took his car keys with him. He got in his black Ford Mustang and started the engine. The drive to HQ was short and took him 10 minutes.

He pulled into the garage under the CIA headquarters in New York. Mitch parked his car and made his way to the elevator that would take him up to Irene's office. When he got there he noticed that his mentor Stan Hurley was sat in the chair in front of her desk, rubbing his temples.

"Ah Mitch, you're here. Good. Right then, on to our first line of business." Said Irene. She looked towards Stan and sent him a small nod, signalling him to speak.

"We have a group of supernatural terrorists who want to turn a whole town and start to raise an army. Their leader is called The Demon and is suspected to be a werewolf. It will be your job to eliminate the threat."

You see, after Mitch killed Ghost, he went back to HQ but was followed by a werewolf who wanted to avenge Ghost's death. The wolf wasn't a problem but Stan and Irene had been thrust into the supernatural world after they saw it. After this, Mitch became the first assassin in the CIA that specialised in eliminating supernatural creatures that were a threat. He always carried bullets laced with wolfsbane and vervain and had a small jar of mountain ash just in case.

"Where is the mission?" Mitch asked.

"In a beacon for the supernatural..."

"Beacon Hills." Mitch finished Irene's sentence for her as his face paled slightly. He would have to go back to where it all began, back to the people who thought he was dead, back to the people who betrayed him.

Chapter Text

Mitch let out a sigh as he made his way back to his beloved car. The car looked ordinary but in reality, it was built like something out of a James Bond film. Instead of an Aston Martin, it was a Ford Mustang but it had all the same gadgets and tricks as one of Bond's Astons. The windows were bullet proof and the car could withstand the blast of a small land mine. Built in guns came out of the bonnet with the press of a button, he could also launch two heat seeking missiles and if he was in a tight spot, the drivers seat could eject him out of the car. It also had an AI system built in that allowed him to access records and other things, the name of the system was Jennifer.

When Mitch got back to his apartment he didn't need to pack as he always kept a bag fully packed in case he needed to make a quick escape. Another perk of his job. A small plane was waiting for him on a small airfield outside of New York and his car would be transported in the back of a large lorry (a truck for you Americans) as the drive from NYC to California was a long one.

The drive to the airfield took Mitch 30 minutes as the traffic was quite bad. When he got to the airfield, he was greeted with the sight of a sleek white plane, a black SUV and a black lorry. There was a ramp leading into the back of the lorry so Mitch drove his car over to it and gently eased it up the ramp into the back.

The driver of the lorry came into the back to help him to strap his car into the floor so that it wouldn't get damaged during its transportation. Once they had finished, the driver sent him a small nod before closing the doors in the back and going round to the front into the drivers seat. The lorry pulled out of the airfield and started to make its way to Beacon Hills.

Stan came out of the black SUV and was dressed in his usual attire of casual black trousers and a T-shirt with a bomber jacket on top. He walked over to Mitch and handed him a file with the words TOP SECRET printed over the front in bright red ink.

"Everything you need for your mission is detailed in that file. I do not need to tell you the implications losing it will cause us, so guard that thing with your life. If need be, burn it to stop it from getting into the wrong hands." Stan instructed him. The two men shook hands and Mitch turned towards the airplane and started to walk towards it.

"Oh, and Mitch," Mitch turned around to look at Stan and raised an eyebrow. "Never let it get personal." Stan finished with a small fond smile on his face. Although he wouldn't dream about telling Mitch, he had gotten rather attached to him and would almost consider him to be a son-like figure. Their countless hours of training together and Mitch's success in the field, reminded Stan of what it was like when he was an agent and had a similar relationship with his mentor.

Mitch just shot Stan a smirk and sent him a lazy thumbs up at his statement. The little lesson Stan had taught him became a way of saying be careful, don't die and goodbye.

The plane wasn't anything incredibly special inside but it was perfect for what Mitch wanted. He settled into one of the chairs and poured himself a glass of Jack Daniels whiskey before opening up the case file and studying its contents, readying himself for the 4 hour flight.
(A/N I just googled how long it takes to fly from NYC to LA and it came up with 4 hours but if it's wrong please correct me!)

Scott's POV

It's been 10 years since I last saw Stiles. Our pack bond has weakened over time and was hanging on by a thread. Not a lot had happened in Beacon Hills since the ghost riders but a lot had happened in the non supernatural part of our lives. Ever since Stiles left Beacon Hills, nothing has been the same.

I regret my last words to him more than anything and the rest of the pack always gives me shit about how I treated him. In case you didn't know, I kicked Stiles out of the pack after I found out that he killed Donovan. Theo came to me and explained the truth about what happened and told all of us how sorry he was. After this, he proved to be one of my best pack members and became my second in command. We all trusted him more after he came clean to us and proved to me my power as a True Alpha.

I'm the only True Alpha in the world so my pack is one of the strongest, if no the strongest pack in all of the USA. Even though things have been strained in the pack, we still try and see each other as often as possible. Especially after Stiles died.

The Sheriff never forgave me for making Stiles leave, even after he became my Stepdad when he married my mum. Apparently, the Sheriff kept in contact with Stiles whilst he was at the FBI for 5 years after he left. Things went really downhill for him when Stiles told him he was going to Ibiza.

The Sheriff was at one of our pack meetings when he suddenly told Derek to turn up the news. Images of horror and blood occurring on a beach in Spain flickered across the screen and the Sheriff's face visibly paled. The news reporter was telling the camera man about the terrorist attack that had just happened and a list of names suddenly flashed up on the screen. We all looked at each other, confused as to why the Sheriff was so interested with the story. That was until we heard him muttering "Not Stiles, please, not Stiles" over and over again. Suddenly, we all crowded around the TV and waiting in growing anticipation for the letter S to come up on the list. The list of names with their last name beginning with S came and went but the name Stilinski never showed up. The Sheriff had tears running down his face but we all thought it was a good thing that Stiles' name wasn't on the list.

"What's wrong?" I asked him.

He turned to look at me and said "Katrina Harper was on that list. She was Stiles' girlfriend."

We all stood there in shock. Partly because we had no idea that Stiles had a girlfriend, and partly because she was now dead.

In the following months, the Sheriff and my dad (what with him being an FBI agent and trying to get back in my good books) worked tirelessly to try and find out if Stiles was dead or not. No word had been received from him and it had been announced that some of the bodies on the beach had been shot and mutilated so severely, that there was no way to identify them.

A year after we saw the news broadcast, we buried an empty coffin in Beacon Hills cemetery. It was marked:

Stiles Stilinski
Son and best friend
R.I.P

Every year, on the anniversary of the terrorist attack and his death, we would all meet by his grave and pay our respects to him. It just so happened that that was exactly 5 years ago today. We were all going to meet at the cemetery at 11 am. I got a call from my mum telling me that the Sheriff was going to be a little late as he had forgotten his phone at home and had to go back to get it. Little did I know, that shit was about to hit the fan, big time.

Chapter Text

Back to 3rd person

The Sheriff let out a low sigh as he unlocked his front door and stepped inside the house. He made his way into the kitchen and over to where the plug sockets in the wall were. His phone was laying there, charging. On a normal day the Sheriff (A/N should I keep calling him the Sheriff or should I call him Noah/ Stilinski?) wouldn't dream about leaving his phone behind, mainly because his wife would give him an earful when she got back home after trying to call him all day from work. But today was not a normal day. Today was the day that he would go to the cemetery to remember his dead son. The son should put live the father not the other way arou- The ringing of the door bell broke him out of his depressing train of thought. 

Who on earth could that be? He wondered. After all, everyone in the town knew not to disturb the Sheriff on the day that his son died. The Sheriff grabbed his phone off of the kitchen counter and unplugged it before making his way back to the front door.

He opened the door with his brows furrowed and froze. Any colour on his face faded as he paled and his next breath seemed to be stuck in his throat. His mouth opened and closed like a fish as he tried to find any words to describe what he was feeling. The person at his door was tall, around 6ft, he had whiskey brown eyes and hair that looked like it hadn't been cut in a while. He was well built, his T-shirt filled out with the muscle that only came from training everyday for several years. A slight stubble dotted his face and the only resemblance to the hyperactive spaz, was when he reached up to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Hey dad..." Mitch trailed off, looking thoroughly uncomfortable with the situation he was in.

"Hey dad? Hey dad!? You don't contact me for 5 years, we bury an empty coffin with your name on it, we mourned you, we CRIED for you and you have the nerve to just knock on my door and say HEY DAD!" By now the Sheriff resembled a very ripe tomato. The shock of seeing his son had worn off to be replaced with a burning anger that he didn't even know he had within him.

"Apparently I do.. right got it, not the time for a sarcastic comment." Mitch stopped himself from saying anything more after his father shot him a look that really made him feel like he was buried six feet under.

"Do you mind if I come in?"

"You better have an excellent explanation for everything." The Sheriff stepped to one side to allow Mitch into the house. He shut the door behind them and they made their way over to the living room. They each sat on a different sofa opposite each other, waiting for someone to start the conversation. The Sheriff was looking at Mitch expectantly as he tried to wrap his head around the fact that his son was alive.

A look seemed to cross Mitch's face and he straightened his posture and cleared his throat before beginning his explanation.

"Well you know everything that happened up to when I went to Ibiza, right?" The Sheriff just nodded in agreement.

"Well after Katrina died, I wanted revenge on the men that killed her. I was enlisted into the CIA and have been working for them ever since" it was a very brief and shortened version of everything that had happened but Mitch didn't want to overwhelm his father. He also felt that mentioning that he was a world famous assassin nicknamed the 'Angel of Death' wouldn't go down too well.

"CIA... well I wasn't expecting that. But that still doesn't explain to me why you didn't call me or send me a message, just to tell me that you were still alive." The Sheriff still had a shell-shocked look on his face, however when he looked at Mitch, he could see a sea of emotions, churning in the irises of his eyes.

"My job comes with a lot of perks. But it also comes with its downsides. I have enemies. People that will use you against me, and I don't want to see you get hurt." Mitch replied, a hint of regret in his voice. When the Sheriff searched his face and eyes however, he couldn't see any emotion. Mitch's face was a black canvas that gave absolutely nothing away.

"Well then Stiles, I guess you should go and see everyone else." The Sheriff spoke with a reserved tone and his forehead creased in confusion as he watched his son flinch at the name Stiles.

"Stiles?" He asked him.

"I also changed my name to Mitch when I joined the CIA. I needed a new identity anyway and I thought Mitch made more sense as a nickname for Mieczyslaw (A/N this was the spelling I got off of google but feel free to correct me if I'm wrong) rather than Stiles." Mitch explained. "But I suppose I should probably go back to Stiles whilst I'm here to avoid confusion and more questions being asked." At this point Mitch (a/n I'm going to be referring to him as Mitch but the other characters will still think of him as Stiles) was just thinking out loud.

"Well what are you gonna tell your ex-pack when you just waltz up to the little service we hold every year to commemorate the day you apparently died? And you know what, whilst I'm interrogating you, if you were so happy being dead to us, why did you come back?"

"Well to answer your first question, I won't tell them the whole truth. I'll tell them that I'm in the CIA but I won't go into detail about it. As for your second question, I came back because I didn't have a choice. If I didn't come back, Beacon Hills would've been safer but I'm needed here, my mission is here. And before you ask, I can't tell you what my mission is, it's classified" Mitch answered his questions in a way that sounded almost robotic. The flight to LA and then the drive to Beacon Hills was long so he had a lot of time to kill. He spent most of it imagining the questions he would most likely be asked and preparing an answer for them. The questions his father had asked him so far were all on his list.

"Where are you gonna stay? I left your room exactly as it was, if you want to stay here." The Sheriff asked, a sudden hope in his eyes at the prospect of his son sleeping under the same room as him once again.

"I'd love to dad, but I've already got an apartment downtown and I don't want to impose on you and Melissa."

"H-How did you know about me and Melissa?" The Sheriff stuttered out.

"I work for the CIA dad" was all he got in reply from Mitch. It was, of course, accompanied by his signature smirk. Mitch stood up looked around the living room with a fond smile on his face before his mask came back down and he turned towards his father. "I'm not going to see the pack today, I'll wait until tomorrow."

All the Sheriff did in response was nod his head and put his hands in the pockets of his jacket. There was an awkward silence hanging in the air between them before Mitch just turned around and left, leaving a shocked, confused and broken father behind him.

Chapter Text

After seeing his dad again, Mitch decided to walk home as his apartment was only a short walk from his father's house. It was the middle of the day and the sun shone brightly on the warm spring day. Just to be on the safe side, Mitch decided to wear a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses and a base ball cap.

(A/N like this but with the baseball cap on forwards)

He didn't want to risk people recognising him and for the news to start spreading around town. His apartment block came into view, it was small with only 4 stories but with a flat on the second floor and a tree near his bedroom window, it was very useful if he needed to make a quick exit. The apartment was provided by the Agency and in the bookcase there was a book that would pull out to reveal a small room behind it. It was stocked with guns, knives, grenades and other weapons that Mitch could use. It also had a punching bag hung in the middle of the room to help Mitch with his training and keeping up his strength.

He quickly popped his thumb on the scanner for the front door, the entire block had been emptied out for Mitch, as this lowered the security risk. The door opened with a small beep and Mitch entered. He made his way up the flight of stairs until he got to his apartment and unlocked the door. For extra security into his apartment, the door unlocked with a retinal scan and voice activation. It was like this because when a previous agent had been on a mission, the enemy had just cut off their thumb and used it to open the doors. Once Mitch had gotten changed into something more comfortable, he settled in front of a punching bag and started his 2 hours of training and exercise, he had to keep his body in peak condition if he was going to be going against The Demon.

Time skip to the following morning

Mitch lay in bed as he let out a sigh of content as he listened to the birds chirping in the tree outside of his window. The sunlight filtering through the blinds left golden lines dancing around his room. He rubbed his eyes and stretched his arms over his head and he got out of bed.

He had a good nights sleep managing 5 hours which was something that didn't happen often. Ever since the incident with the nogitsune, his dreams became nightmares and his new job killing people didn't really help. However, if you asked him if he would change how he lived now, he would just say no. He enjoyed the adrenaline rush that being an assassin came with, he enjoyed no longer being weak, skinny and defenceless and most of all he enjoyed punishing the bastards who tried to ruin people's lives. Like they had ruined his by killing Katrina.

