The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.

-Charles Bauldaire

-/-

It's one of those rare, lazy mornings.

There were no cases demanding to be solved, no murderers to chase across London, and no near death experiences planned for the day. It was one of those days where they can sleep all day or lounge around in their pajamas if they want. The sun peeking through the curtains stirs Syn from her slumber but its short lived as she rolls over and buries her face into the neck of the sleeping man beside her. He shifts to accomadate her and wraps his arms around her, holding her close but not so tight as to crush her. She sighs in contentment, sleep getting ready to reclaim her when her phone rings. Once, twice, three times before she finally answers.

So much for a lazy morning.

When the Ghost arrives at the Diogene's club Numbers, Reaper, and Dragon were already there, their heads hung. Two open case files were sitting on Mycroft's desk and it didn't take a genius to figure out what happened. "They broke code," Mycroft said solemnly. "Broke code?" She snarled. "Jessica Whiteney and Marcus Quinn were having relations that led to a pregnancy."

Her hands balled into fists at her side, nails breaking skin as she tried to stay calm. "You this you can control us like this? You think just because you call us expendable that we'll submit to your every command?" Mycroft stood, a warning forming on his lips. "Look at what you've gotten yourself into, Mycroft. You thought if you could control us everything would be okay, didn't you? Wake up! We aren't meant to be controlled! We need someone to lead us, this," she picked up the files and threw them at him. "Is the result of a desperate man realizing he's in way over his head."

She stalked out, anger thrumming through her veins, her body itching to do something, anything to let her anger out. The brick wall fell victim to her fist, pain shooting through her entire arm, once, twice, three times and her anger had dissipated almost completely as the pain became unbearable. She sat on the grimy floor of the alleyway, holding her bleeding hand as she waited for it to heal.

What she had done probably-no it wasn't the smartest thing she's done but she was so fed up with the secrets and lies. She just wanted things to go back to the way they were before, when it was her and Sherlock and John running across London solving crimes and chasing criminals. She didn't want to be worrying about what John's soon to be wife is plotting, or what Sherlock's brother has gotten himself into, or why Sebastian is back, or who's texting her damming pictures, or why no one will tell her what happened to Moriarty after the fall. She doesn't want to be keeping secrets anymore.

But you have to.

Right. Because if she says anything someone she cares about will end up hurt and she can't let that happen. She screws her eyes shut and tries to think. Maybe she can something, but what? If she says anything about Mycroft then Sherlock might find out about Sebastian and if that happens it could set off a catalyst of bad things. Okay, maybe she can say something about Mary-but then Mary will kill Sherlock. What if she asks Sherlock about Moriarty? No harm in that, right? Just ask how he looked when he killed himself. But what if he grows suspicious?

"God," she runs her good hand through her hair as she wracks her mind for some sort of solution that doesn't involve someone she cares about getting hurt. "What am I missing? There has to be something."

You're not playing the game.

"Holy shit," she breathed, everything suddenly making perfect sense. She scrambled to her feet, racing to get to her motorcycle. All she needed to do was find the few missing pieces and she could predict, and counteract all of his moves before he even made them.

She could start playing her own game.

-/-

Syn had been around the staff of the Command Center long enough to know their basic information; mother of twins, brother living with his sister, soon to be father, single man with two dogs. She had also been around long enough to distinguish between those who disliked her and those who did. She walked in like she normally would, head held high and jaw set, but instead of going back to Pike's office (he wasn't here, she noticed) or the interrogation room, she turned down one of the isles of desks.

Just as she had noticed those who like and disliked her, she had also noticed those who constantly watched her, whether they were curious or in awe she didn't care, their constant watching made her skin crawl and forced her to by hyperaware of her surroundings. Today, however, she was using that to her advantage. She stopped in front of a desk that was near the back, the man absorbed in his computer screen completely unaware she was there. He was one of the younger men here, nothing extraordinary about him but he was one who constantly watched her no matter what she was doing.

She cleared her throat to catch his attention, watching with slight amusement as he glared at her for a split second before realizing who she was and stumbling over his words. "Oh my god…uh…you're the…wow-yeah okay…um what can I get for you…um…M-Ms. Ghost."

