Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

            Everything was quiet as The Beekeeper stepped out onto the small porch of his new abode. The house was small, only one story with two bedrooms and a kitchen that spilled into the living room. Luckily, it did have a tiny basement that was well made with a cellar door.

            Surrounding the small house was the wilderness of Montana, with the closest road being made of dirt and usually inaccessible during half the year when snow was on the ground. It took him normally forty minutes to get to the nearest gas station, and another ten minutes to a grocery store. While inconvenient, B much preferred it to the normal hustle and bustle of civilization. Here, in the middle of the forest, he didn’t have to worry about frail, old neighbors killing themselves off, or money-hungry nepo-babies that would even throw their own mothers in front of a bullet.

            No.

            He was away from all of that.

            When he had bought the land, the seller had eyed him up and down before asking if he was one of those ‘influencer homesteaders’. By his tone, B deduced that the man wasn’t a particular fan of those people, and so he shook his head. Instead, he answered that he was an avid hunter who wanted a place away from the city. That seemed to be the right answer as the man had shook his hand and pulled up the papers.

            However, curiosity had gotten the better of B and he had looked up these ‘influencer homesteaders’.

            He didn’t necessarily see what was wrong with the premise. In fact, going completely off-grid was what he needed. Taking a few notes, B started to set everything up. The house was easy to renovate while the land was a bit harder to cultivate for farming. After some time, he was able to plant his own garden and set up a few beehives not too far away.

            Sipping at his coffee, B stared out over the land. Trees surrounded the house on almost all sides, leaving only a direct path directly in front of the house. You couldn’t quite call it a road, but it was enough for him to drive his busted-up truck through. In all honesty, he wasn’t planning on building much else out there.

            As long as he had his hives, he was satisfied.

            Once he had finished his coffee, B headed back inside. Donning his suit, he spent the rest of the day tending to his hives.

            Only one of the boxes actually had an active hive. The other two sat quietly, waiting for their turn to receive their own bustling bees.

            “There we go, lovelies,” B murmured as he carefully lifted one of the drawers and looked over the slowly forming honeycomb. He had picked this hive up from a young couple’s chimney. The husband had hid inside due to a severe allergy, while his wife had been armed to the teeth with a flyswatter and wasp spray. B didn’t charge them anything as he easily gathered the queen up and the rest of the hive came flying after her. The wife had thanked him profusely, practically thanking him for saving her husband’s life.

            Chuckling lightly at the memory, B placed the drawer back into place. A few bees landed on his hat, walking across the netting. Smiling softly at them, B hoped he could fill the other boxes with hives soon.

            He truly missed his old hives.

            The rest of the day was spent with smaller chores. He was currently battling the local deer population over the lives of his tomato plants—currently he was on the losing side. The next time he was in town, he needed to pick up some chicken wire. Soon enough, the summer sun began to set as B retired for the day and headed back inside to cook dinner.

            He hadn’t been lying about hunting. A week ago, he had killed a buck and was slowly making his way through the meat. Pulling out a small bundle of venison with carrots and potatoes, B decided on a simple stew and got to work. Only the sounds of the bugs outside offset the quiet chopping of his knife.

            He could hear an owl hooting in the distance as he sat at the small table in the kitchen. There were no neighbors out here to bother him with anything, especially scammers that wanted to deceive old people. All he had to worry about was the deer that didn’t want him to have any fresh tomatoes.

            With his stomach full and the house locked up for the night, B headed to bed.

            It wasn’t the quiet hooting of an owl or the soft thump of deer hooves that woke him up.

            Instead, it was the sharp click of the barrel of the gun being cocked.

            “Don’t fucking move.”

            Obeying the growled command, B stayed completely still as rough hands grabbed at his shoulders and tugged him out of his bed. Gracefully getting to his feet, B noticed two things at once as his captor led him out of the bedroom.

            One, there were in fact two people in the room with him. The one holding the gun, who had a feminine voice, and the other who was manhandling him into the living room. By where the sound of the breathing was coming from, B could tell the other was taller than him.

            The second thing was that neither assailant had any issue navigating his house. The way they moved around the furniture and into the kitchen while in complete darkness meant they had familiarized themselves with the layout some how. How long had they been there before waking him?

            “Sit.”

            That was the other one. Much deeper—so a man and woman. Maybe some kind of Bonnie and Clyde situation?

            He was forcefully shoved into one of his wooden kitchen chairs. Weak moonlight poured into the small room, but it didn’t help him in the least as he tried to track the woman’s movements. The gun in her hands glinted menacingly as it stayed trained on him, but the light only cast her face further into shadow. So focused on the obvious weapon, B jerked as his wrists were suddenly grabbed.

            Grunting, B barely struggled as the man yanked his arms behind him. The sound of ripping tape was like a gunshot as the sticky substance wrapped itself tightly around his wrists. So, maybe this was a simple robbery? But, that didn’t make any sense. Why would they attack someone in the middle of nowhere? For a hideout?

            As these thoughts ran through B’s head, his heart almost leaped out of his chest as he man suddenly grabbed his hands. Instinctively, B had balled his hands into fists, but the man was forcing them to uncurl. Slightly alarmed, B actually began to put effort into his struggles.

            Only to be pistol whipped in the next breath.

            “Stay still!” The woman hissed.

            Tasting blood, B blinked at the sudden violence. Again, staying compliant, B allowed the man to arrange his hands as he wanted. Once his hands were straight and his palms laying flat against each other, the man started to wrap tape around his fingers until everything from his wrists to his fingertips were wrapped in the substance.  

            B began to suspect these weren’t your normal criminals.

            The man didn’t stop there. The sound of ripping tape was the only sound in the house as B’s legs were secured to a chair leg each and his torso thoroughly attached to the chair’s back. When B finally heard the man step away, he knew he was in trouble.

            Even if B were to dislocate a few fingers and a shoulder, he doubted he’d be able to get free before he got a bullet to his head. Trying to keep the wiggling of his hands subtle, B squinted into the darkness and tried to make out the woman that was standing in front of him. The two partners had yet to say anything other than commands, making B worry.

            Bonnie and Clyde indeed if they could communicate without words and barely any visibility.

            Raising his chin, B broke the silence.

            “What do you want?”

            For a moment, B was sure neither would answer him. All around them, the forest continued its night life; the owl kept hooting, the bugs kept buzzing, and the small chitter of a raccoon was added to the mix. Holding his breath, B was about to open his mouth to ask again, when he finally heard the woman spoke up.

            “Why didn’t you fight back?” She snapped, annoyance thick in her voice. Raising an eyebrow, B tried to guess where she was. She sounded like a Londoner, but he couldn’t quite tell without more information.

            “If you wanted me dead, you would’ve already killed me.” B shrugged. Sometimes the path of least resistance was the better choice. Also, he hadn’t expected his hands to be so thoroughly tied up. He wasn’t lying either. If they wanted him dead, they wouldn’t have gone through all this fanfare; they needed him alive and he was banking on that.

            “Death isn’t always the worst outcome in your line of work,” the man finally spoke up from behind him. He had the same accent as the woman.

            “I’m just a beekeeper.”

            “That why you killed the president’s son?” The woman snorted.

            B didn’t respond.

            The kitchen was quiet as all three of them stayed still. B didn’t know what to make of the home-invaders, and they didn’t seem to be in a rush to tell him. Or do anything other than stare at him as it seemed.

            “If you’re looking for cash, there isn’t—”

            Wack!

            Another pistol whip.

            Blood flooded B’s mouth as his tongue smarted. He was lucky he had only bitten his tongue and didn’t feel any teeth loose. The woman didn’t bother holding back.

            “This is fucking pathetic!” She hissed.

            B frowned at the pure frustration in her words. Hopefully they would move on if he refused to answer any of their questions. But, if they knew who he was, then he began to doubt any of them would come out of this unscathed. There was no use in denying what they already knew. Might as well play along to see what they truly wanted.

            “We didn’t come here for you to treat us like idiots!” She continued. “You’re supposed to be a Beekeeper! Start acting like it!”

            “I’m retired.”

            “Bullshit,” the man said flatly.

            “If you’re retired, then why go after that scammer bastard?” The woman pressed.

            “The Hive needed to be protected.”

            “Then why not let the other Beekeepers handle it?”

            B opened his mouth, but no words came out.

            That was a question he had asked himself several times, both during his rampage and afterwards. He could have informed the organization of the issue—they would have taken his word and acted on it. On the other hand, it had been personal. Before retirement, revenge had never been a factor, but after Eloise had doted on him for so long, he couldn’t help but want to track down her killers. This is why Beekeepers were meant to stay outside of the Hive—they were the silent protectors that could look at things objectively.

            Deciding not to respond, B simply stared back at the woman.

            “This is a waste of time,” she eventually growled when she saw he wasn’t going to keep talking.

            “Then let’s just deal with this in the morning,” the man spoke up.

            Brows furrowing, B didn’t understand what he meant.

            The ripping noise was back and just as quickly, a strip of tape was slapped over B’s mouth. Twisting in the chair, B began to struggle but the tape was far too tight around his hands, and it was fruitless. Pushing any sort of panic down, B let out a muffled yelp as a powerful shove sent him and the chair careening towards the ground.

            Grunting in pain, B lay on his side, the chair pinning his left arm to the ground. He was left floundering on the laminate flooring, unable to find any purchase to shove himself against anything to break the chair.

            “See you in the morning, mate.”

            Glancing up at the man, B only saw a boot coming straight for his head.

            The world went black.

Chapter Text

            Pain greeted B as he began to awaken.

            His vision was blurry as he blinked at the gentle sunlight streaming into the kitchen. Wincing at the memory of the night before, B started to take stock of his body and possible injuries. He was still thoroughly taped to the chair, with the weight of the chair and his body pressing down on his left arm, which was still pinned underneath him. It had gone to sleep, and he couldn’t even flex his fingers to try and get blood flowing again.

            The only injury he could feel was the throbbing from the likely goose-egg on his temple. Ignoring the headache that had woken him, B tried to rub his wrists together to work at the tape to create some give in the bindings. His fingers ached slightly at being kept straight for so long and he lamented at the fact his captors knew to restrict his hands. Meanwhile, he attempted to pump his legs against the chair to push himself back against the counter. Hopefully he could break the chair and grab a knife.

            “Should we put him out of his misery?”

            B’s eyes widened, his movements freezing at the drawling voice above him. He had to lift his head to even spot his two captors sitting at the kitchen table only a few feet away from him. Had they been there since he woke up?

            The man barely glanced his way before he rolled his eyes. Setting down one of B’s favorite mugs, he stood and came closer to B.

            Tensing, B didn’t see a weapon, but had a feeling the man didn’t need one to end him. All B could do was glare as the man grabbed the back of the chair and hauled it off the floor. Once again, B found himself tied up in his own kitchen, at the mercy of two people who knew exactly who he was.

            The only difference was he could clearly see what they looked like.

            Both of them looked to be in their mid-thirties and incredibly attractive. The woman was shorter, with the man at least a head taller than her.

            The woman had wavy, blonde hair that had the roots obviously growing back to reveal her darker, natural hair. Her eyes showed no emotion as she stared at B, an undiscernible expression on her face. She cradled a different mug in her hands, the long sleeves of her green sweater covering her hands. B had to wonder how many knives she kept up those sleeves.

            Next to her, the man looked less severe, instead the dark rings under his eyes hinted towards his exhaustion. His black hair was short with a small widow’s peak framing his face to make him appear even more handsome. Dark, brown eyes stared back at B with curiosity and slight annoyance.

            It was obvious that both were extremely fit, even if their long sleeves covered their muscles. The way the man leaned towards the woman gave away his protective side, while she sat rigidly with her back to the wall where she could analyze the whole room with ease. And with B completely restrained, neither had to worry about him as a threat, only any potential threats that could come from the rest of the house. If there was anyone else. B didn’t normally entertain.

            However, even without analyzing the pair’s body language, he would have known these two were dangerous.

            Especially since he had met them before.

            He hadn’t recognized them in the dark the night before, having never heard their voices clearly before, but now as he stared them both down, he knew who he was dealing with.

            Lap Dogs.

            Five years ago…

            B crouched down behind a wall as gunshots rung out, many either whizzing right by him or hitting the wall he was hiding behind. None of this phased him as he reloaded both of his handguns. He had been sent to deal with a rich aristocrat that came from an incredibly old and wealthy family in Britian. They had connections to every corner of the UK, the upper elite, and if rumors were correct, even the royal family itself.

            His job was to take down the heir to the family.

            So far, the guards were easy to predict and to take down, however, he had underestimated how far the Onix family was willing to go to protect the heir.

            He hadn’t expected the heir to have Lap Dogs.

            Beekeeper wasn’t the only kind of profession that had double connotations. All around the world, there were different kinds of jobs that normal citizens didn’t know about. There were the Gardeners, the Scribes, and of course Lap Dogs, with many more that B didn’t want to deal with at any time.

            When different secret organizations clashed, things become quite messy.

            The only good thing about these organizations was that they normally didn’t have many recruits at a time. Even the Beekeepers normally didn’t keep more than one Beekeeper active on a single continent. So, it was unusual for these groups to meet.

            That’s why B was shocked to not only see one Lap Dog, but two.

            Unlike the Beekeepers and other organizations who were recruited after rigorous vetting, Lap Dogs were chosen from birth. They were taken from their families before they could form any attachments or meaningful memories, instead being raised to be the perfect bodyguard. Their whole existence would be one of servitude to their masters.

            Since they were babies, they were shaped to be weapons for the highest bidders to wield however they saw fit. The training was brutal in all sense of the word. They could not eat what they wanted, listen to what they wanted, or learn what they wanted; every little thing they did was only in preparation to serve those who bought their services. Depending on who bought a Lap Dog, the recruits would either be sent out as children or teens to live with their masters to learn what their role would be.

            Sometimes, they were bodyguards to the heirs of rich families, while other times they were the one to do a family’s dirty laundry, even being personal assassins. Their only goal in life was to serve their masters until the day they died. B wasn’t sure he had ever heard of a Lap Dog ever reaching retirement age—mostly he would hear families buying another Lap Dog when their other one died.

            Overall, it was a depressing existence.

            While B had heard of Lap Dogs, he had never had the chance to really encounter them before. However, it was obvious what they were when he had infiltrated the ancestral house of the Onix family. The two had crowded around the twenty-three-year-old heir, their demeanors serious and down-right dangerous. However, that wasn’t the only clue.

            Apparently the Onix family had taken the term Lap Dog quite literally.

            The two bodyguards had thick collars around their throats.

            B had added that little detail to the long list of reasons why the heir was his current target that needed to be eliminated from The Hive.

            Gungs loaded, B listened to the bullets and heard the briefest of pauses. Pushing himself out of his hiding spot, B’s finger was already pulling the trigger before he was fully around the corner. His aim was true as the two guards that had been shooting at him both received a bullet between the eyes. With the obstruction taken care of, B kept his body in a crouched run as he advanced down the hallway and towards where the heir and Lap Dogs had ran.

            He could hear screaming and other chaos from the rest of the house, but he doubted anyone in the house would be able to stop him. The only ones he was worried about were the Lap Dogs.

            In all honesty, he didn’t want to kill them.

            Yes, they were raised killers, but they had no choice in the matter. All they knew was to protect their masters—even if those masters didn’t give one shit about them. B would rather let them live, but he had a feeling they would be literally jumping in front of his bullets before he could even get close to the heir.

            The house was large and winding as he ducked around corners, trying to locate the trio. He was more than ever relieved that he prepared well in advance; he never went in anywhere without knowing the full layout and blueprints of the place. With this knowledge, he was hedging his bet on the Lap Dogs taking their charge to a safe room that was hidden away.

            It took him a few precious minutes to find said safe room, but once he had found the false wall hiding the door, he knew he had a real fight on his hands once he went through it.

            He hated how right he was.

            As soon as the door was open, he had to duck out of the way as bullets came straight for his head. Crouching, he swung around the doorway to return fire only to be met with a fist right to his gut. Forcing himself to not double over in pain, he retaliated.

            The male Lap Dog lived up to his name.

            He used every technique he could to fight against B. His movements were so fast, B found himself on the receiving end of most punches and kicks. The fight was brutal, with B and the Lap Dog spitting and snarling as their bodies twisted around each other, desperately trying to take down the other. He could hear the woman shouting at her partner to get out of the way so she could shoot, but he didn’t appear to be listening to her.

            Eventually, B and the male were rolling on the ground, and B was able to get the upper hand. With his knees pinning the other man’s legs to the ground, B was able to get several hits to his face and breaking his nose. Blood gushed down the Lap Dog’s face as he snarled like a wild animal and showed off his large canines.

            A true attack dog if B had ever seen one.

            Hoping to land a blow to knock the man out, B wasn’t paying attention to the female Lap Dog.

            Bad mistake.

            A vicious kick landed against his temple and B went tumbling down. Grunting in pain, B quickly rolled to the side as another kick came barreling down, this time aiming for his ribs. He could see both Lap Dogs standing over him and he knew that if this went on any longer, he’d be screwed.

            Time to play dirty.

            Without a second thought, B reached down and grabbed a handgun he had hidden under his jacket. Lifting it, he saw both Lap Dogs freeze for a second as he pointed it towards the female, giving her no time to raise her own gun in response. For her part, she only sneered at him while the male had a calculating look in his eyes. Keeping his eyes trained on the female, he swiftly aimed the gun and shot right over her shoulder.

            The male Lap Dog hit the floor like a ton of bricks.

            The female’s gasp rung out in the small room as all eyes were on the male Lap Dog. He was desperately pressing his hands against the wound in his shoulder, his breathing becoming labored.

            B pushed himself to his feet as he stared at the woman to watch her reaction. She stayed stock still, unable to tear her eyes away from the male Lap Dog.

            “What are you doing?!” The heir, Armitage Onix, shouted at the woman. “Kill him!”

            The woman didn’t move a muscle. Her eyes flickered from the man on the floor to B to the heir. B tensed as they all waited for her decision.

            After what felt like an eternity, she turned her back on B and the heir, her gun falling to the ground with a dull thud. She dropped to her knees and pressed her hands against the male Lap Dog’s wound.

