Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Stanley? I think you were right,” he climbed on top of his balcony, “Stanley?”

He looked around their flat, shouting out Stanley's name a couple more times.

He was all too ready to hit the sack as Stanley would call it. At least he had finally finished this game of cat and mouse.

“Stanley dear?,” he entered their bedroom, a part of him expecting him to be there. Maybe he went to sleep already, even if it was uncharacteristic of him to do so.

He always waited for him to return– sometimes in the living room, sometimes in bed reading, sometimes on his computer–

Perhaps he was in the bathroom?

He knocked on the door, opening it shortly after. No… he wasn't there–

Maybe he was in his office? The Narrator never went into Stanley's office if he was being honest. He never had a reason to. His job did not require an office per say. 

All he needed was his phone for the contacts. 

“Stanley? Where are you?,” he shouted once more as he opened the door.

Oh goodness– OH GOODNESS!

Why was it this– chaotic? Surely Stanley wasn't this messy. 

Papers were scattered across the floor, drawers thrown open, various sheets of papers ripped apart and addresses scribbled through. 

“What–,” his breath hitched. 

There was Stanley's phone. Smashed into countless pieces.

“S–Stanley?,” he tried to yell out once more, “This isn't funny–” 

As he took a closer look at some of these papers– it seemed as if someone had searched for a password for his computer? 

A few passwords were crossed out, but it definitely was not Stanley's handwriting.

His was more– cursive. Not this rigid.

Panic started building in his chest.

There had to be logical reasons for this. Surely. He just had to find Stanley and he’d explain everything. Obviously. He always knew how to handle these situations.

Maybe he went on a walk? Without his phone? Perhaps he forgot?

He'd just see whether his keys were there. That was indefinite proof, right?

He stumbled to their front door, eyeing their keyholder. It– was there.

It was there. The key was there. Why was the key there? Where was Stanley then? WHERE WAS STANLEY?! 

He definitely did not both forget his phone or his keys?!

EVEN HIS SHOES WERE THERE?!

Oh no no no– 

Someone had kidnapped Stanley?!

He surely was mistaken, he had to be!

No way did his partner disappear like that! Without his keys or phone or shoes or–

The balcony– The door was open, wasn't it? That meant Stanley hadn't closed it because he had waited for him. That's what he always did when he was waiting. He opened the balcony door.

If he went to sleep, he closed it. When he went outside for a walk, he closed it. Any other time– he closed it. 

That only meant he was– kidnapped. 

His hands reached into his pockets as quickly as they could, taking out his phone. 

He quickly turned his mask inside out, looking like a perfectly normal hat now. 

He pressed 911, pacing around the rooms, eyes searching for anything indicating where his precious partner went.

“999, what's your emergency?”

“Someone broke into our flat and kidnapped my partner.”

Chapter Text

“What do you mean there is no foul play?! The room is clearly ransacked!,” he almost slammed his fists onto the table. 

“Sorry sir, we can't do much about missing people cases. He's an adult so it's his choice to leave whenever he feels like it.”

Stanley just vanishing like that? There was no foreseeable future where he would do that.

Not after he found an engagement ring in their nightstand.

“No– but he wouldn't just leave! There is a ring in his drawer! The man clearly had something more permanent in mind!”

The thought became bitter given the fact that he wasn't there to deliver the ring any time soon. He was forcefully taken!

“I'm sorry for the uncertainty of the situation. Perhaps you didn't know him as well as you thought you did.”

He had to blink a few times to comprehend the words spoken. 

“Excuse me?!,” he tried not to scream, “We have been together the past six years, I don't think he'd reconsider this now!”

“Relationships can be quite one sided. I don't mean to accuse you of anything sir, but there are plenty of reasons someone might vanish.”

What nonsense! Great, the police were as incompetent as in all of these murder mystery movies! He'd do it himself then!

“Fine! I won't need your help anyways! You are unserious and ridiculous!”

