Chapter Text
The first time you met the King of the Undercity, you were in a dusty, old warehouse, tied to a chair, with a likely concussion given the way your head throbbed and your vision was blurred. It took you a few moments for your eyes to finally clear as you blinked slowly, trying to take in your surroundings the best you could.
It had started out as a fairly average day for you. You’d worked a full shift at your boss’ market stall, selling various nick-nacks to the regular customers, fighting the urge to jump the table and throttle the rude ones – hell, you’d even sweet-talked one of them into buying an automatic egg separator that they definitely didn’t need. It wasn’t until after your shift, when you were walking back home to your shoddy, one-roomed apartment, that your day took a turn for the unexpected.
You should have known something was up when you decided to take a brief detour to the docks but didn’t encounter a single dock-worker the entire time. In fact, it was eerily silent, up until the moment you passed a deserted loading bay and felt someone smack you on the back of the head with something dull and metallic. When you’d finally woken up, with the worst headache of your life and your stomach churning, you’d found yourself in your current predicament.
You tried to block your eyes from the, quite frankly offensive, light pouring through one of the windows where a loose board had fallen down from it. But your hands wouldn’t budge. A frown etched on your face, you looked down and realised exactly why your hands wouldn’t co-operate. They were tied behind you with some thick rope, arms looped around the back of the chair. Upon further inspection, you noticed that your ankles were also tied to the front two legs of the rickety wooden seat.
Your first reaction was to sigh. Thinking through the series of events at a later date, you decided that it must have been the concussion. Any sane person would have probably screamed or began to cry or at least tried to get out of this sudden entrapment. Of course, you weren’t feeling very sane at that particular point in time and in hindsight, the fact that you were about to meet the King of the Lanes made the whole situation infinitely more insane.
No, not in a million years would you have ever expected to meet the most dangerous man in the Undercity, on a miserable Tuesday, no less. Of course, you didn’t know it was the crime lord himself at the time, because if you had, you definitely wouldn’t have spoken aloud the first thing that popped in your head.
“Well, fuck me sideways, they could have at least asked before kidnapping and tying me up.”
“I dare say that asking beforehand would have rather defeated the point,” was the reply you heard from directly behind you, in a low, gravelly timbre.
You hadn’t realised there was someone else in the room, so of course, your first instinct was to scream. In a panic, you tried to sharply turn to look at the man who had spoken, but quickly found that with the way you were tied to the chair, you couldn’t see much more than his shoulders that were covered by a sleek-looking coat.
“What are you doing here?” you blurted out, your thoughts swimming as you took in this new aspect of your situation.
“I could ask you the same question.”
“I literally have no clue. I’m honestly the most boring person ever. I mean, for Janna’s sake, I’ve never even-” You cut yourself off when a thought struck you and your voice dipped low to an almost conspiratorial tone.
“You don’t think this is because of the time I convinced a customer that putting a spatula under his pillow every night would make his wife love him again?”
You were met with a few seconds of (most likely stunned) silence from your new-found friend, before he responded, a sigh lacing his words.
“I highly doubt it.”
“Good, because I swear I-”
“Are you carrying any weapons?” the man cut you off before you could voice your concerns any further.
“Oh, uh, no. Sorry.”
You thought you heard a huff of frustration, but the noise was too quiet to be able to tell with any certainty.
“Are you tied up as well?” you asked, trying again to turn your head to get a glimpse of anything that wasn’t his shoulders.
“I wouldn’t be wasting my time speaking with you if I wasn’t.”
“Well, geez, you don’t have to be so rude,” you shot back, annoyance making your headache feel even sharper, “I mean, you can’t be as high-and-mighty as you clearly think you are considering you’re in the exact same position as me.”
Okay, this time you definitely heard a short exhale through his nose, making his frustration very clear. After a few seconds of heated silence, you felt a strange urge to clear the air. Something about annoying the only person who had any chance of helping you out of this state just didn’t sit right with you.
“So, what did you do to get yourself kidnapped?”
“Oh, I can think of a few things,” was the sarcastic drawl you received in response.
“Oh yeah? What like?”
“That is none of your concern.”
It must have been the concussion. You really weren’t one to argue or react when your buttons had been pushed (I mean, come on, you worked in customer service for crying out loud). But there was something about this man and the situation you found yourself in that was, to put it delicately, really getting on your tits.
“Seriously, mate, what is your problem? I’m just trying to figure out what the hell is going on right now because one minute I was taking a nice stroll down by the docks and the next I’m talking to one of the snarkiest people I have ever met.”
You could almost hear his jaw tightening at your pointed tone.
“How about instead of wasting your time figuring out what led us to these circumstances, you re-direct your efforts to getting us out of here?” he replied, in a dangerously low voice that could only serve as a warning.