            “You bitch!” The heir’s voice broke as he screamed. “Wait until my father hears about this! You’ll be wishing you were dead after the punishment he gives you! I’ll make sure you never see the light of day after this, you filthy, mangy mutt—”

            His words were cut off as a bullet lodged itself into his throat. Lowering his gun, B watched emotionlessly as the heir staggered backwards until he hit the wall and slid down it, his hand uselessly pressing against his bleeding throat. Blood gurgled out of his mouth as he tried to speak—either to continue shouting threats or begging for help, B didn’t know nor care. His legs kicked out in a last-ditch effort to do something to save his life, but all for naught.

            Pulling his attention away from the dying heir, B looked down at the two Lap Dogs. The woman’s head was bent so her blonde hair hid her face, but her hands stayed firm on her companion’s shoulder to stop the bleeding.

            “It shouldn’t be fatal if you get him help soon,” B told her.

            Neither Lap Dog responded.

            He hadn’t expected them to.

            With one last glance at the pair, B could only hope that they took this as an opportunity to escape. Turning away, B headed towards the exit.

            His job was done.

            Even though B’s body was sore and in pain, a small part of him was relieved to see the two had actually gotten away. But that didn’t answer the question as to why the hell they had sought him out and were taking him hostage.

            Breathing through his nose, B stared at the two Lap Dogs across from him. He would have broken the silence, but he was still gagged. Instead, he was forced to wait for the pair to make the first move.

            “This isn’t what we were expecting when we tracked you down,” the man started. His curiosity showed through as he scanned B up and down. “I’m surprised they let you retire instead of, you know, retiring you.”

            He was right. Normally, most agencies and organizations that employed people like B didn’t simply let them go and have a peaceful life after everything they did. But the Beekeepers were a bit different. They believed that balance was necessary in all things, and to eliminate a Beekeeper based off their age didn’t encourage the balance they sought in The Hive. There were procedures that a Beekeeper had to take when retired, all of which B had disobeyed in order to avenge Eloise.

            He wondered if they excused his rampage as another necessity of keeping balance.

            All he knew was that they hadn’t sent another unexperienced Beekeeper to kill him. Maybe they were hoping he would go back into retirement and keep it that way this time.

            Staring back at the two Lap Dogs, B wondered if he would ever get to enjoy retirement in peace.

            “Maybe we should do it ourselves then,” the woman sniffed, practically looking down her nose at B. “If you can’t defend yourself, then what use are you?”

            B could only glare back.

            “We did surprise him,” the man pointed out.

            “He didn’t even fight back!”

            “You saw the footage of him taking down the president’s son. He could have if he wanted to.”

            “So, he just didn’t want to?” The woman spat. She looked ready to jump over the table and tear B’s throat out. “We could have killed you! We still can! Do you even care?!”

            B only blinked at her.

            “Look,” the man spoke directly to B. “We’re not here to kill you.”

            “Not yet, anyway…” the woman mumbled under her breath, earning her a glare from the man. B wasn’t impressed in the least.

            “We have a proposition for you,” the man continued. “After you killed our master, everything went to hell. For a Lap Dog to out live their master, it’s unheard of. Our master’s father was furious.”

            B winced slightly. He had a feeling he was understating the repercussions that they had faced. In all honesty, he was amazed the two hadn’t been out right killed for allowing their master to be killed; that’s why he had been hoping they would escape rather than stick around, but apparently they weren’t as opportunistic as he had hoped.

            “We were sent to another master,” the man admitted, his lips tight. His eyes were a storm of emotion as he explained. Meanwhile, the woman wasn’t even looking at them—instead preferring to sip at her drink and stare out the window. “Our new master was… less than enthusiastic to take us on.”

            Unenthusiastic my arse, B retorted to himself silently. More like abusive.

            “So, we left,” the man finally forced out. The words rang out in the kitchen as the weight of them settled on the occupants. B could see the way the woman had flinched at the admission while the man’s shoulders slumped. “We don’t have anywhere to go.”

            Tilting his head to the side, B could only wait as the man took a deep breath and his gaze turned firm.

            “We want you to become our new master.”

            The tape on his mouth stopped the choked sound from leaving B as his eyes flickered back and forth between the Lap Dogs. He didn’t need any words to express his astonishment.

            “It’s not ideal, we know. But we just need somewhere to lay low. Where else but with someone who doesn’t want to be found? The deal is we give you protection from anyone who might want any revenge for the stunt you pulled while you let us hide here.”

            A heavy blanket of silence settled over the kitchen as B could only stare at the pair. This time, the woman had shifted her gaze to meet his and all he could see was a deep pit of hopelessness. It was mirrored in her companion’s eyes.

            They didn’t think he would agree.

            The whole idea was suicidal.

            Even if the two hadn’t been followed out here, there was no guarantee that he himself wasn’t being monitored to make sure he didn’t go on another killing spree. If anyone saw two Lap Dogs and a retired Beekeeper conspiring in a secluded area, then no doubt someone would be coming down on their heads eventually. Overall, the whole idea would only end up with all of them dead.

            But…

            B could feel his heart being tugged in several directions as he looked into the pair’s eyes. They had nowhere else to go. Their whole lives they had been expected to serve another, and now that they had freed themselves, they had no idea what to do. So, they had done what they had been trained to do: find a master and serve them.

            It would be impossible for them to fit into normal society—not after everything they had been forced to do and the way they had lived their whole lives. Thinking about it, B had to wonder if they saw him as the best-case scenario. He had been there when their master had been killed; he knew who they were and what they could do. If there was anyone that would be willing to take them on, why not a Beekeeper?

            Sighing through his nose, B made sure he had the man’s attention before flicking his eyes down and thrusting out his chin. The man nodded in understanding and leaned over to tear the tape off B’s mouth.

            Hissing in pain, B sent a withering glare to both of them.

            “You’re both dumbasses.” They simultaneously flinched at his harsh words, but B continued. “You should have ran when I killed your last master. That was your chance, but instead you stayed and let yourselves be used.”

            The woman’s hand gripped the mug dangerously tight, threatening to break it at any moment. At least the man looked remorseful, if not abashed by the scolding.

            “Now you’re here, bringing a shit ton of trouble to my doorstep because you fucked up,” B spat. He refused to hold back. “Did you even think this through? Jumping me and leaving me tied up? You thought that’d make me agree to your deal?”

            The man’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He quickly looked away.

            “Idiots!” B barked at them. “Are you asking me to be your master because you refuse to think for yourselves? If you’re looking for someone to tell you what to do, they’re not here. If you want a master, then get the hell out of here.”

            The woman looked as if he had slapped her. Crushing despair was the only emotion on the man’s face as he processed B’s words. Neither said anything, all they could do was simply stare at B.

            Rolling his eyes at the helpless, wide eyes directed at him, B rolled his shoulders to stop the pins and needles racing up his arm.

            “But,” he spoke softly. “If you’re looking for somewhere to hide, then you can stay here.”

            “What…?” The woman’s head whipped around so fast, he was sure it would’ve snapped. “You’re serious?”

            “Against my better judgement, yes,” he huffed. “Now, untie me.”

            Without another word, the man stood and pulled a large knife from his belt. Carefully, he began to cut away the tape, but let B be the one to actually pull it off of his skin. The sting on his face was still prevalent.

            “Pull that kind of stint again, and I’ll make sure both of you end up eating through a straw.”

            They both nodded at the threat. Even if he hadn’t fought back originally, they knew he meant what he said.

            Pulling his arms from behind him, B carefully pulled the tape from around his fingers. Occasionally, he sent a hateful look towards the two as the tape stuck painfully to his skin.

            “What should I call you two?”

            “Poodle,” the woman said.

            “Dobermann.”

            Unsurprised at the names, B only grunted in reply:

            “B.”

Chapter Text

            Stepping under the hot spray of water of his tiny shower, B’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts.

            Why had he agreed to let the Lap Dogs stay?

            There was a million different reasons as to why he shouldn’t have allowed them to hide there. The fact they were most likely wanted by their old master, if not the whole organization of Lap Dogs for abandoning their post, was reason alone to deny them asylum. If it was found out that a Beekeeper had been the one to harbor these traitors…

            B didn’t want to think of the massive war that would explode between organizations. There would far too many casualties.

            And yet.

            He had agreed.

            Resting his forehead against the tile, B wished his blasted heart would shut up for once. It was his exposed feelings that had led him to kill Danforth and now to accepting these two strays.

            Beekeepers weren’t supposed to listen to their heads. They were to block the world out in favor of watching The Hive as a whole. Every little cog in the machine needed to turn fluidly and without obstruction; it was his job to analyze the inner workings of society and to fix any problem that arose. If there was a worker that had gone haywire, disrupting those around them, then they needed to be taken out. If there was a queen that was harming The Hive, then they needed to be removed swiftly.

            A Beekeeper couldn’t accurately assess these things if they were emotionally attached to specific bees. It just didn’t work.

            Maybe that was why B had been forcibly encouraged to retire when he did. Perhaps they could see the cracks forming and knew that he was becoming attached, and hoped that in retirement he couldn’t do much harm.

            Oh, how wrong they had been.

            B didn’t leave the shower until the water turned cold, and even then, he let the freezing water wake him up. Being knocked unconscious and left tied up hadn’t been the most refreshing rest he’s ever had.

            After getting dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and a flannel thrown over it, B headed back to the kitchen. If there was going to be two more people living there, he would need to stock up on groceries sooner rather than later. Stepping into the kitchen, he noticed neither of the Lap Dogs had moved from their positions, other than to sit closer to whisper.

            Ignoring them, B started to prepare a late breakfast for himself.

            “Could you make us some?”

            B blinked as he turned his head to stare at Poodle. She didn’t seem embarrassed in the least as she stared back innocently.

            Something clicked for B.

            “How long did you work for the Onix family?”

            “Since we were ten,” Dobermann answered.

            “Let me guess, they had a few private chefs?”

            Receiving mirrored nods, B shook his head. Of course he would be stuck with two adults who hadn’t been taught how to cook. And he doubted that either of them knew how to do laundry or clean up after themselves.

            Pinching the bridge of his nose, B decided to lay down some ground rules.

            “Look,” he sent them a piercing glare. “I can handle meals, but I’m not your mum. If you make a mess, clean it up. If you don’t know how, ask. I’m not a maid, but I don’t want my home to be a pigsty. Understood?”

            “We’re not children,” Dobermann snapped.  

            “Never said you were,” B shrugged. “Either of you got any allergies?”

            “Latex,” Poodle admitted. “And he can’t have nuts.”

            “How bad?” B frowned.

            “My throat swells up immediately after even tasting it.”

            “Good to know.” B made a mental note to throw away the trail mix he had in the cupboard when he had the chance.

            Breakfast was eggs, toast, and sausages, nothing as fancy as the Lap Dogs were used to, he was sure, but neither complained. If anything, they wolfed the food down as if they were starving. Frowning at the reaction, B chocked it up to them being on the run; as long as they didn’t eat him out of house and home, he didn’t care.

            With a quick warning to not break his stuff, B left them to their own devices for the day. He had his bees to attend to.

            B was sitting in the grass, his hat next to him as he basked in the mid-morning sun. His current hive was still very young, and he didn’t have much he could do other than watch them. It might be a silly thought, but he liked to believe that by visiting them every day, they were becoming used to him personally. He swore a few of them landed on his veil every day as a greeting.

            Lost in thought, B tensed as he heard footsteps approaching and Dobermann settled next to him. They were quiet for a few minutes as they sat there, the noises of nature filling the silence. If B had his way, he’d never talk to the two ever again; he was already regretting the decision to let them stay.

            A lone bee landed on B’s hand, and he smiled down at it.

            “Do you name them?”

            “What?” B frowned and looked over at Dobermann. “No. There’s too many and they all look the same.”

            “Hmm.”

            Left a bit unsteady, B looked at Dobermann. He was wearing a simple, blue long-sleeved shirt. His hair was neatly trimmed, along with his stubble. B didn’t doubt that he fit into high society well, but the slight mischievous upturn on his lips told another story. B had to wonder how much trouble Dobermann made for his masters, even if it was subtle and couldn’t be traced back to him.

            “I need to head into town for a few things,” B started. “Do you or Poodle need anything?”

            Dobermann thought for a moment before answering. “I’ll come with you.”

            That wasn’t what B had offered, but by the way Dobermann was getting to his feet, B knew that it was useless to fight him.

            After changing out of his suit, B slid into his truck and eyed the large rucksack sitting on the bench between him and Dobermann.

            “We made sure to grab all our money.”

            Nodding, B was just glad the two could pay their own way. It wasn’t like he was strapped for cash, but it did make things much easier.

            The drive was uneventful, other than Dobermann constantly changing the radio and muttering under his breath: “Do these hicks listen to anything other than country?”

            It took nearly an hour before B parked on the moderately busy main street in front of a farm supply store.  

            “I’ll meet you back in hour. Grab whatever food for the two of you. I’m gonna grab some things for my garden.”

            Parting ways, B had to wonder if maybe he should have gone with the Lap Dog. How often did the man go shopping? Did he even know what ingredients to get? What if some kind of altercations occurred, would Dobermann attack someone and blow their covers?

            Suddenly feeling like a fretting parent, B tried to shove these thoughts out of his mind before he turned around and chased Dobermann down. He needed to trust that he wouldn’t do anything to risk Poodle or the unsteady alliance between them. Focusing on how to get rid of his deer problem, B headed into the store.

            “Hey Joey!” B sent the cashier a tight smile. The people of Waterberry knew him as Joesph “Joey” Stone—it was still taking him some time to get used to the new name. Cindy, the daughter of the store’s owner, had been incredibly friendly to him, offering all sorts of suggestions for his garden. “How’re the tomatoes doin?”

            “Half-chewed,” he sighed. “Deer got ‘em.”

            “Damn, that’s too bad.”

            “I’m hoping to put some chicken wire up, got any?”

            “We sure do!”

            Cindy did most of the talking as she led him around the store, helpfully filling his cart with all types of seeds, plants, and bits and bobs to help keep wildlife away from his garden. She repeatedly took him past the animal enclosures, emphasizing how ducks would be a perfect addition to his home.

            “They have plenty of uses,” she encouraged. Gently shutting down the suggestion, B bought his things and headed out. As he loaded his purchases in the back of the truck, he spotted several bags already there. Peeking inside, B was unimpressed by the amount of junk food—but he couldn’t really blame the Lap Dog. Who knew if either of them ever got to indulge in eating sweets.

            The only issue was Dobermann was nowhere to be seen. A small spike of fear shot through B’s body, but he shoved it away. There was no reason to worry about the other man, after all, what kind of trouble could he get into?

            B nearly facepalmed.

            There was always plenty of trouble to find, no matter where a person was. Just look at him.

            To kill time until their meet up, B walked the length of main street and wasn’t surprised when the old barber hit him up for a chat. The man had been sitting outside practically waiting for someone to walk by so he could either chat or entice them inside for a haircut. At least B got away from one of those.

            By the time B made it back to the truck, he saw Dobermann.

            Talking with Cindy.

            Speeding up, B noticed the large cardboard box with holes that was in Cindy’s arms.

            “Are you sure Joey will be ok with this?” She was asking, batting her eyelashes up at Dobermann.

            “My brother will be fine with it,” Dobermann smoothly told her as he loaded what looked to be animal feed into the back of the truck. “I’ve always wanted to raise an animal. He’ll understand.”

            Finally approaching the two, B could clearly hear the small cacophony of peeps coming from the box in Cindy’s arms. He didn’t hesitate to glare fiercely at Dobermann behind her back.

            “About time, Joe!” Dobermann threw him a large, shit-eating grin. “Thought the ducklings would starve before you showed up.”

            “I wasn’t planning on getting any animals,” B tried to keep his voice level for Cindy’s sake, but he doubted Dobermann would’ve been phased in the least if he had screamed at him.

            “Owen said he’ll take care of them for you!” Cindy said, rushing to Dobermann’s defense. “Don’t worry, Joey. They’re easy to take care of once they’re older.”

            Owen?

            Before B could respond, Dobermann was taking the box from Cindy and flashing her a flirtatious smile. “Thanks, love. I’ll make sure to keep you updated on how they’re doing.”

            “Oh!” She blushed and smiled back bashfully. “I expect a weekly report.”

            Crossing his arms, B could only stand there radiating disapproval as the two exchanged a few longer-than-necessary goodbyes before Cindy finally headed back inside with a final wave to them.

            “Are you fucking kidding me?” B snapped.

            “I’ll take care of them. You won’t have to do anything,” Dobermann shrugged. Without waiting for B, he got into the truck. B couldn’t believe the audacity the other had. Who gave him the right to act this way? Were all Lap Dogs this entitled?

            Slamming the truck’s door, B roughly started the vehicle and pulled away from the street.

            “Those things are your responsibility,” he finally grunted after a few minutes. “If I even see a speck of shit in my house, they’re coyote food.”

            “I promise to feed them, clean up after them, and to walk them every day.”

            B ignored the blatant sarcasm being thrown his way.

            The only sound in the truck was the constant stream of peeps coming from the box. Occasionally, Dobermann would coo at the animals and stick his fingers into the holes to pet them and let the ducklings peck at them.

            Halfway into their journey back, B glanced over and finally asked a question that had been on his mind since the two had ambushed him.

            “So, what are you two? You and Poodle.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Like, are you two dating or just partners?”

            Dobermann choked on air as his head whipped around and the man stared at him as if he had grown two heads.

            “What?!” He nearly shouted. “She’s my sister!”

            “Oh.”

            There wasn’t much else B could say.

            “We’re actually twins,” Dobermann huffed. “Not that you can tell by looking at us. Fraternal.”

            “I see,” B nodded. “And they kept you two together?”

            “Yeah. Twins are difficult to make disappear, but they were able to get their hands on us. If we had been normal siblings, the program would’ve never kept us together. But, they wanted to make an experiment out of us. Our masters paid a pretty pence for us.”

            As he spoke, B noticed that Dobermann refused to look at him. Instead, his eyes were glued to the box in his lap, his fingers still gently touching the ducklings inside. Sighing, B didn’t continue the conversation and allowed the silence to grow between them.

Chapter Text

            Dinner was a mostly quiet affair, only being interrupted by B constantly telling Dobermann to leave the ducklings in their box and not put them on the kitchen table. Poodle wasn’t helping the situation, instead subtly coaxing her brother to grab a different ducking because it “looked upset not to have Dobermann’s attention”.

            Once all four little yellow fluffballs were squared away for the night, B retired to his own room. He was hoping to pass out immediately and not spend another conscious moment thinking about the two interlopers in his house.

            However, it wasn’t meant to be.

