Big Bad World

Chapter 1
Big Bad World

---

Chapter Description: A little darker than my usual stuff, but still full of fluff and whatnot once you get past the whole insane, murdering psychopath thing...Not exactly sure why I wrote this.

---

The second their eyes meet all he cares to see is fear.

Those tiny beads of sweat forming on their forehead, hugely dilated pupils, that delightful bobbing of their throat as they nervously swallow, the spasms of facial muscles as they try to appear impassive - a pitiful attempt at most - and the way their jaws clamp together… just seconds before the shiver-inducing thrill of a bloodcurdling scream.

But the best part? The part that really gets his heart pumping…

That instant when their wild flailing turns to jerky movements and their eyes flatten with defeat as they recognise, without a doubt, that this is the end; When their screams taper off into gurgles as blood begins to surge upwards and outwards, trickles of intelligent red, and they gag and splutter while he watches.

Truly, there is nothing better than those final moments.

Predator and prey, the superior and the weak. Natural selection or detailed targeting?

’See you later,’ he’ll cry cheerfully, a last goodbye stolen from grieving families. But what does he care? These people were choking on borrowed breath anyway.

Delinquency is understandably tempting when you’re safe in the knowledge that you won’t face any repercussions - when you appreciate how easy it is to get off scot-free - and for Alec Grayson, it’s like an addiction. An art, even. Innovative and electrifying and prosperous, all but drowning in riches.

He can choose not to live a life of crime, sure - but the problem is, he wants to. For Alec, it makes no difference who gets hurt in the process. As a matter of fact, the aftermath is generally more exhilarating than the wrongdoing or killing itself, although there is something remarkably tantalizing about holding the fate of someone’s survival in your hands.

Alec ends lives for kicks whenever the notion strikes him, and he has no intentions of nipping this little habit in the bud any time soon.

Truth be told, the criminal has killed a fair amount, too. More than any normal human being could possibly count, but then, he’s not exactly normal, is he? He has a tally, he keeps score. No-one is exempt from his games. Rich or poor, alone or surrounded, happy or miserable, Alec will snatch them up and there will be revelry and laughter and blood - dripping from one city to another.

It’s madness. It’s daring. It never, ever lasts.

Certainly, at first, it is oh-so-new and exciting for someone who sometimes feels as if they’ve seen it all. Stimulus is very important, you know. And his schemes provide that, if nothing else. Presents some distractions until inevitably, he grows bored once again.

And make no mistake, it is only ever a matter of time before he grows bored once again.

Highs and lows, dipping between overindulgence, marvelling in the wonders of the world, and this intense hatred for virtually everything, lashing out if only to show he can.

All those years nurturing his ego, sauntering around in the most conceited and sardonic way imaginable.

Not giving a fuck about anything.

Alec knows that no matter what he does, or how many a-holes he crosses, he can revel in the fact that essentially, in his indifference, he is untouchable.

Even when the hotshot, boy-wonder fresh out of the academy, Noah Wilder began poking his nose into his business, Alec could only gasp in delight, grin wider than he ever remembered grinning before, and gladly rise to the challenge.

Harmless fun. Hide and seek.

An impish yell, ’Honey, I’m hooomme,’ and aching, childish need.

It was simply fun - to watch the young federal agent pursue hoax leads and run around in circles like a silly widdle puppy chasing his own tail.

But this? This isn’t what he wanted at all.

It was never Alec Grayson’s plan to aim an unforgiving gun at a dark-haired, sniffling toddler, who was once the tall, muscular agent only minutes prior, - a plump, delectable little munchkin, really. Sweet enough to munch on - with a thoughtful finger idly massaging the trigger.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was unexpected. Entirely unexpected, which isn’t very fair; Alec doesn’t like surprises.

Oh, he loves giving surprises, but it’s no fun when you’re on the receiving end.

He was in the middle of a meeting with some burly simpletons - purely business, he can assure - and discussing the shipping of a new, untested drug he’d acquired through some of his more… scientific connections. The whacky, extremist kind, mostly. Though that’s never bothered him. Alec has been positively dying to get his hands on their latest experiment.

It had been going so well - tediously well-executed, if he’s sincere - when, all of a sudden, who should barge in but Noah Goddamn Wilder and his can-never-remember-his-name partner. Apparently, they’d been tracking him ever since he’d left some sleazy club two days ago.

How… wonderful. Someone’s clearly getting sloppy.

There was a struggle, of course, and a few, minor casualties. Listless bodies and gushing red. Nothing too out of the ordinary.

