[Tom Hendricks' POV]
With Jason away on assignment and Leo gone AWOL yet again, the house had settled into an unusual calm. I'd like to say I was enjoying the solitude, but the feeling of Gwen's omnipresence was a constant. Even when I didn't call for her AI assistance, it often felt like she was lurking just beneath the surface, monitoring everything.
Slouched deep into my leather sofa, I lazily flipped through the channels. The dull glow of the television lit the otherwise dimly lit living room. I stopped when I landed on a breaking news broadcast. The anchor's voice was sharp, urgent.
"Breaking news out of Coast City: Mayor Daniels was assassinated earlier today by an unidentified assailant. Investigations are underway, but authorities have no leads at this time."
The corner of my mouth twitched into a faint smirk. No leads, huh? Of course, they didn't.
The hit had been clean, professional. That's why I hired Deadshot. Daniels had been in the way of Mr. Gray's ambitions, and now there was a vacant mayoral seat just waiting to be filled. Once I pulled the right strings as Ghost, Gray would take his place. A usurper, but one who owed me big. And the favors I could extract from Gray and his network? The possibilities had me smirking like Lex Luthor when he gets a new toy.
As I considered my next move, my phone buzzed on the coffee table. Jason's name flashed across the screen, accompanied by one of his typically sarcastic texts:
["Weird having to report to my bro over text and then officially to Ghost with Slade. Anyway, we've got a plan. Details soon."]
I smirked, shaking my head. Jason always had a way of cutting through the tension. I started typing out a response, hunting for the perfect weird GIF to send back, when Gwen's calm, serene voice interrupted my thoughts.
"You have a visitor at the door," she informed me, her tone neutral but precise.
"Who is it?" I asked, already knowing she'd pull up the camera feed before I finished the question
The TV screen flickered, replacing the news with a live feed of my front porch. My stomach did a small flip when I saw who it was. Rachel. She was standing there, her slender hand hovering near the doorbell as if she were debating whether to press it.
"What the hell is she doing here unannounced?" I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. It wasn't that I didn't want to see her—it's just that I'd been deliberately avoiding her.
The doorbell rang, the sound cutting through the house. I sighed, got up, and opened the door. There she was, her deep violet hair catching the faint porch light, her piercing eyes locking onto mine. She looked beautiful, even if there was a hint of frustration—or was it hurt?—in her gaze.
"Hey, sweetie," I said, leaning in to kiss her. She allowed it, but there was a stiffness in her lips, a quiet tension I couldn't ignore. I stepped aside, gesturing for her to come in.
She entered without a word and made her way to the living room. She sat on the sofa, her posture rigid, arms crossed tightly over her chest. I followed, hesitating for a moment before sitting down beside her.
"You didn't tell me you were coming," I said, trying to sound casual, but even I could hear the defensiveness in my tone.
"Well," she began, her voice low but steady, "you left me a vague text saying you'd be 'busy for a while,' and then nothing. I haven't heard from you all week, Tom. What was I supposed to do? Wait around forever?"
"I've had… things to take care of," I replied, avoiding her gaze.
Her eyes narrowed, and her voice sharpened. "You've had things to take care of? That's your excuse? You seem pretty free to me right now, so why don't you explain it to me?"
I shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through my hair. "I can't."
Her jaw tightened. "But you told me about being that tyrannical lunatic, Ace. You trusted me with that, Tom. Why can't you tell me what's going on now?"
I hesitated. How could I tell her that my "busy" schedule involved coordinating hits and managing an underground empire? That I wasn't just Ace the Tyrant, the so-called menace to society she knew, but also Ghost, a crime lord playing a much darker game an hero shouldn't be aware of? There were things even Rachel, with her magical powers, didn't need to know.
"It's complicated," I said finally.
Her expression softened for just a moment before the frustration bled back in. Her voice cracked as she asked, "Is it me? Is it because you don't… like me anymore? Have you lost your feelings for me?" Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her hands trembling slightly as they clenched her shirt.
For the first time since arriving in this world, my chest tightened. "No. No, no, no. Baby girl, that's not it." I reached for her hands, holding them firmly. "It's not you. I swear."
"Then what is it, Tom?" she demanded, her voice breaking. "You've been distant, cold, like I don't even exist anymore. Do you know how much that hurts?"