“Sir, I will ignore your… insults. But please leave the compound before things get said that should not be.”

“Gladly.”

As he left the police department, he stopped. What even could he do out of all people?! 

While yes he was specialised in following people and getting to know their routines, it didn't change the fact that he didn't know anything about the person that kidnapped Stanley!

He had to search his own flat for clues then, no matter how small the evidence might seem.

He cursed under his breath. How dare they mistake Stanley's obvious kidnapping for anything less than it!

These incompetent, selfish, underfunded bastards!

He climbed atop the next best building he could find and sprinted over the roofs of his city. He had pulled on his mask in reflex, though this time he wasn't trying to catch someone just yet. He was just making sure not any more of his precious time was going to be wasted.

He should have known better than to assume everything would go well! 

The nature of his job made sure everything wasn't safe! 

Why hadn't he gotten himself a ‘normal’ job or at least something that wasn't so– dangerous! Filled with revenge…

He shook his head as he nearly ran into a wall. 

Who cared about that right now! His partner was currently being held in captivity!

Who knew how much he was forced to endure?!

He swallowed his thoughts as he arrived back at their flat.

No bad thoughts! He had to concentrate, had to be as professional as if he was doing his job.

No blunders, no blind spots, perfection in itself. No traces, nothing to be tracked with. 

He had to think like one of them. 

But they didn't seem too keen on keeping their arrival unmarked.

He landed on his balcony, as graceful as he always did when he entered through it. 

It has been what? Five hours since he had first arrived home to find Stanley missing?

To give the police some credit, they came in rather quickly, only ten minutes after he called. Though they hadn't confiscated anything, hadn't taken a closer look at everything as well. It seemed like nothing had been touched by them! But it was their job, wasn't it?

All that happened was him being questioned about Stanley and his behaviour to then be seated in the waiting room. 

He could have used all of that time for something more efficient!

Like searching the balcony for any fabric that could have gotten stuck! 

He scanned the floor, though the darkness didn't make things easier.

He supposed he had to search that one later, the sun was going to rise in an hour anyways. 

He supposed he should have been used to finding things in the dark but that only really applied to moving objects. Otherwise he'd rely on his hearing but this had neither of these traits. Evidence was not alive.

He turned on the light as soon as he could, eyes looking around for anything remotely out of the ordinary. Though other than the fact that the rug had moved by just a slight inch, everything seemed like usual.

Had he moved the rug by accident? Or had it been the work of someone else? 

He didn't know. What he could do was take a picture. Just in case.

Potential evidence:

Living room:

-Rug slightly moved

rug.png

He looked under the pillows and under the couch, though nothing was there. Not even a penny or whatever you'd assume to find in these spots. As clean as he had left it, he assumed.

-no further anomalies

He moved to Stanley's office, the room with the most– chaos. If anywhere, this would be the place for evidence, right?

He braced himself as he walked into the prior walk-in closet now modified to be an office. 

Often, Stanley worked at his company. But most of the time he took work back home, whenever they had a tight time plan or he wasn't quite finished with the final product. Sometimes he also just worked from home. He supposed being a beta reader for articles was quite time consuming. 

He never pried too much into Stanley's work, as he didn't seem too content on even more time being consumed by any work related thing. And he had respected it, he truly had. 

If Stanley accepted his job, so would he. He would have respected his wish either way.

He hoped Stanley was okay… He didn't want to think about the scenarios he could be in. They all seemed so– gruesome. He shivered.

Concentrate! He had to concentrate! For Stanley's sake!

First step: Taking pictures of the room– before he went around moving everything.

Stanley’s office: 

-messy office

office1.png

office2.png

office3.png

(for reference later)

He remembered the destroyed phone and quickly took a picture of it.

-smashed phone (presumably Stanley's)

phone.png

It was a mess and a half– he feared if he touched it he'd get cuts from the shattered glass.

So he stepped away from it for now, turning his attention to the various papers scattered across the floor.

Most of them were– articles? He'd look at those in a second. Probably some of the ones he had to beta read.

