Chapter Text
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A guy in a black skull mask emerges from the hallway and regards Ray for a moment before speaking.
“You’re the new hire, huh?”
The reply is on his lips before he thinks about what he just heard.
“Yep, I’m bringing the Puerto Rican thunder.”
And then his arm starts burning, right where neat black print has been sitting on his skin since the second he turned sixteen years old.
But the man in the mask? He doesn’t flinch, stiffen, or give any kind of indication that Ray’s response are the words he’s been waiting to hear for years. This must be the wrong guy, is all. His words could come from anyone, but the words he said to the mask guy? Not so much.
He tries not to let the disappointment show on his face.
“Where’d you get that Diet Coke?”
Skull mask is pointing at the can Ray’s holding. He’s been taking swigs every few minutes to ease his nerves.
“Uh, the fridge,” Ray replies. “I’m waiting for Geoff. He told me to help myself to…” He hooks his thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of the kitchen.
The man nods. Ray turns his attention back to his phone, but he knows it’s only going to be a few seconds before he gets bored of the same ten posts that he’s already read fifty times since he got here. He tries to focus on not letting his hands twitch. He’s more than used to sitting in one place for hours at a time without being able to move, for one reason or another. Such is the life of a sniper. But when he has to sit still, he usually has his rifle sitting in his arms, and a scope to peer through. Here, in the living room of one of the most expensive penthouses in the city, all he has is the weight of his sidearm tucked into his jeans and a nervous fidget in his fingers that simply refuses to be suppressed.
How long is he going to make Ray wait ? He’s started another nervous rhythm against his thigh. Partway through the arc of swinging the can back up to his mouth, something interrupts him. A hand with a vice grip jerks his arm back. By the time Ray’s instinctive reaction- Fight your way out and run- has kicked in, the mask guy has ripped the can from his hand and released him, backing away a few steps. Probably anticipated Ray’s response, which is him standing up so suddenly that the little kitchen stool he was seated on is sent flying backwards, and pointing his sidearm at the dude’s head.
He seems unperturbed by this. Just stares at Ray through the shadowy eyeholes of the mask, holding the can against his chest like he’s trying to protect it, or something.
A door shuts. Ray is snapped out of his trance and instantly lowers his weapon when he realizes who has entered the room. Geoff Ramsey, his brand new boss, fixes the mask guy with a very unimpressed look.
“Ryan.” He says. “Why is the new guy pointing a gun at you?”
Was, Ray wants to correct. He settles for tucking the gun back into his waistband and carefully watching skull mask. “He drank my Diet Coke.” Skull mask points at Ray. Er, guess his name is Ryan? It doesn’t fit. The dude is wide and imposing enough on his own, but the leather jacket and full head mask really make having a name like Ryan seem ridiculous and out of place. Like, watch out for the new world-dominating threat, Steve from Accounting .
“Dude. I’ll buy you more. Don’t assault the new hire.”
Ryan shrugs lamely and lowers his arms to his sides. He’s still holding the can. Geoff turns his gaze to Ray, and he realizes that his boss just walked in on him pointing a firearm at another employee. At least, he thinks that’s what Ryan is? It’s that, or Geoff is into weird kinky gimp stuff.
“Sorry about that. Ryan’s touchy about his soft drinks.” He says it like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Still, the tension doesn’t leave Ray’s shoulders. “Come on, lemme show you the briefing room.”
---
After the meeting, Geoff insisted on treating Ray to pizza. Seconds after they send some sweaty teen off with a tenner, a door in the hall opens and shuts, and two unfamiliar men emerge into the main living space.
“Pizza!” One cries. Ray notes his British inflection and almost comically large nose.
“Yay, grub!” The other cheers. This one is slightly familiar to Ray; he’s pretty sure he’s seen those russet curls and dark eyes before, somewhere. Probably heard of him through the vine. Ray thinks his specialty might be explosives, or something? Whatever. If it’s important, Geoff or someone will tell him.
The British one is practically climbing up Geoff’s side in his attempts to reach the boxes, which Geoff is now holding high above his head. Their struggle ends when the British one hops up and gets a grip on one and tears it from Geoff’s grasp, immediately running off into the dining area with it. “Cocksucker!” Geoff calls after him.
The second man seems to notice Ray. “Oh, hey,” he says. “Are you the new guy?”
Ray nods. There’s retching from the other room.
“Anchovies?!” The British one yells. Ray almost snorts with how offended he sounds.