He had a small cup of black coffee and a piece of toast with butter on. Mitch went into the bathroom and cleaned his teeth and pulled a comb through his hair when he then heard the sound of a vehicle outside. The blinds in the living room facing the street were partly opened so Mitch peeked through them and saw the black lorry that was transporting his car pull up outside. Mitch quickly got dressed into some navy blue jeans, a black long sleeved T-shirt and a charcoal grey jacket. As he shut the door to the apartment block, he noticed that the man driving the lorry had already began to pull the ramp out and unclip the car from its safety support inside the back of the lorry.

The two men didn't say a word to each other as they just nodded in understanding and started unloading the muscle car for the back. Mitch got into the driving seat of the car and gently eased it down the ramp and onto the road. He drove the car over to the garage that was under the apartments.

By the time he had parked the car and exited the garage, the man driving the lorry had already put the ramp back up and was pulling away from the block of apartments. Mitch went back to his apartment and put a small pistol into the waistband of his trousers. He looked at the clock that was hanging in the wall and the time read 9:30 am. Mitch sat on the couch and pulled his phone out of his back pocket. He went into the CIA data base and found his father's mobile number. After a moment of hesitation where his thumb hovered over the call button, Mitch decided to just get it over and done with and called his father.

"Hello, this is Sheriff Stilinski of the Beacon Hills department. How can I help?" Came the voice of his father through the phone.

"Hey dad, I need you to act natural. I just wanted to know when the next pack meeting was going to be so I can make my entrance there."

"You always did have a flair for the dramatics didn't you." The Sheriff's voice was soft, almost inaudible. "Er, yeah, sure no problem, the next meeting is tonight at 7pm in Derek's loft. The whole pack will be there because they all meet up this time of year for the uh funeral."

Mitch decided to ignore his last comment but felt something stir in the pit of his stomach at the realisation that the pack all met up to remember him.

"They still use Derek's loft! I would've thought that that place would have already crumbled by now." Mitch was slightly confused as to what was the point in meeting up in Derek's loft as it definitely wasn't a very nice place, or that's how he remembered it.

"To be honest, it's quite nice now. Lydia redecorated it and made it more cosy, but I also think they mainly keep it for the sentimental value as opposed to the practical element."

"If you say so, anyway I gotta go now. Will you be at the meeting later?"

"Yeah Melissa and I are gonna be there. I'll see you later then. Bye" the Sheriff sounded kind of defeated and tired. He was beyond happy that his son was still alive but at the same time he had changed so much that he didn't even resemble the son he remembered. He hadn't told Melissa about what happened the day before, she could tell that something was up with him but she just assumed that it was because he was remembering his son. It had always been a difficult day for the Sheriff.

He hung up the phone and lent back on his chair and let out a deep breath. He knew that shit was about to go down and a small part of him really couldn't wait to see what the pack's reaction would be and hoped they would feel bad about kicking his son out of the pack all those years ago. More so than they did now.

Time skip brought to you by laziness

It was now 6:45 pm and Mitch went down into the garage and got into his car. The car held a special place in his heart as they had been through so much together and it had replaced Roscoe when he finally broke down beyond repair.

Mitch knew the way to the loft like the back of his hand and began the 15 minute drive there. He had decided to arrive fashionably late as there was a higher chance that everyone from the pack would already be there.

He parked the car a 5 minute walk from the loft as he didn't want to attract too much attention to himself before he got there. As he neared the loft, he noticed the lights were on and could make out several figures through the window. Before he got close enough for them to smell him, he made sure to spray a special type of wolfsbane essence, made from Arctic wolfsbane, to conceal his scent from their sensitive noses. Once he had finished spraying it over himself, he walked around to the other side of the building, careful to keep his footsteps as quiet as possible.

On the other side of the building there was a back door, Mitch tried the handle and smirked when it opened without any problems. He quickly and quietly slipped through the doorway and marvelled at the packs lax security. Voices drifted form upstairs and Mitch made his way up the stairs and could see where the light was filtering through a crack in the door. His eyes swept as much of the room as he could see through the door that was cracked open. Lydia, Scott, the Sheriff, Melissa, Liam, Theo, Isaac, Chris, Ethan,Jackson , Kira, Malia, Derek and Peter could all be seen in the loft. (A/N Isaac is in this because we couldn't miss scarf-boy so just pretend that he's come back from France)

Mitch saw Derek look towards the door he was hidden behind with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He had heard Mitch's heart beat and was about to open his mouth to say something when Mitch decided that he should make his grand entrance.

"Hello Scotty" Mitch drawled with a smirk on his face.

"Stiles?"

Chapter Text

Everyone in the room just stared at Mitch, speechless. Mitch felt the urge to pull his phone from out of his back pockets and snap a photo at their comical faces. They all, par his father, looked like they had seen a ghost, which I guess they had as technically 'Stiles' was dead. The Sheriff was stood at the back, awkwardly shifting his weight between his feet. He cleared his throat, trying to relieve the built up tension in the room. This seemed to snap the others out of their trance and Lydia was the first one to react to Mitch's presence.

She ran towards him and hugged him. Tears were falling out of her eyes as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. Mitch's eyes narrowed at the gesture as he stood stoic and emotionless, not returning the hug. Lydia seemed to realise this and she unwound her arms from around his neck and stepped back. Confusion was evident on her face as she stared at him, her eyes pooling with hurt.

"S-Stiles?" She stuttered out, a crease in her forehead as she looked at him with her brows furrowed. "W-What's going on? Why are you being so cold? Where have you been? How are you alive? Wha-"

"OKAY" Mitch interrupted her. Annoyance was clear on his face as he pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a sigh as he did so. "I know I'm going to be interrogated so I will give you 5 minutes so ask any questions you want an answer to. I'm not making any promises that I'll answer all of them though."

Derek looked Mitch in the eyes and, trying to keep his voice as calm and steady as possible, asked him "How are you alive?"

"Well sourwolf, there's this stuff in the air called oxygen that helps me live. And food and water are pretty criti-" Mitch started before being cut off, sarcasm dripping from his words.

"You know that's not what I mean Stiles. We all thought you died. Why didn't you tell us you were alive?"

"Well I hardly thought you would care after kicking me out of your pack for being a human. And I really don't see how it's any of your business what I do and don't do with my life." Mitch replied, eyebrows raised. His left eye twitched with anger as he remembered the packs betrayal, it hurt even more when they let Theo join the pack after he ruined Mitch's life. In a weird way though, he was kind of pleased they kicked him out when they did because if they hadn't kicked him out he would've never met Katrina. Granted, he then would be covered in scars and be a highly trained, highly feared assassin. And Katrina would probably still be alive.

The pack all bowed their heads in shame as they were reminded of the night Scott took the decision to abandon his best friend when he needed him most. Scott opened his mouth to say something but Lydia quickly interrupted him and asked a question she had asked before.

"But why are you so emotionless and cold?"

"I grew up." Came the short reply. After the betrayal by his so called friends and the death of Katrina, Mitch decided that it was easier to not get close to people because when the inevitable happened, it wouldn't hurt him. Stan and Irene thought this was Mitch's greatest trait as it stopped things from getting personal and allowed him to complete his job without any complications. The only emotion Mitch felt regularly was anger. It fuelled his body when he was tasked to kill and gifted him determination that no one else could possess.

"But it's me. Lydia. The girl you've loved since you were 8. The Queen of Beacon Hills High." The hurt in Lydia's eyes was replaced with an arrogance that reminded Mitch of Jackson in high school.

Mitch didn't even warrant her question with a reply and merely scoffed and raised an eyebrow, rolling his eyes at the girl's ego. Even though he hated to admit it, he had loved the girl stood in front of him many years ago. But she wasn't even a quarter of the girl Katrina was. Mitch had stopped loving Lydia a long time ago and was almost embarrassed at how hooked he had been with her, he now saw her for what she really was. Conceited and selfish.

Scott shot Lydia an annoyed look for interrupting him before looking back at Mitch.
"Well what have you been doing for the last 10 years then?" He asked.

"I had stuff with work and that's about it" Mitch said with a shrug.

"Stuff? You've been doing stuff? We all thought you were dead! We mourned for you! We cried for you!" Scott exclaimed.

"I'm... honoured? (A/N elite ones know that reference) But I do find it funny how you all played the part of grieving friends so well, and yet none of you gave a fuck about me when I was alive."

Melissa had been very quite whilst all this was going on. She had an eye on the Sheriff and was confused as to why he didn't have the same look of shock on his face as everyone else. I mean after all, it was his missing-presumed-to-be-dead son stood in front of them. She assumed it had something to do with his shift in mood the day before and decided to ask him about it later.

After the pack had seen the video on the news about Katrina and the shooting in Ibiza, the Sheriff had told the pack that he had been in contact with his son after he left Beacon Hills. He left out details about him going to join the FBI and only told them about the simple facts of his relationship with Katrina. The Sheriff felt he should tell the pack as it would explain his obsession with the attack in Spain as it would seem rather confusing to them if they didn't know that his son and his fiancé were there at the time.

Anyone who knew Mitch well would be able to tell that he was getting annoyed at the questions, but, he was a man of his word. He had told the pack that they could have 5 minutes and he intended to keep that small promise. Everything was going reasonably OK with the questions Mitch was expecting, until Theo asked a question that crossed a very clear line in Mitch's head. He had stayed quiet until that moment and Mitch thought that perhaps he had figured that it was best to stay quiet but boy was he wrong.

"How are you holding up? What with Katrina being dead and all." His tone was nonchalant but there was a glint in his eyes that only Mitch picked up on. It almost looked like Theo was challenging him, trying to get a reaction out of him.

A burning rage started in the very depths of Mitch's stomach and he relished in the feeling of it spreading throughout his body. The twitch in his left eye became more prominent but other than that he seemed completely unaffected by Theo's words. Unbeknownst to Theo, he had just signed off on his death certificate as he had just made a bad situation 10 times worse. He had woken up the vengeful monster in the assassin and Mitch made a promise to himself, Theo Raeken would be dead before he left Beacon Hills.

"I'm fine." Was all that Mitch said. The glint in Theo's eyes disappeared as he looked confused at Mitch's lack of reaction.

Mitch looked down at the black watch on his wrist and started to back away towards the door he was stood near. "Well times up everybody, enjoy the rest of your meeting." Mitch turned around with a smirk and a wave over his shoulder. The small smirk soon turned into a menacing smile as he left the loft. He had business to attend to. The Demon was going to be sent back to hell.

Chapter Text

Unknown

A sleek black car was making its way to Beacon Hills. The passenger was listening to one of Beethoven's piano concertos and was humming along to the melody line. The only other person in the car was driving it and they hadn't spoken a word to each other since they set off towards their final destination. Only the two of them would be going but as soon as the passenger gave the signal, everyone else would begin to make their own way over.

"We're here Boss." The driver said, he looked nervous and a small bead of sweat was making its way down his forehead. The passenger just smirked and opened the door. He was a very powerful man. He was an alpha werewolf, an alpha of alphas. He was a demon wolf, nothing could scare him. An Argent had blinded him but he got up and carried on, unleashing revenge on the Argent for what he had done. His name was Deucalion. He was The Demon. And Beacon Hills had better watch out as they were going to be hit hard, harder than ever before.

Back to normal

After Mitch's shocking departure, the pack all stood there for a minute before turning to each other and blinking slowly. No one seemed to know what to say and so everyone just kinda of stood there waiting for someone to say something. That someone was Derek.

"Well then..." he trailed off, trying to find the words to describe what he was feeling. This seemed to snap everyone out of their daze and they all proceeded to talk at once. The only people who didn't say anything were the Sheriff, Melissa, Liam, Isaac and Peter. They all thought that what Scott and Derek did was wrong. Even though Scott had been the one to kick Stiles out of the pack as he was the Alpha, Derek hadn't tried to defend him. Liam, Isaac and Peter all tried to jump to Stiles' defence but were silenced when Scott growled at them, using his Alpha wolf to silence them into submission. Now that Stiles was back however, the trio were thinking of going to Stiles and try to befriend him again.

"ENOUGH!" Scott yelled over the bickering of the pack. "Everyone shut up and listen to me. We need to find out why Stiles is back and get him back into the pack." The rest of the pack looked at him incredulously, their alpha wanted Stiles back in the pack?

"We need a weak human for other packs to attack first so we know when they are here." Scott explained. At this comment Mason stepped forwards with a fire burning in his eyes.

"So is that all I'm good for, huh Scott. Being the human. Fuck you. Actually y'know what, fuck all of you." And with that Mason stormed out of the loft, finally having enough of Scott's bullshit. Liam, Isaac and Peter all looked at each other and seems to have a silent conversation in their heads. They were all thinking the same thing. This was their chance to leave. However, they had another plan, one that was a whole lot better than all of them just leaving. If one of them stayed behind, they could have a spy, a man on the inside.

Isaac and Peter started to walk towards the door that Mason had just stormed out of but were halted in place by a roar from Scott. They turned towards him and locked eyes with him. A sudden weight lifted off of their shoulders as they were released from the pack bond. They were now omegas. A furious Scott stepped towards them, they could smell the betrayal and anger coming off of him in waves.

"HOW DARE YOU! I AM YOUR ALPHA! YOU KNOW WHAT, I SHOULD NEVER HAVE SAVED YOUR PATHETIC ASS FROM YOUR FATHER ISAAC!" He was almost screaming at this point, his vocal chords being torn to shreds. Everyone in the room flinched at how loud he was, especially the ones with super hearing. Peter stood in front of Isaac protectively and stared at Scott with a burning hatred in his eyes.

"Me and Isaac are leaving your pack, enjoy your pathetic life Scott McCall." And with that, the two werewolves left the loft. Once they were out of the building they ran to catch up with Mason, who was stood by a tree, silent tears running down his face.

As they approached him, he took a step back. What little trust he had for his ex-pack mates had dissipated into nothingness. His eyes flickered between the two of the wearily and pater and Isaac lifted their hands in surrender, showing him that they weren't going to hurt him. This seemed to relax Mason a little bit as his tense posture lessened.