He was more interested in the ones that weren't articles. 

There were a few photos of them, some of them even in a frame. 

They showed selfies and various vacations. The Narrator couldn't help but feel the hole in his stomach grow larger. 

They'd take all the time in the world after this was over… He’d make sure of that.

He shook his head slightly. 

Be professional. Concentrate.

He began sorting the papers into different stacks. 

Pictures of them, articles, pictures of… some random person? Maybe it was one of Stanley's relatives. They looked quite similar, except a lot younger and more like a cousin perhaps. There also were some pictures of that cousin next to a woman. Oh– how lovely.

These were wedding pictures! 

So Stanley was at their wedding! The pictures made a lot more sense now that he knew the context.

He placed them in the pile of their pictures. Nothing too relevant for the case, he assumed. 

Hm, what were those? They looked like normal receipts, some of these being as recent as a week old. What had Stanley been buying in his free time? Other than groceries anyways.

Carrots, milk, cereal… blablabla, the usual goods as it seemed. 

He skimmed over a few more. The most memorable ones were a movie called ‘Immortal man’ which quite frankly sounded like a bad spin-off of Superman and a tape recorder.

He had actually seen it in their living room once! Stanley had been playing around with the old media for quite a while already. He had a soft spot for ‘vintage’ items (‘Maybe that's why I'm dating you’ “You flatter me”) after all.

He actually had managed to make these recordings sound natural! 

Perhaps it was hiding somewhere in his office now. He'd find it in his search. 

Though it didn't seem like something hinting at his kidnapping. He placed them to the pictures.

What else was there? He supposed other than some papers about taxes, there were only the articles and the papers next to the computer.

He skimmed over the headlines and overall appearances, trying to find anything crossed out or ripped apart.

Something about some break in into a tech company last week, protests about bad salary from the police– so his statement about them being underfunded held some merit, good to know–, some school reopening after undergoing renovations, someone winning a car, someone asking for help on a missing case a few years ago…

Hm. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Most of the more concerning one's were at least a year old! 

Besides that– even if they were to be recent news, what would that tell him about the kidnapper? The only odd thing about these was the fact that not all of them were edited by Stanley. So why would he keep them? He didn't remember Stanley being such a hoarder? Especially when it came to such random things as news about there being a new sponsor for some police department! 

He supposed he could take a picture of the more controversial ones.

Perhaps he had made himself some enemies by being featured in an article about a taboo theme?

-controversial news articles

article1.png

article2.png

…

article12.png

It was better to be safe than sorry he supposed.

He placed them into a neat pile, right next to the pictures. He'd look at the papers next to the computer in a second. He had read enough for now.

He then decided to look into the drawer of the table. There probably wasn't anything he should be worried about. 

It wasn't ripped open like anything else, so it probably wasn't anything– Hm.

It wouldn't budge. He eyed it more closely.

Oh– he needed a key for it! No wonder the thief never opened it up. The key was probably in Stanley's keychain!

He walked to their front door, quickly saving a picture of it. 

Entrance:

door.png

He picked up the keys, walking back to the office. Surely one of these keys would fit!

Nope, nope, nope, nope, maybe–eh nope.

It didn't look like any of these fit!

Where else could Stanley be keeping the key?

Hm, that was something he could try to get later as well.

Tasks for later:

-find key to office drawer

He yawned, tiredness slowly settling in. He hadn't slept that night, had he? 

He would go to sleep– but he couldn't miss the sunrise! It was a crucial point of time to search for clues!

Besides that– the first 48 hours were the most important ones after someone goes missing. Or something along those lines, he didn't know for certain.

So the search continued!

Their printer looked to be fine, which was nice. Same went for the computer somehow. Why would they break Stanley's phone but leave his computer in one piece?

Perhaps they wanted something from him? Something Stanley had on his laptop?

He could just look for himself, Stanley wouldn't mind, would he?