            B had no idea what woke him, but he knew for certainty that it was nothing good. Shoving the sheets off him and trudging out of his room, B kept his guard up. He doubted that either Lap Dog would attack him at this point, but he didn’t want them getting the drop on him a second time.

            Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, B was tempted to check in on the twins in the other bedroom but decided he wasn’t going to play parent. The kitchen was his next destination, and he grabbed a glass. Sipping on water, he looked out the small kitchen window.

            Only to see a figure sitting on top of the hill.

            “Leave it alone,” he muttered to himself.

            The faint moonlight shined off Poodle’s blonde hair and he could tell she was curled up into a tight ball.

            “Not your problem.”

            It had to be three in the morning. Was she even wearing proper pajamas? The temperature had dropped significantly at night.

            “She’s fine,” he insisted.

            The figure didn’t move for several minutes.

            “Oh bloody hell.”

            Grabbing a blanket from the couch, B headed outside and made his way up the hill. Poodle didn’t react to his presence, not even when he draped the blanket around her bare shoulders her thin tank-top hadn’t covered.

            He settled down next to her, and stared up at the night sky.

            This far from any kind of city, the light pollution was nearly nonexistent. The stars shown brightly and filled the whole sky, almost as if diamonds had been spilled across black satin. After living in a myriad of different cities, B had never seen a sight like this outside of movies. He had always assumed that people had been exaggerating but now, as he craned his neck back to fill his whole field of vision with the far away lights, he wanted to believe he was approaching what others would describe as ‘inner peace’.

            “I’m glad you killed our master.”

            “Me too.”

            Their voices were hushed as they gazed up at the stars, both of them refusing to acknowledge the other and the conversation that was unfolding.

            “When Dobermann and I were ten, we were assigned to our first master, Armitage,” Poodle’s words were void of emotion, almost as if she was reading from a textbook. “He was three days old when we met him. His nannies hated us and always complained about us being underfoot. They’d throw things at us if we didn’t listen to them. One time, a book hit me right in the throat.”

            B winced.

            “As Armitage got older, he saw us as playmates. His father didn’t care at first, but when Armitage saw us more as friends than master and servant, things changed. That’s when we had to start wearing the collars.”

            Out of the corner of his eye, B could see Poodle’s hand reach up and rub at her throat.

            “They were dog collars, but after that, Armitage never treated us the same.” She faltered for a moment. “He was ten and we were seventeen. I think that’s when it clicked for him that he had two almost adults at his complete beck and call. We weren’t just some servants working in the mansion; we were his personal bodyguards and playthings. Everything got worse from there.”

            Poodle’s hand grabbed at the blanket and wrapped it tighter around herself as she continued.

            “He hated it when we would advise him not to do something. He’d break into dorms at his boarding school; he’d steal things from his mates, and eventually he started taking everything he could get his hands on. Armitage was more high than in class. We tried to stop him, but he’d punish us with a cane when we spoke out of turn. Until he switched out our collars.”

            “To what?” B wasn’t sure he actually wanted to know the answer.

            “Shock collars.” Her voice broke on the two simple words. Taking a steadying breath, she continued. “They weren’t like ones for dogs. He had them specially made to be as strong as a taser.”

            B’s lips tightened. He knew what was going to come next.

            “Dobermann was yelling at him for cornering a girl and putting his hand up her skirt. I tried to tell him it wasn’t our place, but Dobermann didn’t listen. Armitage pressed the button to my brother’s collar. He wouldn’t let go.”

            Her voice was thick with unshed tears as she forced herself to go on.

            “Armitage forced me to sit and watch as Dobermann… it was so painful. His body wouldn’t stop twitching, even when Armitage let go of the button. There’d be foam coming from his mouth, but Armitage would just keep pressing the button.”

            Swallowing thickly, B didn’t want to ask his next question but knew he needed the answer.

            “Did he do this to you and Dobermann frequently?”

            “Yeah,” Poodle breathed out. “He thought it was funny. It didn’t matter what we did, even if we weren’t doing anything. Any minute, we’d be doing our job and then it was like fire was going through me. I couldn’t control my body, and Dobermann was ordered not to help me. Armitage would give the controller to his friends, and they’d just press the buttons randomly—like a game.”

            “For how long?”

            “Years.”

            B couldn’t tear his eyes away from the heart wrenching scene in front of him: Poodle was cocooned in the blanket with her chin resting on her knees, tears flowing down her face with no end in sight. He desperately wanted to reach out and comfort her, but he instinctively knew that she would only pull away.

            “Things only got worse when he went to Uni,” she spoke barely above a whisper and at times, B struggled to hear her. “Instead of studying, all he wanted to do was party and snort anything he could get his hands on. After his first semester, his father had to bribe his professors to pass him, so we were told we needed to keep a better eye on him. Armitage didn’t like that.”

            “What’d he do?”

            “He’d cane us if we ever tried to keep him on the straight and narrow. We’d be forced to strip completely and count every hit. I tried to get him to study for a test he had the next day and I ended up with a black eye that lasted for weeks. Nobody ever asked why we’d have bruises or were limping; Armitage would say we were doing our jobs and stopping all the assassins comin’ after him. It only helped to inflate his ego and impress his friends.”

            “That wasn’t the only thing he did, was it?” While he phrased it as a question, it most certainly wasn’t. He could tell by her tense shoulders that there would be some memories that would never be spoken aloud, not to him or anybody.

            “He…” she trailed off before taking a deep breath. “He had already been screwing people, but it wasn’t until one of his friends made a comment did he look at us. We had to do everything he told us to do. We didn’t have a choice. He was our master. His word was law.”

            Every word shook more than the last until Poodle was choking out the confession. This time, B opened his arms.

            Poodle didn’t hesitate to accept the silent invitation; she threw herself into his chest, her wails of anguish were muffled as she hid her face into his shoulder. All B could do was hold her tightly and rake his fingers through her hair.

            He didn’t say anything.

            There was nothing to say.

            Armitage Onix might be dead, but his actions had created wounds so deep that they might never heal. B wished he had killed the heir years earlier.

            Slowly, Poodle’s sobs began to grow weaker and her shaking diminished. B’s shirt was thoroughly soaked where her head lay, but he didn’t care in the least. She let out a soft sniffle and B felt her body growing heavier in his arms.

            “Let’s get you back to your brother.”

            As gently as he could, he grabbed her arms and helped her to her feet. In the pale moonlight, he could see the dark rings under her eyes and knew they were bloodshot from all of her crying. She looked like a small child that had just woken up from a nightmare—she clutched the blanket around her shoulders and swayed on her feet from exhaustion.

            B led her back to the house with an arm around her waist; he was slightly surprised she allowed the contact. Silently, they entered the house and B guided her towards the guest bedroom. Dobermann was snoring softly and laying on his side. Without any hesitation, Poodle trotted up to the bed and laid down next to him. Almost as if he could sense her presence, Dobermann pulled Poodle to his chest, and she snuggled right up to him.

             Standing in the doorway, B couldn’t help but stare at the twins.

            All their lives, they had been together no matter what life threw their way. Even when they had to face a sadistic, spoiled brat of a master, they had each other for comfort. B could only hope that life wasn’t too cruel as to ever split them apart. He wasn’t sure if either could survive without the other at this point.

            For the umpteenth time that night, B felt his heart shatter.

            Even though they had only been in his life for a day, B knew he never wanted to see either of them come to harm. He would fight tooth and nail for these two.

            Eventually, his own exhaustion called to him, and B turned away to hopefully fall back to sleep.

            He couldn’t.

            The smell of freshly brewed coffee, pancakes, and bacon wafted through the kitchen when Poodle and Dobermann finally stumbled in. B didn’t look up from the sketch he was working on as he greeted the twins. They mumbled back as they piled plates high and sat across from him.

            After a few minutes, Dobermann finally spoke up.

            “What’re you doin’?”

            “Designing a coop for your ducks,” he grunted.

            “Oh.”

            Silence fell on them once again, but it was different. It was almost…comfortable. Almost as if they had shared a thousand mornings together before and this was routine. Almost as if they weren’t complete strangers.

            “Can I use your truck?”

            “Why?” B didn’t enjoy questions from Poodle. Even with that simple question made him suspicious.

            “I’ll need it.”

            “For what?”

            “To get materials.”

            “For what?”

            “A project.”

            Glaring fiercely, B finally lifted his head away from his blueprints to see Poodle staring at him innocently and Dobermann quietly snickering at him.

            “Well, tough shit. I’ll need the truck to get materials for the coop. You two don’t have a vehicle?”

            “Nah, burned it before heading out here. Didn’t want anyone following our trail,” Dobermann explained.

            “Dumping it in a lake would’ve been better,” B mumbled under his breath. Burning led to an investigation, which created suspicion. Hopefully they did it far enough away to not be tracked. “I need the truck to get everything for the coop, but after that, it’s all yours.”

            Nodding in agreement, Poodle went back to her breakfast while Dobermann began questioning B’s sketching abilities. B had to fend off sneaky fingers that tried to snatch the pencil out of his hand, resulting in a pouting Dobermann. With one withering look, Dobermann finally relented, and the kitchen fell silent once more.

            Leaving clean up to the twins, B headed out to town for the second day in a row. Normally, he tried to avoid the town like a plague, but with two more bodies and ducklings, he needed more supplies.

            The trip to town was uneventful and B preferred it that way—even if the mocking commentary on the local radio channels from Dobermann had been amusing. On the hour ride, B couldn’t stop his mind from wandering back to what Poodle had told him the night before.

            There was much more she wasn’t telling him. She hadn’t gone into details, but he could read between the lines easily. They had suffered beyond belief at the hands of their master; while a Lap Dog’s master didn’t necessarily have to be kind or caring, the fact that Armitage Onix used them as his personal playthings made his blood boil.

            What was worse, while Armitage was no doubt raping one of them, with what Poodle had told him, B wouldn’t be surprised to hear that the bastard had made the other watch.

            Taking a deep breath, B carefully relaxed his death grip on the wheel.

            Armitage Onix was dead. By his hand.

            He couldn’t hurt Poodle or Dobermann ever again.

            But what if someone else wanted to?

            Furrowing his brow, B didn’t know where that thought came from. If anyone was planning on coming after the twins, then that was their problem, not his. He’d simply escape at the earliest convenience and let them deal with their own consequences.

            Reaching over, B turned on the radio to drown out the swirling thoughts in his head.

Chapter Text

            Collecting all the materials for the coop went off without a hitch, even if he had to quickly shut Cindy down about trying to ask Dobermann out on a date. A lie about a recent break-up had her backing off for the moment. Luckily, the town was very found of building projects, so many of the older men had flocked to him to suggest ideas of their own, or use his project as an excuse to talk about their own achievements.

            Safe to say, the trip into town was much longer than expected.

            However, B couldn’t bring himself to complain. He hadn’t been surrounded by so many kind-natured people in a long time—any other time, when that many people were around him, that meant they wanted to kill him. Instead, all of them admired him for setting up his own coop and being so handy.

            As he pulled up to the house, he spotted Dobermann sitting in the yard with the ducklings tentatively exploring around him. What had B doing a double take was Poodle.

            She had found his beekeeper suit and was currently investigating the active hive. B snorted at the sight she made. The suit was large on her, with it already a bit loose on him for movement, and she almost looked like a kid dressing up for Halloween. He was glad she didn’t seem interested in opening the box, only examining it.

            Getting out of the truck, he called out to her.

            “You intending to replace the queen for yourself?”

            Poodle’s head snapped up, the veil moving rapidly with her movements. He couldn’t make out her expression, but her folded arms gave him an idea that she wasn’t happy at being caught.

            “Don’t jostle ‘em and you’ll be fine!” B felt as if he should be upset at Poodle for approaching his hive, but he wasn’t. Not in the least, which was strange. Shouldn’t he be afraid that she would harm the bees, even if by accident?

            However, he had no such feelings. He trusted Poodle not to harm the insects.

            Pushing those thoughts away, B headed towards Dobermann. The other man was at peace sitting on the ground, an occasional duckling walking across his lap.

            “Ready to make a home for these little shits?”

            Dobermann flashed him a grin.

            They set off to work.

            It wasn’t until nightfall did they finally call it a day. Overall, B was pleased with the progress they had made—they had the basic frame and base set up. Although, it had been the process that had shocked him further.

            B had quickly figured out that while Dobermann might have escaped his masters physically, it was taking him much longer to escape mentally.

            From the very start, it was obvious the other had an issue with what B had been proposing. Every time B even looked at him, Dobermann’s jaw was clenched, and B wondered how bitten up the insides of his cheeks were. Before they had even picked up their tools, B had gotten into Dobermann’s face.

            “Got something to say?” B had stared right into his face, barely any space between them.

            “No.”

            “You’re lying.”

            “No, I’m not,” Dobermann bit out.

            “Then what’s up your arse?”

            “Nothing.”

            “Spit it out.”

            “Knock it off,” the words had come out growled.     

            B had smirked. He needed to push only a little bit more.

            “I already told you, I’m not doing that whole master thing. You got something to say, you spit it out.”

            They had stared at each other for so long, B had worried he had broken the younger man. Dobermann’s face had twisted into a frustrated expression before he finally choked out the words.

            “You didn’t take the elevation into consideration.”

            B blinked at that.

            “You planned to put the coop over there,” Dobermann nodded towards the bottom of the hill the house was sitting on. He had wanted the coop away from his garden just in case the ducks trampled the young sprouts. “If you do, all the rain water is going to flow into it.”

            “Huh,” B crossed his arms and squinted. “Guess you’re right. Where would you put it?”

            That simple question had Dobermann’s face light up as if Christmas had come early. The earlier hesitation was gone as he led B to the spot he had in mind, talking about the advantages the whole time. Following behind him, B could only stare at him.

            It was obvious that Dobermann was intelligent and could shine when given the opportunity. And that was the problem.

            His whole life, Dobermann had been a servant; there had never been a time he could take the lead and make his own decisions in life.

            B had slowly given the reins of the project over to Dobermann. He had a feeling the other hadn’t noticed, even when he had been the one to call for them to stop for the night.

            Drenched in sweat, they had walked into the house and B’s eyebrows raised in surprise at the kitchen table.

            It had been set, plates and silverware placed neatly. Meanwhile, Poodle was swiftly and expertly chopping vegetables in the kitchen.

            “What’re you making?” B asked, moving closer to her.

            “Not sure,” she shrugged. “I was just prepping things for you.”

            “Thanks?”

            After building part of the coop in the summer sun, B had wanted to rest, but with ingredients laid out on the counter with a novice at the helm, he decided to take over. Poodle had carrots and onions already cut up neatly, while a few steaks had been pulled from the freezer and were thawed out. Handing over the knife, Poodle quickly vacated the kitchen.

            Rolling his eyes, B got to work.

            By the time dinner was ready, the twins had sat themselves in the same spots they normally did at the table. B had to wonder how he went from being tied up in his own kitchen to now cooking for his captors and doing them favors. The world was truly a strange place. Especially for people like them.

            The two ate as quickly as they could and B was tempted to tell them that he wasn’t going to take it away from them, but knew it’d be no use. However, it made him wonder if perhaps the Onix family was also the culprit of this habit.

            “So, what’s your story?”

            So engrossed in his own thoughts about the twins, he wasn’t expecting Poodle to speak up around a mouth full of steak. He really didn’t enjoy her questions.

            “What do you mean?”

            “How did you become a Beekeeper?”

            B wanted to refuse. That was a classified secret that Beekeepers had to take to their grave. Their training was wholly unique. Sure, these two didn’t have anyone to blab his secrets to, but one could never be too careful. But, there was something inside him urging him to tell them at least something. While he didn’t know much, he had already learned so much about them—he might as well return the favor.

            “I was an orphan,” he started, chewing slowly as he thought back to his childhood. He wasn’t one to dwell on the past. “I was six and coming back from school when a neighbor grabbed me in front of my house. She told me my mum had hung herself. There were bobbies everywhere. After that, I was sent to an orphanage.”

            “Did you get adopted?” Dobermann’s voice was soft.

            “No,” the word was said simply, but B could feel an age-old pain welling up inside him at the admission. “Nothing really stuck. Eventually, I got bored of the orphanage and began making my own way in life. Got into a bit of trouble here and there, but when I was old enough, I joined the army.”

            Taking another bite, B noticed the other two had stopped eating, their attention fully on him. Resisting the urge to shift in his seat at the sudden focus, he continued.

            “I went up the ranks pretty quick. The top brass liked that I kept my mouth shut, head down, and got the job done. After ten years, I got a job offer to do something else.”

            “To be a Beekeeper?” Poodle guessed.

            “No. I was black ops for a while. A good little assassin for the government. After a few years, I got sick of it and left. That’s when I was approached about becoming a Beekeeper. They want people with training but no connections. It’s easier to analyze The Hive if you aren’t attached.”

            The kitchen fell silent as B stopped talking. He couldn’t go into more detail without risking breaking the code of the Beekeeper. After a few long moments, the twins finally returned to their meals.

            Luckily, Poodle took his plate out of his hand and shooed him out of the kitchen. Thankful not to have to clean as well as cook, B headed towards his bedroom. A quick shower and then sleep.

            “Adam…”

            B’s whole body jerked at the name. Ever since he had killed Derek Danforth, he had completely dropped the name Adam Clay. Even before that, almost nobody ever called him that.

            Except…

            Turning around, B’s breath caught in his throat.

            Eloise.

            The only person who had treated him with care and if he was actually worth of love.

            The person he had tried to burn the world to the ground for.

            A person he fully knew was dead.

            She was lying on the floor, staring up at him with pain and desperation twisted into her features. She was wearing the exact outfit he had last seen her in, but the only difference was the big, black collar around her throat.

            No—!

            “Please, Adam, help me,” she whispered hoarsely, almost as if she had already been screaming for hours. She tried to drag herself forward with her hands, but she only made it a foot before collapsing onto the plush carpet. Looking around, B realized it was the room the president and her son had been hiding in.

            “Eloise—” was all he was able to say before a cruel laugh echoed through the room. Whipping his head around, B saw Derek Danforth lounging on the ornate wooden desk. He was lazily taking a puff from his vape, a sneer marring his young face.

            “About time you showed up, Beekeeper. I was getting bored of my new toy.”

            B didn’t bother hiding his growl. He’d kill the little fucker a second time!

            “You see, I took your advice,” Danforth informed him. He pushed himself off the desk and held up a little remoted. It had a single button and dial. “Maybe it was time for me to stop hiding behind a computer screen and actually do things face to face.”

