It had been a while since Red could honestly say he pulled off an heist, so maybe that was why he was currently sitting in his room surrounded by papers detailing the blueprints, gaurds shift, security systems, ventilation system and every other fine detail he could locate.

He wasn't planning to take much but what he intended to take would be enough to get them out of the country- a necessary Nigel likely wouldn't be happy with- once he rouge got around to telling him- but they couldn't stay any longer with the Ministry, Dumble's Order and Death Eaters out on the prowl for the famous and now knowingly missing: Harry Potter.

They needed to leave England and preferably yesterday but then rose of the question of where to go and when actually he should inform the other two of the need to leave. Of course he would have told them sooner but...

Well they never would approve of his self appointed mission, Espically if they knew he planned to steal intel from a top security military base to sell.

At best they would start a fight and then ingore his existance.

At worse... Well They would start a fight, demand he return the intel then all but vanish into thin air- leaving all three of them vurnable with no way out of country and higher chance of Rockgut being fount, taken back and Oblivated or Killed- depending on who fount him first.

It was best they never knew. Which left the whole heist and every detail of planning and eventually the Break-In/Theft itself onto his own shoulders and his alone...

A soft sigh left the rouge, the things he did for His Agents.

Black Markets weren't for the weak of heart.

The rouge pushes his way through the crowd making sure no wondering hands manage to find their way into his pockets. Thieves where common around here and were fully capable of stealing the clothes off your back without you even noticing if one wasn't cautious. He pays the slavery no mind as he pushes his way past a man attempting to persuade him into buying a naked child. The rouge is a lot of things but he wasn't the sort to dirty children.

There are other vendors and merchants who attempt to sell what they believe to be a grown rouge haired man their services but Red ignores them all. He's here for one thing and one thing only. Once he acquires that the Russian does not plan to stick around.

The deal goes rather well, there are not attempts against his being or to underpay him. The Russian blames his looks. Mr. Red while a very private person had been well known in this field to his clients. If he's honest, the rouge is half disappointed they didn't try anything but five hundred grand for a flash drive would place anyone within a good mood. The cuff of tight around his wrist as the rouge keeps his grip even tighter on the suitcase's handle while slipping through the crowds once more. Once he's out of here, he plans to check the money and place it within a book bag before dumping the case in a river- never could be too careful in this line of work.

Red leaves without any major issues. All the while never noticing a matching pair of sharp golden eyes watching him.


Though he wants to know, the rouge eyed boy doesn't permit himself to question where the Russian incarnate got the money from. It doesn't really matter and he's probably better of not knowing- possible denial and all that.

The Nancy Cat on the other hand tries to demand answers but all the rouge will say is 'I didn't steal it, if that's what you're worried about'. If he's honest, Buck finds it rather amusing how the other gets around the truth so easily without telling a lie. While he may not have stole the money but the once American was willing to bet the younger had stolen something of high value to acquire this much.

Still it doesn't matter.

They needed the money and now they had it, no matter what immoral sin the rouge committed to acquire it. Its why he placed their youngest in charge of finances, Red was a natural born prodigy- not even this twisted reincarnation had changed that- and would do whatever was required without having to worry about his conscious nagging him about it later.

Nigel was the Russian's conscious. While he hadn't been a saint himself- far from it actually- the white haired spy had a bit more morals. Even in a new life it would appear he was still trying to drill a few into their stubborn Nemesis...

Their oldest would probably have better luck getting the so called Dark Lord- in which he still would not admit to killing. The fool did it himself- to wear pink and start a candy factory while informing anyone who would listen about his undying love for all the Non-Magicals of the world.


If Nigel's honest, its not the money but how he's certain the rouge acquired it.

Red had a bad habit of acquiring military secrets and selling them upon the black market. It was recklessly foolish. What if he had gotten caught?

What if the watch had malfunctioned?

What if someone who once knew the rouge had saw him?

They would be screwed. Those who knew them knew they where dead. Yet the rouge entered the Black Market anyway looking like a twenty year old Mr. Red. He still looked like the handsome business man. What was he thinking?

Had he been thinking?

The younger usually pull a stunt this foolish, this utterly reckless. Hell if Nigel was honest this was the sort of thing he expected more from the American then the Russian- and why the hell was Rockgut just permitting this to slide?!

Sighing softly, the once spy attempted to rein in his worry. Red was here now. Safe and sound within the bunker. A bunker only he, Red and Rockgut knew about. They where safe. For now at least. He would keep an eye and ear open least word of a supposedly dead Enemy Number One began to start-up.


While the elder's nagging is amusing its also a bit agitating.

Despite what the other may think, Red's not an idiot. He knew going out as Mr. Red had a chance of stirring trouble but it was worth it. He knew Mr. Red- it was hard not knowing yourself- he knew how to act, how to walk, run and fight within that body.

He didn't have to worry about re-adjusting himself to sudden or lack of mass, height or even strength. A new body took time to adjust to, time to relearn everything from the basics onwards.

Time they didn't have.

So he made a choice. It turned out well enough. He was here, safe and sound with the money they needed. The chances of anyone from his past life having seen him was microscopic.


Elsewhere a man with silver hair and golden eyes paced within his darkness of his personal lab.

Though he looked to be in his forties the man was much older, a product of another generation long forgotten by the foolish youth of today. Yet despite that, his eyes where as sharp as they've always been, something not even time could rob him of.

No matter what anyone else would say, he knew what he saw.

He knew his son no matter what form he took or how much younger the other appeared.

He wasn't dead.

There was no body ever fount.

'Incinerated within the flames.'

No grave ever dug.

'What would I put in it? They couldn't even find that monsterity of an eye.'

No tomestone for remembrance.

Who wanted to remember a nightmare after all?

He's not dead.

Not Dead.

For the first time in years, laughter slipped through the man's lips.

"Victor?"

He didn't hear his lover come down but the elder did notice the worry in those stormy eyes. Yet he just couldn't stop his rather maniac sounding laughter as he tightly gripped the once-penguin spy's shoulders causing the watch on the golden eyed man's wrist to become visible as the fabric of his sleeve slid slightly.

"He's not dead."

Just lost.


"Achoo!"

"Excuse you/Bless you."

Who could possibly be taking about him now?