The Narrator stepped up to Stanley's computer setup, moving the mouse to confirm that someone had recently turned on this device. Stanley was someone who always turned it off completely. He had at least some decency!

What password did Stanley have again? He knew he should have written it down! Stanley had told him, he was sure of that! 

Why had his brain just forgotten such a crucial bit of information?!

-search password for computer

His eyes caught the papers next to the computer, the one with various things scribbled onto it, the one with different handwriting than Stanley's.

-another handwriting, not Stanley's

otherhandwriting.png

It held different attempts at passwords, he assumed. 

‘Stanley1234’

‘Stanley_Rider’

‘Stanl3y_Rid3r’

And then they had given up. Those weren't the best guesses, not at all.

Why would he put Stanley as his password? Even if there were variations?

He was sure he remembered Stanley's password being quite random. More something along the lines of ‘Buckettt_69420’ or something stupid like that. 

Stanley loved using stupid passwords. His Spotify account used ‘Nr.1Best_Boy_Narry’ or something like that! (“Why is that your password?” ‘Why not? It's true!’)

The kidnapper had no chance of guessing it.

There was also an address scribbled below– oh, it was just theirs. The kidnapper must have written it down before they came there.

He sighed. This could have gone so differently if he had just been more careful! It was probably some client who had cyberstalked him to the point that his address had been leaked!

Oh– there was an USB stuck to the computer. Perhaps there was something on there the thief was too stupid to discover.

He supposed it was worth a shot. The problem was, they did not have another device that could be used by an USB.

He had to go to an internet café or buy himself a laptop. 

He placed it into his pocket for now.

Another thing he had to add to his list of things he had to do.

-look at USB

He supposed he could take the rest of the office apart after quickly looking over the other rooms. 

He skimmed over the kitchen, nothing seeming out of the ordinary, like expected.

The kidnapper was really searching for something specific as it seemed.

He sighed as he looked through the bathroom and the hallway. Though nothing seemed out of the ordinary about these rooms as well!

The last room he still had to go through was their bedroom. Though when he had first searched for Stanley, nothing really seemed strange.

He had to make sure though, no matter how often he had to look back at these places.

It felt strangely personal to snoop through his partner's belongings, but it was for his wellbeing– it was alright, wasn't it?

Why was this the moral dilemma that sent him over the edge out of all things? He had killed people for goodness sake!

He continued his search, opening more drawers, his hands stopping at the drawer. The one where a ring laid. It was in a nice small box, simple and minimalistic, just like both of them were.

He slowly opened it up, being reminded of the remains of his partner. No not remains– that was the wrong word to use. Stanley's belongings. Not remains. Never remains. He'd find more than his remains. He had to. 

Professional, he reminded himself. He had to be professional. 

The box laid there as if it hadn't been touched in a while– was that dust on it? How long had Stanley been planning all of this? He didn't know nor did he really want to know. 

The thing that caught him off guard was the tape he found next to it. That hadn't been there the last time he looked? Perhaps it had been and he had just missed it somehow. Probably that. 

Or– Stanley had made it quite recently. 

It was another thing he had to look into.

-Listen to recording

He was just about to open the last drawer when the doorbell rang.

Who was disturbing his search in the middle of the nigh– oh. It's gotten brighter again.

He groaned as he forced himself away from the nightstand, making his way over to the door. He opened it up to see one of his neighbours greet him.

“Hello, I wanted to ask whether everything is alright with you? Because there had been some strange noises this night and you weren't there–”

Witnesses! How could he forget about that– How could be so careless to leave out such a vital part of a kidnapping investigation!?

“I hope you don't mind me asking you some questions–”

Chapter Text

‘Jim’:

-noise at around 11 pm

->resembled someone hanging up a painting

-no further noises afterwards

-no further idea where Stanley might be

‘Mariella’:

-did their normal stroll at around 11pm, saw Stanley take out trash

-random person ran around the park she was at before (potential suspect? -> make list of suspects)

-did not notice any further noises

-no further idea where Stanley might be

Other people were either asleep or did not notice anything.