Then, the biggest one, Alaric, he thinks, got a hold of the his pet agent - was so deliciously rough. However, being the Neanderthal meathead that he is, Alaric wasted no time jamming a needle into Noah’s thigh, whilst another crony tied his immaterial little friend down and ducktaped his mouth.

It was all very unfortunate.

Do-gooder that he is, Alec did protest, but by then… it was too late.

The deed was done. And he stood back and stared as his only real rival began to shrink.

Inches melt away by the minute, arms getting skinnier, shorter, then stubbier, sleeves slipping and swinging limply by his sides. His thick hair turns finer while his harsh features soften, sculpted jaw smoothening and disappearing into a fattening babyish face, lips becoming fuller and puckering against rounding cheeks. The one day old stubble rapidly fades away before all-too-abruptly not a hint of fuzz remains.

As his shoulders arch inwards and contract with a shudder, Noah grips his stomach and cries out, breaths coming in tight, painful gasps. His clothes get looser and looser, pants bundling at his feet as his belt hit’s the floor with a quiet chink.

It’s horrifying, fascinating, the most incredible thing he’s ever seen.

Within minutes, Noah is left standing as a tiny tot, wearing a blank, dazed expression which speaks volumes for his deteriorating state of mind, and Alec suddenly feels a cutting tightness around his chest as he realises with a start that he was all alone.

No more races to save innocents. No more games of cat and mouse.

Alone - one word he swore he would never, ever use. Certainly not aloud. Certainly never something he would confide in anyone else.

They were kindred spirits. They had something. Together. A connection. Bound by their craving to outwit the other. Well, in Noah’s case, it was more about catching a ruthless, murdering bastard, but eh, details.

But now the dog-with-a-bone, annoyingly noble Noah has been reduced to a pathetic, drooling idiot of puerility. And he wonders what’s the point.

Hence, the gun. His steely resolve. And an admittedly trigger-happy finger.

Usually, when he’s wound up, Alec gets vengeance or plays a naughty, little prank, which may involve a touch of collateral damage - but that’s not really an option now.

The Nameless one is thrashing violently in the corner against his restraints and while vaguely amusing at first, this partnered with his muffled bellows is turning out to be rather irritating, grating on his sensitive eardrums. So irritating, in fact, that it is distracting him from his murderous intent.

"SHUT UP!" he finally roars, swivelling around with enraged eyes. "Just SHUT UP. Can’t you see I am trying to think?!"

With noisy, clipped exhales, Nameless gazes back at him, stunned.

Falling back on his heels, Alec shoves a hand through his hair, straightens his cuffs and subtly readjusts his tie, before breathing a slightly shaky sigh and saying blithely, "Now was that so hard?"

He doesn’t answer. Of course, he doesn’t.

But it angers him all the same. Striding forward, he crouches down in front of the other man, leans in uncomfortably close to face, and lowers his voice to a measured, menacing whisper, "I said... was that so hard?"

Without warning, he viciously rips off the tape.

Stifling a moan, Nameless glares up at him, but says with admirable neutrality, "Please just let him go. He’s only a kid. Wilder isn’t a threat to you anymore."

A deep, hearty chuckle erupts from Alec’s chest. "Is this an attempt to appeal to my humanity?" he questions, and as light-hearted and playful as it sounds on the surface, there is an undercurrent to his tone that is dangerously brittle. Especially as he thrusts the butt of the gun into the hollow of the man’s throat.

Nameless swallows thickly.

"Because, I assure you," he grins, "You’ll be bitterly disappointed. If you’re looking for guy-who-gives-a-damn-of-the-year, I’m hardly the perfect candidate." Amusement flickers in his eyes.

"Spare him," Noah’s partner pleads, voice cracking. "Please. Let us leave and you’ll never have to hear from either of us ever again, I swear. I am begging you - please don’t hurt him."

The criminal smirks cruelly.

Tilting his head to the side, he furrows his brows and sourly ponders, "But what if I don’t want there to be an Agent Wilder that’s not my Agent Wilder?"

Nameless reels back in surprise, blurting, "What?"

Half-shrugging in an overly careless manner, he explains, "As you have so kindly pointed out, he’s a child. A stupid, dependant child. He’s of no use to me like this. And if I can’t have him, well…" His voice takes on a colder note as his fixed stare hardens with a remorseless, almost voracious glint. "I think you get the picture."

"But he is still Wilder," the other man argues desperately. "Nothing’s changed in that regard!"

"Everything’s changed," Alec snaps. Then he arranges a tight, little smile that’s all barbed wire and pointed daggers. "So you see, I don’t have a choice. I have to kill him."

At this point, he sounds almost apologetic, forehead crinkled in a way that is certainly not sincere, blinking guilelessly. "I apologise for whatever inconvenience or heartache this must cause you. But I simply cannot let him go."