You were about to scoff in response as you turned your head towards him again, but this time, instead of glaring uselessly at his shoulder, you let your eyes wander down his sleeve. Your indignant reaction was halted when you thought you spotted hints of crayon on the soft material of his coat.
For some reason, you felt a strange ache in your heart at the sudden realisation that this kidnapping might have separated the man from his child, or possibly children. Reasoning with yourself that his anger towards you was probably from a place of worry, you felt all your previously built-up annoyance at the man drain away from you.
You took a small breath before softly directing your next question over your shoulder.
“Do you have children?”
“…What?”
“You have crayon on your sleeve.”
There was a pause. The voice that was carried through the air a few moments later was the softest and quietest you’d heard from the man in the very short time you’d known him.
“I have a daughter.”
You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you.
“I hope she’s okay, you know, considering you’re here,” you told him sincerely, “and I hope you get back to her soon.”
The man didn’t say anything. Not even a breath that could possibly betray his thoughts about your surprisingly kind words. The thought of his potential anguish over his daughter made your heart twinge in that funny little way it had done only moments before.
You might have been annoyed at how haughtily the man had been speaking to you, but you weren’t a monster, and despite it being a near-constant phenomena in the Undercity, you didn’t like the thought of anyone being in pain.
Recognising that both of your chairs must be back-to-back, you twisted one of your hands as much as you could in its binding and reached back far enough to graze your fingers across one of his own hands. You’d hoped the action might bring him a little comfort. Of course, you were wrong.
He jerked his hands away from you at the sudden touch and it felt suspiciously like he was trying to slap at them as he wriggled about in his chair.
“What are you doing? Get off me!”
“Sorry, I was just trying to make you feel better!” you quickly rebutted in defence.
Before he could voice his displeasure, a loud bang of the main door being slammed open made you jump in your chair. Your head whipped to the other side of the room, where you observed a man entering the space and walking towards you both.
You half-expected him to be holding a gun or a weapon of some kind, but you were surprised to see that he was empty-handed. He hadn’t even covered his face with a mask.
As he got closer to where your chairs were situated, he turned up his nose and began to saunter arrogantly, as if he’d suddenly gained the persona of an aristocrat. It didn’t suit him.
“You know, it was almost too easy to get you both here. Just one shovel and one sedative was all it took to bring down the two filthiest rats of the Undercity.”
At this point, alarm bells should have been ringing in your head (additional of course to the ones already ringing from your concussion, that you now knew was caused by this eejit with a shovel). As far as you knew, you were no filthier than the rest of the poor souls that found a home in Zaun. But you’d been called much worse than ‘rat’ in your time working at the market, so that didn’t faze you either.
“And the best bit is that this wasn’t even part of the plan. Hendrick had this whole plan to steal your little empire right from under your nose and kill you both slowly and painfully.”
You didn’t even have time to consider the ‘empire’ comment the goon had made before the man tied to the chair behind you cut in, speaking again in that low, dangerous drawl. Only this time, it was tinted with rage.
“Did he now?”
“Yeah. Except he won’t need to do it now because we saw you both on the docks and took the opportunity. Honestly, I thought it’d have been harder to grab you both, considering all the stories everyone’s heard about you, but I guess you’re no match for me and Toddy. Man, I can’t wait until Hendrick sees you both. I’m gonna be rolling in it when he promotes me. Shit, I might even get to be his right-hand after this.”
By now, the goon was pacing slowly back and forth at the side of your chairs, making your neck ache as you strained to look at him, before you finally gave up and stared impassively in front of you. You wished you could look at your co-kidnappee’s face, if only to see if it matched your own one of utter disdain at this idiot’s pretentious monologuing. Instead, you could lightly feel him clenching his hands in anger. They were just slightly touching yours, but he was likely too infuriated to even notice.
“And-”
The goon was interrupted when the front door slammed open again to reveal another man, who took in the sight in front of him and stormed towards you all. This one had the sense to wear a mask, but it was made redundant by the fact that his colleague had just revealed his name to you both.
“What are you doing?” the second man snapped.
“Just telling them how easy it was to capture them both.”
“You’re not supposed to reveal the plan, you idiot!”
“Oh, sorry.”
“I’ve sent word to our boss that he should get down here as soon as possible, I-”
The masked man stopped short when he glanced down at you.
“Who the hell is this?”
There was a pause while the first man seemed to consider the question, confusion painting his face.
“Uh, Silco? Can’t you tell by the creepy eye?” was his reply.
You felt like someone had just sucked out all the thoughts from your brain, bar from the faint sound of circus music playing in the back of your mind. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The man tied up behind you was Silco?? King of the Undercity? The Industrialist? Crime lord extraordinaire?