He yawned, the battery of his phone blinking in an alarming red. 15 percent. He had to charge it, hadn't he? 

He sighed as he stood up to place it onto his nightstand, reaching for his charger. Ah– where had he placed it? He searched in his drawers. Hm, not there.

Perhaps Stanley had hogged it once again.

He opened the first one just to be met with the ring and the tape. Right, not this one–

He opened the second one up to find his charger. Ah, lovely– wait. Wait wait wait– What were those folders?

He pulled them out, eyes scanning the content. Just another collection of articles–

But they were categorised by date and importance…? Why was ‘importance’ a category? What did that even mean?

An article from seven years ago–? Seven? Now that was far back–

A missing person called– Mike?

The Mike? The one he was supposed to avenge for his client? The one that had vanished by the hand of a seemingly immortal target? 

Why did Stanley have an article about him? He had only told him about the name of the person today, right before had gone to– finish the job. Right before Stanley had vanished.

He continued to skim the pages, article after article after article about– Mike. Years worth of research and content relating to the missing person…

Why did he have so many articles and pictures of– Wait. Pictures. This Mike looked so– familiar. 

He almost jumped to his feet, quick steps making their way over Stanley's office. He took one of the wedding pictures and compared it to ‘Mike’.

It was an exact match– So Stanley and Mike were related?

Was that why Stanley had these articles? To search for his cousin?

Wait– he never actually confirmed whether it was Stanley's cousin…

But they did share a last name. Stanley and Mike Rider– well, before Mike married anyways and changed his last name to whatever his wife's was. It didn't state it in the articles.

But the Narrator knew more than the articles. Their last name was Apartent. That was the last name of the woman who wanted to take revenge on the mysterious man walking through the streets of their city, who supposedly kidnapped her husband. 

He knew because he was the assassin she had hired for killing him. To avenge whatever had happened to Mike.

He shook his head, looking at an article showing a picture of the mystery man. This was him. The man he had tried to kill over and over and over again! To no avail! He always came back! He was sure he had pushed him off ledges multiple times, once even causing an explosion near him! 

But no, the man remained in the shadows, because of course he did! The strange thing about all of this was that the stranger had told him he'd stop roaming the streets this night– he said he was going to return to someone and that he did not do something to Mike!

Okay– the conversation didn't go very long, he was aware. It was rather short and he had never heard the person talk before– But for some odd reason. He believed him. 

After five years of chasing the person and trying to kill him over and over again– he perhaps had gotten a bit fond of the routine. 

“I am afraid this is our last meeting.” The stranger had said, “While I would love to chat, I have run long enough”

And he had been confused by the sudden change of heart. The fact that he also had planned to stop this chase after this last try was rather… convenient.

“I'd like to stay in the shadows. I have to admit the company was nice but I have new people to care for.”

And the voice sounded fond of itself, strong, convinced. 

So he had believed him. 

The Narrator had left (after pushing the man off for good measure), believing him. He has had enough of this mission anyways. This man had been unkillable, undefeated! And he had decided to take the loss then and tell his client to find another assassin.

Oh goodness– he had forgotten to tell her, hadn't he?

He'd break his brain about this whole Mike fiasco after he cancelled their contract!

He hit his Mail app with the intention of writing one– though she was quicker as it seemed.

He pressed the Mail titled ‘Cancelation’. 

Dear ‘Narrator’,

while you have provided us with plenty of information and attempts, we have to unfortunately end our contract. We have acquired another source of information which hints at the suspects involvement. We need him alive now, so your help isn't acquired anymore. 

Thank you for your services. 

Mrs. A

It was… a bit too convenient how everything lined up. 

He shook his head. Perhaps he just got lucky! He couldn't let this hinder his search in any way!

This was more important than some random coincidence.

So why did Stanley have so many articles about Mike? Why was Stanley so interested in this man's life?!