"Look we're sorry about what Scott said to you but we're all on the same side here." reassured Peter. Even though Peter seemed like a selfish ass, he was fiercely loyal to the people he cared about and would go to extreme lengths to protect them.

Mason just shot him a look that said you really expect me to trust you? Isaac let out a sigh and pinched the bride of his nose.

"Look Mason, Liam, Peter and I have a plan to stop Scott from continuing to abuse his power. Me and Peter have just left the pack so we can do use in things outside of the pack and Liam stayed to act as a kind of spy. He will give us inside information and tell us if and when Scott plans something." Isaac took a deep breath after his little speech. Mason blinked slowly before nodding his head.

"Yeah, I mean Scott's been giving me weird vibes for the past couple of months but I didn't want to tell anyone in case I was kicked out of the pack. But I guess that plan didn't really work out, did it?" Mason joked. This seemed to relive all of the tension between the three and they all let out a breathy chuckle.

The trio made small talk as they started to walk back towards the main centre of Beacon Hills. The decided to crash at Peter's place because he was the only one out of the three that still lived in Beacon Hills.

Isaac had become a martial arts coach when he moved to France. Some former hunters had trained him and he taught self-defence classes to people in Paris. He still lived in Paris but always came back to Beacon Hills for Stiles' memorial.

Mason had gone to Harvard University to study technology. He was employed by Apple to work in their programming sector and lived in San Jose as it was near Silicon Valley. He visited Beacon Hills about once a month as he lived in North California so it was only a two hour drive.

To be honest, no one really knew what Peter did for a living. He was quite well off and always seemed to have plenty of money on him but he didn't seem to have a job that anyone was aware of. It wasn't anything illegal but Peter thought that it would be best if the pack didn't find out about his job. He was an arms dealer. The weapons he sold mainly went to government agencies but a few had been given to people who shouldn't be trusted with a weapon. Peter had a licence for dealing but it would still seem kind of shady, considering his last as a psycho serial killer alpha werewolf.

They arrived at Peter's house, it was similar in size to the Sheriff's house and was furnished in a modern way. The walls were a grey colour and the couch was white, the kitchen had a whole bunch of fancy gadgets that looked like they had never been used. This was probably due to the fact that there was a pile of pizza takeout boxes piled up next to the bin. Peter had one spare guest room as his other had been converted into a study for him to work out of. Isaac and Mason played a game of rock, paper, scissors to see who had to sleep on the couch and who got to sleep in the spare room. Unfortunately for Isaac, he was the one that lost and ended up having to sleep on the couch.

Whilst Mason and Isaac were busy trying to work out who was going to pull the short straw, Peter had called the local pizza delivery company and had ordered one large pepperoni pizza and one large BBQ chicken pizza. His order was supposed to arrive in about 15 minutes so he went and had a shower whilst he waited.

The doorbell rang just as Peter stepped out of the shower so he called out through the open door for one of the others to pay the delivery driver and get their food. Peter heard Isaac open the front door and pay for the pizzas before making his way into the living room and setting them down on the coffee table.

Once everyone was finished with whatever they had been doing, they all went down to the living room and tucked into the cheesy pizza delight. The trio made a unanimous decision to watch the first Maze Runner film. Again. For the fifth time. As they settled down to watch their favourite movie, Isaac let out a chuckle.

"I always forget how similar Thomas looks to Stiles." The other two squinted their eyes as they peered closer at the flatscreen TV before nodding their heads in agreement. The resemblance between the two was almost uncanny.

Time skip brought to you by one of Dylan O'Brien's moles.

The following morning was unusual. The trio acted as if they had lived together for eternity as they seemed to move with such ease around the house. They all helped to make breakfast and wash up and soon sat down at the dining table with a sheet of A3 paper spread out in front of them. On top of the piece of paper were two words, Isaac had chosen them with such care. He made sure that they were memorable and that they would detail exactly what was on that piece of paper. THE PLAN was written at the top. Isaac didn't have the best imagination and had decided to keep it simple.

On that piece of paper they were going to write Scott's downfall.

Chapter Text

Scott had stormed out of the loft fuming. How dare they leave his pack. He was the true alpha and now they were just weak little omegas who we going to get killed after their reckless decision. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, his pack were supposed to look up to him, to do as he said. Stiles' coming back was going to ruin everything. Scott had it all planned out. And Stiles coming back was something he didn't plan for. And Stiles had to go.

Back to Mitch

Mitch had made it back to his apartment after revealing himself to the pack. An amused smirk was paired with a wicked glint in his eyes as he thought back to their reactions. His stone cold heart warmed up a fraction of a degree when he heard Mason, Isaac and Peter leave the pack. Even though he hadn't necessarily been that close to them 10 years ago, he realised that they were good people in a bad place.

Mitch frowned when he thought back to how Scott had looked at him. It wasn't the kind of anger and betrayal that the rest of the pack had in their face, it was a look of complete and utter fury. It burned with such a ferocity that it was borderline on insanity. Stan had taught Mitch that he should always trust his instincts and, so far, they had never failed him and Mitch had a really bad feeling about Scott. He decided to keep a close eye on the werewolf and wait and see if he did anything even remotely suspicious.

The doorbell rang for the main front door into the apartment block and caused Mitch's head to snap upwards. He had positioned the couch to face the door to his apartment, at this point he did it instinctively as it was one of the lessons Stan taught him first. Always be prepared for attack. It had proven useful on more than one occasion when someone had tried to break the door down but weren't able to get far as they got a swift bullet between the eyes.

Mitch approached the intercom system hung by the front door and took a look at the footage from the CCTV camera that was positioned to face the main door. He could make out three figures crowded around the door.

"Hey Jennifer?" He called out, waiting for a response from his AI.

"How can I help you Sir" came a voice. The voice was of an English female and seemed to echo slightly around the room. (A/N I'm kinda basing Jennifer off of JARVIS)

"Can I get a closeup on the visual of the camera, and I want audio." The CCTV camera zoomed in on the faces and the sound of three hushed voices could be heard through the intercom.

"Are you sure this is where he lives?" Came the first voice.

"This is where the scent finished so it must be." Another voice replied.

Mitch cursed himself silently for using the short lasting scent repellent. It was only supposed to last 10 minutes and clearly had started to fade once he was in the woods. The two voices sounded like Mason and Peter but he couldn't see the third person's face. Mitch hesitated before pressing down on the button to speak to them.

"Yes?" To the three people at his door it sounded gravelly and distorted due to the poor quality speaker at their end. But they recognised the voice of 'Stiles' none the less.

"It's Peter, Isaac and Mason. Can you let us in? We just want to talk to you." Replied a voice that sounded like Peter. Mitch hesitated for a split second before opening the door for them, they seemed surprised that he let them in but walked through the door anyway. The clanging of their feet up the metal stairs told Mitch that they were nearly at his front door. He opened the door when he heard them reach it and was met with their slightly shocked expressions. None of them said anything but Mitch looked them up and down whilst they stood their awkwardly, an uncomfortable expression on their faces. Seeming to be happy with what he saw, Mitch stepped aside and let the trio into his apartment. The four of them just stood in his living room awkwardly before Mitch rolled his eyes and gestured towards the couch.

"Have a seat. Do you three want anything to drink? I have beers"

The three just nodded and sat down. Mitch went into the kitchen and took four beers from the fridge before opening them and making his way back to the living room. He placed three of the four beers onto the coffee table and lent against the door frame into the kitchen, holding the cold beer in his hands. Mitch just stared at the three scrutinising them with a raised eyebrow, he was waiting for them to make the first move.

"Erm, hi?" Said Mason, his beer was untouched on the table and he was fiddling with his fingers. Mitch just carried on looking at him, unimpressed.

"Ok well now that we all feel sufficiently awkward and uncomfortable let's begin. We left Scott's pack because something isn't right, it hasn't been for a while now." Of course Peter made the first sarcastic remark, in a weird way it almost served as a kind of icebreaker to the thick tension in the room.

"I could've told you that myself. But that isn't why you're here, is it?" Mitch replied, he could sense that there was something that they weren't telling him and he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

So the trio told him. They told him about the little things that Scott was lying to them about, where he was on evenings he didn't go to pack meetings, why he was never at home, just little things that were adding up to something slightly bigger. To say Mitch was slightly surprised when they told him about Liam staying to give them inside information on the packs plans, obviously he didn't say this or show any kind of reaction to the information, Stan had taught him well.

After they had explained everything to him and Mitch knew that they weren't lying, he decided to tell them about himself, about where he head been.

"Well I know you still have unanswered questions so I'll try to answer them. But if you tell anyone else about what happens in this room, apart from Liam of course, I will not hesitate to slit your throats."

Peter smirked slightly when he said that, it reminded him of a young version of himself.

"I always knew you had a bit of dark in you but I never thought you would be able to wear it so well."

Mitch just rolled his eyes at Peter's comment but decided not to retaliate.

Isaac was the first to break and ask one of his burning questions. "Where have you actually been all this time?"

"After some... unfortunate events, I joined the CIA." Mitch could tell that they wanted to know what events he was talking about but they decided it was probably best not to pry and left it alone.

"No way! That is so cool! So what do you do?" Mason was practically bouncing with a child-like excitement.

"What I do is different. It requires me to work in secrecy and a lot of my work is classified. People around me tend to get hurt, I'm a field agent. I don't sit behind a desk pushing paper around all day, I find threats to our safety and deal with them." Mitch chose his words carefully. His heart rate was steady as he had learned how to keep it like that quite easily, plus he was telling the truth. Albeit not the whole truth. He decided it was probably best not to tell them that he was Black Ops and a literal assassin. The pack had shunted him out for accidentally killing Donovan so he could even begin to dream about what they would do when he found out he killed people for a living.

It seemed that the three other men in the room didn't expect him to answer their question so they all looked shocked at his reply. However, the trio seemed to believe him and let it slide.

"Also whilst you are all here you should probably know something else. I changed my name to Mitch. But, whilst we are in Beacon Hills, you need to carry on calling me by my old name, Stiles."

Peter, Isaac and Mason seemed slightly confused by this new information and shared a look with each other. Mitch could tell what was going on in their heads so he just told them that it was a necessity that no one else knew about his new name and that they should only call him Stiles. This seemed to make the trio slightly more relaxed, if Mitch had told them his new name, he must trust them at least a little bit.

The four men tried to hold up small talk but it proved to be kind of futile. So, shortly after, Isaac, Peter and Mason left. Leaving Mitch to his thoughts.

His hand automatically moved to the ring, hung on the simple piece of thin green leather, around his neck. He clutched it in his hand before closing his eyes for a moment. Remembering Katrina's smile.

Chapter Text

Mitch had been up all night looking through the case file for his mission, every possible lead he had found always lead to a dead end. Whoever he was dealing with knew how to cover their tracks. He let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his tired eyes. The empty glass of bourbon sat on the coffee table in front of him, next to the half empty bottle. An ashtray was in the middle of the table among the paper work. 5 cigarette buds were visible among the ash and a sixth was hung from Mitch's parted lips. He was never one to smoke too much or drink a lot but the stress of the case and being back in Beacon Hills were beginning to take their toll.

The ringing of his phone from his back pocket cause him to frown slightly. It was his personal encrypted phone, given to him by the CIA. He wasn't expecting any calls so he was a bit confused as to why it was ringing. The cigarette hanging from his lips was nearly finished burning so he used his thumb and index finger to remove it from his mouth and put it out in the ashtray.

He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and was even more confused when he saw that it was Stan Hurley calling him. Stan wasn't the kind of man to 'just call' so immediately alarm bells began to ring in Mitch's head. Mitch and Stan had a complicated relationship because they acted almost cold and indifferent towards each other but, as soon as they were alone or in subtle ways, they were almost like father and son.

"Hello?" Mitch answered the phone after the 6th ring.

"Rapp, I'm being sent over to Beacon Hills in 2 days time to assist with your mission."

Mitch knew that this was important because A, Stan only called him by his last name if it was to do with a mission and B, Stan only joined him on missions if it was absolutely necessary. Stan knew that Mitch preferred to work alone and he tried his best to respect that.

“But why?" Mitch asked him, puzzled.

"This threat it beginning to get worse. We need to eliminate it as swiftly as possible. We can't have another Ghost."

Mitch rubbed a hand over his eyes and let out a low groan. "If that's what it takes then fine, I mean let's be honest here, even if I didn't want you to come it's not like I can say anything to stop you." He said with a chuckle. Mitch could imagine Stan rolling his eyes at the comment with a small fond smile on his lips.

"Ok well I'll be seeing you in 2 days time then. Don't let it get personal Mitch." Stan said before signing off and ending the call.

Mitch stood up and stretched out his tense muscles and making his way to the kitchen to make breakfast. Surprisingly, he was actually a pretty decent chef as he often had to cook for himself. He wasn't able to make anything fancy but his food was always filling and tasty. Mitch decided to just keep things simple, some eggs and bacon with toast. Unbeknownst to him, Malia was stood not far from his apartment block, she had followed the faint scent left behind by Peter, Isaac and Mason. Ever since Stiles had left to the FBI academy and then 'died' she had been a mess. Stiles was her anchor and after he left, any progress she had made with controlling her anger had disappeared with a click of her fingers. Scott hadn't tried to comfort her in any way, he was too busy thinking about himself, as always.

She was stood on the opposite side of the street, facing Mitch's house. The smell of crispy bacon and slightly burnt toast drifted through the open window and her highly sensitive nose picked it up, she closed her eyes in bliss at the heavenly scent. She heard the scraping of the curtain against the rail it was hung on and her eyes snapped open, Mitch's face glaring at her from the living room window. Shit. After rocking backwards and forwards on her heels for a moment, she decided that she had better knock on his door and explain herself.

Surprisingly, he let her in after one ring of the bell. She hurried up to his apartment and was met with an unsmiling Mitch stood in the open doorway.

“What do you want Malia?" He asked her, clearly annoyed.

"I-I-er-um..." Malia stuttered out, sudden nerves making her forget why she was there in the first place.

"Well hurry up and spit it out, I haven't got all day."