Your mind raced through all the rude comments you’d made to him in the moments prior to this revelation and you felt bile at the back of your dry throat. In your heart, you now knew that you were going to die. If it wasn’t at the hands of whoever Hendrick was and if by some miracle you managed to escape these dire straits, you knew that Silco would be the one to end your miserable little life. If not for your impertinence, but for your lack of decorum when speaking to him.
Fuck, you’d tried to caress his hands, for Janna’s sake!!
“No, you wazzock, her,” the masked man continued, pointing rather rudely at you.
“That’s his right-hand, isn’t it?” the first man responded, confusion still prominent on his features.
“That is not Silco’s right-hand.”
“What?”
“Are you stupid? That’s not Sevika!”
“But she was at the dock with him?”
“That is not Sevika.”
“Shit.”
Great. Just great. Well, that explained how you’d ended up in this mess. It was all a complete misunderstanding. A simple case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. In other places, that would have been a relief. But not in the Undercity. No, in the Undercity, even the act of being involved in a situation like this, accidental or not, almost certainly meant you would soon be meeting your demise.
“How much did you tell them about the plan?” the masked goon demanded, folding his arms as he glared at his colleague.
“Uh, not much really, just that Hendrick was plotting to murder Silco and-”
“You told them we work for Hendrick?! How stupid can you get?”
As the two goons argued between themselves, you wondered why Silco wasn’t saying anything. From what you’d heard, he was a master of words, could talk his way through any situation, could get anything he wanted. But the one time where talking was his only weapon, he wasn’t using it. Then you remembered the goon mentioning something about a sedative. If Silco had been drugged, maybe he was still feeling too groggy to even try to talk his way out of the situation. Then again, he’d been plenty awake enough to snap at you earlier.
You were brought out of your ruminations on the Kingpin’s potential state when the second goon gestured to you with a wave of his arm.
“Let’s just kill her and wait for Hendrick to arrive so he can decide what to do with Silco.”
Wait, what? No. No. It couldn’t end like this! Not yet! You still had so many more customers to annoy before you met your maker! In your panic, you started doing the two things you knew best. Rambling and bullshitting.
“Wait! Don’t kill me! I may not be Silco’s right-hand, but I am pretty high up in his gang’s pecking order!”
You felt the slightest brush of Silco’s fingers against yours at your blatant lie, but you ignored it in favour of developing a convincing enough story in your head.
“Really?” the first goon asked.
“Yeah. I’ve been working for him for about three years now.”
“See! She was going to meet him at the docks, I knew it!” the goon gave his co-worker a smug look, his arms folded triumphantly across his chest.
“Fine,” the masked man sighed, “we’ll just wait for Hendrick to arrive and decide how he wants to kill them both.”
You felt yourself speaking again.
“You don’t want to do that!”
“And why not?” Both men were frowning at you now.
You felt Silco reach back and rhythmically tap his fingers twice on your hand. A clear warning to Shut. Up. Of course, you didn’t listen to him because when did you ever listen to anybody?
“Because your talents are wasted with Hendrick. I mean, you captured the both of us all by yourselves and with barely any weapons. You’d be much better suited working for Silco here.”
“Really?” the second man asked slowly, looking at you with no small amount of suspicion.
“Yeah. Despite all the stories you’ve probably heard, he’s really quite a good boss. I mean, for starters, the pay is beyond anything you could even imagine. He really takes good care of us… financially I mean,” you hastened to add.
“Hendrick barely pays us anything, says we’re not worthy enough” the first goon admits with a scoff.
“That doesn’t sound very fair to me. Silco’s not like that at all, if anything he over-pays us! And not to mention unlimited free drinks at the bar, the weekly parties we all have, the bonuses when you do well on a job. Hell, if you two were part of our gang, you’d be climbing up the ranks in no time.”
“You really think so?”
Bless his soul. The poor guy looked so entranced by the idea, doubling down was the only real option you had.
“Absolutely. Hendrick must be an absolute idiot to let talent like yours go to waste,” your voice lowered, causing both goons to lean in further when you spoke again, “I bet you don’t even get Snowdown Day off, do you?”
You had them now. You could tell by the look in their eyes. The second goon tried to pretend he was still sceptical of your words.
“So, what? You’re saying we could work for you instead?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Untie us, join our gang and you’ll even get a reward for it. Upfront. Isn’t that right, boss?” you directed the overly confident question to the man behind you.
You had no idea how the Kingpin was going to respond. In the last half hour, you’d argued with him, insulted him, stroked his hands, lied about being his employee, and asked him to partake in your little deception, all in a desperate attempt to get you out of here alive. Honestly, you weren’t quite sure whether you wanted this ploy to work or not. Even if the goons did agree to let you go, you were almost certain that Silco was going to throttle you after he’d finished killing the two men.