And why had he never said anything regarding Mike if it was so important to him?

Bedroom:

-ring + box

ring_box.png

-tape

tape.png

-folders with articles about ‘Mike Apartent’

articlemike1.png

articlemike2.png

…

articlefolder.png

This was a dead track for now– perhaps it would be smarter to pursue the track of checking the area around the trash cans as it was the place he was seen last?

He then proceeded to head outside, ignoring the screams of his phone waiting to be charged.

Stanley must have gotten back inside again as his keys and shoes were inside. 

But taking a look outside surely didn't hurt, did it?

He stood in front of the trash bins, taking a quick walk around them. Nothing too unusual. Just a few cans here and there, some gum stuck on the floor. Unless he wanted to go dumpster diving, this is all he could see there.

He sighed. No, this wasn't something worthwhile, was it?

He begrudgingly went up again, not even having bothered taking a picture. This was useless! All useless! He had only found more questions than answers! 

He was this close to throwing his phone across the room or into a trash can just in frustration!

Trash can– which was– full… Didn't Stanley take out the trash?

He turned around immediately, practically jumping down the stairs. 

Guess he had to go dumpster diving anyway!

He practically threw himself into the trash can, though to his luck the trash was emptied yesterday evening. 

So only one bag of plastic was there other than some plastic bottles.

He pulled it out, slightly grossed out by his own willingness to go so far for some evidence.

He felt through the bag from the outside, making sure there was no actual food waste or anything like that in it before he'd open it in his living room.

He carried it upstairs, believing there was cloth inside of the bag.

He dropped himself on his couch, the bag on his table.

While it was unhygienic, he didn't really have the nerves to change or wash his hands.

He had no time for such luxuries!

He opened it up, a slight smell of sweat entering his nose.

He pulled it out, slowly but surely, breath stopping once it reached the light completely.

It was the costume of the mystery man.

Chapter Text

Wait– no. Why was the costume of his there– Had he kidnapped Stanley to then dispose of his stuff?! Perhaps ‘Mariella’ was mistaken? Stanley and the mysterious man were very similar height wise! He had seen both of them often enough to know their heights!

Oh goodness– perhaps the mystery man had kidnapped Mike and now kidnapped Stanley as punishment for investigating! Or perhaps Stanley had gotten too close to finding out what happened so he had to be moved out of the picture!

It was so obvious! Of course that happened! He lied! The mystery man lied!

Though why hadn't Stanley told him about all of this? He could have helped! He could have asked for more information, made sure he was safe!

He shook his head slightly. What-ifs weren't going to help in the slightest! 

-find out relationship between Stanley & Mike

He wrote down, just in time for his phone to blink to five percent. He sighed, placing his phone onto the table. He'd charge it in a second.

If the mystery man had lied once– what was stopping him from lying again?

He grabbed his hat, flipping it around to put his mask onto his face.

He just had to make sure that figure wasn't roaming the streets anymore, he had to be. 

He closed all doors properly, putting his key into his pockets, quietly sneaking through the backdoor of their basement.

This was a lot more risky during the daylight though his partner was still missing! He felt like he could risk a few things for his sake.

He climbed atop of their apartment complex, eyes looking over the city. Standing up there, one could feel like a superhero. But he killed whenever he went up these buildings, swiftly and quietly. Normally, as there had been one exception.

The mystery man had avoided it somehow. 

Years after years.

5 years now. And now he had kidnapped Stanley. 

Said man had probably just followed him home one day… He did have a motive after all… The Narrator had been the one to follow the mystery man, attempt to kill him!

Oh goodness– 

He stopped in his tracks. He was the reason Stanley had been kidnapped…

The man kidnapped Stanley and left his clothing as a sign from him. He left it as a tease. ‘You can't find me anymore, you don't know how I look.’

He wouldn't be turning up anymore… he didn't lie about that, did he?

No shadow had been moving along these roofs, no person leaving a trace to be followed by. 