She smiled and braced her elbows against the desk. "Pike's not here and I need someone who can navigate the system quickly, it's for a time sensitive case." He nodded and pushed his black rimmed glasses up on his nose. "Pull up the government's mainframe and search for any surveillance authorized in Eastern Europe in the last year." He got further than she thought he would before the screen began flashing ACCESS DENIED. "I'm sorry, my clearance level isn't high enough to access these files."

"I wouldn't of came to you just to get me this far. I need you to hack into it for me." His eyes flickered over to a framed photo of his niece and nephew sitting on his desk. "Don't worry," She reassured. "Pike didn't want to give me the code to his computer over the phone. He knows this is going on, so if you could, please hurry. A few lives depend on this information getting relayed back to Pike as quickly as possible." He nodded reluctantly and began typing.

Mycroft would be alerted and would call to shut down the facility until he could arrive, locking everyone inside. However, she knew it took at least five minutes to get past the several layers of security and then another two minutes for the full lockdown to take place. She stood and leaned casually against his desk, watching the phones just in case she had miscalculated. "How much longer?"

"I'm working on it, this system isn't meant to be easily hacked." Five minutes until lockdown. She began chewing on her thumbnail as she waited. "I should be through in one more minute." Three minutes. "Seven months ago surveillance was put on a subject in Russia; authorized by Mycroft Holmes." Two minutes. "Name. I need a name." Across the room a phone rang and the news was passed along to one of the higher ranking soldiers present. "It's only got a codename; Ugly Duckling, current location: Warsaw, Poland."

Shit.

-/-

Hiding in an alleyway after eluding the few soldiers who chased after her and narrowly avoiding a head on collision with a semi-truck, Syn pulls her mobile out and calls Numbers. "I'll be dammed, I figured you woulda been long gone by now." "Not yet, I've still got work to do before they can kill me. Listen, I need to know who Mary has been seeing. I know she's got to have some real friends to keep John unsuspecting." The sound of paper's being shuffled around in the background could be heard. "Yeah, there's this one lady she's been visiting a lot recently, calls her…Janine." Jesus Christ. "You mean Janine as in Janine Hawkins? Magnussen's personal assistant?" "Yes ma'am." Very clever Mary. "Thanks, Numbers."

John, Sherlock, Syn, Magnussen, Moriarty, Sebastian, Janine, Pike, Mycroft, Molly, Lestrade, Ms. Hudson.

Those were the pieces, some in play, and some not yet. There of course were a few lackeys but those weren't as important, not yet anyways. You still need to find them. But they'll be harder to locate. But they're still important to the game. They could start playing at any moment. She'll deal with it later. Right now she needs to figure out how far each piece has been pushed already ad how much more they can be pushed until they are no longer of use. And then what? Then she'll start pushing them. Oh, so you're going to start blackmailing them now too? How does that make you any better than Magnussen and Moriarty? It doesn't.

She growls in frustration and begins to pace.

Following through with this proves you are no better than them. Maybe that's what they want. Maybe they want to push her, to show her how she is no different. You can try to counter Moriarty and Magnussen all you want but the game was rigged from the beginning. Just like the game he played with Sherlock.Moriarty has thought every possibility out.

Kind of like Anderson when Sherlock died.

-/-

As soon as he opened the door to his flat, Anderson let out a shrill scream and attempted to slam the door in her face. She stopped the door with her foot and easily shoved her way in, Anderson knocking over a stack of papers as he stumbled back. "Please-I'm sorry. Don't kill me! Help! Someone help!" She followed his screams into the kitchen and found him wielding a kitchen knife. "Stop, don't move or I'll kill you." "Not from there you won't," she walked forward until he was backed against the refrigerator with nowhere to go. "Now, you can kill me but we both know you won't so why don't you give me the knife before you end up hurting yourself and let's talk, shall we?"

