Chapter Text
The Sexy Brutale, a grand casino in the heart of a grand mansion that tempted you to leave an equally grand dent in the alcohol supply. It figured that Greyson’s first thought was of the casino floor, where drink flowed freely, when his eyes opened to the see the ceiling and cause his head to split. The world shifted uncomfortably as he sat up and held his forehead, waiting for the grandfather clock ahead of him to decide if it had a twin or not, and as it settled he made to stand up with another pained groan.
He barely paid mind to a door behind him opening and hurried footsteps coming towards him. It wasn’t until Redd’s pinched brow, only just visible under the mask, came into view that he blinked and looked up from contemplating his previous spot on the floor. He felt his expression twitch as something snagged at his memory, something about Redd.
“Greyson?” Redd gripped Grey’s shoulders gently, leading him back to sit on a couch set in a small waiting area, “Grey, are you alright?”
“I think I may have had a few too many,” Greyson huffed, rubbing the heel of his hand to his eye and smiling even though he couldn’t remember drinking. He made a mental note to seek one of the waiters for a pain killer when the motion set off a spark of pain through his skull, ideally when he didn’t have a concerned Redd hovering over him. “I’ll be fine, just direct me to the- to-” he paused, pulling at his memory for the information that was eluding him, before clapping with a grin, “to the office! Yes. Did you find it?”
“I did, just came back to tell you about it actually,” Redd looked on as Grey stood and brushed off his jacket and tie, the same pinch back to his brow, “Is something going on? I thought you were right behind me.”
“I was, just a little caught up in this marvelous décor,” he flashed a hand to encompass their surroundings, making a point of staring at the margarita dispenser before grinning at Redd. His quip appeared to smooth out the wrinkles by his partner-in-crime’s eyes, which was enough for Redd to let the strange behaviour slip, he reasoned. He stepped past him and headed towards the door he’d heard opening, listening for the heavier footsteps of Redd behind him before entering.
The office was a bust, as Redd had expected and also predicted the next room would be. Greyson did feel the slightest accomplishment when he found the safe behind the painting, if just to prove to Redd that there was something in the room even if it was some of Thanos’ more cliché work, but found that quickly dashed when it only turned out a small lighter. He left the safe open, hopefully Thanos stewed on it, and turned back to Redd, “This is not an egg.”
Redd turned to look at him and blinked, staring at him and then the safe for a split second before smiling, “Glad to see you’re not torn up about it.”
“Ah, I have faith in us! We’ll find it,” he spun on his heel, heading towards the door beside him with a final wave to Redd to search the theatre through the other door. The room before him was familiar, an attachment to a well-searched theatre, but the switch in front of him felt new. New, but not wholly unknown, the thought gave him pause as he considered it before a shout from Redd had him tearing his eyes away from the strange room.
The theatre was deserted when he stepped into it, except for Redd making his way up onto the stage and toward the prize he’d been searching the godforsaken mansion for over the years. The sight of the Moloch Egg, the cause for his search and the delivery into a new height of living, filled him with the excitement he expected, but the sight of Redd approaching the cage it was held in soured the feeling just enough for notice. He didn’t consider himself a jealous man, and Redd deserved a cut of whatever the egg sold for after all the lifting and look out duty the man had done for him, but the worry must still have settled on his face enough for Redd to step toward him.
“I knew he had it!” He said with as much excitement he could muster into his voice, and felt late to his own conversation, “That crazy rich bastard!”
Redd watched him, that frown back, and Grey stroked his beard with nothing else to do with his hands. Redd did look away then, turning to the egg and replacing his concern over Greyson with unsettled worry, “Something’s not right. Wasn’t tonight’s show some kind of awful “death-defying-escape”?”
Something brushed past his memory again, like a static shock, and he tried to shake it off with a step closer to his treasure, “Redd, in all seriousness. This is all time that I could be spending taking a closer look at that egg…”
“Greyson, wait,” Redd took a step to match him, a small motion that stopped Greyson faster than his words had, “look at those spikes! And those- what are those?” Redd gestured to the side of the cage and turned his worry-wide eyes on Greyson, “Electrical Pylons? Can we just check to make sure nothing is like, plugged in, or turned on… Before you get in the awful death-cage? Please?”
“Fine,” he let his eyes flicker to Redd and watched him turn, “Let’s go make sure this is all turned off- or disconnected- or whatever.”
He felt his worry ease as Redd step further away from the cage, headed for backstage, and managed to bring his joy back into his voice, “What would I do without you to look out for me, Redd!”