And he isn’t merely talking about setting him free.

"Please don’t do this," Nameless implores, giving his ropes another tug. "You don’t have to do this." Risking a glance over at the miniature agent who is currently cramming a tiny, slobber-coated fist into his mouth and mindlessly chomping, he murmurs wistfully, "He won’t let you do this."

"Oh, he won’t let me, will he? That’s interesting. Interesting choice of words there. What devious plan is the FBI’s big bad bitch concocting now, pray tell? Is he going to… what?" Alec pauses with a malicious sneer, waggling his brows. "Cry? Tell on me?" His eyebrows jump in patronizing alarm. "Throw a spectacularly trying tantrum? Gah," he cries theatrically, recoiling, "I can already taste defeat!"

Straightening, Alec grins a mischievous yet brutal grin and scoffs, nothing short of mocking, "Don’t be silly, agent. I never figured you guys for the wishful type."

"You need him," Mr. Anonymous counters, confident and defiant, "You need him to win. This…this, right now, it isn’t winning. He’s not an opponent like this; even in this form, Wilder is still the only person that you will ever enjoy competing with. Neither of you have proved who’s got the upper-hand, neither of you have been outdone. And if you kill him, you will always feel incomplete, forever wondering if you ever had a chance to begin with."

Nostrils flaring, Alec bites, furious, "You," he rams the gun closer, "Need to remember who you are speaking to. Unbalanced psychopath with a gun, remember? So I would be careful, if I were you." The criminal makes a sharp slashing gesture across his throat, lip curling. "Else you’re toast."

The other man sets his jaw. "It only bothers you because it’s the truth."

Alec sits back, considering this as he rubs his chin with the head of the gun, feeling the coolness press against his flesh, the weight of the weapon in his hands. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Noah. Wriggling bare toes and kicking out from a puddle of clothes. His lower lip is puckering in frustration while his watery eyes brim over, salty tears trickling down his face as he whimpers. And it hits him, suddenly. All at once.

Alec narrows his eyes, clucks his tongue, hums a pleasant tune. He pensively smacks his lips, cocks his head, thinks it through.

He will not be alone.

He refused to be.

Suddenly throwing back his head, Alec groans loudly. "Ugh! Fine! Ruin all of my fun, why not? I don’t even care anymore!"

Nameless blinks, incredulous and cautiously optimistic. "Wh-what?"

"Don’t sweat it, darling. You didn’t seriously think I was going to murder an itty bitty child, did you? I would never allow harm to come to a child," he says, as if scandalised. "Honestly. Just look at those big blue eyes, Agent. Aren’t they adorable? He’s so adorable, I think I might even hurl. Don’t you just want to pick him up and squeeze him within an inch of his life, Agent?" Alec asks, rising to his feet. "So cuddly and cute and oh so innocent." He claps his hands together. "It’s marvellous."

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, his partner coughs, "Uh, marvellous?"

"Oh, yes." He beams. "Very much so."

He steps towards the small bundle, gun clattering to the ground. Rosy cheeks and floppy, dark hair falling into large, inquisitive eyes.

"What-what are you doing?" the other man demands, panicked. "Stay away from him! Don’t-don’t you dare touch him!"

Ignoring him, Alec kneels down beside the little boy and trails his fingers lazily through the youngster’s fine hair, lips twitching. Reaching for him under his armpits, he plucks him from the warm clothes pile and cradles the young child close (who is swathed in a large, crisp white shirt), pressing his forehead against the little one’s and breathing in deeply. It is a heavy, musky scent, entwined with rust and damp. Across the boy’s cheek there is a bright smear of blood, - residue from the fight, he’s certain, - which Alec gently rubs away with his thumb.

"Good boy," he smiles, tweaking the toddler’s nose.

Almost instinctively, Noah gives a tearful, sleepy snuffle and burrows his head into the man’s chest, nuzzling into the crook of his neck and tiredly pushing his thumb between his lips as Alec soothingly pats his back.

There is an infinitesimal twitch in his cold, dead heart that he quickly dismisses as indigestion.

"Don’t worry, lil’ guy," he murmurs lowly, bouncing him lightly. "Daddy’s got you now. I won’t let anything happen to you."

Meanwhile, Nameless dude all but gapes in shock, managing to unintelligibly splutter, "W-what? You can’t seriously-what the hell are you-" But all of his objections fall on deaf ears - white noise against his quiet moment of truth.

This child is forever his to mould and shape. No-one can take him away from him now. No-one. Not ever.

"You’re mine now, Noah. All," Alec smirks, makes a gleeful popping sound, "Mine."

 

---