"I-um I wanted to say that I'm sorry about Scott kicking you out of the pack all those years ago and I wanted to ask if you're single and if you aren't that's totally fine and I respect that but if you're not then I would really like to catch up only if you want to of cou-" her awkward rambling was cut off by an amused chuckle from Mitch. A light pink blush dotted her cheeks as she looked down at her feet in embarrassment.

"Well I am single at the moment so yeahhh..." Mitch trailed off, seemingly trying to find the right words but coming up blank. An awkward silence ensued between the two before Mitch stepped aside and let Malia into the flat. Her eyes roamed the bare walls and her brows scrunched up in confusion when she noticed the lack of pictures and any real homey feel. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife as they stood next to each other in the living, not saying a word.

A battle was being fought inside Malia, her wolf/coyote wanted nothing more than to run up to Mitch and kiss him but the human side of her was telling her wolf that it was a very bad idea and would only bring her more pain. In the end though, her wolf won.

She took two strides towards Mitch and wrapped her arms around his neck and crashed their lips together. No response was received from Mitch for a couple of seconds before he unfroze and kissed back, Malia could feel the sides of his lips turned up into a smirk. Mitch's tongue dragged lightly along Malia's bottom lip, asking for entry, which she gladly gave. Their tongues explored each other's mouths and fought for dominance, which Mitch quickly took. They broke away from each other after a minute, both of them gasping for air. Their pupils were blown wide open, eyes darkened with lust.

"Fuck it." Were the only words Mitch spoke before grabbing Malia's hips and lifting her up. He carried her into his bedroom and lay her down onto the bed. The shirt he had been wearing was soon pulled over his head and discarded on the floor, he felt Malia's hungry eyes trail along his upper body, taking in his impressive physique.

"Like what you see." Mitch patronised with a smirk, Malia didn't even reply and just nodded. She was incredibly needy and would do anything just so that Mitch would fuck her. So he did.

A/N I don't write smut so imma let your dirty minds imagine what happens next.

Little did Malia know, she should have listened to the human inside of her. The part of Mitch that was still human felt no emotion other than anger. He used his good looks to get girls but he hadn't been in any kind of relationship for a long time; not since Katrina. Malia was going to be useful to him, she clearly still loved him and this would help Mitch in getting more help if needed. Scott was definitely up to something and Theo was no good, if he was fucking Malia, they would do something out of jealousy to get back at him for taking the woman they loved. And Mitch was going to make the most of using Malia because let's be honest here, it was a win-win situation.

Chapter Text

Malia left Mitch's house after about 2 hours, claiming that she had to go to meet with the pack. It was only midday so Mitch needed to do something to amuse himself whilst he waited. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. A dark grin made its way into his face as he thought about his plan, it was perfect. Malia had told Mitch that the pack meeting was going to be at 2 o'clock so that gave him nearly 2 hours to kill time. The pack wouldn't like it but it was going to be a lot of fun. For him.

Time skip brought to you by Mitch's shaggy hair.

After waiting for an hour and a half, Mitch was incredibly bored. The case he was working on had him stumped and Stan coming the day after tomorrow put him on edge. The only good thing about his day was shagging Malia and thinking about the packs faces when he surprises them. Nearly everyone was going to be at the pack meeting; apart from the 'adults'. It seemed kind of foolish to keep calling them that, because everyone in the pack was now in their late 20's and were also adults. However, it was now a habit to call the group of parents who stuck with them through the supernatural bullshit they had to go through, 'adults'.

Mitch grabbed the keys hung by the front door and made sure to lock everything behind him. He didn't need anyone breaking in to his apartment whilst he was gone.

After the short drive to the entrance of the Beacon Hills preserve, Mitch parked his car in the dirt track leading into the heart of the woods. He would have to go the rest of the way on foot.

The pack were having their weekly meeting by the Nemeton. Something about being all 'mysterious' made them more powerful. Pfft, flawed logic but if it made them feel better then go for it. As he neared the Nemeton he could see a few members of the pack gathered in a circle around it, the dense tree and rich earthy scent of the woods keeping him hidden from their view. There were a few stragglers dotted around the edge of the clearing, nearer the tree line. They would be his first victims.

Sneaking up behind Liam, Mitch grabbed him in the side with a swift kick before counteracting it with a punch to the face. Liam's face snapped to the right and a slight spray of blood came from his nose. He fell to his knees and clutched his probably broken nose, trying to look ready to fight whoever had just attacked him. His movements froze and his brows furrowed when he saw Mitch stood behind him. Mitch just sent him a subtle wink in response, almost saying sorry with just a look.

Mitch's next victims were Jackson and Ethan, they were sat next to each other staring into each other's eyes with love. Mitch almost felt bad for what he was about to do but the he decided ah fuck it and did it anyway. He grabbed the back of their heads and collided their foreheads together. A slight bruise was already becoming visible and their eyes blinked rapidly, disorientated and confused.

This type of thing happened to everyone in the pack, all within the space of about two minutes. It all ended with Mitch stood in front of a cowering Scott, holding a gun in between his eyes.

Scott was trembling. His eyes glistened with unshed tears as shaky breaths came out of his mouth. His tongue darted out to lick his chapped lips and he looked up at Mitch in fear.

"We really have got to stop meeting like this Scotty." Mitch feigned surprise, a smirk very evident on his face.

"And you really should train your pack better. Not even five minutes and one weak human has you overpowered." Mitch spat at Scott, the latter flinching as he did so. The rest of the pack were lying on the floor in varying degrees of pain, Mitch made sure not to hurt the ones who couldn't heal as quickly badly, he could already see the werewolves' injuries fading from view as their wounds healed. Their bodies were mostly intact but their prides were all deeply hurt.  

"We are all supernatural creatures! You are beneath us! We are more powerful than you will ever be!" Scott ranted, trying to hide his fear at the gun pressed against his head.

"Tut tut Scott, I think you've forgotten exactly who is in charge right now." Mitch said, pressing the barrel of the gun deeper into Scott head, eliciting a growl from the angered wolf. Mitch could see the frustration pooling in Scott's eyes, frustrated with being helpless, frustrated at not being the strong true alpha, frustrated that 'Stiles' was proving to be a different person from the ADHD spaz he remembered.

Deciding that he'd had enough fun toying with the pack for the day, Mitch pulled the gun back and tauntingly slipped it back into the waistband of his jeans. The rest of the pack had mostly healed and were now all staring at him, apprehension and suspicion oozing from their pores. Mitch loved the shock on their faces, proud at his evolution into Mr American Assassin. Scott was still kneeling on the ground, his chocolate brown hair littered with twigs, leaves and dirt from the forest floor. His mouth was agape, seemingly lost for words.

Mitch let out a breathy chuckle at their sorry states, embracing the feeling of utter power he got from standing above them. Finally, after everything they had done to him, he was left stood on top. All jokes aside though, Mitch knew that if the pack wasn't better trained, it would come back to bite them in the ass. If Mitch, a lone highly trained man, could give the pack a good ol' ass kicking, no doubt a group of slightly less trained people would be able to do so too. And so, despite everything, despite going against his better judgment, he decided to offer his services.

"That was pathetic Scotty. Your pack needs training in case some supernatural creature decides to visit Beacon Hills. Let me train you and you will be able to take them on."

"NO!" Scott yelled, his eyes flickered red for a moment before he took a breath to calm himself down. "I will not let you worm your way into this pack. We are fine, no supernatural could ever beat us."

"Well if you think that's for the best Scotty, I'll leave you and your mutts alone then." Mitch turned around with a smirk, practically able to feel the anger from the pack at being called 'mutts'.

"Go to hell Stilinski!" Jackson growled, his eyes flashing at the back of Mitch's head.

"Oh Jackson, where do you think I came from?" Mitch retorted, the same lazy smirk on his lips. He let out a chuckle and shook his head slightly before hightailing it out of there. He'd left the pack with enough to think about for one day, he didn't want to overwhelm their tiny little brains.

Chapter Text

The next day started the same as any other. Mitch woke up, went for a run, did some weapons training, had breakfast and then worked on his solving mission. It was a beautiful day outside and Mitch decided that he should do some field work instead of just pushing paper around his desk. There was always a chance that he could stumble across something that could help him solve the case. Mitch tried not to go into town too often, he preferred to avoid the stares and glances that were sent to him by people who thought he was dead. Because of this, Mitch decided to go into the Preserve.

Making sure he had his glock in the waistband of his jeans and a small knife in his black combat boots. He decided to leave his car and run to the Preserve, a little extra exercise never hurt anyone. The drive to the Preserve normally took between 10-15 minutes, the run only took him 10 minutes because he didn't need to stick to the roads. The strong earthy smell enveloped him as soon as he stepped into the forest, the birds chirped happily in the trees, hidden by the dense green leaves adorning them.

Mitch stopped running and decided to walk through the woods, he didn't want to risk twisting his ankle on a branch or tree root. He'd always felt more relaxed when he was in nature, the risk of someone trying to kill him was always lower, mainly because of the lack of technology available to hack.

Walking through the woods allowed him to think without worrying about being interrupted. He always went back to the same train of thought. Would Katrina be proud of him? It was a question he wanted the answer to but at the same time dreaded what that answer would be. He had changed so much after her death, so much so that his own father nearly didn't recognise him.

Shortly after Mitch joined the FBI academy after graduating school, he went out on a drug raid in an abandoned warehouse in Washington. During the raid he was stabbed in the thigh and after the success of the mission, he had to go to a hospital. That was where he met her. She was the nurse who stitched him up and took care of him whilst he was there. They got talking and realised that they had a lot of things in common. Eventually Mitch plucked up the courage to ask her out on a date, to his utter delight she said yes.

Mitch had changed his name about a week into joining the academy, no one could say his real name and Stiles brought back too many memories. It was actually a doctor who came up with his new name. Mitch had to go for a routine check up to make sure that he was healthy, when he got there the doctor was obviously stumped on how to say his name. When he asked Mitch how to say it, he only managed to say the first half of Mieczylaw, hence the nickname 'Mitch'. It kind of stuck and soon that's what he was known as, no longer skinny defenceless Stiles, but strong independent Mitch.

No one from Beacon Hills bothered to keep in contact with him, apart from his dad. Mitch wasn't as dumb as the people in the pack thought he was, he could tell that they were taking him for granted. He was never invited to pack meetings, Scott only spoke to him when he needed research on a new supernatural threat in Beacon Hills etc.

Mitch was finally free of their bonds on the night of graduation. They'd all gone up on stage and had received their diplomas and whatnot, when Scott came over to Mitch and told him that there was a pack meeting on the following evening. This rang alarm bells in Mitch's head because he hadn't been invited to a pack meeting for several months and it seemed to come out of the blue. Nevertheless, Mitch went to the meeting in the evening like he was asked to.

Flashback to meeting

Mitch had just parked Roscoe outside of Derek's loft. He was sat in the driver's seat, tapping the steering wheel nervously. Mitch was really confused as to why he had been invited to this meeting, there were no supernatural threats as far as he knew and the pack hadn't bothered inviting him to any of the other meetings. He decided that he should just get it over with and go into the loft.

The door to the loft was quite old and squeaked as he pushed it open. The entire pack were stood in the middle of the room, and they all turned to look at him as he entered the room. Scott, Derek, Lydia and Jackson had ferocious glares on their faces, making Mitch flinch at the sight.

"Hey Scott, what's up?" Mitch asked, trying to diffuse the awkward tension in the room.

"We're kicking you out of the pack Stiles. You're a weak human and just keep putting us in danger because we always have to protect you. You are useless and none of us want you here." Scott spat venomously. Mitch couldn't believe it, after everything he had done for the pack, all the research and sleepless nights, this was how they treated him.

Mitch's eyes travelled across the rest of the pack in the room, most of them were glaring at him but Mason, Peter, Isaac and Liam all looked at him sorrowfully. Their heads bowed, not able to maintain the eye contact with Mitch. Mitch was smart enough to know when he was defeated, and if he was going to be treated like a piece if shit, he wasn't going to stay. He didn't need the pack and to be honest, he felt like this had been a long time coming.

"Ok." Was all Mitch said in reply before turning around and walking back out the door towards his jeep. He could feel the confused looks that the pack were sending him, confused as to how he left so easily, without a fight.

After being kicked out, Mitch went home and packed his bags before saying goodbye to his father sms leaving for the FBI Academy.

Flashback over.

Mitch had been wondering around the woods for at least 2 hours when he heard voices coming from some kind of cave. He could make out two male voices coming from within it.

He always kept the a small vial filled with the special wolfsbane to remove his scent on him and quickly sprayed himself. Mitch crept closer to the cave, careful to keep his feet light on the ground to prevent the men from hearing him.

"He's gonna be a problem, Demon." The words drifted towards Mitch from the cave. From where Mitch was crouched behind a bush, he could clearly see the two men.

One man was tall, he wore a pair of black sunglasses over his eyes sms held a cane in his right hand. He had a thick English accent. It was Deucalion. The Demon Wolf.

The other was a bigger shock. He wasn't as tall as the Demon but was at least 5'10". He had chocolate brown hair and a very distinctive crooked jawline. It was Scott McCall. The True Alpha.

Everything was being pieced together in Mitch's head. Scott's change in demeanour and his lies about where he was in the evenings. He was the informant and accomplice of the Demon.

Mitch knew that he had to get back to the apartment soon, the sun was beginning to set and it sounded as though the little meeting was close to an end. He didn't want to risk Deucalion or Scott realising that he knew about them.

Once he had gotten a couple hundred metres away from the cave he broke out into a run, trying to get home as quickly as possible to add the new development to his mission report.

Time skip to the next day cos I'm lazy af

Today was the day. Stan was coming to Beacon Hills to assist Mitch with the case. Almost on cue, a sleek black SUV rolled up outside of Mitch's apartment block and two figures got out of the car before it drove away again. Mitch was confused as to why two men were at his door when he only expected Stan to come. Nevertheless, he buzzed them up and waited for them by the front door of his apartment.

"Hi Sir." Mitch said, almost robotically. He looked quizzically at the mysterious man stood behind Stan. His face was obscured with a baseball cap and sunglasses, bits of dirty blonde hair peeking out from under the cap.

"Rapp, this threat is becoming a bigger problem. Our friends from overseas are now getting involved. This is your partner for this mission, he is from MI6 and I expect the two of you to clear this shit up. Ok?"