“Ha- You know it!” Redd replied, stepping through the back door and leaving Greyson alone on the theatre stage with the Moloch Egg. It was the prize he’d been working so hard to find after so long, a treasure Lucas had been dangling in front of him during his employment and possibly before, it seemed appropriate he got a look without another person about. Still, there was a chance it was another fake, Lucas was ever fond of false trails and watching Greyson sulk over another dead end. He would have to check, despite the tickling pinch of something that surely wasn’t dread spread across his back when he got closer.
The moment he felt bands snap across his wrists should have been worrying, but the brief thought of “again” worried him more. Redd was right, something was wrong, but he was starting to believe it wasn’t just with the stage, the egg, the knives - spikes - suspended above him. Shouting for Redd didn’t help, his panicked face at the edge of his vision only made his thoughts spin back to running, to getting Redd far away from the electrified cage, to how he already knew Redd wasn’t going to find anything in that side room that could help. He was already shaking against the egg’s shackles as the spikes of death began their descent and Redd ran to the odd switch in the other room. Each yell felt strangled, torn from his throat, like his body wanted nothing more than to stop calling for Redd.
“Greyson! Greyson I’m sorry!” Redd came crashing back onto the stage and from his periphery Grey could see him getting closer, “I couldn’t stop it!”
His thundering footsteps cracked into Greyson’s head more than the cheery music was.
“I’ll get you out! I’LL GET YOU OUT, I PROMISE!”
“What-” and it came back, all at once, and the sickening sound of metal rattling and charging Redd with enough energy to send him across the stage drew a wretched cry from his mouth even when Redd didn’t so much as scream. He couldn’t see Redd, couldn’t the first time, and the thought of seeing him lying dead was somehow more terrifying than the spikes he’d already felt.
“I’M SORRY!” He couldn’t see clearly, but the creaking of the spikes lowering and the curtains drawing was enough, “REDD! PLEASE! I DIDN’T KNOW!”
The spikes hovered over him before slamming down, and the pain was just as it was last time, and the music was just as it was last time, and the smell of burnt hair was just as it was-
-----
He shuddered as a clock somewhere ahead of him chimed 12, fingers tight over his shoulders as he curled up further on the floor.
“Greyson?” He listened as Redd stepped into the room, heard his breathing shift as he found Greyson clutching himself on the floor, “Grey! What happened?!”
He struggled to pull himself together and mentally cheered, if weakly, when he managed to sit up with Redd supporting his back. It took him a few more moments to look at Redd and the wide eyed concern there shattered him.
“Redd, please,” he reached out and took one of Redd’s lapels, just feeling the whole and quickening heartbeat underneath it, “I didn’t know, Redd. Please.”
“Grey, I don’t-” his eyes flickered, seemingly attempting to find some physical ailment on Grey, “I don’t know what you’re saying. What didn’t you know?”
He shook his head and took whatever breaths his body was allowing him. He could still smell the blood and burn, he could feel the spikes through him and the agony being suspended from a ceiling of knives did. He didn’t notice his breath stuttering until Redd pressed a hand to his chest and brought him back to the panic inducing sight of Redd not dead yet, but soon.
“Grey, I’m going to take off your mask,” he shuffled to reach the latch without dislodging him from his arm, “I think it’s messing with your breathing.”
He heard the latch click and felt Redd reaching to pull the mask to the side, “Redd, wait-”
-----
12 chimes again, on the floor again. He shuddered for good measure, and didn’t bother standing to drag himself to the couch behind him.
“Greyson! What happened? Are you hurt?” Redd ran over to him and was instantly looking over his legs, catching himself just before touching, “I heard you fall, did you trip?”
“Redd, listen,” he grabbed his friend’s lapel again, pulling him away and up to look him in the eye, “Something’s wrong.”
“I know, you’re shaking,” Redd’s mouth twitched, a forced and awkward attempt at a smile, “Usually you prefer stirred.”
Redd didn’t know, he realised, Redd thought he’d fallen and not died, he didn’t know they died.
“Grey, what is it?” He leant closer, just on the edge of appropriate and past close enough to see the worry lines around his eyes, “If it’s the egg, I’m sure we’ll find-”
“NO!” His hand twitched, pushing Redd back just enough that Grey felt immediate regret at Redd’s sad expression. “No, no I just- I must’ve tripped, had a bit too much,” he laughed, as strained and awkward as Redd’s smile, “You know me, can’t turn down Clay’s challenges.”
Redd looked thrown before pulling on that smile, the fake one he used when Greyson said something even he, himself, didn’t believe, and offered his hand, “I should be thanking you for telling me where my brother is, then.”
He took the hand and stood, knowing the strength displayed in just that would have let Redd rip that door off that cage and surely the giant of a man knew it before he- “Don’t thank me yet, there’s a lot of tables for him to be under.”