"I know," I said softly, the odd feeling of guilt clawing at me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I've just been… dealing with a lot."
Her gaze didn't waver. "Then let me help you. Whatever it is, we can handle it together. But I need you to trust me."
I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But I couldn't drag her deeper into my mess, into the lies and blood that stained my hands. Instead, I leaned in, pressing my forehead against hers. "I do trust you, Rachel. More than anyone. But there are some things I can't share. Not yet."
Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she closed her eyes, taking a shaky breath. "Okay," she whispered. "But you can't shut me out forever, Tom. I won't wait around in the dark."
"I know," I murmured, brushing a tear from her cheek. "And I promise, when the time is right, I'll tell you everything."
For now, it was enough to hold her close, to let her feel my presence even as I kept my secrets buried. But deep down, I knew this wasn't a problem I could ignore for long.
- - -
[Jason Todd's POV]
"Gustavo, that's his name," Dante informed us, his tone clipped as he finally dropped the name of the FBI mole who'd gone rogue.
I raised an eyebrow, leaning back in my chair with a smirk. "Gustavo? Really? I swear, every time I hear that name, I think, man, Spanish folks really have a limited name catalog. Walk into any bar tonight, and I guarantee I'll find at least two guys named Gustavo."
Slade's eye twitched as he turned to glare at me. "Quiet, kid," he muttered, his voice low but firm. Meanwhile, Dante chuckled, clearly more amused than he should've been.
"Anything else we should know?" Slade asked, his no-nonsense demeanor cutting through the momentary levity. He wasn't here for jokes, and, to be honest, neither was I.
Dante rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. "Gustavo's not your typical agent. He's got a… peculiar hobby. Guy's obsessed with collecting rare artifacts. Not the kind you find at a flea market, either. We're talking ancient tribal relics—stuff that belongs in a museum."
I snorted. "Of course. A rogue FBI agent with a side gig as a wannabe Indiana Jones. Just when I thought this couldn't get weirder."
Slade shot me a sharp side-eye. "Focus, Todd."
I threw up my hands in mock surrender. "I'm just saying, the guy's got layers. Like an onion. A really shady onion."
Dante, trying to stifle a grin, added, "He's spent a small fortune on his collection. Rumor has it, he's even got some shady connections overseas to get the rarer pieces. It's a point of pride for him—almost an obsession."
"Obsession, huh?" Slade muttered, his tone calculating. "That might be something we can exploit."
"Anything else?" Slade pressed.
Dante and Miguel exchanged a glance before shaking their heads. "That's all we've got for now. Gustavo's been keeping a low profile, at least publicly. But if he's our leak, he's clearly staying busy behind the scenes," Dante said.
I tapped my fingers on the table, an idea forming in my head. "Alright, how about this: one more shipment. You set up a delivery to a location we choose, somewhere we can control. If the FBI shows up again, we can scout their operation. See how they're tracking you—and maybe even bait Gustavo out."
Slade tilted his head, considering the suggestion. I gave him a subtle nudge with my elbow, hoping he'd back me up.
"I agree," he finally said, his gravelly voice carrying weight.
Miguel leaned forward, nodding. "It'll cost us, but it's a sound plan. If we don't figure out how they're targeting us, we'll lose more in the long run. I say we give it a try, amigos."
Dante stroked his chin, his eyes narrowing as he weighed the risk. After a tense moment, he gave a sharp nod. "Alright. Let's do it. We'll coordinate the details, but this is your show now. If you're confident, we'll follow your lead."
I exchanged a glance with Slade. It was time to move. No more sitting around. This was the opening we needed to unravel the mystery of the mole and take Gustavo down.
As we stood to leave, Dante called after us. "One more thing. Be careful. Gustavo might seem like a guy with a strange hobby, but he's dangerous. He's got connections and the resources to be a real threat. Don't underestimate him."
I flashed him a smirk. "Dangerous guys with weird obsessions? Sounds like a Tuesday to me."
Slade shrugged, brushing past me as we headed for the exit. "I never knew you could be this chatty, Todd. You're perfect for infiltration."
"I am only trying to lighten the mood up a little so they don't feel so tensed around us, but feel a sense of trust." I replied with a straight face.
"Hmmm~."
It was time to plan. Time to bait the rat. Time to make Gustavo regret ever becoming a problem for Ghost.