            B’s eyes stayed trained on the little, black remoted. Danforth’s thumb was drawing closer and closer to the button. “You sick son of a bitch!”

            “Ah, ah,” Danforth wagged a finger at him. “You can’t call the president of the free world a bitch! I know you’re not from around here, but there’s some rules you’ve got to obey when you’re here.”

            Clenching his fists, B readied himself to tackle the other man.

            “For example,” Danforth’s face twisted into a look of complete fury. “You don’t fuck with the Danforth family!”

            His voice broke horribly as he screamed the last part, and his thumb moved to harshly press down on the button.

            Behind B, he could hear Eloise’s screams.

            B could only watch in horror as her body began to shake, foam bubbling out of her mouth and her eyes rolling up into her head. Her limbs were almost possessed as they jerked in different directions, her body twisting in ways far too painful.

            Dropping to his knees, B’s hands desperately searched for a way to get the collar off, but there was no buckle or latch. Nothing to release it. Almost as if the thing had always been there. Frantically, B tried to tear it in a last-ditch effort, but nothing helped to stop the waves of electricity running through Eloise’s body.

            “Stop! Stop this!” B shouted, turning on his eyes to stare up at Danforth.

            Towering above them, Danforth sneered down at them dismissively and took another hit from his vape.

            “A dog needs to know when to bow to its master.”

            Gasping for air, B bolted straight up in bed. His hands grabbed desperately at the thin blanket covering his lower body as his eyes flickered around the still dark room. The moonlight outlined the bare furnishing of the bedroom and showed that he was alone.

            All he could hear was the ringing in his ears; not even the sound of nocturnal animals could be heard. Rubbing his hands roughly down his face, B jolted as the sight of Eloise writhing flashed through his mind. Every time he shut his eyes, he could see her there, begging him to save her even though he couldn’t—he never would be able to.

            He couldn’t understand why he had dreamed all that.

            Both Derek Danforth and Eloise were dead.

            Hell, the two had never even met.

            Why the hell did his mind want him to see that?

            What was it trying to tell him?

            “You ok?”

            In an instant, the gun he had hidden under his pillow was in his hands and pointed at the figure standing in his doorway. Why the hell did he not have the same reaction when the twins took him hostage the other night?

            Blinking at the thought, and knowing they had truly snuck up on him that night, B finally realized who was standing there.

            Dobermann hadn’t snuck up on him this time, instead leaning on the doorframe and sending him an unimpressed look.

            “I’m fine,” B grunted.

            It was a bold-faced lie and they both knew it. Sweat beaded across B’s forehead and his breathing had yet to calm down. Lowering his gun and putting it away, B looked at Dobermann.

            “I’m fine,” he repeated. “Go back to sleep.”

            The light coming from the hallway lit up B’s bedroom and he could clearly see the way Dobermann’s eyes were looking him over and no doubt found him lacking.

            “C’mon.”

            “What?”

            “Come here.”

            Frowning and thoroughly confused, B got to his feet and slowly followed Doberman into the living room. Poodle was already wrapped up in the blanket he had given her the other night and sound asleep on the couch. B nearly stumbled when Dobermann bumped him in the shoulder and nodded towards the couch.

            A brief shot of panic ran through B as he looked at the peaceful Poodle. She was truly defenseless sleeping there. What did Dobermann want him to do?

            “How thick are you, mate?” Dobermann muttered under his breath before roughly grabbing B’s elbow.

            Too surprised at what was happening, B could only let the other man lead him towards the couch before shoving him down next to Poodle. Instantly, she cuddled up to him like she had Dobermann the night before. 

            “What…?”

            The lights turned off and B watched as the dark silhouette of Dobermann come back to the couch. He sat down on the other side of B, throwing a different blanket over the both of them. Poodle’s head rested against B’s shoulder, effectively trapping him there if he wanted to get up without waking her. Once Dobermann was satisfied with the blanket, he rested his head on B’s other shoulder.

            B was beyond dumbfounded.

            Were they… comforting him after a bad dream?

            Taking a deep breath, B had to steady himself as he felt the heat of two bodies pouring into his own. Poodle was already fast asleep, while he could feel Dobermann adjusting to get more comfortable.

            There wasn’t much they could do to show their appreciation or comfort, but this was what they could offer him.

            B only wished he didn’t have to sleep sitting up and feeling the weight of two bodies nearly on top of him.

            But, even as he wanted to complain about the odd, uncomfortable position, he felt something he had never truly felt before.

            Safe.

            Leaning his head back, B closed his eyes and was relieved not to see Eloise. Instead, he concentrated on the breathing of his two companions. The soft noise soon lulled him into a deep sleep.

Chapter Text

            B woke with a crick in his neck and two heavy bodies on top of him. The heat pouring off all of them was stifling, and B could feel that the arm Dobermann was hugging was asleep. It was difficult to wiggle out of the death grip the two had on him, and he feared he would need to break a few fingers to escape. Finally, he shoved Poodle off of him and pried Dobermann’s hands off his arm.

            Standing in front of the couch and looking down at the two sleeping Lap Dogs, B could only shake his head.

            Even though waking up had been unpleasant, he had to admit:

            That had been one of the best nights of sleep he had ever gotten.

            “Ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath.

            Neither of the twins mentioned the odd sleeping arrangement, so B didn’t say anything either. Once breakfast was done, Poodle demanded the keys to the truck without a single explanation. B didn’t argue, handing over the keys without a fuss.

            With a nod towards Dobermann, they set to work on the coop.

            “Do you have a radio?”

            “No.”

            “You’re boring, you know that? No radio, no telly, nothing.”

            “I don’t need any of that.”

            “Do you just stare at your bees all day?”

            “What if I do?”

            “It’d make you even more boring.”

            To make up for his lack of a radio, Dobermann began to hum and then sing any song that popped into his head. B had to begrudging admit that he was actually a talented singer.

            The ducklings seemed attracted to Dobermann’s singing—B suspected that he sang to them—and they started to get under foot. B quickly became frustrated with the amount of times he had to stop what he was doing simply to pick up a duckling so he wouldn’t step on it.

            He didn’t notice the fond smile that was growing on his face each time it happened.

            They had three walls built by the time B called them to a stop so they could eat lunch. B kept it easy with sandwiches with an apple for B and chips for Dobermann. They sat on the porch, letting the shade and pleasant breeze cool them down from the summer sun. Glancing over at Dobermann, B frowned.

            “Why didn’t you two run when I killed your master? You knew nothing good was going to happen with him dead.”

            Dobermann kept his eyes trained on a point in the distance as he ate.

            B assumed the other wouldn’t answer, but after a few minutes, Dobermann finally spoke up.

            “I didn’t think of it.”

            “What?” B blinked and stared hard at Dobermann. “What the hell do you mean ‘you didn’t think of it’?”

            “I mean,” Dobermann stressed. “We’d thought about leaving, hell, even killing Armitage ourselves, but when the chance finally came…I guess we froze.”

            B was speechless.

            If he had been in that situation, he would have fled to the hills and never looked back. But, as he stared at the conflicted look in Dobermann’s eyes, he knew it wouldn’t be that easy for the twins.

            Since they had been babes, they had been told their lives were second to their master’s; everything they did was for their master, whether that meant them living or dying. Every single breath they took was in service to their master and the mere idea to imagine killing their master was unthinkable. And to abandon their post? The very one they were trained from birth to fulfill? It would have been traitorous thoughts that could have them executed by their master.

            “So? What happened?”

            “Armitage’s father was furious. We were punished for days on end. We weren’t allowed to eat, sleep, and only allowed a cup of water a day. He used his horse’s riding whip at first, but then he got a real whip when that didn’t draw enough blood. We were chained to the wall, unable to do anything but stand. The chains around our necks made it so that if we passed out and fell, it’d choke us. I was able to keep track of the days with the cups of water—we were down there for two weeks before he sold us.”

            “Sold you?” B flinched as the words came out of his mouth. Of course, they could be sold. After all, the only way anyone ever received a Lap Dog was by buying one. It wasn’t surprising they could be sold by their masters as well, even if it was unheard of.

            “Yes,” Dobermann’s voice was thick with emotion, but he kept his face angled away from B. “I don’t know what our new master’s name was. We were only allowed to call him that—Master. When he bought us, he made Master Onix take our collars off. He said that he had better ones.”

            B’s blood turned to ice.

            “When we arrived at his home, we…” Dobermann tripped on his words. His knuckles were white from how hard he was gripping his knees. B wouldn’t be surprised if he left bruises. “We were told as dogs, we weren’t allowed to walk like humans. From that moment, we were only allowed to walk on our hands and knees.”

            The world seemed to fall silent around them, almost as if it was hanging off Dobermann’s every word like B was.

            “We had to strip naked. Dogs didn’t wear clothes. The only thing we could wear were the new collars Master gave us. They were incredibly heavy. I knew they weren’t shock collars like Armitage had. But, I didn’t know what they could do until later.”

            Dobermann’s head was bowed as he spoke. Fine shivers ran through his body and his jaw was clenched tightly.

            “We had to wear muzzles. Master said he couldn’t trust us not to bite. We got our first master killed, so we had to prove ourselves before we could get them off. We couldn’t eat or drink without permission, but we couldn’t even ask. If we needed anything, we had to fucking beg like the dogs we were!”

            B stayed completely still as Dobermann’s voice became a vicious snarl. With Dobermann’s teeth bared and on full display, B could clearly see his sharp canines. They could do some serious damage.

            “For weeks we had to live like dogs! We couldn’t even use the bloody bathroom like human beings! God forbid we even break one of his rules!” Dobermann was nearly yelling as angry tears ran down his cheeks. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be treated like that? We weren’t human to him! He just saw us as misbehaving dogs that needed to be retrained!”

            Dobermann was on his feet, his breath coming in pants as he balled up his fists.

            “If he wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him again. I’d skin him alive! I’d piss on his wounds and rip his teeth out as he begged for mercy! I’d—!”

            B could only watch as Dobermann screamed his threats to the world to hear. His arms swung in large arcs and his hands reached out to grab something that wasn’t there. A choked noise stopped him short.

            Carefully getting to his feet, B made sure to keep some space between them in case Dobermann felt like he needed to tear flesh, no matter who’s it was.

            “You killed him?”

            Dobermann’s words were gone as he simply nodded, his chin touching his chest. B noticed a trickle of blood drip from his fist.

            “That when you and Poodle decided to track me down?”

            Another nod.

            B didn’t know what to say.

            The fact that Poodle and Dobermann had run from this madman of a master to him, only to offer him the same position, made B’s stomach twist. The risk they were taking in trusting him not to do the same thing as their old masters was huge for them. They had offered themselves up to him and he wasn’t about to let that trust be in vain.

            Sighing, B rubbed a hand down his face.

            “What the hell am I going to do with you two?” He muttered more to himself than Dobermann. The quiet question shook the other out of his memories and he glanced over at B in confusion. Meeting the other’s gaze, B took a step closer to him. Immediately, Dobermann went incredibly stiff, his body naturally falling into a fighting stance. Ignoring it, B held his hand up, palm pointed towards the sky. “C’mon.”

            Confusion and suspicion was clear as day in Dobermann’s eyes, but nonetheless, he took B’s outstretched hand. Gently closing his hand around the other’s, B pulled and led Dobermann inside. Without a word, he took them to the couch. Dobermann sensed what he was doing as he took a seat next to B and rested his head on his shoulder. Wrapping an arm around Dobermann’s shoulders, B leaned his head on top of Dobermann’s.

            B didn’t know when he had fallen asleep like that, but when cold metal touched his cheek, B jerked away. Instantly, he was lashing out at what had touched him, but his fist met air as his mind finally took in what his eyes were seeing.

            Poodle stood over him, a shit-eating grin on her face as she held a sweating can in her hand.

            “Nice nap?” If possible, her grin grew larger as she popped the tab and took a drink.

            Refusing to respond, B sat up completely and noticed Dobermann silently laughing as he practically devoured a slice of pizza. He had moved off of B at some point and was sitting on the other side of the couch.

            Glaring at both of them, B saw that pizza boxes and several cans of soft drinks rested on the coffee table.

            “This why you wanted the truck?” B grunted as he reached for a slice himself.

            “No, I just wanted to save you from cooking tonight. I’ll need you to help set everything up.”

            “Set what up?”

            Damnit, what had she done now?

            “The telly,” she smiled without remorse.

            Apparently it had taken Poodle all day to drive to a different town to buy several types of electronics. Along with the TV, she had bought Dobermann a radio, a laptop, and a few burner phones. He understood having the phones, but he voiced the unnecessity of the other things.

            “I’m perfectly fine living without a telly,” he firmly told her.

            “You might, but I want one,” she shrugged in response.

            “Look, you can’t just come into my house and do whatever you want—”

            “I thought you weren’t our new master?”

            B flinched as if she had slapped him.

            Poodle crossed her arms and stared him down, challenging him. B narrowed his eyes. Her shoulders were tense, and her fingers dug into her arms painfully. She wanted a throw-down. Looking over at Dobermann, his eyes flickered between B and Poodle as if watching a tennis match.

            They wanted to know how he was going to respond. Was he going to yell? Was he going to hit them? Or was he going to roll over and show his belly?

            However, there was one thing they weren’t counting on.

            B wasn’t a Lap Dog or one of their masters.

            He didn’t show his belly in submission or dominate others.

            A Beekeeper needed to find balance for The Hive to thrive.

            Meeting Poodle’s eyes, B leaned back on the couch and kept his body loose. He wasn’t looking for a fight.

            “I’m not your master,” he told them simply. “But, you came to me and asked to be here. I’m not sure if you’ve ever been trained on how to be a good guest, but randomly bringing things into someone’s home without permission isn’t acceptable. If you want or need something, tell me.”

            He could tell this was not what they were expecting. Poodle’s eyes were wide as she stared at him as if he had grown two heads while Dobermann pursed his lips in thought, looking pensive.

            “But—”

            Poodle’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

            “I don’t want to hear you two blasting some shit when I’m trying to sleep. If you do, I’ll smash the telly to bits.”

            Dobermann snorted as Poodle glared at him for the threat. She kept her eyes locked with B for a few more minutes before huffing and turning away.

            “Whatever.”

            She sat down on the recliner near Dobermann, keeping the coffee table and her brother between her and B. He tried to ignore the sting that came with that action—he had assumed that she would trust him more by now, but after that stunt, she could be waiting for retaliation from him. Not that he was planning anything.

            In quick succession, both pizzas were polished off by the three of them, with B only having three slices. He scanned the twins up and down to see where all the food had gone, but they looked no different.

            “I’m guessing you didn’t get to eat this kind of junk when you were with your masters?”

            “No,” Dobermann scoffed. “It beats dog food any day.”

            B’s eyes widened. He hadn’t even realized that their last master would have gone so far as to literally feed them like dogs.

            His reaction tipped Poodle off as she whipped around and glared fiercely at Dobermann, her voice hurt as she spoke: “You told him?!”

            “Of course I did! He was going to figure it out eventually!”

            “You could have waited for me!”

            The twins stared at each other, nothing giving away the silent conversation—or argument—that they were having. B simply waited for them to finish, which resulted in a resigned look from Poodle and an almost begging look from Dobermann aimed at his sister. B raised an eyebrow, not knowing what was coming next.

            Poodle’s face screwed up as she reached a hand out to Dobermann, who took it immediately and squeezed it. B didn’t like where this was going.

            “How much did he tell you?” Poodle’s gaze was piercing.

            Sharing a glance with Dobermann, B answered tersely: “You two didn’t run after I killed Armitage. You were punished and then sold to a master who treated you like real dogs. Did he actually make you eat dog food?”

            B winced at how harsh his question came out, but he couldn’t deny his curiosity.

            “Yeah,” Dobermann breathed out. “We weren’t allowed normal food until we ‘knew our place’.”

            “It took weeks before Master was satisfied,” Poodle added. “He didn’t even explain the rules when we got there—he would punish us when we broke one and then tell us what he expected. Sadistic arsehole.”

            The last insult was said in a whisper, almost as if she was afraid their old master could actually hear her.

            “I—” Dobermann’s voice faltered. Poodle nudged his shoulder with hers as if to transfer the confidence to speak. “I tried to stand up to go to the bathroom. But, we weren’t allowed to stand up on two legs. We had to crawl on our hands and knees at all times. I broke that rule, so from then on, we had our wrists chained to our thighs. He’d laugh and say we finally looked like the dogs we were.”

            B could see the way both of the twins’ eyes were darkening that they were almost reliving these moments. He couldn’t imagine the levels of humiliation they were put through, and he hated himself for the next question that came out of his mouth.

            “Did you break a rule trying to use the bathroom?”

            “Big time,” Poodle snorted. “Dogs aren’t allowed to go in the house.”

            Closing his eyes, B took a deep breath and gradually unclasped his hands in fear of accidentally breaking his own fingers with how tight their grip had become. “Death was too gracious for your master.”

            “Understatement of the bloody century,” Dobermann muttered. B nodded in agreement.

            “How long did this go on for?”

            “Which part?” Poodle asked, suddenly looking far older than she actually was. The world-weariness in her eyes made B want to reach over and comfort her. However, he knew she’d sooner bite him than accept any comfort from him at the moment. “We were forced to eat dog food for a month, to crawl for three, and the muzzles didn’t come off for a year. We wore the collars the whole time.”

            At the mention of the collars, Poodle’s hand went to her throat unconsciously before she quickly pulled it away as if burned. B squinted, but couldn’t see any evidence of the collars; no scars or outlines. Even so, he didn’t doubt their story—especially since he had seen them wearing them so long ago with their first master.

             “When did you finally decide to kill the bastard?”

            B wasn’t expecting their reactions to that question.

            Poodle’s face went white as Dobermann’s jaw tightened and a raging fire burned in his eyes.

            “There were talks about breeding us.”

            B’s throat tightened. All he could see was red. Only the sound of the ringing in his head kept him from leaping out of his seat and attacking an unseen opponent.

            Their master is dead.

            They killed him.

            Silently repeating this mantra to himself, B carefully regulated his breathing. After a few minutes, he came back to himself.

            The last time he had felt that kind of rage was when he entered the first call center of Danforth’s little enterprise and set it alight. Only this time, there was nobody to beat up and nothing to burn to the ground.

            Well. Unless the twins didn’t burn down everything their master had owned.

            Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, B looked up to see the twins staring at him. Poodle was looking at him as if he was a difficult puzzle, while Dobermann simply looked smug.

            “What?” He grunted.

            “You actually care what he did to us,” Poodle spoke in amazement.

            “Of course I do,” B frowned. “What he did to you is disgusting. You’re humans beings that deserve respect.”

            Poodle stared at him as if he had admitted to being an almighty spirit that was there to solve all her problems and give her a pony on top of that.

            Suddenly feeling his face heating up, B coughed into his fist.

            “We’ll set the telly up tomorrow.”

            Getting to his feet, B avoided the two set of eyes that were watching every move he made as he bid them goodnight and closed his bedroom door behind him, trying to put a physical barrier between him and the twins’ palpable trauma.

            Sleep eluded him that night.  

Chapter Text

            The next week passed by with no incidents.

            Well, minor enough not to really count as any.

            B and Dobermann finished up the coop quickly, moving the ducklings into their new home. They seemed a little upset to be separated from Dobermann, but he quickly rectified this by buying three more little ducklings behind B’s back. When B had come out a few days later, he had to do a double take and recount the little buggers to make sure he wasn’t losing his mind.

            Safe to say, Dobermann was banned from taking the truck keys without permission.

            However, Poodle immediately took this to mean that she could take them instead.

            Thus how they ended up with two different kinds of gaming consoles and a freezer full of ice cream.

            B didn’t bother yelling at them for these antics; however, he did enjoy a tub of chocolate ice cream when the twins weren’t looking.

            Nights found them all piled onto the couch, either Poodle and B watching Dobermann with amusement as he yelled and cheered at a football match, or had Poodle and Dobermann trying to teach B how to play all sorts of games. Apparently, growing up alongside their first master had allowed them to see the games but never play them.

            There was a slight—slight—chance that B was letting them win on purpose to allow them further joy.

            By the end of the week, all three of them had fallen asleep on the couch together more often than not. Luckily, B didn’t have to be the one in the middle every night or else he would’ve had the stiffest neck possible. Some nights, he regretted only having single beds in each of the bedrooms.

            He feared this night would end up the same as he glanced over at Dobermann and Poodle laid out on the couch at either end, their legs tangling in the middle. They had hunkered down to watch as many classic movies as they could with a large bowl of popcorn being passed between them frequently. They had sent B away to refill it, forcing him to miss some of Terminator 2.

            Rolling his eyes at their antics, he kept his fond smile to himself. They still were on edge around him. Dobermann would jump to his feet and nearly stood at attention when B entered a room while Poodle would stiffen and lower her gaze to the floor. Both twins struggled to voice their thoughts, preferring to hold their tongues and wait for instructions.

            However, there was something that they did that shocked B.

            Both twins were extremely willing to steal his clothes.

            At first, he didn’t know that Poodle was going to make it a habit to wear his beekeeper suit so often to look at his hive. He had asked if she wanted one of her own—his was far too large for her—but each time she refused. Next, he noticed Dobermann wearing his flannels. This wasn’t especially surprising as neither twin had brought much clothing. But, when the shirts never seemed to make their way back to B, he started to get suspicious.

            It wasn’t until he saw Poodle wearing one of his shirts as a pajama shirt did he realize he wasn’t getting his clothes back.

            What had him doing a spit take with his morning coffee was when Dobermann had walked in wearing his canvas coat.

            The jacket that had belonged to Eloise’s son.

            When he had first approached her about renting space in her barn, he had expected to be turned away. But, when she had kindly allowed him to do so, she had noticed the lack of clothing he had. He had just begun his retirement and didn’t have time to settle down and stock up. As it had been nearing November, Eloise had clicked her tongue at him.

            “You’ve never experienced the winter out here, have you? You’ll need more than that if you want to survive out here.”

            With a teasing smile, she had invited him inside and handed him the thick canvas coat. It had been a bit large on him, reaching halfway down his palms and baggy around the shoulders.

            “It was my son’s.”

            Hearing the past tense, B had immediately tried to hand the coat back, but Eloise was firm.

            “It’s doing no good sitting in the closet and collecting dust. Wear it, Mr. Clay. Please.”

            That was the first and certainly not the last time he couldn’t refuse a request from Eloise. So, he had kept the coat. She had been right; it had kept him warm the few winters he spent with her.

            It had also acted as an anchor for his slipping sanity when he had burned down Danforth’s first few buildings.

            Dobermann had picked up on his surprise and for the first time, looked sheepish as the blatant theft. He had peered at B as if expecting to be punished, which had stilled the tongue-lashing B had been ready to deliver. Instead, B had calmly taken a breath and told Dobermann that he could get his grubby little hands on everything but that coat.

            He had nodded and returned the coat to the back of B’s closet.

            At the moment, both of the twins were wearing a flannel of his while he had been left with a simple Henley. He had been tempted to take them clothes shopping but decided that trip could wait until summer was over and they needed heavier clothes for the winter. He had a feeling he’d need to build up to the idea of taking both of them on an outing.

            Leaning against the kitchen counter and watching the microwave heat up another bag of popcorn, B could already imagine Poodle and Dobermann encouraging him to buy certain pieces of clothing just so they could steal them at a later date. Smirking at the idea, B looked forward to it.

            Lost in his thoughts, the ding of the microwave brought him back to reality. As he reached for the microwave door, his hand froze for a single moment.

            A single, red dot sat on the microwave.

            Like a switch had been flipped, B’s whole body went on auto pilot as a plan began to form in his mind on how to get himself and the twins out of there. Acting as if he hadn’t seen the red dot, he opened the microwave and grabbed the bag. Turning, he opened the bag and began to pour it into the bowl. As he did this with one hand, his other slowly reached down to open to a drawer. From where he was positioned in front of the window, the sniper shouldn’t be able to see what he was doing.

            Smooth metal met his fingers as he grabbed the gun.

            In a blink of an eye, he yanked his hand out of the drawer and shot the kitchen light. Darkness swallowed the kitchen as glass shattered and B dropped to the floor into a crouch. He could hear a second shot ringing out as the window rained glass down on him.

            “Get out of here!” B screamed, hoping the twins could hear him.

            All hell broke loose.

            Bangs and crashes rang out through the entire house as the doors were broken down. With the kitchen light gone, B could only go off the light from the living room and moonlight. Even with only that, he knew something was off as three attackers came at him.

            They weren’t fighting to kill.

            The guns they held were odd, not like any he had seen soldiers to use in combat. Not to mention, one of them held a long pole with a loop of wire at the end of it. Who were these people?

            Keeping in his crouch, he was able to kick the legs out from under two of them and jumped up to deliver an uppercut to the third one holding the pole. That one stumbled into the counter, allowing B to raise his gun and put a bullet into all three. However, the gunshots only added the cacophony of noise that was coming from the living room.

            He stayed crouched as he knew the sniper was likely to still be out there to offer the other assailants coverage.

            An explosion shook the house.

            “Shit!”

            B was on his feet in an instant and running into the living room.

            Smoke met him first. Coughing and quickly covering his face with his arm, he squinted through the quickly thickening smoke to try and find the twins. He could hear groans of pain and the sharp crackle of fire to his left. Snapping his head back and forth, he could see bodies on the floor. They were wearing ski masks and black clothing, but there was no sign of either Poodle or Dobermann.

            “B!”

            Swirling around, B ran towards the bedroom the twins had been using and found Poodle dragging a near limp Dobermann. There was a large bruise forming on Poodle’s face already as panic flashed in her eyes.

            “Who the hell are these people?” B screamed over the ringing in his ears.

            “Dog Catchers.”

            If they weren’t in a dire situation, B would’ve rolled his eyes.

            Instead, he grabbed Dobermann’s other arm and threw it over his shoulder as he took the man from Poodle. Shoving his gun into Poodle’s hands, he jerked his head towards the kitchen. “Cover me!”

            There were only two ways out of the house: the kitchen and living room. With the living room quickly being consumed with flames, they had to risk the sniper to get out of the kitchen. Going through any of the bedroom windows was out of the question with a near unconscious Dobermann.

            Smoke was filling the house, causing B’s eyes to water and making him cough harshly. They needed to get out before the flames caught up to them or blocked their path. Stepping back into the kitchen, B stopped as he heard heavy stomping coming up the shorts steps into the house. He didn’t have to worry, as the first attacker came through the door, he was dropped to the floor instantly.

            Poodle continued to put a bullet through each of their heads as they entered.

            B didn’t say anything as he stepped over their bodies.

            Fresh air greeted them as they finally made it out of the house.

            “The truck! It’s our only chance!” Poodle panted behind him. Grunting in agreement, he tried to move as fast as he could with Dobermann’s added weight. The man was completely out of it—B could only hope that he wasn’t seriously injured.

            He spotted several black vans dotted around the house, with more armored attackers pointing guns at the house. The flames quickly consuming the house cast dancing shadows across them, making their figures look like grotesque monsters. However, what concerned B the most were the large dog crates sitting near the vans.

            What the hell…?

            In an instant, the three of them were spotted.

            It’s a damn miracle he isn’t hit while booking it to his truck. Dobermann’s dead weight is slowing him down considerably, but luckily the darkness helped hide their movements as they raced towards the truck. Until:

            “B!”

            His heart sank.

            Whipping his head around, he saw Poodle picking herself up off the ground. She was still firing at their attackers, occasionally bringing one down with her marksmanship. However, she was limping severely as she tried to follow after him. The attackers were getting closer.

            The truck was still fifty feet away.

            “Get him out of here!” Poodle screamed. “Save him!”

            B could almost hear Dobermann saying the exact same thing.

            Grunting, B wedged his body further under Dobermann’s to lift the other in a fireman’s lift. Adrenaline pumped through his body as B raced across his hard, the sound of wood snapping and the house collapsing behind him as the truck grew closer and closer. B pulled the door open violently as he practically threw Dobermann’s body inside and reached under behind the seat.

            The sawed-off shotgun felt heavy in his hands as he pulled the box of ammo out alongside it.

            His feet were already carrying him back to Poodle before the first round was loaded.

            She was on her knees, several of the armed attackers swarming her as one of them came forward with one of the poles. The second round was loaded into the gun as the man put the loop around Poodle’s neck as she weakly pulled at it, her strength disappearing quickly.

            B raised the shotgun and aimed it.

            The pole dropped as did the man who had been holding it.

            Instantly, all guns were pointed at him. Only for him to shoot off his second shot, the spread hitting another attacker and nicking another next to them. Even with both of his shots gone, B wasn’t worried.

            Not with Poodle forcing herself to her feet and pouncing on the last attackers. In quick succession, she had down the last three before she fell back to her knees. B was by her side in only a few seconds as he loaded the gun again. There were still many attackers coming towards them that had been hiding on the other side of the house. Hopefully with the dancing lights from the house’s flames and the darkness made the sniper’s job impossible.

            “We need to get out of here,” B hissed as he grabbed Poodle up. She let out a squeak at the rough treatment as he carried her bridal style. Her grip was weak as she panted against his shoulder. “Are you hurt?”

            “No,” she gasped. “Tranqs.”

            B growled under his breath.

            They were taking their job description seriously as Dog Catchers.

             Practically throwing Poodle into the truck, he slid in next to her, almost sitting on top of her as she struggled to shove Dobermann’s body out of the way. Wasting no time getting comfortable, B threw the truck into drive and slammed his foot on the pedal. He could hear the tires spinning in the dirt as the engine roared to life and the truck lurched forward. Shouts were drowned out as he drove the truck towards the dirt road, and he risked a glance at the review mirror.

            His house was one, giant bonfire.

            The place he had wanted to spend the rest of his days peacefully alone was now turning to ash. Everything the twins had brought into his home was now gone as well, along with the last of B’s possessions. His heart twinged as the thought of Eloise’s coat being eaten by the flames. The one thing he had left of her—gone.

            B’s eyes flicked to the side of the house, and he could see that the attackers were piling into their cars, but were not on their trail just yet. However, as he watched their movements, his eyes drifted behind them at a small light.

            Dobermann had insisted that they install a nightlight for the ducklings as they were used to having light while inside the house. Now, it shone brightly behind the attackers as the coop stood untouched.

            Hopefully someone came to investigate in the morning and would give the ducklings back to Cindy.

            Or at least, that’s the story B was going to tell Dobermann.

            Tearing his eyes away from the mirror and the last of his short life, B tried to push the truck even harder as it raced down the dirt road and towards a paved road. They already had an advantage over their attackers, and B was hopeful that as long as he got enough distance between them, he should be able to get away easily.

            The only issue was where they were going to go.

            Finally looking over at his two passengers, B saw that they were completely passed out. Poodle had shoved Dobermann against the door and leaned her head against his shoulder as she succumbed to the tranquilizers. There was no telling how long they would be asleep.

            B kept up the break-neck speed until he finally hit the paved road. Only then did he slow the truck down and listen for their pursuers. There was nothing. Risking a relieved breath, B carefully pulled out onto the road and mentally planned out a route through Montana going east. He doubted the twins had anywhere else to go, and since B was still in hot water with the Beekeepers, he didn’t have many places to hide either.

            However, there was someone he knew that could possibly help them.

            Well, he hoped she would at least.

            After all, she had let him escape not so long ago.

Chapter Text

            Verona snorted loudly as she woke up with a start. Whipping her head around, she looked for what had woken her up. All was silent in her pigsty of an apartment, until—

            Someone began banging on her door.

            Groaning, Verona rubbed her eyes. Early afternoon sun streamed into her apartment and only strengthened her oncoming headache. The banging didn’t help as the person didn’t take the hint that Verona was purposely not answering the door. Who would even be knocking on her door in the middle of the day, on a Tuesday?

            Wait…

            To get into her building, a person needed their own keycard, and all guests needed to be confirmed by the doorman before being allowed further into the building. If it was a delivery, then it would be left at the front desk, or she would get called by the doorman.

            As for her neighbors, they knew she normally worked all day and sometimes nights, so they never bothered to see her in person. They preferred to text her or leave notes on her door.

            So, who the fuck was knocking on her door?

            After her little session of hard thinking, her head pounded in time with the person’s banging on her door.

            “Fuck!” She hissed. This was supposed to be her well-earned vacation of laying on the couch and doing nothing other than watching trash tv and drinking herself silly. Wiley was wrong—she didn’t need therapy when she had ol’ Jack Daniel by her side.

            The banging continued.

            “I’m coming!”

            Maybe she screamed a bit too loudly, but if her neighbors wanted to complain, then she’d just sick them on whoever was at her door. Muttering under her breath the whole way to the door and as she looked out the peephole.

            “What the hell…?”

            Looking straight back at the little hole was Adam Clay.

            The Beekeeper.

            Verona cursed. Her service pistol was locked away in her safe. She could go get it, but what use would it be against the Beekeeper? Especially when she was nursing a bad hangover. Might as well see what he wanted.

            Undoing the three different locks, Verona popped the door open a crack.

            “You shouldn’t be here, Clay.”

            “I know,” he replied, his face settled in a scowl. “But we have nowhere else to go.”

            “What do you mean ‘we’?” Verona narrowed her eyes. Opening the door further, she frowned at the two people standing off to the side of Clay. They had purposely stayed out of sight of the peephole. “Who are you?”

            “Let us in,” Clay spoke for them. “I’ll explain everything. I swear.”

            Meeting his eyes, Verona peered at him closely. The same, hard expression he normally wore was there, but she could see exhaustion creeping into his eyes. He was hard to read, but she could tell that he was at the end of his rope, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Glancing over at the other two, she didn’t know what to think.

            They looked normal—both were wearing flannels, as if they had escaped a farm, but the way they carried themselves made the hairs on the back of Verona’s neck stand on edge. These two were dangerous.

            Briefly, Verona wondered if these two were also Beekeepers. They certainly had that aura about them.

            “Fine,” she grunted.

            Opening the door fully, she watched as all three filed into her apartment. Firmly ignoring the mess all around the place, she instead focused on her ‘guests’.

            She of course knew Clay. He didn’t look any different than half a year ago when he had escaped—the only difference being the weariness that seemed to be seeping from his very bones. Half tempted to let him take a quick nap, Verona turned towards the other two.

            The other man was taller than Clay, standing straight and sending a glare her way as if she had personally kicked his grandma. She spotted a large knife in his boot, but other than that, she didn’t see any other weapons on him. If he was anything like Clay, then he probably didn’t need any.

            Lastly, the woman was the same height as Clay as she stood on the other side of him in the same position as the other man, with her arms crossed and glaring daggers. Verona had a feeling that even if the woman didn’t have the same weight and strength as the two men, she was equally as deadly as them. There weren’t any obvious weapons on her, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t hiding anything.

            Clay cleared his throat, interrupting the silent, three-way staring contest.

            “You’re on vacation?” He asked conversationally.

            “Yeah,” she nodded slowly. “But you already knew that.”

            He didn’t deny it.

            “We had nowhere else to go,” Clay began but Verona quickly interrupted him.

            “So you thought your best bet was a federal agent that wanted to arrest you for trying to kill the president?”

            “I wasn’t trying to kill her,” he huffed. “Her son was rotten.”

            “But she was the queen!” Verona insisted. “Weren’t you acting like a queen killer?”

            Clay frowned at her. “I was acting like a Beekeeper. The queen wasn’t the problem, so she didn’t need to be replaced. Her son was the one throwing off the balance of The Hive and influencing the other bees to act against it. Once he was taken out, things began to balance out again.”

            “How can you say something like that?” She barked. “He was a human being, not some bee to be taken care of!”

            “I thought you said she understood what you were,” the man drawled, his eyes raking over her and found her lacking. Hackles rising, Verona curled her lip at him.

            “I understand that he was part of a fucked-up organization that shouldn’t exist! Why do we have laws and governments if there’s shadows running things behind the scenes?”

            “Because the system isn’t perfect,” Clay responded. “Do you think your mother would have gotten justice if I didn’t get involved?”

            Verona opened her mouth to retaliate.

            Only to find she didn’t have a response.

            She hated it, but he was right. If the threat of a Beekeeper hadn’t been there, she never would have been allowed to meet the higher ups and insist that there was something wrong. They would have ignored her entirely and the case would’ve died before it got off the ground. Even if she had been able to keep it open and found the connection to Danforth without Clay’s involvement, there would have been pushback to cover it up. People didn’t like it when their dirty laundry was aired out. Especially when it involved politicians.

            “Either way,” she spat. “Why are you here? And who are these two?”

            “This is Poodle,” Clay nodded towards the woman. “And Dobermann.”