“Noted,” he said and took his hand back, his smile returning to something more relaxed as he turned from Greyson to the door he came from, “If you’re feeling up to it, I found the office. We can look for that egg quickly before I head off to Tequila’s performance.”
“Looking to get out so quickly?” he asked, “And here I was thinking you enjoyed my company.”
“And here I was thinking you’d come watch me play,” Redd hummed and started walking back the way he’d come in. Watching Redd walk, whole and alive, eased the pressure from his chest. Redd dying to save him felt more distant with each step after him. Redd was a good man but not a stupid one, if it had all been real surely he would’ve gone looking for something else rather than throwing himself at certain death. He nearly laughed at himself, feeling a hint of embarrassment at being frightened by some alcohol induced nightmare that rattled the intoxication right out of him. If he’d known the cure to drunkenness was a good scare he’d have asked Reginald to set up some kind of nightmare machine years before.
He stepped through the door after Redd and glanced around the room, already feeling the confidence he’d started with come creeping back in.
“Anyway,” Redd started, looking up from the papers he’d been idly shuffling through to look at Grey, “Why do you want this… This egg? Why do you want it so badly?”
“I told you,” he felt his mouth dry, the lingering edges of memory clutching at that confidence and starting to tear it apart, “it’s not just “an egg”.”
He let his body turn on autopilot, his voice sending his mind spiralling into “ again, again, again” as he looked at a lighter in a poorly concealed safe. The egg was there, as his mind turned to plots and Lucas somehow orchestrating an elaborate scheme to get Greyson off the egg’s trail for good. He took the thought into consideration just enough to look the egg over, looking for marks or seams, and came up empty. The egg was magnificently cold even in the theatre lights, and he found the bands seemed to be ready for wherever he put his hands.
He looked up as Redd came back into the room, and realised his mistake.
“Greyson! Why… Why is the electricity on?!” He could see the pull of his frown underneath the mask and the downturn of his lips and, lord he could see the front of the cage.
“I…” Lucas must have set this up, he was doing a bloody good job scaring him off the egg, “Someone locked me in here!”
“What! Who?!” Redd never would’ve agreed to a plot like that, something less extreme maybe but not faking his own death, Greyson was sure.
“I DON’T KNOW!” he silently cursed himself, too distracted by his own thoughts to have looked, “I DIDN’T SEE!”
“I can’t get the cage open… My hair is standing on end just being near the door…”
Even if Redd did agree to it, he was never a good actor. Greyson tried his hands again before stilling, trying to read Redd’s face for any sign he was in on it, “Redd, my hands are trapped. Really trapped.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, concern twisting his face further, “Are you hurt?”
“No… It’s just…” could Lucas read nightmares? Maybe Sixpence invented some device that could and this was Lucas’ grand idea to test it out, “Like metal bands that snapped over my hands.”
“Can you get to your picks?”
“NO I CAN’T GET TO MY F-” he took a breath, seeing Redd’s face flicker to hurt and back was worse than hearing him leave the first time, and the second time, he was going to take apart Lucas’ office for this, “I can’t get to my picks!”
“If I can get in there, I can snap those bands, I’m sure…”
“Redd, I’m fine. I’ll be fine,” he swallowed and tried to soften his face, hoping it was a plot he wouldn’t give Lucas any satisfaction in, “Just get me out.”
“I will,” Redd said with a wary smile, and turned to leave the stage.
The side room turned out empty, and the switch in the other was as useless as it was the first two times. Greyson watched Redd run back onto the stage and felt his heart stop.
Redd had never been a good actor.
-----
He felt carpet beneath him and the remnants of knives through his spine, and heaved breath into his lungs to shout, “REDD!”
He felt the floor shake with Redd’s footsteps, running loud and heavy against the chiming of the grandfather clock in the room. He couldn’t look up from the floor, his vision spinning, but he could imagine the familiar tug of worry that pulled Redd’s whole face down with it.
“Greyson! What-”
“Redd, please just-” he pulled his head up, again grateful for Redd’s support as he sat up, “Tell me this isn’t real.”
“Grey, I don’t-”
“You DIED,” he grabbed onto Redd and felt the world shudder around him, maybe it was just him, “I saw you DIE.”
“Grey, lay down. You must’ve hit your head,” Redd said softly, and the support that was keeping him up slowly let him down, “Take a breath, okay? I’m going to get this off you.”
He felt more than saw Redd move to unlatch his mask, and nearly shouted as he got the mask open.
“Grey, it’s okay I’m just taking off-”
-----
“Okay,” he laid still for a moment, listening to the clock chime, “Okay.”
He sat up, turning to face the door Redd came through a moment later.
“Grey? What happened?” Redd came over and knelt beside him without touching, though his hovering hands betrayed his thoughts, “I heard you fall, did you trip?”