"W-what are you doing here?" She pulled down her hood and balaclava so she would seem less threatening. "Sherlock faked his death, obviously. But, I'm beginning to wonder if he wasn't the only one who did." She stepped back and deposited the knife back in its respectful drawer. "You mean, you think Moriarty is still alive?" She nodded. "Everyone said Mycroft took care of it, but to be quiet honest I don't think that's what happened. I wouldn't be here if I thought I had any other options."

He stroked his beard, eyes narrowed in suspicion and distrust. "Why should I tell you?" "Because out of everyone I am coming to the local idiot asking for help." He stared at her for a few more seconds before motioning for her to follow him. "Moriarty's body was in fact never found. The amount of blood on the rooftop and the way it spread wasn't consistent to a shot to the head." He shuffled through a stack of photographs before pulling one out and handing it to her. "See how the blood pooled? A shot anywhere to the head would've left a spray of blood and there would've been brain matter and pieces of skull, none of which I found."

Fuck.

-/-

She stays at Anderson's home and looks over everything he's gathered regarding Moriarty, including Sherlock suicide theories that included Moriarty, half thinking, half reading. She's mentally going over every little thing that's happened since Sherlock's fake suicide, hitting more dead ends than anything. You're not focusing your attention where you need to. She throws down the papers she's currently holding with a groan and rubs her eyes. Where the hell should she be focusing? There's so much that has happened that it's impossible to narrow everything down to one person. Are you sure?

"Found anything yet?" She shakes her head. "No, nothing." Janine? No. Mary? No. John? You're an idiot. Sherlock? Are you really that stupid? Magnussen? No. She groans again and slumps back in her chair, staring at the ceiling in defeat. Pike? Close, but no. Sebastian? No. Molly? No. "They put you on the front page of the newspaper again." She shrugs her shoulders. "They're praising you for what you've done. Good picture they took actually, all you can see are your eyes but, they're calling you a vigilante." Mycroft!

"Oh! Yes brilliant, Anderson! Thank you for being useful!" Mycroft knew Moriarty was alive that's why he brought her back, he wanted to tell her but he couldn't so what does he do when she begins to grow suspicious? He distracts her. The photograph he showed her when she stormed into the Diogenes club was the interior of a warehouse, filled to the roof with firearms and explosives. So he activated X537, a plan that, if there was a suspected mass terrorist attack on London was imminent, the Suicide Squad would bring media attention to themselves so when the attack did take place authorities would trust them.

Mycroft knows what's coming.

-/-

Kitty Riley hates Fridays. She doesn't quite know why, she's just hated them for as long as she can remember. Maybe it's because by Fridays all she wants to do is sleep in, the exhaustion from the week making it seemingly impossible to drag herself out of bed. Or maybe it's because Friday's are when the worst possible things happen to her.

She drags herself into her flat, discarding her things onto the kitchen table and sighs. A day. She has one day to salvage her career, to bring back some creditability to her work, to finally get everyone's attention away from her articles on Moriarty, or she's fired. Bath first, she thinks, bath first and then job hunting because there's no bloody way she's finding a story in a day.

She trudges up the stairs to her bedroom, craving the thought of the warm water and seriously considering just skipping job hunting altogether for a few hours of sleep. She steps into her bedroom, expecting to be greeted by her cat, Lily curled up on her bed, but instead what she finds makes her scream.

"One month after the tragic suicide of the fraudulent consulting detective Sherlock Holmes and his made up creation, Jim Moriarty, the woman behind the mask has finally met the same fate. Earlier this morning the body of a woman in her late-20s to early-30s was founding floating in the Thames. Reliable sources have confirmed that this is, in fact the same woman seen with the consulting detective prior to his suicide." Syn sat back in the office chair, her feet kicked up on the cluttered white desk, a cigarette between her fingers.

Kitty Riley gaped, struggling to find something, anything to say. "I'm calling the cops," she finally blurted out. Syn nodded and took a drag. "You go ahead and do that and I'll go across town to Walter Sumners flat and give him the story that will make his name a popular topic of dinner time conversations for years to come." Kitty stopped half way out the door. "What do you mean?" "Do I have to spell it out for you? I have a story, a really, really big story that will guarantee you a job for a long time." Kitty crossed her arms. "How do I know you're not lying?" Syn scoffed. "Really? You act like I don't know about how desperate you are for a story. Don't play dumb Ms. Riley, it doesn't suit you."