            What?

            “What?” Verona looked between the three. “Why are you named after dogs? Aren’t you Beekeepers?”

            “We’re Lap Dogs,” Dobermann said as if that explained everything.

            “What the fuck is a Lap Dog?” She asked exasperated. At her question, she could see both Poodle and Dobermann eyeing Clay as he sighed. They seemed on edge, almost as if they were about to bolt depending on his answer.

            “Have you eaten yet?”

            Verona blinked at the question. Before she could demand an answer, she stopped at the pleading look in Clay’s eyes. She had never seen him beg before—even if it was only with his expression—but she could see that he wanted to explain things with the other two distracted, or at least out of ear shot.

            “No, not yet,” she answered, eyeing him suspiciously.

            “Dobermann, Poodle, go get us something to eat.”

            “What? We can’t leave you alone,” Poodle immediately objected.

            “I’m not your master.”

            Verona’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. What the fuck did he just say?

            Neither Dobermann nor Poodle seemed happy with this statement and whatever it implied, but eventually, Dobermann got the silent message to leave, even if it was only for a short while. He had to practically drag Poodle with him while sending a sharp look Verona’s way, but the two left without another complaint.

            As soon as the door was shut, Verona whirled on Clay.

            “Start talking. Now.”

            It was as if someone had let all the air out of Clay as his shoulders slumped and he gestured for them to sit on the couch. Keeping the coffee table between them, Verona sat across from him and kept him pinned with her eyes.

            “First off, you don’t have to call me Clay anymore,” he started. “B is just fine.”

            “Bee? As in the insect?” She sent him an unimpressed look.

            “No, like the letter,” he didn’t smile, but his lips upturned just the slightest bit. “I haven’t had a real name in years. It’d be strange to have one now.”

            “What about those two? Why are they named after dogs? What the hell do you mean Lap Dogs?” She knew she was asking all her questions at once, but could anyone really blame her? She had a practical killing-machine show up on her doorstep with what looked like two proteges.

            “You know about the Beekeepers,” B said. “They’re not the only secret organizations out there.”

            “Are you fucking kidding me?” Verona groaned, throwing her head back and rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. “First Beekeepers and now Lap Dogs? What other insane organizations are there? Let me guess, The fucking Baristas.”

            She was almost shocked at the snort of amusement B let out as she glanced back him.

            “You’re not too far off.”

            “Tell me you’re kidding.”

            “There are The Servers.”

            Verona eyed him critically, but he didn’t look as if he was bullshitting her.

            “Fuck,” she sighed. “Let’s focus on—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—Poodle and Dobermann. What is a Lap Dog? Is it anything like a Beekeeper?”

            B’s face screwed up at that suggestion.

            “Beekeepers keep the balance in society, while Lap Dogs are bodyguards.”

            “Why do I feel like they’re not your every day bodyguard?”

            “Because they’re not,” B sighed. If it was possible, he seemed to age ten years as he refused to meet her eyes, instead focusing on the coffee table. “A Lap Dog is taken from their family when they’re born. From birth, they’re trained to be the best bodyguard for their master. Usually, they’re placed young so they can learn how to protect their masters as they grow. It’s a life long assignment. At least, it normally is.”

            Eyes wide, Verona didn’t know what to say first.

            Taken as babies? Their ‘masters’? There was too much for her to process.

            “Ok,” she took a deep breath. “Please tell me this is just some sick fantasy that you’re spinning right now, because if this is real, you’re talking about human trafficking. And slavery.”

            B finally looked her in the eyes.

            He wasn’t lying.

            “I—” Verona didn’t know what to say. “Are you seriously telling me that there’s a secret organization that’s—what? Taking babies and turning them into super bodyguards? Who even needs that?”

            “A lot of rich families buy them.”

            She was going to be sick.

            “How many of these Lap Dogs are there?”

            “I have no idea,” B admitted.

            “I find it strange that the Beekeepers are allowing this to keep going,” she narrowed her eyes. “Didn’t you say that the weakest of our society should be protected? What about the babies being kidnapped and being turned into Lap Dogs?”

            “It sounds cliched, but our organizations stay clear of each other. ‘If we don’t bother you, you don’t bother us,’ sort of thing.”

            “So you keep balance when it suits you.”

            B’s face tightened and she couldn’t help the vicious sneer on her lips. She was right and he knew it. When he didn’t respond, she rolled her eyes and kept the conversation going.

            “You told them you weren’t their master, so why are they with you?”

            “They killed their last master.”

            She let out a low whistle.

            “Good for them.”

            “Not really,” B grimaced. “A Lap Dog doesn’t retire. They give their entire lives to their masters. They aren’t meant to out last their master. Poodle and Dobermann have outlived two of their masters and now they have to pay for it.”

            “What’s going to happen to them? Will they be put down?” Verona hated using that language, but it seemed to oddly fit at the moment.

            “That’s what I thought,” B frowned, deep in thought. A worry line was beginning to form on his brow as he looked at her helplessly. “When we escaped the other night, they were using tranquilizers. You don’t bring something like that if your intention is to kill.”

            “Shit…”

            Verona’s stomach twisted at the thought of anyone being caught and sent back into that sort of hellhole, even if she only knew the bare basics of what was going on. “But that doesn’t explain why you came here.”

            “Like I said,” B shrugged. “We didn’t have anywhere else to go. Poodle and Dobermann weren’t able to make connections as Lap Dogs, and well, I’ve used up all my good favor with the Beekeepers and anyone else.”

            “You can say that again,” Verona snorted. “You’re lucky I haven’t called the cops on you. Or just arrested you myself.”

            “I knew you wouldn’t.”

            She glared at how smug he was, but before she could throw an insult, or even an object at his face, the door was opening. The two Lap Dogs weren’t necessarily loud as they entered, however, they had a certain presence about them that made it had to ignore them. They were most certainly not normal civilians.

            “We got tacos,” Poodle announced cheerfully.

            “Dobermann,” B’s voice had a dangerous edge to it that made Verona tense. She wished she had her gun. Slowly looking away from B’s harsh face, she scanned Dobermann over and saw the man was hiding something in his flannel shirt and decidedly not meeting B’s eyes. “What do you have?”

            Tension draining out of her, Verona stared at him curiously as he guiltily looked up.

            Only for a little meow to come from under Dobermann’s shirt.

            Between B’s silent anger, Dobermann’s guilt, and Poodle’s indifference, Verona had a feeling she was only starting to see the mess B had just dumped into her lap.

Chapter Text

            Sitting at her kitchen island, Verona took a bite of the taco Poodle had handled her and watched the utter shit show that was going down in her living room. This is way better than any daytime soap opera, she thought to herself as she chewed loudly.

            “Dobermann,” B was keeping his voice level and calm, but Verona could see the vein on his temple. He was pissed but was able to hide it fairly well. “You can’t keep doing this. First the ducks, now a cat. I know you want a pet, but this is not the time.”

            “But—”

            “Did you even think this through?”

            Dobermann said nothing, answering B’s question. Instead, he was taking small pieces of fish from a taco and feeding it to the small, dingy kitten. It nearly bit Dobermann’s fingers in the process it was so hungry.

            “Why are you getting after him?” Poodle piped up. “I thought you weren’t our master.”

            B sent her a withering glare. “I’m not, but that doesn’t mean he can do whatever he wants and put an animal in danger.”

            “I’m not putting him in danger!” Dobermann immediately snapped.

            “You’re not?” B wasn’t yelling necessarily, but his voice had risen. The Lap Dogs’ reactions were obvious as they stiffened. Verona filed that little fact away. “We’re being hunted. What do you think will happen to a defenseless animal when you’re being shot at?”

            Shaking her head, Verona could see B was fighting a losing battle. He was dealing with two traumatized people who were given their freedom recently. It wasn’t a surprise Dobermann was doing whatever he wanted without thinking—he was using his new found freedom with the knowledge that he wouldn’t be punish by his current caretaker.

            Which, Verona had to admit that B was handling Poodle and Dobermann well. Hopefully he could keep this up and guide the two before they did something utterly stupid or finally got in touch with a therapist.

            After a few more minutes of trying to reason with Dobermann, B finally gave up and sat back down on the coach, defeated. Verona watched as Poodle instantly handed him a taco and shoved a drink towards Dobermann.

            They have such a weird dynamic.

            At first, she had compared it to a parent and child situation; B acting as the impromptu parent of two wayward people. However, now that she watched all three of them, that wasn’t quite it. The two Lap Dogs were trying to give back to B in any way they could. They had respected his need for privacy as he explained the situation to Verona, while trying to meet his needs like Poodle had just done. But, on top of that, Poodle hadn’t hesitated to call B out.

            Swallowing, Verona pointed her half-eaten taco at the three.

            “So, what are you guys? Siblings?”

            Their reactions were instantaneous.

            B nodded around his mouthful of food, while pointing between Poodle and Dobermann. However, their reactions were quite interesting.

            Poodle had ducked her head, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as she hunched in on herself. Meanwhile, Dobermann looked like a deer caught in headlights as he glanced between Verona and B before his expression smoothed and paid full attention to the kitten on his lap.

            What the fuck?

            “They’re twins,” B finally explained after swallowing. Verona could only stare at him. Did he not see what the two had done?

            “What about you?” She pressed, watching Poodle and Dobermann especially. If possible, Poodle was becoming stiffer every second, with Dobermann having gone still, the kitten wiggling in his grip.

            “What about me?”

            “What are you to them?”

            “I took them in. It’s as simple as that,” B frowned.

            “Doesn’t look that way,” Verona said, nodding towards the other two.

            Finally, B turned his attention to the Lap Dogs and the confusion on his face matched hers. “Poodle? Dobermann? What’s wrong?”

            Verona swore she could have cut the air with a knife with how tense everything had become. Taking another bite of her taco, she leaned forward to watch the drama that was unfolding right in her living room. This was going to be good.

            For their part, Poodle and Dobermann were staring at each other, in what Verona had to guess was how the twins normally communicated. Dobermann still had that deer-caught-in-headlights look while Poodle was trying to steel herself for whatever she was about to say. Setting her food down, she straightened up to stare B down directly.

            “When we killed our last master—”

            Verona couldn’t help the very loud choking noise she made at the word ‘killed’.

            “—we didn’t come directly to you,” Poodle finally glanced away, grimacing at the memories. “Instead, we thought we would try to plead with the Trainers to see if we could be reassigned.”

            B sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.

            “You two are idiots.”

            “Yeah, we see that now,” Dobermann snorted derisively. “For some reason, we thought the Trainers would actually care how we were treated after we left our training.”

            “So? What happened?” B pressed.

            “We found our files.”

            Poodle didn’t continue.

            Verona tried to lean even further into the counter, but at this point, she was practically bent over it with her chest nearly touching the counter. She was in full suspense.

            “What did you find in there?” B’s posture was even more rigid than Poodle’s as he stared her down, waiting for the inevitable.

            “We found our personal history,” Dobermann took over for Poodle. He had let the kitten on the floor, and Verona promised herself to punch Dobermann if she found cat shit anywhere. “B, your mother didn’t hang herself.”

            “What?” B breathed out.

            “She had been pregnant before you were sent to the orphanage, right?”

            “Yes, but…”

            “She was nearly due,” Dobermann’s voice was soft as he spoke. Almost as if he spoke any louder, something would break. “She was a pregnant, single mother that had no connections to anyone in London. All of her family was dead and all she had was her son. She was an easy target.”

            B’s face might as well have been made of stone as he stared as Dobermann. Slowly, he shook his head, disbelief clear in his eyes.

            “No,” he stated firmly. “There’s no way.”

            “The Trainers cut us out of her and left her for dead. And you as an orphan.”

            “I was told she killed herself.”

            “It’s not hard to cover up a murder, especially when people like the Lap Dogs are involved,” Dobermann explained gently.

            B didn’t have an answer to that. How could he? He knew perfectly well how these things went down, especially since he himself had been in a secret organization that operated outside the law.

            The apartment fell silent, the confession nearly suffocating.

            Verona couldn’t help but feel sympathetic towards B. Not only was he finding out that his own mother had been murdered, but that his little siblings and his life had been stolen from him. All so some rich assholes could have their own personal plaything and bodyguard. She couldn’t possibly imagine what kind of thoughts were going through his mind at the moment.

            Meanwhile, both Poodle and Dobermann were watching him as if he was a ticking bomb and an injured animal at the same time. The hope and desperation was obvious in Poodle’s eyes as she stared at B pleadingly. Dobermann had the same spark of hope, but the exhaustion from explaining was clear in the way his shoulders drooped.

            “B?” Poodle called gently.

            He didn’t respond.

            “Please say something,” she begged.

            “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” He bit out, his face settling into a scowl.

            “Would you have believed us?” Doberman sneered. “Two Lap Dogs you haven’t seen in two years—who, incidentally, tried to kill you—show up on your doorstep and claim to be your long-lost brother and sister? Yes, I’m sure that would have gone down smoothly.”

            B winced at the sarcasm, but didn’t say anything.

            Even Verona would have called the police on them with a story like that.

            “We were going to tell you,” Poodle insisted. “But with the Dog Catchers…”

            “They just ruin everything, don’t they?” Verona joked, filling the silence.

            Only to have three heads snap over to her. Guess they forgot she was even there. She must have broken the tension though as B got to his feet, refusing to look at either Poodle or Dobermann.

            “I need some air,” he grunted.

            “The bedroom has a balcony,” Verona offered. “Wouldn’t want you going too far.”

            B nodded at her graciously before going down the small hallway. She wasn’t even surprised when he knew which door led to the bedroom. Frowning, she glanced back at the twins and saw they had silently gone back to their food.

            Looks like I’m babysitting, she thought to herself.

            B kept his breathing even as he leaned against the rusty railing of Verona’s small balcony. There were a few potted plants that looked to have died months ago with their withered leaves and stems. Luckily, a large oak tree hid part of the balcony, leaving B more at ease. The last thing he needed was to be spotted.

            His hands were clenched in front of him, knuckles having gone white with how tight his grip was.

            No matter how much he tried to calm his mind, nothing could stop the racing thoughts that bombarded him.

            How did I not notice?

            Surely he should have seen the telltale features the three of them shared, but he hadn’t looked at them closely enough to see himself in them. Now though, he could clearly see that Dobermann’s eyes looked just like his when he squinted. Poodle would have the same look of confusion on her face when there was a problem she as trying to work out.

            Alongside that, there was the detail that when B was around the twins, he felt at ease with them. Almost as if he knew that he could be his true self around them without being judged. He had taken this to happen based on their profession, but perhaps it was something more? Maybe he subconsciously knew they had a deeper connection?

            Was that why he allowed them to stay?

            Is this why he wanted to kill everyone who had dared harm them?

            Sighing, B rubbed at his temples, feeling a splitting headache starting to form behind his eyes.

            He had no idea how long he stayed out there, watching as the shadows from the tree were growing darker and longer before he heard the bedroom door open behind him.

            “B?” Verona called out.

            He didn’t respond.

            B stayed where he was as he heard Verona make her way towards him, quietly muttering about not expecting guests to see her messy bedroom. He graciously ignored her comments as she settled next to him in a similar pose.

            “So,” Verona said. “You have a brother and sister.”

            B nodded.

            “You never knew about them?”

            “No,” B sighed. “I knew my mum was pregnant, but when I was told she killed herself, I thought the baby was dead too. I didn’t even know she was having twins.”

            “Fuck.”

            “Yeah.”

            They were both quiet as they watched through the tree’s leaves at the busy street below. Traffic was dense as cars had to maneuver between pedestrians and parked vehicles. It was the type of hustle and bustle B had always compared to that of a beehive. Too bad like a beehive, all he could do was stand to the side and watch as the gears of society moved without him. He was meant to be a watcher—A Beekeeper. Not someone who suddenly had worldly attachments like troubled siblings that needed his protection.

            Maybe that was why he had been recruited as a Beekeeper.

            It wouldn’t have been surprising if they already knew that his mother had been killed and siblings taken away to be trained to be Lap Dogs. They must have assumed he would never meet two random Lap Dogs—until he did.

            Come to think of it, after the mission to kill Armitage Onix was when he had been pressured to think of retiring.

            Coincidence he thinks not.

            “Do you believe them?”

            Frowning, B glanced over at Verona.

            In all honesty, he really did enjoy talking with her. There was something about her that put him at ease—perhaps it was her steady personality or her acceptance of the facts. She had immediately sought him out to apologize after accusing him of her mother’s death, even going as far offer him a drink since she could see he had been affected as well. And there was the fact that she had let him escape.

            Now, there wasn’t an ounce of pity or awkwardness in her gaze as she looked back at him. Instead, there was only an openness that showed her curiosity at the situation.

            “There’d be no benefit in making this up,” he shook his head. “They already know I’ll keep them safe, blood related or not.”

            “Hmmm,” Verona nodded.

            “How could you tell?”

            “What?”

            “How could you tell that we were related? We weren’t raised together; hell, we’ve only spent a week together.”

            Verona smirked at him.

            “You take care of each other.”

            B frowned.

            Of course they did. They were all they had in this world of secret organizations that had torn them away from each other and—

            Oh.

            That was what normal siblings did: face the world head on with each other at their sides.

            “Even if they weren’t my brother and sister, I still would’ve taken care of them,” he told her quietly.

            “I can see that. But, I don’t think they would have come to you if you weren’t their big brother.”

            B didn’t even want to imagine what would have happened to the twins if they hadn’t come to him. He could already see them being captured by the Dog Catchers because they couldn’t keep a low profile. They would be sent to an even worse master, or even sent back for further training. For some reason, he had a feeling they were more valuable being reprogrammed rather than simply killed for disobedience.

            “Big brother.”

            The words felt foreign on his tongue.

            He didn’t know how to be a big brother.

            “You know, I should’ve seen it before.”

            “What do you mean?” B raised an eyebrow at the little smile on her face.

            “You have this vibe about you,” Verona gestured to him and looked thoughtful. “That whole ‘I’ll burn the whole world down because my special people got hurt’ kind of vibe. Which, technically, you did burn down a lot of things.”

            B couldn’t help letting out a snort of amusement at the comment. He did in fact burn several buildings down.

            “The question is though,” Verona continued. “What are you going to burn down for those two?”

            That question had run through his head several times as he had drove the entire way back to Massachusetts. How was he going to keep the twins safe? Was there a way to ensure they would never be forced back into the life of Lap Dogs?