He sighed as he climbed down an emergency ladder. This was useless. This investigation was useless! He pulled down his mask, reversing it like he usually did. He flipped his jacket, turning from pitch black to a brownish leathery seeming one.

Who knew who that mysterious man was!?

He certainly didn't! He seemed to be as invisible as invincible! He just… vanished into the shadows every time he tried to follow him home instead!

BUT NO! He hadn't been able to follow him a single time.

Not a single time.

He hadn't even realised he walked to an online Café. 

He sighed, at least he'd be able to pursue that USB clue now. 

He stepped into the quiet building, only soft voices of people being present.

He'd find it relaxing if he wasn't quietly checking each and every person for resemblance to the mystery man. 

He didn't do it on purpose! …

OK… Perhaps he did.

But what else could he do? His partner was missing. STANLEY(!) was missing.

His partner for the last six years.

SIX!

How dare that police officer say that he'd leave him! Just vanish away and start a new life or what did they think!?

He arrived at a computer, grabbing the USB from his pocket. 

He inserted it into a machine, starting the computer. 

Now he had to open the USB.

His fingers drummed onto the table, the old electrical device humming loudly. It was clearly struggling, he could hear it 

Finally, it sprang to life, the screen loading a guest account. 

He navigated to the folders, opening the medium ‘USB’.

Various different folders loaded, each labelled differently: ‘roof’ ‘outside’ ‘commissions’

but what stuck out to him was the one labelled ‘passwords’

Well, that was useful!

He opened it up, being greeted by multiple documents. He'd just have to write it down!...

Oh right… his phone was at home.

He could just email himself the documents, couldn't he? What an idea! 

He was a genius haha!

He entered his email, dragging the files into it. Andd sent!

Lovely! 

Hm… what now?

Perhaps he could look around to see whether there were any cameras at the park?

Didn't Mariella say something about someone running there? It would make sense to check at least.

He pocketed the USB, walking out of the Café. He should have gotten himself a coffee– though he didn't have time for any luxury. He'd be fine nonetheless!

He had to be– for Stanley.

He walked along the streets, nothing seeming out of the ordinary. He came across the park in their street. He decided to walk along it, eying the buildings standing on the other side of it.

Aha! There was a camera! He just had to find the owners–

He crossed the street, finding himself ringing at the door of a woman. 

“Who is it?”

“May I look at your cameras?”

Chapter Text

Lady at house NO 8: -recording of mystery man at time of Stanley going missing

Suspects: -Mystery man!!!

Anddd his phone died. He got himself the charger, plugging it away. 

Great! Splendid! Wonderful! What was he supposed to do now?

It confirmed that the mystery man was responsible for Stanley's disappearance, didn't it!?

The crucial problem was– He had no clue on who he was! Not at all! All he had was vague information on his height and the few sentences he had heard when they had that conversation. The voice sounded rather deep, and perhaps he was too naive when he said it definitely looked like a man. 

But that's all he had to go off! 

While yes, he'd been following him around for five years now– he had no clue about this person! He wasn't supposed to anyway!

He just had to find out where he was at a specific time! ONE! Just so he could pull off a quick kill and vanish into the shadows!

But no. No, no, no! He decided to be quick or something and not die!

Why hadn't he just captured the man and brought him over to Mrs. Apartent. All of this could have been avoided! Ugh, why had he been so stubborn! 

Now Stanley was missing and it was all his fault!

He shook his head slightly, walking into Stanley's office. He had surely missed something, right?

He sat himself in the office chair, looking around. Where was that tape recorder anyways? He was sure he had seen Stanley carry it there.

Perhaps it was in that cabinet he hadn't opened yet? He still didn’t have that key… 

He yawned. Perhaps he could search for it again. 

Ugh, he should have gotten that coffee. 

Maybe a breath of fresh air could help. One yawn later, he found himself on their balcony, arms rested on top of the railings. 

Hm, he could sit down on their stool.

Why was it on the floor? 