“I’m fine,” he sighed and rubbed a hand across his face, “Actually, no. Everything’s wrong. I’m stuck.”
“Stuck? How?” Redd’s hands lowered and brushed over his legs, just enough to shift them, before withdrawing, “Are you hurt?”
“No, I just- I could go for a drink,” he offered his best smile to Redd, as shaky as it was, “I’ll tell you after?”
He didn’t look convinced, but didn’t say anything about it, “What happened to the great egg hunt?”
“That egg will still be here when we get back,” the thought made his stomach churn, the sound of electricity and creaking mechanisms echoing in his head, “Let’s celebrate our find, I’m certain it’s in here!”
“Just like when it was in the basement? Or like when it was in the library?” Redd asked, giving Grey a smirk that didn’t smooth out his brow and made him look unsettled, “I’m not buying this round, not after last time.”
“Then we’ll see if your brother has drink to spare, but you’re fighting him after I steal his glass and he comes for me.”
Redd’s snort did what his smirk couldn’t, and his expression eased as they both moved to stand. Walking away from the theatre soothed his heart, and his head, and leaving the room let him take the deep breath he’d been struggling with. Redd’s second snort drew his attention again.
“I wouldn’t let my brother break you, Grey,” he said with a smile, “He wouldn’t anyway, too soft.”
The image of Clay being soft in any way not involving Trinity or his family was a welcome distraction, and he couldn’t stop a laugh of his own, “Are we talking about the same Clay? Some other brother you have up your sleeve?”
“Alright, maybe he’s a bit... harsh. It doesn’t help that you step on his toes all the time.”
“What can I say, it’s what I do best.”
The two shared a laugh, and the theatre got farther away. It may have just been that place, filled with allure and danger and possibly some horrible nightmare machine made by two bastards. He let his shoulders relax bit by bit as he walked with Redd, and let himself think of what drinks Clay could be hoarding in the casino.
“I’m serious, though,” Redd started, words soft and eyes not quite turning to meet Grey’s, “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
Redd’s voice filled his head, an apology and a promise before he tried to stop something from happening. “I know,” he said, voice quiet as he looked down the hall they’d turned into.
The casino was quieter than he expected, but after the noise of the theatre he guessed anything would seem quiet. Redd led the way into the main room and was immediately greeted by his brother, already loud and happily buzzed if not teetering into drunk. His welcome was more a quick glare but it was better than the usual rough back slap, so he took what he could get.
Clay invited them both to the table and began complaining about the robot dealer, happily shaking his brother with an arm around the shoulders with each robot-based insult and each compliment to Redd’s own skills in comparison. The staff eventually brought him and Redd a drink each, setting another on Clay’s table in an empty space, before leaving them to their own devices again.
“Man… It’s been a while,” Clay mumbled, looking up from the table and instead drunkenly shifting his gaze across the room, “Have any of you three seen Trinity?”
Grey shared a glance and smile with Redd, watching Clay try and pick which Redd he was seeing to speak to, “Did she go on a walk?”
Clay turned to him, not seeming to notice the steadying hand Redd set on his shoulder to stop him tumbling, “She… She said she was, said she’d be back soon…”
“I’ll go look for her,” he stood and tried a placating smile, “She probably got caught up in a chat with Lucas.”
“That’s not like her…” Clay muttered, looking back to the table. Redd flashed Grey a quick encouraging look before turning back to his own hand and leaving Greyson to wander.
The casino was still as quiet as it was before, and he didn’t meet anyone in his slow search of the area. It was relaxing to just walk, and he could see why Trinity did it so often rather than only to go from one task to another. He’d have to take time to walk more when he sold the Moloch Egg and didn’t need to think about work or worry, if he could ever look at it without being haunted by bands over his wrists.
A crash cut him out of his thoughts, coming from a few rooms over where he’d left Clay and Redd. He spun on his heel and ran back, stumbling through doors and into the main area where the robot stood but no brothers sat.
“A WELL DESERVED VICTORY, SIR,” the robot whirred, Grey met its face when he looked at it. He looked away and stepped around the table, breath stilling in his throat as he saw Clay’s body. The skin around his mouth was burned away, melted with something corrosive, and revealed bone past his teeth. The scene was grim, and any breath he’d been holding left him as he turned to Redd’s body sprawled on the floor, his mouth ruined like his brother’s.
“What, what- ,” he hissed through his teeth, the first chime of a clock echoing through the room. He felt his hands shake again, trembling as he pushed them against his forehead and let another pained hiss out.
“GREY,” the robot spoke, in time with the clock’s eighth chime, “HELP THEM.”
He blinked, looking through blurred eyes at the dealer as the clock echoed through the room.
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