Mitch just nodded his head in agreement and stood to one side, letting both Stan and the mystery man into his apartment.

"Oh and whilst we're here Mitch, I'm going to be staying in a different safe house across town but Mr Smith will be staying here as your boyfriend. It shouldn't be a problem as you are both bisexual." Stan said, a small smirk on his face when the two men sent him a death glare. Without another word, Stan turned on his heel and left the two men alone in the living room.

The Brit finally decided to remove his cap and sunglasses before turning around to look at Mitch. It was a face Mitch knew well, too well.

"Newt?"

Chapter Text

Mitch stood staring at the Brit, dumbfounded. Newt scratched the back of his neck awkwardly before clearing his throat.

"Hey Mitchy." He said sheepishly, using the old nickname he had made for Mitch on a previous mission. Mitch just stared at Newt, unable to form any words. Eventually he cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly on his feet, averting his eyes to look anywhere but at the man stood in front of him, the cream coloured walls suddenly becoming the most interesting thing in the room. The silence seemed to stretch on forever, neither of them sure what to say.

Newt rolled his eyes before taking the reigns, normally Mitch was always the one to make the first move but the man in question seemed to be shell-shocked. There was only one thing Newt knew he could do that would snap him out of his current state.

He took two decisive steps forwards so that he was stood directly in front of Mitch, he glanced up at him though his long lashes and saw a stormy sea of emotions in Mitch's whiskey brown eyes. (A/N I know that in real life TBS is taller than DOB but it makes more sense for this fic for DOB to be taller.) The room was alight with sparks from the sexual tension between the two men. Mitch closed his eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the musky scent coming from Newt. Newt had a very familiar scent, his Dior Sauvage cologne mixed with the natural smell he had, created a concoction of aromas that always managed to make Mitch think of home. When he opened his eyes again, Newt was only inches away from his face, his warm breath fanning out over Mitch's face. Their heavy breaths and pounding hearts were the only things they could hear.

The intense eye contact lasted for a couple of seconds before Mitch started to lean down towards Newt. Both of their eyes fluttered shut when their lips joined together in a chaste kiss, their lips barely touched but fireworks still erupted in the pits of their stomachs. Seemingly gaining confidence, Mitch lifted his right hand to tangle itself in the hair at the nape of Newt's neck. He pressed their bodies impossibly closer together by putting his left hand on the small of Newt's back whilst Newt tangled his hands in Mitch's untamed hair. Their kiss became more passionate, tongues battling for dominance, which Mitch won, teeth clashing together and breathy moans escaping their lips. Neither of the men wanted to break away from their heated embrace but their lungs were burning, begging for oxygen.

Newt pressed their slightly sweaty foreheads together as they stared into each others eyes.

"Well I guess that's one way to validate our cover story of being boyfriends." Newt whispered with a chuckle. A ghost of a smile appeared on Mitch's face, but it showed Newt that he was happy to see him, even though the kiss probably showed that a bit better.

"Yeah I guess so. So then, how have you been?" Mitch asked, pulling slightly away from Newt to get a better look at the man.

"Eh well after I was shot near my knee in Italy I've not been out in the field too much, I mostly just help behind the scenes, planning for others and things like that. My limp is a weakness that I can't afford to let me get captured." Newt replied in a very matter-of-fact tone. Mitch's eyes widened when he heard how his Newtie got shot and now couldn't walk properly, but at least he was alive and seemed relatively ok. (A/N I'm not gonna have Newt having a limp from attempted suicide just because I don't think that it will fit the story as well)

"Oh, well that sucks." Was all Mitch replied with. The two of them were still quite close together so when their eyes connected, something clicked between them. Their eyes began to water and a giggle escaped Newt's lips before the two men burst out laughing. It was the kind of laugh when your clutch your stomach and tears roll down your face. Neither of them knew what was so funny but it was the best laugh either of them had had for years. After a solid 2 minutes of laughing so hard they ended up breathlessly wheezing, they finally managed to calm down and wipe the tears from their faces.

Newt's eyes flickered over to the coffee table and at the mess of papers strewn across it, a sudden somber look in his eyes. The papers reminded him that as much as he wanted it to be, this was not a social call, both of their countries were in trouble if they didn't work out how to stop the Demon and their crazy plan. Mitch seemed to notice how Newt became distracted in his thoughts, realising that he was looking at the case files he had displayed on the table.

"Er right the case, so I think I have a lead." Mitch said in a business-like tone. Newt's eyebrows shot up into his hairline as he turned his neck towards Mitch so quickly, Mitch wouldn't be surprised if he got whiplash.

"WHAT!" Newt yelled in shock. "Stan told me that you were completely stumped and didn't have a bloody clue as to who or what the Demon is!"

"Well technically when I called him the day before yesterday I didn't know who or what the Demon was so..." Mitch trailed off. At the withering look Newt sent him he cleared his throat and explained about what he saw. He told Newt about how he came across Scott and Deucalion meeting up in a cave, which in his own words was 'kinda sus'. Newt wasn't nearly as surprised as Mitch thought he was going to be when he heard about Scott's apparent turn to the dark side. Newt had heard about how Scott had treated Mitch after finding out about what happened with Donovan and had decided that, even though he had never met Scott, he didn't like him one bit.

"Well then, I think it's time we told Stan what you just told me. I believe Scott McCall has a date with death." Newt announced, a sly smirk spread across his lips as he met Mitch's eyes, a shared look of understanding passed between them before they turned towards the door, ready to receive their new orders from Stan.

Chapter Text

*knock* *knock* *knock*

"What the fuck do you want, can't a guy get some rest around here?" Came the muffled shout of Stan through the door.

"Well you know that we wouldn't disturb your much needed beauty sleep unless it was important." Retorted Mitch with his usual level of sarcasm. The sound of something being knocked over and breaking, followed by a yell of 'GOD DAMN IT' made both Mitch and Newt smirk slightly. The door was finally yanked open by a very disgruntled looking Stan, he gestured towards the inside of the apartment, ushering them in.

What used to be a white vase was now in a million pieces on the floor, Mitch turned towards Stan and opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it when Stan sent him a withering glare.

"This had better be important son, look what your incessant knocking made me do." Stan said with his arms crossed over his chest. He hadn't even noticed how he called Mitch 'son' so casually, but Newt noticed. A small fond smile made its way onto his face at the little nickname Stan had given Mitch. Even though their line of work wouldn't necessarily always allow it, they still found time to form a bond between themselves.

Time skip because I'm just lazy. Basically Mitch and Newt just tell Stan about Scott and Deucalion.

Once Newt and Mitch had finished telling Stan about what Mitch had overheard, Stan proceeded to immediately call Irene and tell her the news. There was only one small problem, they needed hard evidence linking Scott and Deucalion to the Demon before arresting them or 'neutralising' them. The CIA wouldn't be happy to find out that they had killed two people without having solid proof of their crimes. They either needed evidence or a confession from the suspects to be allowed to terminate them.

Stan had an emotionless expression on his face as he talked to Irene about the new developments, after a solid two minutes of silence, he put down the phone with a huff. He turned towards the dark oak cabinet in the corner of the room before pulling out a bottle of whiskey with three crystal glasses to drink from. Silently, Stan poured the dark brown liquid into the glasses, handing one each to Mitch and Newt. He lifted his glass in a mock toast before downing the liquid in one, savouring the way it burned the back of his throat on the way down. Mitch and Newt shared a slightly confused glance before copying Stan's actions and downing the liquid in their own glasses.

"Well then boys, if you can give me proof of what you've just told me, we have permission to finish the fucked up shit show once and for all." He said, this was Stan's element. His previously hunched up posture straightened itself out as he got his orders from Irene, he wasn't about to let the Demon slip through his fingers again, not this time.

So they set out a plan. Malia's trust in Mitch, however misplaced, would prove useful in getting information. Having a inside man in Liam was going to allow them to use him to manipulate the decisions of Scott, being his most trusted beta and everything would allow him to evade suspicion. Having Peter, Isaac and Mason on their side would give them more heads to put together, more people able to catch the Demon. And last but not least, the missing piece of their plan, a way to get to Deucalion. Scott would be easier to get to, he was so power hungry that it clouded his judgement and made him react to different situations impulsively. The real challenge would be getting to Deucalion. He still had a few of his loyal Alpha pack left, most notably, Kali. She had stayed by his side through thick and thin, she was convinced that Deucalion was her soulmate and would do anything to make him happy, even things that could kill her.

After getting a brief plan sketched out, Mitch called his father. He needed the Beacon Hills Sheriff's department on his side, even if he didn't intend to arrest the Demon. It would be helpful if he could prevent them getting in his way when out on his mission.

Calls were also made to Peter, Isaac, Mason and Liam to get them to come to the apartment block so that they could talk out the plan between themselves.

Not even half an hour later, the people that had been phoned to come to the apartment were all sat in Mitch's living room. Newt and Mitch had decided that it was probably best as Stan still had a smashed up case littering his floor in his apartment. Peter, Isaac, Mason, Liam and the Sheriff had dropped what they were doing immediately as soon as they got the call from Mitch to meet in his apartment. They were all beyond ready to kick some serious Alpha ass and couldn't wait to find out what their role was going to be in this 'plan'.

Mitch was the one to speak first. "Well I'm gonna get introductions out of the way. This is Stan my boss and Newt my boyfriend. And then this is Mason, Peter, Isaac, Liam and my father." He said pointing at each person respectively. A look of surprise crossed the Beacon Hills' natives (A/N I don't know what to call them as a group lmao. If anyone has a better name please tell me in the comments.) faces when Mitch introduced Newt as his boyfriend. None of them thought that Mitch swung that way but the Sheriff had a sudden lightbulb moment. Suddenly it all made sense, how he found Stiles in a gay club when he was still in high school and how he seemed at ease there.

"Ok then son, I'll take over from here. So this is the plan..." Stan took over after the introductions. The Sheriff's heart cracked a little when he called Mitch 'son', that was his boy, his flesh and blood, he had raised Stiles, not Stan. His eyes narrowed in jealousy but brushed the thought aside to listen to the plan.

Chapter Text

Stan laid out a map of Beacon Hills across the coffee table in the living room. It was roughly 1mx1.5m large and was filled with different coloured sticker dots. The different dots all corresponded to a stage in the investigation. Green was solved (they had arrested someone for the murder), yellow was to be determined, red was unsolved and blue was just pretty. The map was filled with only red dots.

The explanation about the dotting system on the map made small smiles spread out on the faces of the people who had known Mitch when he was still called Stiles. His crime board for supernatural investigations had the exact same colour scheme as Stan's map.

"Our first stage of the plan will rely on getting inside information from you."'Stan started, pointing at Liam as he spoke. "We need to know what the pack will do, where they are going to do it and when they are going to do it. I want to know everything, however insignificant it may seem because the success of this mission relies on the details." He continued. He looked towards Mitch and gave his a small nod to take over the explanation of the plan.

"The fact that we know about Scott and Deucalion and they don't know that we know about them doing whatever they are doing that we don't know of yet but will need to know about, is a big advantage." Everyone in the room stood with slightly confused expressions on their faces as their brains tried to work out what Mitch had just said. Mitch let out a frustrated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose as he repeated his sentence again, but much slower. This seemed to allow the other people in the room to catch on to what he was saying and nod in agreement with his statement.

"Er yeah, as Mitch put it so eloquently, we need to use their ignorance to our advantage. The less they know the better and the more we know the better. Savvy?" Newt said from beside Mitch. A chocked laugh came from deep within Mitch's throat when Newt said "Savvy?", the first thing he thought of was Captain Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean. The line paired with his English accent just made it all the more funnier to him. At the withering glare sent to him by Newt, he cleared his throat, composed himself and sobered up.

"Anyway, where were we again? Oh yeah, right ok. So, we need access to Scott whilst he is asleep so we can chip him." Mitch continued after he finished laughing. Liam looked thoroughly confused when Mitch said that they would need to chip Scott and Newt seemed to pick up on it.

"Bloody hell, have you never watched James Bond? Or any spy film for that matter? We need to put a micro-chip in his neck to track where he is. It also allows us to measure electrical signals and his heart rate so that we can tell what kind of mood he's in, if he's stressed etc." Newt answered the blonde puppy eyed boy. Liam blushed and looked at the floor in shame because he hadn't actually ever seen a Bond film, even though Mason had always tried to bully him into doing so. Mason, who was stood next to Liam, hit the shorter boy over the head once Newt had finished his explanation, almost as if to say 'seriously?! What the fuck'.

"Our second stage of the plan will rely on using any information we manage to acquire from phase 1. We need to eavesdrop on any conversation between the Demon and Scott, this will give us an idea of when and where they will strike. It will also help us to get solid evidence that we can use as proof of their crimes. CIA intel managed to hack into Scott's computer, he really needs some proper software protection because it only took us two minutes to get access to every file on his computer. We think that their final plan will be a bomb of some sort, there wasn't enough information on his computer to get anything concrete but that's what it looks like it's going to be." Stan had decided to take full control of the situation due to the exasperation he could practically smell coming off of Mitch and Newt in waves.

"That's all we've got so far because we can't plan stage three until we have intel, so, the faster we get something, the better." Stan finished off. He waved his hand towards the door in the universal signal of 'get out', the rest of the people in the room started to filter out of the door way, until only the Sheriff was left.

"Can I help you Sheriff?" Stan asked him, even though he already had a pretty good idea what this was about. The Sheriff turned towards him and stared straight into Stan's emotionless dark eyes.

"I don't know what you've done to my son but I swear to God if he gets hurt in any way, even the tinniest fucking scratch, you will be a dead man."

Stan just looked at the Sheriff in amusement, he raised a sceptical eyebrow at the man stood in front of him.

"I really don't think threatening a CIA official is the smartest move you could make." Stan replied. The Sheriff's eyes narrowed but he decided against arguing further.

"Look, you clearly mean a lot to Sti-Mitch and, being his mentor, I don't doubt that you know how to handle your shit, so let's at least try to cooperate. For his sake." The Sheriff finished, stepping closer to Stan with his right hand raised towards him to shake. Stan just raised the left side of his lips in a lopsided half-smile and shook the Sheriff's hand.