            “I don’t know yet.”

            “Just don’t tell me when you figure it out.”

            B sent her a questioning look.

            “Probable deniability. If you don’t tell me, then I’m not lying when someone asks me.”

            “Smart,” B smirked, but it fell quickly as a thought struck him. “What are Poodle and Dobermann doing?”

            “Oh, I called my partner Wiley. He took them out to buy some things for Brutus.”

            “Brutus?”

            “The kitten.”

            “I see.”

            “Hopefully Wiley won’t get too many grey hairs dealing with them.”

            “With those two? Unlikely.”

Chapter Text

            B and Verona sat at her kitchen island, B sharing stories of his time as a Beekeeper without revealing too many details about the secret organization. Never in his life did B ever think he would ever be here: chatting calming with someone who fully knew who he was and what he had done. He never thought he would find people who would accept him for what he had become.

            Verona was grilling him on how he could have possibly murdered someone with a champagne bottle when the front door opened unceremoniously, Poodle and Dobermann clearly arguing over who would get to play with the kitten first. Following at a much more sedated pace, Wiley stumbled in, carrying a large assortment of cat equipment.

            “What the hell? Are you planning on moving the cat into my place?” Verona snapped.

            “Unless you want it to piss on your carpet, then all that stuff is necessary,” Dobermann shrugged nonchalantly.  

            B truly felt for Verona in that moment. She had unwittingly signed up to be the cat’s new owner. There was no way he was letting Dobermann take the kitten with them—wherever it was they were going. Listening to Verona mumble under her breath, B nodded to Wiley as he dumped everything on the floor and came towards them.

            “Please never call me ever again.”

            “Oh come on,” Verona laughed. “They’re not that bad!”

            “I already have four kids, I never agreed to babysitting two maniacs!” Wiley stressed. “Especially the little brother and sister of the guy who handed our asses to us a few months ago.”

            “I didn’t know they were my siblings back then,” B pointed out, but quickly looked away when both Wiley and Verona sent him unimpressed looks. “Thanks for looking out for them. They’re gonna get themselves killed without someone to watch them.”

            “You’ve got that right,” Wiley grumbled. “So, how long are you three planning on sticking around? I never thought I’d see Verona taking in so many strays.”

            “I didn’t ‘take them in’,” Verona snapped. “They showed up on my doorstep!”

            “You still opened the door.”

            “I didn’t have much choice!”

            “They held you at gun point?”

            “Well, no…”

            “Strays.”

            They continued to banter, but B let it wash over him as he thought on Wiley’s question. How long would they stay here? How long before the Dog Catchers were back on their trail? Would they link Verona to them and go after her?

            Glancing over at the woman, B felt a sharp pang in his chest. He never wanted any of this for her. Not only had he not been able to prevent the death of her mother, but he had also led her on a wild goose chase, and was now asking her to hide him and his siblings. He continued to put her in danger’s way, and for what?

            Across from the kitchen were he sat, Poodle and Dobermann were trying to entice the kitten with different toys. They both appeared to be vying for the animal’s attention, but failing as the kitten decided to explore the apartment instead.

            B frowned.

            Even though their home had been burned to the ground and they were forced to flee, neither twin seemed to be affected. They had followed him up the stairs to Verona’s apartment without hesitation, then put their full trust in Verona and Wiley simply because B had done so.

            He hadn’t been lying when he said they would get themselves killed without someone to guide them.

            While he still needed time to process the whole idea of them being his little siblings, he had known from the start he would sacrifice everything for them.

            The only question now was, how was he going to protect them from the Dog Catchers and the Trainers? There was no way the organization would continue to let Dobermann and Poodle have their new found freedom; the only way out was to ensure they would never have to go back to the life of a Lap Dog.

            It was one thing to go after the son of a president, but it was an entirely different thing to take a secret organization head on. He had been able to track Danforth down since there was a paper trail and records, however, with the Lap Dogs, there was no way of knowing where to even start.

            B didn’t know who was in the organization, how many Lap Dogs or Trainers, or even where their bases were located. He could pick Poodle and Dobermann’s brains, but if he knew anything about people who worked in the shadows, as soon as someone was compromised, all the information they had was now useless. No doubt everyone in the organization had been alerted so as not to offer aid, while their bases would be relocated. Poodle and Dobermann would be helpful in taking on other Lap Dogs, but if they wanted anything useful, they would need to look elsewhere.

            Looked like they would need to visit a Scribe.

            “There’s no way in hell you’d ever request a different partner!” Verona’s voice broke through his thoughts. “You like me too much!”

            “Or our boss hates me,” Wiley responded, deadpan.

            Deciding to let them continue their bickering, B stood and walked towards the twins. The kitten had finally sauntered back to Dobermann, showing who it preferred. B could only hope Poodle didn’t start picking up animals just to prove something.

            They were sitting on the floor, backs to the couch. He sat next to them, glancing over to the FBI agents. As long as they were quiet and used jargon, then they could plan without worry—not that he thought Verona wanted anything to do with them once they left. They were far too much trouble. Resting his back against the armchair, they turned to him simultaneously and B blinked. He forgot how in sync they were sometimes.

            “What can you tell me about the Trainers and Dog Catchers?” He asked quietly.

            Their reactions were instant.

            The small, carefree smiles were gone, replaced by hardened masks and darkened eyes that couldn’t settle on a storm of emotions. For a second, B regretted asking, but he knew that if he wanted to protect them, he would need every bit of information they had.

            “When we were first taken,” Dobermann began, his voice hard and strained. “It was a normal nursery: caretakers looking after us and plenty of other children to play with. But, as soon as we turned five, we were taken out and given to the Trainers.”

            “There were a lot of children?” B was shocked. Were there more Lap Dogs than he had predicted?

            “Yes,” Poodle nodded. “They were insurance.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Not everyone makes it through training,” Dobermann whispered.

            B’s eyes widened.

            “The first thing we received were our names,” Poodle picked up from where Dobermann left off. “After that, we were given masks of the dogs we were named after. We had no identity other than our roles as Lap Dogs. The training was grueling. There was no time to ourselves; we were either studying or physically pushed to our limits.”

            “Honestly, the poison training was the worst,” Dobermann frowned, expression thoughtful. “Luckily, they didn’t use my allergy against me. I’m surprised they didn’t.”

            “Probably because we were the first set of twins and they wanted to see how far we’d go,” Poodle said, almost as if she was discussing the weather.

            Careful to school his features so as not to show the twins the growing horror inside of him, B could feel his conviction to burn every Trainer to a crisp. How many children had they turned into cold-blooded killers that didn’t even see themselves as human? How many of those children had been killed during training?

            “So you keep balance when it suits you.”

            Suddenly, Verona’s words were a slap to the face. She was completely right. B had been so concerned about protecting The Hive, he never noticed the nest of hornets festering just underneath. Why hadn’t the other Beekeepers done anything? Why hadn’t other organizations?

            The only conclusion he could come to was that the other organizations simply didn’t want to butt heads. As long as the Lap Dogs didn’t bother them, then why should they care? Out of sight, out of mind.

            No more, B thought to himself. He didn’t care how long it would take, but he refused to let another innocent child become a Lap Dog.

            “Do you know where you were trained or about any other training facilities?” B pressed. While he would have liked to know the details of what his little siblings had been through, they didn’t have the time to unpack everything. When they were safe, then he would sit them down and listen to all the harrowing details.

            “We were based in the UK, but there’s facilities everywhere,” Dobermann shook his head. “There’s no central headquarters if that’s what you’re thinking.”

            “Then who’s pulling all the strings? Who’s the one orchestrating the kidnappings? Who’s selling the Lap Dogs to the highest bidder? There has to be someone.”

            Poodle and Doberman glanced at each other. B could see the frustration in both of them—they desperately wanted to give him the information, but the simple fact was that they didn’t know. They had been on the bottom of the totem pole and could only follow orders.

            Luckily, B already had a plan on how to uncover more information.

            “We’re leaving tonight.”

            “What?” Poodle’s head snapped up. “I thought we were staying here. Can’t your little friends help us?”

            “There’s no way any government would go after Lap Dogs,” Dobermann scoffed. “Too many rich people would push against them. They don’t want to lose their own Dogs.”

            “He’s right,” B sighed.

            “So what now?” Poodle huffed. “Are we going to keep running away with our tails tucked between our legs?”

            “No.”

            “You have a plan.” Dobermann narrowed his eyes.

            “Yes, but we need to leave tonight.”

            His tone brokered no arguments as Poodle and Dobermann nodded in acceptance. Once again, B couldn’t believe the absolute trust these two had in him. They hadn’t even known him for more than two weeks, but that didn’t stop them from seeing him as their big brother.

            B could only hope he could prove to them and himself that he deserved that title.

            For now, he needed to figure out a way to convince Dobermann to leave the kitten. So far, drugging him and dragging him to the car was the best plan.

            “I wonder how many people he’s going to kill this time.”

            Verona nearly snapped her own neck with how hard she jerked her head around to stare in horror at Wiley.

            “What the fuck? How can you even say that?”

            “Look at him,” Wiley nodded towards B. “Tell me you don’t see the conviction in his eyes. He’s going to kill someone for those two. It’s just a matter of time.”

            “Yeah…” Verona trailed off. She knew since the twins had admitted to being his siblings that B was going to do something highly illegal. “I was hoping to dissuade him.”

            “Good luck with that,” Wiley let out a breathy laugh. “You’d have a better chance arresting him right now.”

            “I think I’d end up dead before I even got the cuffs on him,” Verona mumbled, glancing over at the twins. A shiver of fear ran down her spine at the thought of having to face those two head on. Nope. She was good—especially when she saw the severe expressions they were both sporting. B is probably asking them about their past, she mused to herself.

            “How long are you going to let this go on for?”

            “Not long. I don’t need this shit.”

            “You and me both.”

            “Gonna hang around for dinner?”

            “No,” Wiley gave her a firm look. “I’m serious, V. Don’t let them stick around. You saw the kind of damage a Beekeeper can do. I don’t want you mixed up in all their craziness.”

            “I’m not planning on becoming a fugitive, if that’s what you mean,” she snorted derisively. “But you have to admit, it’s pretty fucked up what they’ve been through.”

            “Tragic. Still not a reason to murder people.”

            It honestly wasn’t that funny, but for some reason—perhaps it was the whole day of weirdness and facing three murders—but Verona found herself throwing her head back and laughing like a maniac.

            This whole thing was fucked up.

            After seeing Wiley out, who gave her a warning look, Verona had been shocked when B had offered to cook them dinner. However, she quickly turned this down when she remember the only things in her fridge were a half-empty bottle of hot sauce, a single egg, and a container of Chinese food that was growing its own ecosystem.

            They ordered out instead.

            Verona once more caught herself witnessing the three unconsciously acting as if they had known each other their whole lives—which for two of them was true. B continued to chastise Dobermann for picking up random animals, while Poodle goaded both of them by stealing food off their plates. Meanwhile, Dobermann’s eyes never once stopped roaming around the room, checking the exits in case of an ambush.

            While she never wanted to meet any of them ever again, there was a small part of herself that in fact wanted to see how they fair. Her heart ached for the twins; they had grown up to serve and now had to unlearn a lifetime of horrible things. She knew that if there was anyone to guide them through that journey, it would be B. No matter how long it took.

            Once dinner was done, Verona had offered to try and make up her office so Poodle could have somewhere to sleep away from her brothers.

            “It’s fine. We’ve slept in worse conditions,” Poodle shrugged.

            Verona definitely didn’t want to know.

            She left plenty of extra pillows and blankets with the three before heading to bed herself. B took the couch after Dobermann mentioning old men and their backs while the twins took the floor, completely unperturbed. Verona was simply glad for the day to come to an end.

            By the time she woke up, mid-morning sunlight was streaming into her bedroom and a small ball of a kitten was tucked up under her chin. Scooping Brutus into her arms, Verona’s jaw popped as she yawned loudly and walked out into the living room.

            Only to find blankets folded neatly and everything put back together.

            Almost as if a Beekeeper and two Lap Dogs had never been there.

            Except for the purring kitten in her arms.

            “Fuckers,” she growled.

Chapter Text

            The sun hadn’t even risen when B had nudged Poodle and Dobermann awake. He had a feeling that if their lives weren’t in danger, they would have gladly fought him on waking up so early. As it was, they were equally quiet as they readied themselves.

            Poodle had taken Dobermann’s hand in hers, gently pulling him out the door as he looked over his shoulder. B knew he had wanted to see the kitten one last time before they left, but since the animal had decided to sleep with Verona, there was nothing they could do. Instead, B had to bear witness to Dobermann’s heart breaking once more.

            Once he was able to stop anyone from coming after them, he would buy Dobermann a whole zoo of animals.

            They ditched the truck on the top of a parking garage, paying for a month of parking so it wouldn’t be discovered for a while. He had found someone who was selling their van and willing to take cash on the spot for it. It was likely they would need to switch vehicles several more times, but this would do for now.

            However, he had been shocked when Poodle shoved him away from the driver’s seat.

            “You didn’t sleep last night.”

            “I’m fine to drive.”

            “So am I.”

            She held his gaze evenly, chin thrust out in challenge.

            “You don’t even know where we’re going.”

            “Then tell me.”

            At this point, Dobermann noticed what was going on, walking over to them to stand next to Poodle. Immediately, B knew whose side he was on—he knew a losing battle when he saw one.

            “New York City,” he grumbled.

            “See? That wasn’t too hard. Now get in the back.”

            “What?” He squawked indignantly. “I’m not sitting in the back.”

            “Neither am I,” Dobermann grunted.

            Clenching his jaw, B was ready to lay into them before his anger left him like the air leaving a balloon. He could see the defiance in their eyes, and was oddly proud of that. They finally saw him as a brother, and not another master to give them orders. If only they had done this when they weren’t running for their lives. Growling, B slid open the back of the van and got inside, glaring daggers the whole time.

            As soon as they were on the road, he was dead to the world.

            “—rd! Come play with us!”

            Blinking, B looked away from the book he had been reading. For some reason he couldn’t remember what it was about, but when he saw two little kids running up to him, he couldn’t care less. Putting the book down on the rocking chair he had been sitting in, he realized he was back at Eloise’s home. The empty fields around them were lush with flowers, and on top of the hill he could see his old beehives.

            “Let’s play!”

            Head snapping down, B saw two little hands grabbing both of his. Twin faces stared up at him, toothy smiles encouraging him to follow them.

            “Mum won’t be home for a while, so let’s go see your bees!” The little girl tugged on his hand. Her overalls were already caked in mud, some of it smeared across her cheeks.

            “No, let’s go look for frogs in the creek!” The boy whined, using both his hands to pull B in the other direction. There was a twig in his dark hair, and leaves were stuck to different parts of his outfit.

            Staring down at the children, B felt a pure happiness he had never felt before blossoming in his chest until it exploded, sending little shockwaves of joy through every inch of his body. This was where he was meant to be. This was who he was meant to be.

            He was finally home.

            He had his family.

            “Let’s go see the bees and head down to the creek afterwards, all right?”

            The little boy rolled his eyes before reluctantly nodding. Gleefully, the girl pulled on B’s hand even harder at the fact that she got her way. B chuckled as the children led him towards the hill, their hands tightly holding on to his. As they approached, B spotted several bees fly past them, one landing on his shoulder.

            “Are going to name it?” The boy asked.

            Frowning, B looked down at the curious look the boy was sending him. Where had he heard that before?

            However, before he had the chance to respond, B heard the tired of wheels on gravel. Whipping his head around, B’s heart stopped.

            Pulling up to the house were three large vans, suited men streaming out of them and heading straight for the three of them. They were holding guns and odd poles with loops at the end of them.

            “What’s going on?!” The girl whimpered, as both children cowered behind him.

            “Stay behind me,” B growled, not answering her question. He had no idea who these people were, but if they thought they could get their hands on the children, then they had another thing coming to them.

            B readied himself into a fighting stance as one of them men halted the rest with a raised fist. He stood three meters away with a large gun that didn’t look as if it took normal bullets.

            “We have no issue with you, Beekeeper. Hand over the Puppies and we’ll leave you in peace,” the man’s voice was slightly muffled through his helmet, but it was clear he had no emotional stake in any of this.

            “Get the hell out of here!” B yelled back. “You’re not taking them anywhere.”

            “Have it your way.”

            Almost on cue, all the men rushed at B all at once. There had to have been at least twelve of them. Several come straight at him, while he spotted three of them flanking around him to have better access to the children hiding behind him.

            Over my dead body!

            Without thinking, B scooped the boy and girl up into his arms, tiny arms coming up to circle his neck and cling to his chest. The pounding of boots on dirt matched the hectic beat of his heart as he pushed his legs to run faster than he had even run his life.

            He couldn’t afford even the split second it would take to look over his shoulder—he had to get away from these people. Tall flowers reached up, trying to tangle between his legs and trip him. The buzzing of his bees grew louder as the hives were growing closer; at one point they would have been a safe haven for him, now they appeared only as another obstacle in his way to protecting the children in his arms.

            Two little bodies shook in his arms as he ran straight into a swarm of bees, their stingers piercing every inch of his exposed flesh. He tightened his grip on the children as he listened to their twin cries of pain as the bees didn’t show any mercy. How could his own bees turn against him? Hadn’t he sacrificed enough of himself to earn some leniency from them?

            Pushing through the exploding pain, B continued past the beehives, but as soon as had crossed the line of boxes, a loud shot rang out.

            Something sharp embedded itself between B’s shoulder blades.

            The effect was instantaneous.

            Numbness began to form in his back, shutting his very nerves down. He could feel it spreading through his body, first his shoulders and down his arms. The children screamed as his arms flopped uselessly to his sides, dropping them to the ground. As soon as their little bodies hit the ground, his legs quickly gave out. The pain from his knees taking the full brunt of his fall didn’t even register as the numbness took over every extremity.

            “You have to get up!” The girl pleaded desperately.

            “You have to save us!” The boy shouted, hot tears running down his cheeks.

            The numbness had stilled B’s tongue. He wanted to assure them that he would save them, he wouldn’t let anyone touch even a hair on their heads! But, the words stayed in his mind. His body was like a dead weight as he lay motionless on the ground, only able to see the children as they crouched into his field of vision, the rest taken up by flowers.

            “You promised! You promised you wouldn’t let them take us!” The girl screamed. Even the sharpness of her nails raking down his bee-stung face didn’t seem to register to B. All he could do was gasp, mouth gaping open like a fish left on the shore to die.