You waited with bated breath for his answer. Luckily, it came only a few moments after posing your question, in that smooth tone you were embarrassingly just starting to miss.
“Of course.”
“See,” you beamed at the two men, hoping they couldn’t see the panic hidden deep in your eyes.
A beat passed until the second man finally relented.
“Fine, untie her and we can talk about our rate of pay.”
That was all well and good, but it didn’t feel right that you were the one leading this dangerous dance. You had to keep up the pretence that Silco was in charge. Which wasn’t very difficult, considering he absolutely was.
“Untie my boss first, he’s the one who’ll be paying you,” you told them, trying to maintain the confidence you’d somehow gained in this new character of yours.
“Yeah, alright.”
You felt the second man reach in between your chairs and drag Silco’s towards him. You hadn’t noticed until they were ripped away from you, but Silco’s fingers had been gently clinging to yours throughout your entire performance as his new fake employee. For some strange reason you couldn’t decipher, you mourned the loss of his touch that you hadn’t even been aware of.
You tried to turn your head to look at the man, hoping the distance would allow you to finally see him as you heard the ropes being cut away from his ankles and then hands, but you were once again startled by the sound of the door being smashed open for the third time that day.
It all happened so fast. A tall woman burst into the room and you heard an affronted yell from one of the goons. You then heard a scuffle behind you, as the woman charged across the room towards the goon standing beside you. Craning your neck around to see what was happening with Silco, you were caught off guard by your chair being kicked harshly, causing it to topple over and unceremoniously crash your head against the concrete floor.
And boy, if your head didn’t already hurt after being smacked with a shovel, it sure as hell hurt now. You could barely make out what happened next as you fought to stay awake given how the room was now spinning out of control in your vision. A groan escaped your lips before you realised the sounds of struggle behind you had stopped, the air being filled instead with heavy breathing. You thought you vaguely heard the sound of a door opening and closing again and a muffled conversation, but you couldn’t make the effort to tune into it. Instead, you favoured closing your eyes in an attempt to stop feeling like you were on a carousel.
“She needs medical attention.”
You heard that one well enough, that smooth, self-assured voice appearing directly above you. Peeling your eyes open took no small amount of effort, but you endeavoured to do it anyway, if only to finally get a glimpse of the infamous kingpin.
And there he was. Stood tall above you, peering down his nose with his arms folded behind his back. You’d never seen him before, your market job not quite meeting the conditions to be considered a criminal enterprise (except for the downright criminal way you sweet-talked your customers into buying items they would never use once they got them back home). You wished you could get a clearer look at him, but the blur made it much too difficult.
If your eyesight had been better, you’d have noticed that he was breathing heavily, strands of his dark hair strewn across his forehead. Instead, all you could focus on was his eyes. No, not the black one with its infernal orange iris, but the seafoam green one, that if you weren’t so heavily concussed, you might have thought held an almost soft look to it as he peered down at you.
He continued to stare intensely at you and in your fatigue all you could do was stare back.
“What should we do with her?” you heard the woman say from somewhere in the room.
“We’ll take her back to the Drop. Give me your knife,” Silco replies, not breaking eye contact with you.
You blinked once slowly and by the time your eyes were open again, Silco was holding a knife and stepping closer to you. He crouched over you and began to cut through the ropes that tied your ankles and arms to the chair. And you’d be damned if you didn’t immediately think how attractive he looked as he loomed over you, knife coming dangerously close to your skin as he cut the rope away. Curiously enough, you didn’t seem to mind.
Soon, your body was finally free of its captivity and you slump inelegantly on your side, finding no strength to pull yourself up from the floor. The movement caused the room to spin again and you decided to focus on breathing instead. That is, until Silco re-entered your line of sight. This time, he was close enough that you couldn’t mistake the concern he showed, his brow furrowed as he looked at your face. His mouth was moving, but you couldn’t really hear what he was saying.
You feel him lift you by the arms and suddenly you’re kneeling face to face with him. Gods, he’s even more attractive up close. You shake your head at your intrusive thought, looking down to see his hands either side of your shoulders, holding you steady. Staring at them with a concerning amount of intensity, you snap your gaze up to meet his when his fingers squeeze into you gently.
Any normal person would have been horrified that they were being touched by the most dangerous man in the city. But you’d never really been one to fit the mould. So instead of being horrified at your proximity to the crime lord, you leaned into it and blurted out the first thing that came into your head.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have lovely hands?”
There was no time to hear his response or even see his reaction because that one question apparently drained you of the last of your energy and you promptly collapsed forward into him as the world went black.