After the slightly awkward encounter, the Sheriff left Stan's apartment. Stan walked over to his now empty whiskey glass before pouring himself a double and downing it like it was water. He let out a shaky breath that was disturbed by the sound of gunfire. Stan shot upright as the long forgotten glass fell on the floor with a smash. He spun around, gun in his hand, ready to face whatever threat was coming next. The gunfire stopped. Stan crouched down and made his way towards the window to check what was happening outside. It was silent. A sudden wave of realisation washed over Stan as he cursed himself. Goddamned PTSD. He had been fine for the last few months, able to keep his episodes to a minimum but being in Beacon Hills must be fucking with his mind. There was no gunfire. It was all in his head. He unclipped the safety catch on his pistol before firing round after round into the fireplace. If anyone found out about his PTSD, his career would be in tatters.

Chapter Text

Liam's phone pinged with a text from the Pack group chat.

Suck McCock: Emergency pack meeting at 7pm.

BansheeBitch: okayyyyy. Where tho?

Sour Wolfy: At the loft. Like it always is.

Golden Retriever: okay I'll be there.

Liam smirked at the names of the people in the group chat, they hadn't changed them since they'd left high school, even if they were kinda immature. A sense of nostalgia washed over Liam as he thought back to his high school days. Everything seemed to be easier then. Well, that was until he was bitten. Things started to spiral downwards after that, every time he started to get his life together, something would go wrong. The supernatural never let him take a minute to relax, a new threat coming to Beacon Hills seemingly every month. Now he had an idea as to why that was the case. If Scott McCall wasn't as good and innocent as he had led everyone to believe, what's to say he didn't rile up rival packs, making them come to Beacon Hills, just so that he would be needed.

Brushing the thought into the growing pile of worries he seemed to be collecting, Liam walked over to Derek's loft. Liam only lived a five minute walk from the loft so there really wasn't any point in driving the car there. The loft was already busy with the rest of the pack somehow managing to get there quicker than Liam. Maybe they were all already there when the text was sent out and they were feigning innocence by pretending not to be there? Whatever the reason, Liam didn't like it one bit.

The pack was all sat down on different chairs and sofas in a big circle, in the middle Derek and Scott were stood with their red eyes flashing towards the pack members, reminding them about who their Alphas were. Even though Scott was considered a true alpha, the main alpha, Derek still held an alpha status, albeit one slightly less than Scott. Scott cleared his throat once Liam had sat down, drawing all attention to himself. Liam shared a wary look with Peter, Isaac and Mason, they were all confused as to why an emergency pack meeting had been called but didn't want to draw any extra attention to themselves just in case it was discovered that they were in fact now working for Mitch and Stan.

"Now that everyone is here, I have some news to share with you." Started Scott. "I'm sure all of you have heard about the Demon, he has made quite a name for himself within supernatural and human circles. He is currently on the list of the FBI's most wanted criminals. Well, I'm here to tell you that this is all a lie."

Several sharp intakes of breath were heard across the room. However, Lydia did not look surprised at this information, in fact a small smile had made its way onto her face once Scott had made the shock announcement. This suggested to Liam that she already knew this and that perhaps even she, knew about Deucalion's and Scott's alliance. Liam would have to be careful about what he said in front of her, just in case his suspicions were true and she passed on any information to Scott.

"What?" Came Derek's voice, to say this shocked Liam would be an understatement. He had immediately assumed that Derek was in on Scott's plans, after all, he was joint second in charge with Theo. But he had turned to face Scott so quickly, his shoes squeaked on the laminate floor. An incredulous look was painted on his face as the words that had just come out of Scott's mouth registered in Derek's brain.

Liam's eyes darted around the room as he took in everyone's expressions. One thing he was definitely expecting to see, was the look of smugness and pride on Theo's face. Liam had always had an inkling that Theo was a two-faced bastard but had never been able to do anything since he would be going against his Alpha, Scott. Even though Liam had always believed Mitch's side of the story about Donovan, he had never been able to publicly voices his opinion due to the fear that he would be shunned from the pack and made an omega.

That was one of the worst things that could happen to a werewolf, becoming an omega without a pack was like being a fish out of water. It would most probably kill you. It made you an easy target for hunters and it was very difficult to find a new pack, mainly because no pack wanted to run the risk of allowing a weak omega in and suffering the potential consequences. Liam still remembered the time he came across the mutilated corpse of an omega in the Beacon Hills preserve, it had been infested by maggots and had already begun to decompose. It was the work of Monroe and her group of hunters. She had learnt the art of hemicorporectomy from Gerard. The corpse had been split into two with the help of a very sharp blade. Liam still got goose bumps whenever he thought back to the gruesome sight.

"SHUT UP!" Yelled Scott, his eyes flashing a dominating red. However much some of the members of the pack didn't want to, they still bowed their heads in submission.

"Let me explain. The Demon isn't actually like what the papers and media have led you to believe. He just wants to help the supernatural prosper and stop having to live in fear of being hunted." Scott continued once everyone had quietened down. Liam heard an involuntary scoff come from Peter, who was sat on the sofa in between Mason and Isaac.

"Right, of course the only way to achieve that is by blowing up schools and hospitals. Nothing says 'We aren't going to hurt you' like a pile of murdered children." Peter said dryly, his harsh sense of humour coming out to play.

Lydia turned to look at him with her eyes narrowed into menacing slits. "You would do well to remember that that is our Alpha. Don't talk to him like that." She seethed.

"Thank you, Lydia but I can handle this myself." Scott told her with a warning look. Lydia turned back around and sunk into herself, not wanting to anger her Alpha.

"I have agreed, on behalf of all of you and in the best interests of the Pack, to join the Demon in his pursuit of equality for all species." A stunned silence covered the room like a thick blanket before shit hit the fan. Peter shot up in his seat as he stared at Scott in shock.

"Look you two timing moronic pussy-looking motherfucking bastard son of a bitch, I hope you have fun with your devil worshipping but I am out of here. ¡Adiós polla!" Peter finished with a mock salute before turning and leaving the loft. A sudden twinge pulled deep inside Liam's stomach as his hand reacted on instinct and he placed it where it hurt the most.

"He cut off the Pack bond. H-He's an omega now." Derek said in disbelief, his eyes widening in realisation of just what his uncle had done.

Chapter Text

Scott seemed to freeze up when Peter made his shock exit. "How dare he! Well you know what, it's his loss anyway. We don't need him, he needs us."

Liam rolled his eyes slightly at Scott's arrogant tone, a retort already forming itself in his head. 'Right of course, I forgot the part where you always phone him for help with any new supernatural threat. It's almost as if you are completely and utterly reliant on him.

Of course Liam wasn't a complete moron, he wasn't about to say what he was thinking out loud, he didn't want to draw any unnecessary attention to himself; Peter had drawn enough attention for the both of them.

"Anyway," Scott resumed "I'm going to assume that since you're all still here, you'll be happy to do a few small jobs on behalf of the Demon."

At these words, Isaac sent Liam a wary look, the beta looked thoroughly uncomfortable with the prospect of having to work for the Demon. But, who could blame him. The Demon had a reputation that even Monroe was scared of. And scaring the trigger-happy, shoot-first-ask-questions-later hunter, was a very hard thing to do.

"Hey Harlequin, you good?" Scott asked Malia. She gulped and looked down before her eyes flickered to Liam's, the look in her eyes was haunting. Her pupils were black pools of despair as they begged Liam to let her do this, however much she didn't want to. Her eyes connected to Scott's as they flashed blue and red respectively, a predatory smirk adorned Scott's face.

"I'm fine, Alpha." Malia responded submissively, ignoring the nickname he had made for her.

Flashback ⚠️TW- MENTIONS OF RAPE⚠️

Malia had just received a text from Scott telling her to meet him in the preserve. She had been getting weird vibes from him for a couple of months but thought that that was just his way of coping with his breakup with Kira. Scott had become very touchy feely, whether it was an arm around the waist, resting his head on her lap or sitting pressed up against her so that she could feel nearly every inch of him. Apparently Scott had sent out a text to everyone about an emergency pack meeting, Malia looked towards the car park outside the usual meeting place in the preserve but saw no cars there. The hairs on her back stood up but she decided to ignore her gut and carry on regardless. Maybe she was just really early.

As she neared the designated meeting place, the sound of only one heartbeat reached her ears. She furrowed her eyebrows, but again ignored her gut instinct, she was probably just really early and Scott was the only one there. When she reached the fallen down tree that had been fashioned into a bench, she saw Scott sat on it twiddling his thumbs.

"Hello Malia." Scott said, his eyes raking up her slim frame.

"H-Hey Scott." Malia cursed herself for stuttering, now was not a time to be showing weakness. A bird rustled about on the tree above them before spreading its wings and flying away. Scott came to stand next to Malia and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry about lying to get you here. I just really wanted to speak to you where no one can hear us." Scott said, his breath hitting her ear. Malia shifted uncomfortably under his scrutinising gaze but daren't say anything. Scott's fingertips dragged their way down her arm and stopped when they reached her wrist.

"Look Scott, I-I'm flattered, I really am, but I really need to get going to work." Malia stuttered, furious at herself for being so scared of him. Apparently she said the wrong thing. Scott grabbed both of her wrists in his larger hands and pinned her to the nearest tree. The front of her body was pressed into the tree, bark digging into her hard enough to break the skin.

"Tell me Malia, do you know what a harlequin is?" Scott growled into her ear. Malia shook her head 'no' as she trembled up against him.

"A harlequin's role is to serve. An audience, a master... y'know a harlequin is nothing without a master. And no one gives two fucks who they are beyond that."

Malia froze at his words, what her mind had been trying to push from the realms of possibility, suddenly became pushed to the forefront of her mind. It was really happening. Scott was going to do the unthinkable.

Scott's hand clutched her wrists together in an iron grip as she struggled, she could feel bruises forming where Scott's fingers were. A sudden sense of hopelessness washed over her as Scott pushed her dress up over her hips, fingers playing with her thong.

"I'm going to make you scream little harlequin. And no one will ever know." Scott purred menacingly in her ear as chocked sobs racked her body. Ever since Stiles had left, Malia had been spiralling downwards. He was her anchor and without him she was lost at sea. Malia's body stilled as she gave up, letting Scott do what he wanted.

Flash back over ⚠️TW over⚠️

Malia hated that name, 'harlequin', too many bad memories were attached to it. But she knew what she needed to do. Scott was a misogynistic asshole and that was going to be his downfall. If he underestimated what Malia could do, she would take full advantage of that. She knew that this was bigger than her, than Beacon Hills, if what she thought was proved to be right, this was going to shake America in a way that chilled her to the core. Nuclear bombs. An end to a country, to millions and millions of lives. She would do what she had to, because she was a badass were-coyote and she would be damned if her name didn't become legend in the history books. 

Chapter Text

Scott surveyed his pack as they all nodded meekly, agreeing to work for the Demon. Malia was stood behind him as he brushed their hands together, the sound of her heartbeat speeding up flicked a switch in Scott as his predatory smirk became more evident.

"I'll let you know about when we get our first task from the Demon but for now, this meeting is over." Scott said. Most of the pack, including Malia, decided that they were going to leave. They filed out in a group, an instinctual safety in numbers act. Liam walked up to his alpha with a false look of calm on his face.

"Hey Scott, I was just wondering if there was anything you wanted me to do for the Demon. I think what you've done is a great thing and will benefit us as a pack greatly." Liam said with false confidence. Despite the string of lies he was spewing, his heartbeat remained steady, something Mitch had taught him to control. Scott cocked his head to one side, listening for any blips or fluctuations in Liam's heartbeat, before deciding that Liam seemed to be telling the truth.

"Well out of all of the pack members, you had to be the last one that I would've thought to ask me this, I was expecting someone like Jackson. But I'm glad you have seen that I, as your Alpha, am correct in my decision to join ranks with the Demon." Scott answered, that damned smirk never leaving his face. It wasn't even a nice smirk like Mitch's. It was the kind where he ended up looking constipated and his face was just as crooked as his jaw and his face became all scrunched up.

"And since you asked so nicely, I'll let you in on something that the rest of the pack don't know yet. A large amount of the money that the Demon makes is from links with the Mafia and drug smuggling. In fact, there should be a cocaine shipment tomorrow at midnight." Scott added nonchalantly. It took all of Liam's self control not to fist pump the air as he made the breakthrough. Stan had told him the the Agency always thought that the Demon was involved in major drug smuggling operations. However, they could never get any evidence or even witness statement to link him to any drug busts.

"So what do you need me to do?" Liam asked, eager to prove himself to Mitch and help them move onto Stage Two of the plan.

"Really simple, I just need you to pick it up and drive it here from the docks. It's only a short drive and it will be at nighttime so you shouldn't get any trouble from the police. I'll send you the address to an abandoned warehouse on the edge of the preserve, and I'll meet you there once you've brought it in." Scott answered. Liam just nodded his head, not trusting his voice to convey his message across persuasively.

As soon as Scott had finished outlining the finer details of the plan, Liam rushed back over to Mitch's apartment. He hurriedly starting pressing the door bell as quickly as he could, even though it was 3 in the morning, this couldn't wait.

Eventually the door opened and Liam ran up the stairs, three at a time, and started hammering at Mitch's apartment door. He could make out the disgruntled groans from inside the apartment as Mitch shuffled over to the door and unlocked it.

"This had better be good Dunbar." Mitch threatened, opening the door wider for Liam to come in. Newt came out of the bedroom and stood next to Mitch, both men had their arms crossed over their chests in what was a very dominant pose.

"Why does it smell like sex in here?" Was all Liam managed to say. Mitch just raised an eyebrow as his lips quirked up at the sides whilst a pink hue spread across Newt's neck. Liam averted his gaze in embarrassment but immediately spun back around when he noticed the glinting sliver metal coming from a pair of handcuffs on the floor. If the redness on Newt's wrists were anything to go by, Mitch and Newt were most definitely into some kinky shit.

"Anyway..." Liam trailed off, "I just made a major breakthrough in the case." Now Liam had Mitch's and Newt's full attention on him, more so than it had been before.

"Scott just asked me to shift a shipment of cocaine for the Demon." Liam continued.

Mitch and Newt shared a look before almost identical Cheshire Cat grins spread out across their faces.