            “Don’t touch me!” The boy shrieked. Quickly, both children were taken from his field of vision. Cheerful flowers were all he could see as he was forced to listen to the screams of the boy and girl. Their pleas for him to save them tore at his very soul—why wouldn’t his body respond to him?!

            “You should have just handed them over to us, Beekeeper.”

            Black boots stepped in front of B. Straining his eyes, B could only see up to the man’s knees.

            “Lap Dogs like them need a strong hand to keep them in line. They have no need of a family; all they need to worry about is their master,” the man spoke emotionlessly. “In our world, there are those who serve, and those who are to be served. Know your place, Beekeeper.”

            B desperately wanted to say something, do something, anything! Hell, he would even take to biting the man’s shins if he could move a single muscle. All he could do was watch as the man’s boot came straight for his face.

            The world went black.

            Gasping, B’s whole body jerked awake as his eyes flew open.

            The van was quiet and unmoving as bright sunlight shined through the windows, briefly blinding B as he blinked rapidly. Gripping the arms rests harshly, B took several calming breaths as he realized it was all a dream.

            Only to realize that both Poodle and Dobermann were missing.

            “Fuck!” He hissed, his fingers struggling with the seatbelt. What if they had been taken? What if the Dog Catchers had already gotten to them while he was asleep?

            His thoughts began to turn even darker as he imagined the kind of reprogramming they would be put through by the Trainers. What if they were deemed far too gone to be retrained? Would they be killed or worse, sold to be bred like their last master had mentioned?

            B could practically feel his heart threatening to jump out of his chest as all these thoughts slammed into him all at once.

            The sound of a door opening forcibly pulled him out of his spiral.

            “About time you woke up,” Poodle sneered. “We stopped for lunch.”

            The passenger door opened next, Dobermann’s head popping into the van with a spoon sticking out of his mouth as he held up a McDonald’s bag. Blinking, B could only stare as the twins settled back into the vehicle, Dobermann trying to eat another spoonful of ice cream while handing out the food. Instinctively, B took the burger and fries, but couldn’t tear his eyes away from his little siblings.

            Their carefree smiles from earlier back as Poodle swiped the ice cream and used a fry to scoop some out. Dobermann made a face of disgust and complained about foods touching, making Poodle laugh and stick her tongue out at him. He continued to pout as the ice cream was passed back to him.

            “So, where are we going?”

            B glanced over at Poodle intense gaze as she practically inhaled a large burger. He had to wonder if this was the first time either of them were allowed to enjoy fast food.

            “To get information,” was all B would tell her.

            “You going to eat that?” Dobermann asked instead, pointing to B’s food, not bothered in the least about not being clued in on the plan. Which was incredibly odd, B thought to himself as he kept his food far away from his little brother.

            Dobermann had constantly pushed back against B, even when it came to the coop for the ducks. Before they had arrived at Verona’s, he had questioned B up and down about who she was and why they should even trust her. So, why was he now suddenly docile?

            Unless he already knows the plan.

            B’s eyes widened.

            He had assumed neither Lap Dog knew much outside of their own organization, but was it possible Dobermann knew exactly who they were going to visit? If so, then why hadn’t he said anything? Was it for Poodle’s sake, or even B’s?

            Desperately wanting answers, B knew they’d have to wait as he glanced between Poodle and Dobermann. They were still playfully bantering, Poodle was trying to shove another fry into Dobermann’s ice cream with him whining about food contamination.

            Whatever it was that Dobermann was hiding from both him and Poodle, B decided that he would corner the other later. There was no need to create a rift between the twins when they were still on the run.

            Once more spotting Dobermann eyeing his food, B was quick to eat. Hopefully they could actually eat real food soon—he didn’t want his little siblings thinking they were going to eat like this all the time.

            “All right, get out. I’m going to drive us the rest of the way.”

            With an eyeroll, Poodle got out of the driver’s seat.

            And immediately started kicking Dobermann’s seat once she was sat behind him, starting up the bickering once more.

            B was starting to think maybe it was a good thing they he didn’t have to deal with these two when they were children.

            “You sure this is the place?” Dobermann asked with speculation heavy in his voice.

            B didn’t blame him.

            They stood outside a small, coffeeshop that was shoved between a laundry mat and a smoke shop. The theme was steampunk, which clashed horribly with the psychedelic theme the smoke shop had next door. Its door was made up of gears and dials, intertwining against a copper backdrop. Through the window, B spotted the barista wearing a white shirt with a leather vest. He was wearing a large top hat that a pair of goggles adorned with different valves and gears. At least they were committed to the bit here.

            “You two wait here,” B grunted.

            “What? Why can’t we come in?” Poodle demanded.

            Clenching his jaw, B turned to her, ready to lay into her that she had no business dealing with these people when he saw the awed look in her eyes. B wanted to face palm. She didn’t feel left out of meeting a Scribe, but going into a steampunk themed café.

            Flicking his eyes over to Dobermann, he could see he was equally unimpressed with their sister. He met B’s eyes, and for the first time, B could see the understanding on his face. So he does know who I’m going to meet.

            “We’ll be waiting for you,” Dobermann nodded towards the park across the street.

            “Don’t be long,” Poodle pouted.

            “Don’t get into any trouble,” he shot back. Both shrugged in response.

            Shaking his head, B turned away from them and could only hope he wasn’t leaving them to their doom as he grabbed onto the doorknob, which was a big gear. The café was small, with only a handful of tables and the coffee bar taking up the other half of the shop. There were no customers as B approached the barista.

            “One large, black coffee. With a drop of honey.”

            The barista’s eyes flickered up to meet his, face revealing nothing.

            “Door three.”

            Nodding, B headed towards the back of the shop.

            Time to get some answers.

Chapter Text

            B didn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes the entire time he walked down the short hallway towards a line of doors. Whoever had designed the place was completely committed to the bit of steampunk. The walls seemed otherworldly with the amount of detail put into the designs. Hell, there were literal pipes spitting out bits of steam as he approached the third door that had an eye created out of gears and wires.

            In the past, it was rare for B to contact a Scribe—the Beekeepers had their Busy Bees that collected their own information, so they didn’t have to rely on another organization. Even when B had been given permission to interact with a Scribe, he had been instructed on what kind of information he would be allowed to give in return.

            Unlike other organizations, the Scribes were more like freelancers.

            There was no main group of Scribes that worked together, more acting like a web of informants that occasionally agreed to play nice. They would share the secrets of others between each other, trading these secrets for much bigger, juicer ones that would get them the biggest score. Information was their currency.

            Only those not part of an organization actually paid in money; anyone in the know had to give up a secret in return if they wanted to learn anything from a Scribe.

            It was said anyone could potentially become a Scribe if they knew a secret big enough to sell to an already appointed Scribe. That was why the influx of new and “retired” Scribes was always shifting. B had been lucky that the Scribe he had contact with before was crafty enough not to get ousted. Hopefully, she would be competent enough to get her greedy little hands on the information he was after.

            After all, he had world-changing secrets to trade for it.

            Knocking above the beautifully crafted eye, Deckard waited until he heard a voice before he opened the door.

            He resisted another eye roll.

            When he had first met with Scribe R, she had been going for a fortune teller kind of shtick. She had her hair in long locs with different colors woven into them. Small clasps coated in glitter had given her a more mystic atmosphere, while her equally glitter coated makeup had made her ethereal. Her clothes had looked more from the hippie era rather than fortune teller, but he had judged her as harshly back then.

            Now, her hair was in a frizzy afro that created a halo affect around the plague doctor mask she was wearing. The mask was made of exquisite leather with bronze metal accents and the glass had a blue sheen to it that possible acted as some sort of glasses.

            Funnily enough, she wore tight jeans and a V-neck long sleeve shirt with the mask, the two styles clashing horribly.

            “Couldn’t shill out for the whole outfit?” B snorted softly as he sat down in the cheap folding chair across from her. He almost felt as if he was sitting down for a friendly game of poker in a mate’s basement than meeting with someone with enough secrets at her fingertips to topple whole governments.

            “I wasn’t expecting a visit from a rogue Beekeeper,” she shot back, her voice muffled behind the mask. He had already clocked her accent as south-London and had a feeling she might have been a street rat like him, only a decade after he left the streets.

            “Rogue, huh?” He whispered to himself. Honestly, he shouldn’t have been surprised by the label, especially after his stunt with the Danforths.

            “There’s rumors that you’ve been sticking your nose into places where it doesn’t belong,” she spoke with a sort of sing-song voice, her knowing smirk evident even behind her mask.

            “What kind of rumors?”

            “Ah, ah. You know I can’t give anything away for free.”

            B clicked his tongue. He didn’t have time for her games.

            “I need information on Lap Dogs.”

            For R’s credit, she only froze for a second at his statement. Looks like the rumors had just been confirmed by him. “What kind of information?”

            “I need to know where the main headquarters are for the Trainers of Lap Dogs.”

            The low whistle R let out came out more like the steam being pumped into the hallway outside the room. She tapped her fingers on the cheap folding table, tilting her head this way and that, staring at him through her lenses.

            “What are you going to give me in return? This is going to cost you, you know.”

            “I know,” B sighed. He had already decided that he was willing to burn everything to the ground for Poodle and Dobermann. Their freedom and happiness would all be worth it in the end. “I’m willing to tell you the process of choosing a new Beekeeper.”

            If R hadn’t been wearing the mask, he knew he’d be witnessing her mouth agape as her eyes grew wide behind her mask. Almost as if receiving a jumpstart, her body jerked forward, her hands outstretched as if to tear the information out of him.

            “The Beekeepers will kill you for this.” B swore she sounded more excited than worried for him.

            “I can handle them.”

            “You could bring the whole organization down with this,” she continued to stress.

            “They say balance is their goal,” B whispered. “But where’s the balance in letting children be kidnapped or killing their parents and living them orphans? They shouldn’t exist if they’re willfully looking away from suffering.”

            “Spoken like a true Beekeeper,” R laughed.

            B could see the irony, but didn’t appreciate it in the least. Seemed like the Beekeeper’s training was a little too effective.

            “So,” R leaned in closer, the tip of her beak almost brushing against his nose. “When would you like that information by?”

            “As quickly as you can get it.”

            For anyone else, it would have taken them nearly a week to figure out where all twenty-three training facilities for Lap Dogs were hiding. For R, she had it done within three hours. His own information was powerful enough to let him take a peek at her process.

            She had led him out of the room across the hall to reveal a false wall connecting to the laundry mat next door. Upstairs, she had her whole set up. B almost felt as if he was walking into a comic book villain’s lair.

            R and her theatrics.

            There were monitors all over the room, computers whirring away as cold air was circulated through the room to keep the tech from overheating. LED lights stringed across the ceiling was the only light other than all the monitors casting the room in an eerie, artificial light. B had to wonder how often R saw real sunlight.

            She settled into an extravagant gaming chair and unbuckled the plague mask, throwing it onto the large, curved desk. Turning towards him, she gave him a radiant, gleeful smile before cracking her knuckles. The lights of the computers made her blood-red lipstick pop.

            “Start telling me everything.”

            Shaking his head at her giddiness, B began spilling the Beekeepers’ secrets.

            There was no turning back now.

            By the time he was done, R was nearly vibrating in her seat, her eyes brimming with manic glee. If this information didn’t give her the most leverage against all the competing Scribes, nothing else would.

            “Now your turn,” he grunted. He leaned against the wall, narrowing his eyes at her whole set up. Most of the screens showed the area in front of the café, and he could see the park across the street. He saw Poodle sitting on the edge of a fountain as she threw something at the pigeons flocking at her feet. Meanwhile, Dobermann was slowly sneaking up behind the birds, hands reached out to grab up one of them while it was distracted.

            I’m going to throttle him if he even thinks about bringing a pigeon with us, B growled internally.  

            B tried to make sense of what R was doing, but after a few minutes of watching her work, he knew he was out of his depth. He knew enough to hack into most things, however, after a few years of inactivity, B knew his skills were a little rusty. The technological world had no doubt moved past his expertise at this point.

            Between watching R work and rubbing his temples to keep a mounting headache at bay from staring at Dobermann continuously catching pigeons, three hours came and went. During that time, R’s barista knocked on the door, bringing a triple shot espresso for R and a hot chocolate for B. He was pleasantly surprised to find it a perfect mix of chocolate and caffeine. No wonder R kept him around, even if he was only part of a front for the Scribe.

            B was shifting his weight back and forth between his legs—there were no other chairs in the room, and he doubted R would go get him one—when she turned around, a flash drive grasped in her fingers.

            “I even threw in a few names I thought you’d find interesting,” she smirked, tossing the drive. Deftly catching it, B raised on eyebrow. “Out of everyone, the Lap Dogs are the biggest assholes. All they ever give up is information on their clients.”

            “Thanks.”

            “For my favorite rogue Beekeeper? Anytime.”

            Her cheeky smile glistened. Shaking his head, B nodded in appreciation before leaving. Hopefully they would never see each other again.

            If they did, B was sure the world would be well on its way to being burned to crisp by his own hand.

            Poodle and Dobermann were still in the park B had watched them on the monitor. The only difference was Poodle had bought a hotdog from a cart nearby while Dobermann had a pigeon sitting on his lap and a few seagulls at his feet, staring intently up at the siblings.

            “Really?” B pointedly looked at the pigeon.

            “What?”

             “Didn’t you know?” Poodle smirked, mustard on the corner of her mouth. “He can secretly talk to animals.”

            “I wish,” Dobermann snorted.

            “In another life,” B deadpanned.

            “Did you get what you wanted?” Poodle asked around another mouthful of food.

            “Yeah. Let’s head out.”

            Dobermann was extremely gentle as he released the pigeon and was careful to step around the seagulls that were now squawking at him. Poodle purposely threw the last bit of her bun at him, making the birds pounce on him and B couldn’t hold back his own chuckle as he watched his brother struggle with the birds.

            For a moment, everything felt right in the world.

            As if they weren’t being actively hunted.

            There was a gentle breeze flowing through the trees, making the soft cacophony of sound that was the rustling of leaves. A ways away, B could hear children laughing as they ran around a playground. At the other end of the park he spotted the hotdog vendor Poodle had bought from. Combined with the lightly cloudy sky and the sun peaking out occasionally, B felt a spark of hope ignite in his chest. Maybe they could use the information from R and could finally stop running.

            Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Poodle go stiff.

            “What’s wrong?” He was instantly back on full alert, and felt that spark of hope shrivel up and go out in an instant.

            “German Shepard.”

            B blinked.

            Glancing around, he didn’t spot anyone walking their dogs, so why did Poodle appear so panicked?

            Especially of a dog.

            Eyes widening, B grabbed Dobermann’s wrist and yanked him away from the birds. Not saying a word, he nodded for Poodle to lead the way to avoid the Lap Dog. He should have expected for the Trainers and Dog Catchers to have their own little attack team of Lap Dogs.

            “Are there any others?” His lips barely moved as he spoke, but he could tell by the minute movements of her head that she was subtly scanning the area.

            “Chihuahua,” Dobermann mumbled. “And Golden Retriever.”

            B was going to beat the Trainers doubly as hard just for the stupid naming system.

            “We should split up,” Poodle shoved herself into B’s other side. “Each of us can take one down.”

            “No,” B snapped instantly. “We can’t afford to lose sight of each other.”

            “They’re worse in a pack,” Dobermann told him firmly. “You don’t know what they’re capable of.”

            “Yes, I do,” B gnashed his teeth. “We stick together.”

            “There could be more of them! We can’t let them near us,” Poodle growled.

            “No.”

            “Think this through!” Dobermann hissed. He had yet to yank his arm out of B’s grip, instead crowding in on B, his lips almost touching B’s ear with how close he was. “There’s no way we can get away from them like this. Together, we’re a bigger target. Easier to trap. But, if we split up, they’ll have to divide their resources.”

            “We’re not splitting up!” B barked. “End of discussion.”

            “What the fuck?!” Poodle hissed. “Don’t tell us what to do! You’re not our master.”

            Finally letting go of Dobermann, B stopped their speed walking and swirled around to shove his face into Poodle’s. Snarling at her, he didn’t hold back any of his burning anger.

            “I’m not telling you what to do as a master. I’m telling you what to do because I’m you’re older brother!”

            Maybe he shouldn’t have said that so loud, but at this point he wasn’t worried about the Lap Dogs knowing this. No doubt the Trainers had already clued the Lap Dogs on their familial connection as a warning. However, B did receive a few odd looks from people passing by.

            Poodle stared at him wide eyed.

            “B,” Dobermann spoke up.

            Shooting him a glare over his shoulder, B let his face show he felt about Dobermann’s next words.

            “It would be safer if we split up. We would be spreading their resources thin. All together, we’re a larger group, easier to spot.”

            Dobermann met his eyes easily, back straight and shoulders thrown back. The determination in gaze was clear as day. He was completely different from when B had first asked him to create a plan to make the coop. Dobermann had finally stepped into his leadership skills and wasn’t afraid to challenge B with his own plan.

            Too bad this new found confidence came at the absolutely worst time.

            “If either of you get caught—”

            “We won’t,” Poodle said firmly, as if saying a universal fact.

            “We trained with these people, B,” Dobermann explained gently. “There’s no way they’d be able to catch us.”

            Suddenly, B found himself standing between his little siblings, being stared down. Neither showed any signs of backing down in the least, and not for the first time, B knew that if they had grown up together, he would have found himself on the losing side of many arguments. He only wished this argument was about what dessert to have for dinner and not putting their very lives at jeopardy.

            “If either of you aren’t at the Museum of Modern Art in two hours, I’m never letting you out of my sight ever again. Understand?”

            “Understood,” they said in unison.

            With one more shared look between the three siblings, B was forced to watch as the twins turned in opposite directions and quickly disappeared into the crowd. B found himself standing at an intersection.

            The sound of cars rushing by him clashed horribly with shrill sounds of honking cars, the beep of the walking sign, and the loud rumbling of nearby construction. The sun had been completely blocked out by the growing swarm of dark clouds—almost as if the very sky was reflecting his very thoughts.

            B looked left, but couldn’t see Dobermann.

            He looked right, but there was no trace of Poodle.

            It was only then that he realized they didn’t have any way to contact each other.

            Or that he didn’t even know what the Lap Dogs following them even looked like.

            Turning on his heel, B had a dozen plans forming in his mind as he weaved through traffic and quickly made his way towards the museum.