Could she risk it? What if she did have a story for her? But what could she have that could save her? Did she really have any other option? "Alright, I'm listening." Maybe Friday's aren't so unlucky after all.

-/-

As soon as Syn parks her motorcycle a black mass of fur is barreling into her. "Arrow?" He's pulling at her trouser leg, whining and she immediately knows something's wrong. Pulling a gun from her bag she runs the three blocks to Baker Street, Arrow leading the way. It's obvious someone broke in, small scratches by the locks and door jamb are present. There's only one person inside, so the intruder knew Ms. Hudson would be having lunch with the owner of Speedy's and Sherlock and John would be out on their stag night. Four possibilities then. She silently creeps inside, sweeping the entryway, the smell of cigarettes and gunpowder making her nose turn up in disgust for more than one reason.

Even though she has a good idea of whose upstairs waiting for her she remains precautious, expertly dodging all of the creaky spots in the stairs, Arrow crouching low by her side, ears back, teeth bared, ready to attack at a moment's notice. She stepped into the flat, gun drawn and ready to shoot.

His lanky figure was leaning back in Sherlock's chair, the lamp casting shadows across the scowl on his wrinkling face making it seem even more prominent. She didn't even have to look around the room to know everything had been moved, she knew why he was here. "You're never going to find whatever it is you're looking for, General and I don't care about the threat you're going to give me, so if you would kindly get the hell out-" "It's about your parents, Raleigh." She tensed, the worst possible thoughts running through her mind all at once. "Please," he motioned to the chair across from him; John's chair. "Sit. This conversation is long overdue." The only move she made was flicking on her guns safety. "Go on." Pike cleared his throat and shifted somewhat uncomfortably.

"Before you were born your parents had an idea. An idea that there could be a beacon of hope in this hell hole of a world that we live in. It started out pure and innocent but when an organization offered your parents the resources they needed, that idea slowly became corrupted. As they delved into their research it began to border on unethical but the breakthroughs they were making were monumental. What they were doing had the potential to change the world, and it did, Syn." She scoffed, shifting uncomfortably on her feet. Good people don't create weapons. "What your parents did manage to do was replicate a serum scientists have been trying to recreate for the last 70 years. What your parents create was another brand of genetic super soldier." Liar. Are you sure? What do you know about Pike? He's hiding Moriarty's information from you, probably Sebastian's as well. Who's to say he didn't work with your parents?

"I hate to cut this lovely conversation short, really I do. But tonight is Doctor Watson's stag night and I have two drunks to catch up with, so if you would please leave I would greatly appreciate it." He eyed her curiously before standing and retrieving his coat from the coat rack, a small silver pin on the lapel of his jacket catching her eye. The pin strangely resembled the eight legged creature but the head was a skull and there were only six legs instead of eight. Lernaean Hydra. An ancient serpent-like water spirit with reptilian traits found in Greek Mythology. Cut off one head and two more will take its place.

Hydra.

Hydra, hydra, hydra.

Why did that sound so familiar?

"The Americans want you back in their labs, Syn," She blinked a few times as she tried to refocus her attention back on Pike. "And the only reason you aren't there is because I need you here; London needs you here. So please, try not to make me do anything I will regret. Think of your family before you do anything stupid." Hydra, hydra, hydra. Where did she know that from?

"Before I leave let me ask you something. What would you do to protect your family?" She was startled out of her thoughts by his question. "Excuse me?" "What would you do to protect your family?" Her stomach twists with a bad feeling but she doesn't hesitate in her answer, "Anything." Pike smiles wolfishly. "Excellent." Thunder rumbles in the distance as the door shut softly behind him and she can't help but feel like she's unknowingly a part of something much, much bigger than Jim Moriarty.

So much for a relaxing day.

Thank you to everyone who's been keeping up with my story! It means so much to me. Also a big thank you to YUNeLenna whose review left me in tears.