"Ok tell us everything you know." Newt said, eyes glinting in the artificial light.

Time skip brought to you by Stiles Stilinski's baseball bat

Mitch leant back in his seat as he stared down at the plan they had crafted over the last half an hour. Now all they had to do was get Stan in on what they had come up with. Newt glanced at Mitch with a look on his face that basically said there is no way in hell I'm gonna do that. Mitch let out a resigned sigh, wiping his hand down his face as he stood up, ready to face the wrath of a very angry and annoyed Stan.

Chapter Text

Mitch raised his arm to knock on Stan's door but it was yanked open before his knuckles had a chance to Rapp (A/N see what I did there? Aren't I clever? No? Okay) on the door.

"I swear to God I am going to kill you myself if you aren't careful!" Yelled Stan, the bags under his eyes were very prominent, indicating a severe lack of sleep. Mitch scratched the back of his neck sheepishly and cleared his throat.

"We just had a major breakthrough in our case. We think Stage 2 can begin soon." Said Mitch, a sudden change in demeanour from Stan made him seem like a young man again. His eyes seemed to shine at the thought of being able to start the second stage of their plan.

"Well what are you waiting for, son. Show me what you've got."

Mitch led him to Newt's and his apartment, practically dragging Stan there in an effort to get him there faster. Once they finally got there, Mitch made sure to shut the door and lock it, just in case anyone got the smart idea of listening in on what they were saying.

"Hi Mr Agent, shit I meant Mr Stan, wait wh- I-I- mean Mr Hurley." Stuttered out Liam, his nervousness as palpable as he rambled out awkwardly.

"Bloody hell Stan, you look like absolute shit." Exclaimed Newt, his nonexistent filter becoming all the more obvious.

"Well you would look like shit too if you got zero hours of sleep because your neighbours we too busy fucking like bunnies. If you want I can show you what I had to listen to: 'OH FUCK YES MITCHY, RIGHT THERE'" Stan scoffed. Newt turned a wonderful shade of pink when Stan imitated his sex voice and moaning. Mitch was trying so hard not to laugh, the image of Newt's adorable blush and Stan's hilarious impressions, imprinted in his mind forever. Liam cleared his throat as the tips of ears turned red from the second hand embarrassment.

"Anyway..." Liam trailed off, doing anything he could to diffuse the awkward tension within the room. It's safe to say it definitely did not work. Liam's attempt was futile at best and just seemed to add to the growing pile. Stan just rolled his eyes at his slight immaturity.

"Look I didn't come here to fuck about. I have things I would much rather be doing but I'm stuck on this mission with you so we might as well finish the job." Stan said, he was lying between his teeth but he would never admit to another living soul that he actually enjoyed Mitch's company, he had a reputation to uphold. He also knew that if anyone found out about his soft spot he would be teased about it  endlessly, but it could also be a way of his enemies using something that he cared about against him.

"Right of course, I'm sure the squirrels are really missing your company." Mitch joked, letting his guard down around the people whom he trusted. Stan, Liam and Newt all looked at him, perplexed as to why he was bringing squirrels into the equation.

"Y'know, because of the cabin in the woods that Stan lives in? The one where he trains people?" Mitch sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It's not funny when you have to explain the joke."

Newt patted him on the back as he fought back a smile. Mitch just gave him a small death glare but was also trying his hardest to fight off his own grin.

"Ok let's come up with our plan." Stan announced, making the other three men in the room jump when he slammed his palm down unnecessarily hard on the tabletop. Mitch and Newt looked sheepish at their reactions to the noise, their training had taught them better. "I don't know how many times I've had to tell you this Rapp but I'll say it again; you flinch, you die." Stan rolled his eyes at the two and decided to just let it slide this one time.

"Ok then, first of all we're gonna need Liam to take the cocaine from the meet-up place that Scott told him to go to. En route to the creepy abandoned warehouse that you have to deliver it to, make sure you use this syringe to inject a microchip into the cocaine. It is nearly impossible to detect and shouldn't cost you any time. We don't want them to suspect anything if you are late because you stopped, even if you only stopped for 10 minutes." Stan said, motioning at different areas of the map as he did so. Liam nodded along to his words, his participation in the plan didn't seem like it was going to be too difficult to pull off. At least he wasn't going to have to kill anybody just yet, he was going to leave that to the trained professionals, thank you very much.

Newt picked up a small hard plastic case from off of the floor and placed it on top of the table. He opened the case with a scan of his thumb print and pulled the latches open to reveal the syringe. The inside of the case was cushioned with what looked to be velvet padding, nestled in the middle was a single glass syringe. It was very thin and almost resembled a pen. A pale blue liquid could be seen in the main body and the needle was discreetly hidden, new technology developed in secret allowed the needle to elongate from 1cm to 10cm.

Liam leaned across the table to get a better look at the syringe that was supposed to contain the microchip that he was meant to use. "Where is the microchip?" He asked, squinting his eyes to try and spot the minuscule piece of floating metal.

"Well it wouldn't be an undetectable microchip if you could see the bloody thing, would it?" Newt replied sarcastically. Liam blushed for what felt like the 50th time that day for the flustered man as his common sense took a moment to catch up with the rest of his thoughts.

"Well what does it do then?" Liam asked, swiftly trying to change the subject.

"It will allow us to track the cocaine once it has left your care and also has a powerful microphone inside that lets us hear what's being said. We can then record the audio and use it as evidence later on." Mitch answered him this time. Liam understood the gist of what was going on and nodded his head vigorously.

"Ok, we are gonna give you a controller that has a button on it. Once you get into the warehouse you need to press the button three times. This will send us a signal to alert us that you are in the warehouse." Stan continued, handing Liam a sleek black gadget that was about the size of a watch and had quite a large button in the middle of it.

"We'll take it from there so once you've given them the coke, we're gonna need you to leave the warehouse because even though you are helping us, you are still technically a civilian and Irene would eat us alive if we got a civilian killed." Mitch concluded, his eyes never leaving Liam's in an unwavering stare. Liam wasn't about to say it out loud but he was dead scared of Mitch, if Stiles and Mitch were stood side by side, he wouldn't even dream about them being the same person. Whenever he looked at Mitch one line always ran through his mind, 'pain makes us hurt but pain also makes us strong'. Liam knew that Mitch had seen and done some fucked up shit but it was slightly less fucked up than other people *cough* terrorists *cough* trying to nuke the world.

They were finally moving on from Stage 1 of the plan, may Stage 2 commence...

Chapter Text

Time skip to the following evening brought to you by Liam being a ticking time bomb with superpowers

Liam was leaning against his plain black Hyundai as he shared an uneasy look with Stan. It had been agreed that only Stan would be there so that if Scott picked up a scent off of Liam he wouldn't recognise it. Mitch and Newt were still in Mitch's apartment and were in charge of surveillance. They had access to a satellite feed to monitor any activity around Liam as he drove to the warehouse.

"Are you all set with what you have to do?" Asked Stan as Liam drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. He was sat in the drivers seat but had left the window rolled down so he could continue to speak with Stan.

"Yep I'm good, I know what I have to do." Replied Liam.

"Ok then kid, don't die."

Liam rolled his eyes at Stan's bluntness. "Thanks for the words of encouragement, you really are a great motivational speaker, have you ever thought about changing your career."

Stan raised an eyebrow at the usually shy and awkward puppy at his sarcastic outburst.

"Sorry, I get sassy when I'm nervous." Liam said sheepishly. Stan rolled his eyes and patted the roof of the car in what was supposed to be a 'good luck' way. Liam took a deep breath and started the engine of the car. Officially, no one knew that he was helping out the CIA so if things went to shit and Mitch or Newt didn't get there in time, it was going to be the end for Liam. He was about to break the law and help Deucalion and Scott smuggle drugs into the USA.

Liam pulled out of the driveway where Stan's form retreated until he could no longer see the man in question. It would take Liam roughly an hour to get to where the boat was bringing in the drugs, that was if there wasn't any traffic to slow him down. Although, to be honest, this was unlikely because it wasn't even dawn yet and so most people would still be in bed.

Time skip to when Liam gets to the docks.

As Liam pulled into to docks (or harbour), the first golden rays of the early morning sun started to appear over the horizon. A small boat was tied up to the jetty as two men sat and watched Liam park the car. One of the men got out of the boat and sauntered over to where Liam was parked. An AK-47 was loosely held in his hands and a pair of black Aviator Ray Bans obscured his eyes. Liam cautiously opened the car door as he stepped out, the man was only a couple of metres away and he put his hand up in a 'stop' motion. The man was tall, easily 6ft and had a balding head of hair. Both men were dressed in what looked to be Army-type uniforms donned with bulletproof vests.

"What is your name?" Asked the man in a thick Russian accent. Meanwhile, he spread Liam's arms and legs into the position of a starfish and started patting him down to check for any concealed weapons.

Liam hesitated for a beat, not wanting to give out his name to drug smugglers. "My name's Liam."

The man nodded in what seemed like approval, evidently he had been told to expect someone by the name of Liam to come. Deeming Liam to be clear and unarmed (with a gun, Liam could still shred the motherfucker to pieces with his claws, or even rip his throat out. With his teeth.), he motioned for Liam to walk towards the boat.

As Liam approached the boat, the other man stood up and his eyes seemed to dart over Liam's body, looking for weaknesses. Liam swallowed his nerves thickly as the two men put down their AK-47 and started unloading the boat. Crate after crate was hauled out of the small boat, the men were careful to keep their balance and do their best to not overturn the boat. Once they'd finally finished, about 10 crates of cocaine were piled up on the vacant docks. At least 50 kilos. And that is a hell of a lot of cocaine.

"We have honoured our end of the agreement and we received the payment for the job yesterday. If anything happens to the produce, it will be your fault as it is now your responsibility." Said the first Russian guy. Liam got the impression that either the other guy couldn't speak English or just plain old didn't want to.

«Давайте, нам пара уходить.» (A/N roughly translates to c'mon, it's time for us to go.) called out the second, who was approached also Russian, guy from behind the steering wheel. That answered Liam's question because now he kind of assumed that the second man couldn't speak English which was why he was so quiet.

Liam glanced at the crates and assumed that the men weren't about to stay and help him take them to his car. The longer they were there, the chances of them getting caught increased. The two unnamed men drive their little boat away from the jetty after untying it and made their way out to sea. If Liam squinted against the bright sunshine, he could just make out what looked to be a very large yacht, a 'mother' of the smaller boat. He guessed that this was where the two men came from.

Sighing, Liam started picking the crates up one by one and lugging them into his car. The meet time at the warehouse was 10 o'clock so he had plenty of time to get there, early morning traffic permitting of course. Liam gripped the steering wheel of his cocaine laden car and took a deep breath. It was time to go to the creepy, old, abandoned, very un-cliché warehouse that the drug deal was taking place in

Chapter Text

The roads were fairly quiet, the early morning rush to work yet to begin. Liam's fingers were tapping on the steering wheel nervously as he took slow deep breaths to keep himself calm. His anger issues had become more controllable after he learnt to accept it, his anchor became his anger. Derek had taught him how he learnt to cope with his anger after his pain of losing Paige, the younger beta had soon learnt how to control his anger without the need of his mantra 'the sun, the moon, the truth'.

Once Liam entered onto the main highway, he opened up the glove compartment and took out the black case that held the syringe with the microchip. Keeping half an eye on the road, he quickly scanned his thumb on the sensor and unlocked the case. The syringe lay there in all its glory as it glinted in the early morning light. Stan had made sure that Liam drove a car that was big enough to hold the cocaine but small enough that he would have to put a crate or two in the front seat. This granted him easy access to one of the small packages so he could inject in the small microchip. He didn't understand how the blue liquid wouldn't show up in the cocaine but science was never his strongest subject and he trusted that the CIA wouldn't try to purposely get him killed.

Liam picked up the syringe and quickly glanced at the road ahead to make sure there weren't any cars too close to him. He took the cap off of the needle and carefully inserted it into the plastic wrapping of the cocaine. The blue liquid pushed itself into the package as Liam watched in wonder at the completely unnecessary invention of a self-injecting syringe. I mean, was it honestly that difficult to press down on the button thingy at the top of the syringe?

Roughly 5 seconds later, the syringe had deposited the entirety of the blue liquid and the microchip into the pack of cocaine. Liam took out the syringe from the package and stuffed it back into the box, making sure to listen for the click of the lock as it shut. Once he was satisfied that everything had been completed, he gave his full attention back to the road.

The blaring of a horn made him wince as his oversensitive ears amplified the sound to an excruciating level. Liam's eyes widened as he realised that whilst he had been preoccupied with the microchip placement, he had been pressing down on the accelerator and had pushed the pedal, quite literally, down to the metal. He swerved the steering wheel to the left as the car that had alerted him to his worrying speed swerved right. Even though there were twin lanes on the highway (A/N I'm not entirely sure what a highway is actually like so imma assume it's like a motorway and roll with it), there was another car in front of him that he was about a metre from.

Liam slammed his foot down on the brakes as the car skidded to a halt. He clutched the steering wheel as he let out the breath he had been holding. A series of angry horns blared out at him for his reckless driving as he took a minute to examine his situation. As he looked out the window, after summoning the courage to open his eyes, he realised that he wasn't injured in any way and the car wasn't damaged. After collecting himself he gripped the steering wheel again and eased his way back into a steady speed.

Time skip brought to you by laziness

As Liam pulled up to the warehouse he noticed that there was only one other car there. A plain black Mercedes Benz. The main doors to the warehouse had been left wide open for Liam to drive through. Two man in black suits stood guard on either side of the door holding what looked to be heavy duty machine guns of some sort, Liam was new to the world of lies and deceit and had decided that it wasn't worth his time to learn the names of all the different types of guns that he could be up against. After all, if he was shot with a normal bullet, the chances of him healing quickly were very high.

The inside of the warehouse was completely empty as Liam brought the car to a standstill. He slowly got out of the car and used his heightened hearing to listed out for a heartbeat. Just as he thought he was getting a hint of something, his train of thought was interrupted.

"Are you Tom?" A female voice asked him from the shadows.

"No? Im not Tom, I'm Liam." Liam replied, slightly confused.

"Well then I guess you passed my first test then, didn't you Liam?" Said the voice with a chuckle.