“That’s right! Get the fuck away from my pizza, you prick!” Geoff yells, then turns his attention back to Ray and the other man. “Michael, this is Ray, our new sniper. Ray, this is Michael.”
Ray shakes Michael’s hand. He catches a flash of white lettering on Michael’s forearm. Already met his soulmate, then. “I’m the explosive guy. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, man.” Ray replies.
The British one barrels back into the room and Michael releases Ray’s hand to snag him by the hoodie. “Gavin, this is the new sniper.” He cocks his head toward Ray.
The British- Gavin. Gavin looks him up and down and shoots Michael a look like he’s trying to figure out if he’s being fucked with. “This guy? He’s a kid!”
“Hey,” Ray protests automatically. “I’m twenty-two.”
Gavin snorts. Michael gently whaps him on the back of the head, and Gavin immediately returns the gesture. A slap war breaks out. Then, they’re grappling. And then, they’re on the floor, full-on wrestling.
Geoff sighs. “Come on, let’s go eat this shit before it gets cold.”
Ray is eager to accept his offer. This place is fucking weird.
---
They’re joined at the table a few minutes into the meal by a tall man with an impressive beard who doesn’t so much as look at Ray until he has half a slice shoved in his mouth. After taking a few seconds to chew, the man turns his head to meet Ray’s eyes and smiles warmly at him. He introduces himself as Jack.
Ray knows who Jack is. Geoff Motherfucking Ramsey’s second and co-runner of the entirety of Southern California? Yeah. He knows him. Still, Ray shakes his hand at an awkward angle over the table and says his name back, like he’s supposed to.
“The new sniper?” Jack asks, but he’s looking at Geoff, not Ray. Ray thinks that’s a good thing, if the ever-so-slight irritation lacing his voice and eyes is anything to go by.
“Jeremy followed him on his last few jobs. Says he hit his target through a moving car’s open window from 1500 yards away.”
Ray had figured out that the guy was one of Ramsey’s men right away. Otherwise, he would have shot him one of the many times Ray caught sight of him in a doorway, walking the same way at a street light, standing casual as can be across the road. He’s tempted to advise Geoff on who to choose for tailing missions- it was the guy’s short stature that gave away his repeated presence- but he decides to hold his tongue. For now.
Jack seems distracted by Geoff’s claim. It’s true, except the distance was more like 1800 yards. Not record sniping, but hey, it got the job done. “That’s fucking insane,” he says, turning back to Ray. “Who the hell taught you to shoot?”
Ray shrugs and studies his hands. Not a story he’ll be telling tonight. After a few awkward seconds, Geoff mercifully clears his throat and changes the topic. “Were Michael and Gavin making out in there when you came in?” He cocks his head back toward the living area.
Ray’s about to laugh at the idea when he sees Jack grimly nodding. “Gavin’s pants were halfway down and Michael’s shirt was nowhere to be seen. I kicked them back to their room.”
“Literally, I hope,” Geoff mutters. “They’ve already got two strikes for fucking on my floor.”
As if on cue, the two enter the dining room looking equal parts dishevelled and blissfully satisfied. This time, Michael’s wearing only a fitted t-shirt instead of his zip up hoodie from earlier, which Gavin is now adorned with. It’s funny, because Michael’s shorter, so the sleeves end before reaching his wrist. In spite of this, the main body still hangs off of his frame loosely.
Gavin looks smug as hell as he helps himself to some pepperoni and plops down at the table. Michael just seems relaxed as he follows suit.
“I am this goddamn close,” Geoff says, holding two fingers with maybe an inch between them, “to banning foreplay in the livingroom. Do not test my patience.”
Gavin sticks his tongue out. “You’re just mad because you can’t get it up without old man pills.”
Geoff goes red. Ray’s not sure if it’s embarrassment or anger. All he knows is that this place is really, really fucking strange. “Oh, I’m sorry, what was that? I’m pretty sure you’re the one who came and cried on me for two hours last month because you accidentally took one too many benadryl and thought your dick was going to fall off.”
Now it’s Gavin’s turn to flush. He looks at Michael, as if beckoning him to come to his defense. Michael only laughs at him and steals a piece of mushroom from his slice.
Jack apparently picks up on his discomfort. “Sorry, Ray. We’re not usually this…” He trails off, looking around him. “Okay, actually, we are usually this fucking idiotic. But you’re a part of it now, so, congratulations.”