"I-I- did?"

A figure stepped out from behind one of the columns and made its way towards Liam.

"Yes, Liam, you did. If you had said that your name was Tom, either you were in the wrong place, or you were lying."

Liam nodded his head once he understood what she meant about checking if he was an imposter or not.

"Well then, I don't know about you but I certainly do not have all day, so let's get down to business. Do you have the merchandise?" She asked. Liam turned around and open the doors of the car and pointed at the crates of cocaine inside of it. The lady nodded and motioned with her hand for her henchmen to start unloading it.

Once the car had been unloaded, the lady turned towards Liam one final time. "Well then, Liam, it had been a pleasure doing business with you."

"Er yeah, same goes to you." Liam replied, secretly screaming inside at how bóchala y he had managed to act throughout the whole ordeal. After their 'goodbyes' had been said, Liam got back into his car and drove out of the warehouse.

As soon as he was 3 miles away from it and he had double-checked that he wasn't being followed, he called Mitch to update him on his status.

*ring* *ring* *ri-

"Yes?" The gruff voice of Mitch came through the speaker of Liam's phone.

"I've done everything that I had to do with the micr-" Liam started but was interrupted by Mitch.

"Be careful about what you say on this line. We don't want some cunt to get valuable i information from listening in on our conversation. Anyway I'm just gonna cut to the chase, come here because you job isn't over yet."

Chapter Text

The revving of an engine woke Liam up from his light nap that he was taking on Mitch's couch. He sat up and rubbed his eyes to try and wake himself up, the nap had only lasted for 1 hour but felt like it had last 10 years.

Suddenly, the loud sound of a horn blasted into his ear and he jumped about 10 metres into the air before falling off of the couch and ending up in a crumpled heap on the floor. He rubbed the side of his body that had taken the brunt of the impact and he glared up at the perpetrator.

Liam opened his mouth to bare his wolf teeth before freezing up and looking sheepishly at Stan who was stood above him holding an air horn. Stan raised an eyebrow at the werewolf in a slightly challenging manner.

"You need to get your arse up, Mitch can get impatient and then you'll have to walk."

Liam nodded his head and scrambled onto his feet. He rushed over to the front door and slipped his shoes on before scrambling down the stairs and into the garage where Mitch was impatiently waiting for him.

As soon as Liam had climbed into the car, Mitch stepped on the accelerator and peeled out of the garage.

"Jesus fucking Christ Liam, you take forever to get ready. C'mon we've got to get going." Said Mitch, without even waiting for Liam's reply as the latter hastily grabbed at his seatbelt as he preferred himself alive, but it seemed Mitch's reckless driving had other ideas.

He swerved between the cars carelessly, narrowly avoiding a collision every time. Liam scrunched his eyes shut and braced his hand against the dash board. Mitch looked at Liam out of the corner of his eyes and smirked at the younger man's fear.

"Would you please stop your squirming and whimpering. You sound like a dog in heat." Taunted Mitch as he smirked at Liam's behaviour. Liam said nothing but blushed a brilliant cherry red that he would later claim was a response to the heat.

"We know that Scott is on edge because of all the shit that's going on right now so you must do your best not to anger him in case he reacts badly." Said Mitch, glancing over at Liam, who had stopped fidgeting and was now staring intensely at the road in front of him, almost as though he was spaced out, but Mitch knew that he was listening intently.

"If you wear the ring on your dominant hand it will probably make life easier for you. You need to try and get as close to him as you can without trying to force it, as that will look suspicious. A small scratch should be enough to sedate him for 10 minutes. The sedative should work in about 10 seconds and hopefully Scott won't remember that it was you that caused his blackout."

"Ok but I don't like the word 'hopefully'. What happens if he does remember that I caused his blackout? I'm not you, I won't be able to just murder him." Mitch's eyes hardened and his knuckles turned white as he clenched his hands against the steering wheel, Liam's sensitive hearing picked up the sound of his teeth grinding against each other. Liam winced.

"Is that what you think of me? That I'm some kind of heartless killer?" Asked Mitch. The words were quiet and deceptively calm, a mask perfected over a decade. Even though Mitch would never even dream about telling Liam how much his words hurt him, he couldn't deny that they did. Maybe Loki wasn't so wrong. Maybe love, both romantic and family, really was a dagger; a weapon to be yielded with care.

Liam looked at Mitch and his eyes softened slightly. "I don't think you are heartless. You can't be, I've seen the way you look at Newt and a heartless person wouldn't be capable of this emotions. But you can't deny that you are a killer. You are the American Assassin. Fearless, cold, deadly."

Mitch appreciated Liam's honesty but that doesn't mean that it didn't hurt just as much as if he had lied to him. He knew what he was, the reputation that he could not escape from, a reputation tediously earned. Being feared deterred the wannabes that looked for a bit of glory, but it fed the sharks that hunted to kill. Power invites conflict; you cannot have one without the other and that was Mitch's burden to bare. Around every corner, in every shady alleyway, there could be a someone who wanted him dead. The paranoia of becoming the prey was a weight on Mitch's mind but it was a weight that had kept him alive. Fear breeds caution, something that had allowed Mitch to survive as long as he had.

"I know that I might not have a job that requires a long list of morals but I'm doing it for good reasons. I mean, if you could kill one man and prevent him from killing a thousand other people, you would do it. Even though you think that murder is wrong, you would much rather have 1 death of your conscience than 1000." Mitch said, carefully picking his words.

Liam nodded along to what Mitch was saying, it seemed that Mitch's plan worked. "Well I suppose when you word it like that..." Liam trailed off, unsure of what to say next. He was brought out of his thoughts when Mitch pulled up to the side of the ride so that the Mustang was hidden behind some very inconspicuous bushes.

"Well then, we can talk about me going to Hell later but for now you should get going." Said Mitch, still looking out of the car and checking for any hazards. "Go now before anyone spots me here. " Ordered Rapp, his mind completely focused on the job at hand.

Liam opened the door of the car, muttered a quiet 'bye' and made his way to Scott's front door.

Chapter Text

Liam approached the plain white door and took a deep breath to steady his nerves before knocking on the door. He was aware of his heart pounding painfully against his rib cage and willed his body to act normally so that he wouldn't arouse Scott's suspicion.

The sun, the moon, the truth.

The same old mantra that he'd learnt all those years ago in the back of some crappy van with the sourwolf. He had never lost his 'time bomb' as Stiles used to call it, he had just learnt how to control when it detonated.

Liam strained his ears to listen to any movement within the building but however hard he strained he couldn't hear a thing. No heartbeat. No breathing. Nothing. He had half a mind to just turn around and get the hell out of there when black dots started to dance around the sides of his vision. Suddenly his knees felt like they were supporting the weight of the world and collapsed underneath him. As he lay there helplessly, his vision now more black than coloured, the face of Mr True Alpha swam in front of him.

"Tut tut Liam," mocked Scott "I had such high hopes for you. Y'know there was a time when I thought that perhaps you and Theo could be more than just acquaintances, lovers perhaps. But then you decided that you wanted to betray your pack, BETRAY ME! You know how I'm the world's best alpha Liam, and the world's best alpha loves to punish naughty betas."

Scott tied Liam's wrists and ankles together so that Liam was utterly helpless. The fucked up situation suddenly became a royally fucked up situation when Liam tried to shift to his wolf form, causing his eyes to flicker pathetically to a piss-yellow colour before his vision decided that it wanted to stop working.

Scott's POV

A sneer was evident on Scott's face as he proceeded to use all of his strength to haul Liam inside. The house itself had an old musty smell and dust covered the untouched surfaces. Scott dragged Liam towards the cupboard under the stairs which hid a hidden door to a basement, or a dungeon depending on your perspective.

He wedged the door to the basement open before dragging Liam to the opening. Scott took one look at the steep flight of stairs to the bottom and then glanced at the unconscious heap on the floor and decided that he couldn't be bothered to carry Liam down. So he gave him a shove and watched him bump his way  down the stairs instead.

When Scott got to the bottom of the stairs he proceeded to stuff Liam into the damp cell that he had modified for special... purposes. He scanned Liam's body to check for any serious injuries but none were present, that he could see at least. The sedative Scott had used was a mild one that about only last 10-20 minutes so he decided that he should use what little time he had left wisely. He tied Liam to a chair.

Liam's POV

A sharp pain in his forearm was the first thing that brought Liam to the world of the living. He tried to open his eyes but some asshole decided that he wanted to put Liam right in front of the sun in hopes of blinding him. After an adjustment period of just under 30 seconds, Liam was able to fully open his eyes and take in his surroundings, or lack thereof.

He was locked in a cell with bare grey walls and a grey steel chair, which he was conveniently tied to with wolfsbane infused ropes. Fun.

"Ah, you're awake is see." Hummed Scott from where he was trying to look intimidating as he leaned against the wall.

"No I'm sleeping with my eyes open cos I'm tryna keep an eye out for Selener." Replied Liam, proud of his comeback. Perhaps spending so much time around Mitch and Peter was doing wonders for his sarcasm.

"Look Liam, I'm a sadist so you know that I'm going to love watching you scream but I don't think you're going to enjoy this nearly as much as I will so I'll give you the option of leaving here now if you tell me everything or if not I'll bring out my toys to play with."

"Well firstly I might be a kinky son of a bitch and secondly you sound like your starting to hit on me. Like I'm getting very BDSM vibes from you. But Daddy you gotta chill." Liam smirked at Scott's bewildered expression. This was good. This was exactly what Liam wanted. Try and give Mitch as much time as he could to do something and keep trying to push getting tortured to later in his schedule.

It appears this plan did not work.

Scott now stood in front of Liam holding a pair of pliers that he whipped out from his jeans, because what normal person doesn't carry pliers around? Liam swallowed hard as Scott grabbed one of his fingers and brought the pliers up to the nail.

"Just tell me what you know and I'll stop" Scott taunted. Liam looked back at him defiantly, slightly confused because he knew that his nail would grow back because of his werewolf DNA, so why would Scott do this? How could Liam be so stupid. An unlimited supply of nail to remove, on teeth to pull, of skin to slice, of bones to break. The list went on and on and on. Liam had never explored having a pain kink before but it now looked like he was going to become Christopher fucking Columbus.

Chapter Text

Scott twisted the pliers about until he had a good grip on Liam's nail before making eye contact with the younger man. He would break the beta, even if it took all night. If there was one thing Scott thought he had, it was time.

Liam refused to be the first to break eye contact even though there was nothing that he want to do more than to just curl up in a ball and pretend that this was all a bad dream. But when Scott yanked, Liam couldn't pretend. His eyes watered as he looked down at the pliers that were now no longer near his finger. A single nail was held tightly in between the pincers, blood dripped from the jagged end of what used to be a nail bed and dripped onto the dirty floor.

The room swam in Liam's vision as pain shot up his arm. Before he even had a chance to catch his breath or calm down, he felt the now wet pliers on his next finger. He opened his eyes and saw Scott adjusting the pliers a second time before yanking and ripping out another nail. This one almost didn't seem as bad, the adrenaline coursing through Liam's veins helped numb the pain ever so slightly. At this point he was sure that he was delirious from blood loss and adrenaline, the feeling of a new nail growing where the original had just been ripped out sent stabs of pain up his arm. This was excruciating.

"Ohh Liam, 2 down, 8 to go..."

POV to Mitch

Unfortunately for dear Liam, Mitch was in a bit of a pickle. He had waited the designated 10 minutes until Liam was supposed to be out of the building, but 10 minutes came and went and no Liam was present. Mitch was no idiot and knew that something had to be wrong. After a quick call to Stan, they decided that it would be best if everything was checked out, discreetly, of course. So Newt had been sent out and was now stood next to Mitch.

"So what's the plan Mitchy?"

"Check the building for open windows, I think there's a basement and that's probably where we'll find them. Scott won't be armed so don't worry about that." Mitch was in his element, his trained eyes taking in his surroundings and his intimate knowledge of the area and Scott allowed him an insight Newt could only dream of.

"Why do you assume Scott won't be armed?" Asked Newt, a perfectly reasonable question as he wasn't about to charge at some psycho with a machine gun if he could help it.

Mitch smirked and rolled his eyes. "Scott is too self absorbed, he thinks that he's a god because he's a True Alpha so he doesn't see the need to lower himself to the point where he has to use pathetic human weapons."

Newt nodded along with what his Mitchy was saying, Scott's narcissistic nature lead to him making stupid decisions and making Mitch's life a hell of a lot easier.

Newt walked round the left of the building whilst Mitch walked around the right. They both had glocks tucked into the back of their trousers and a small blade strapped to both their ankle and their belts. Even though the likely hood that Scott would have a gun was less than zero, neither was prepared to take that chance.

Newt walked round the side and spotted one window that had a pane of glass missing. He neared it and carefully put his arm through the empty pane and tugged at the latch. The latch was rusted and dusty but with a bit of effort Newt managed to get it unlatched. Then he pushed up the window as carefully and slowly as he could, wincing when it screeched against the friction caused by weathering and age. When he got it high enough for him to fit through it a problem appeared, the window was too old and weak to support itself.

Newt carefully lowered the window down again and began to search for something strong enough to support the window for him to get inside. He jogged over the a small tree that was planted not far from the window. He knelt in the dirt and began to look for a stick big enough to hold the window up whilst he climbed through. The sound of a twig breaking to his left made him crouch defensively and rip his gun from his trousers.

“Newt,” Mitch sighed, “it’s not that I don’t love seeing you on your knees for me, but what are you doing?”

Newt blushed and stood up, put his gun back into the waistband of his jeans before clearing his throat. Mitch watched his Adam’s apple bob and felt something react inside of him at the delicious action.

“There’ll be time for that later Da- er- Mitch” Newt stammered.

Mitch’s eyebrows shot up and he slowly made his way over to Mitch. He stopped once he was 1 metre away and allowed his eyes to take over Newt’s body. Newt shifted his weight and fiddled with his hands, suddenly ver nervous and very turned on.

“Later.” Promised Mitch, “ we have a job to do.”

“Such a bloody tease.” Muttered Newt under his breath, however it was still very much loud enough for Mitch to hear. The latter gave Newt a look that told him his little comment would not be going unpunished.