He’s first appreciative of the apology, then immediately resentful when all of the attention falls back on him. Gavin perks up like he just saw a new toy at the bottom of the bin and leans forward with his elbows planted on the table. “That’s right! Roy! The new guy!”
“Ray,” he corrects.
“Ah, like X-Ray! Do people ever call you that?”
“X-Ray? No.”
Gavin grins. “New nickname!”
Ray rolls his eyes. “Yeah, let’s see if that sticks.”
Jack is shooting him an apologetic look, and suddenly all of Ray’s confidence that this ‘new nickname’ will be forgotten along with his real name the next time Gavin gets laid fades away. Or, did he even really know that it’s the fucking that made him mix up the name in the first place? Frankly, he’d rather he didn’t know that they had fucked at all, but beggars can’t exactly be choosers.
But, then again, Ray’s hardly a beggar. “Are you guys always this open about banging dudes?”
He regrets the words the second they leave his mouth. There are suddenly four sharp gazes trained on him. Each belongs to a man who knows a hundred ways or more to kill him with their bare hands, and he has no doubt that at least two of them are armed right now. His little pistol will do nothing against four men in close proximity. This is why he is a sniper; he can handle himself in close combat, but if he’s faced with more than one opponent at a time, he knows he’s in trouble. From a distance, he can take out any threat with ease and never have a single hair on his head disturbed.
Geoff not-so-gently tosses his pizza back onto his plate and crosses his arms. “You got a problem with us banging guys?”
Jesus, Ray’s heart is beating fast, now. “No,” he chokes out. “No, of course not. That was- Not the best choice of words. My bad.” Jack, Michael and Gavin seem to relax somewhat, but Geoff remains stiff and unnervingly cold.
“You sure about that?”
“Absolutely.” Ray doesn’t have to think long about pulling out the best piece of evidence he has. “I’m gay, so that would be pretty fucking dumb.”
Geoff peers at him for another four seconds, then completely relaxes and goes back to munching on his pizza. Ray lets out his breath slowly and internally berates himself for making such a careless comment.
He thinks this topic is passed until Gavin drags it back. “You’ve met your soulmate?” He asks. It’s actually pretty common for people to realize they’re gay after meeting their soulmate and finding that they’re the same gender, but that’s definitely not how it went for Ray. No, he did things the traditional way- looking too long at Calvin Klein ads, watching sports with rapt attention even though the activities bore him, and finally listing his symptoms to google and spending a week watching as much gay porn as he possibly could to make up for lost time.
Ray shakes his head. “Still waiting.”
It’s kind of rude to continue pushing him, but Gavin doesn’t seem too concerned about manners. “What are your words?”
“Gavin,” Michael smacks his arm. “Don’t be a dick.”
“Oh, right. Here, look at mine!” Ray finds a pasty arm thrust into his face.
In neat white block print are the words ‘ That’s not my name, nose guy. ’
His confusion must show on his face, because Michael rolls his eyes and presents his own arm for Ray to read.
‘Nice to meet you, explosives guy.'
“Michael has to make up for being mean to me for the rest of our lives!” Gavin’s smug smile has returned.
“Like hell I do. And besides, that doesn’t give you the right to go around prying about other people’s soulmates, shithead.” Michael says, but he’s smiling, too.
“No,” Ray interjects before Gavin can begin his indignant reply. “No, it’s fine. Doesn’t bother me. I’ve never gotten why some people are so touchy about it.” He rolls up his sleeve and sets his arm on the table, watching their faces so he can judge when they’ve finished reading.
Only, they both look confused. So do Geoff and Jack, who are leaning around the two so they can read. “Ray,” Jack says carefully. “Didn’t you say you haven’t met your soulmate?”
“Yeah?” Ray looks down at his arm and instantly understands why he asked. In one moment, it’s as if all of the breath has been ripped from his lungs and his heart has stopped beating.
The same print that almost everyone has adorns his skin in pearly white. ‘ You’re the new hire, huh?'
White.
It’s white.
“Fuck.” Ray lets the word slip before he can regain his composure. He tries to convince himself to withdraw his arm, to push his sleeve back down and escape until he can sort through what this means, but all he does is sit and stare blankly at those familiar words, now suddenly so alien to him.
“Did you not… hear them?” Geoff asks.
“No, I did,” Ray replies almost dreamily.
“Then why did you think you hadn’t met them?”
“Because,” Drawls a deep voice from the door. Ryan is leaning against the frame, regarding them all through his mask. “When I said them, he didn’t bother checking.”