Wait. Had he checked the balcony?! He wanted to do it– but had he?

His consciousness jumped awake, vision frantically looking around the balcony. 

He ran back into their flat, hands reaching for his phone in a quick motion. In the process, he almost pulled out the charger out of the socket.

The second the phone turned on, he opened up his notes app, taking a picture of the scene.

Balcony:

-fallen over chair

fallen_chair.png

-Stanley's jacket

jacket.png

-piece of fabric

fabric.png

That seemed to be it… 

He picked up the cloth. It was weirdly wet. It hadn't rained in a few days so it was even stranger.

He brought it closer to his face, a strange smell entering his nose.

It smelled– sweet almost. Strangely tiring–

He pulled it away from his face.

This was chloroform, wasn't it?

Right– so he had been on the balcony? Sitting there– when the mystery man ambushed him and drugged him with chloroform.

It made sense.

Except– how did they manage to sneak up to him? 

He himself never was able to sneak up to Stanley and surprise him.

Perhaps it hadn't been so sudden then? Maybe there had been a fight? Though not a single plant has been moved… 

It was all a bit peculiar, it really was…

The mystery man was someone who lived in the shadows, so it wouldn't be all that surprising if he somehow did manage to surprise Stanley.

His phone beeped in exhaustion, dying on him.

How lovely.

He groaned, walking back, plugging it into the charger once again. 

He propped up the chair on the balcony, gathering the jacket laying on the floor. 

Oh! Something fell out of it!

Why did Stanley have his tape recorder in the pockets of his jacket? Well, it could both record and play– But that's besides the point. 

He placed it next to the bag on the living room table.

Did Stanley have anything else in these pockets? 

His wallet– made sense – and a key!

Perhaps this was the right one!

He walked over to the office again, inserting the key into the keyhole.

…

It didn't fit.

Why did this man have so many keys! What secret locks did he have!?

He'd get that drawer open! Even if that meant he had to get a bit more… violent. 

Right after he got everything from that computer beforehand. He didn't know how much damage would be done in his rage attempt.

He just had to wait until his phone had charged. At least a bit.

He yawned another time, elbows propped against the table.

Perhaps he could rest his eyes– just for a few seconds–

He yawned again.

Yeah, maybe just a small nap.

-------

It wasn't just a small nap–

The flat had turned dark again, how long had he been sleeping for…?

He rubbed his eyes, vision slowly adjusting to the dimmed light. 

Oh goodness– how long had he slept? 

He felt another wave of adrenaline push into him, his sleepiness wearing off in a wink of an eye.

What did he want to do?

Right– Get the password!

He rushed to his phone, head spinning in fast motion.

He turned it on, finally sitting at a comfortable 88%. Lovely!

He checked his emails, the cancellation falling into his vision again. It had been quite a convenient email. Did they know what happened to the mystery man? They said they had a new source of information, hadn't they?

Perhaps he could write her an email asking for some information. It was worth a try.

Now he was going to check some mail!

Ah, there it was! The file of Stanley's passwords!

It wasn't the smartest decision on Stanley's behalf to save them in a pdf though he wouldn't complain right now. They could talk about security after he was back and well.

passwords:

-computer: St8nster!

-email: 2845_Donthackthispls

-other: password.pdf

He turned on the monitor, the screen slowly flickering awake. 

He typed in the password as soon as he could, eyes scanning the screen.

What would that person want from Stanley?

Hm. He got one notification on his mail app.

Perhaps he should check it out. Maybe it was some bill he hasn't paid yet? How would he know? He entered the password, mails slowly plopping in.

‘Warning about suspicious activity in your bank account.’

… Excuse him? What strange activities?! Stanley never seemed to be a heavy spender. 

It felt like he had three pairs of shoes and three t-shirts and jeans as well.

Nothing more, nothing less. The most ‘suspicious’ purchases he had made were the tape recorder and that wasn't really expensive per say.

He clicked onto the mail.

‘Dear Mr. Rider,

we are contacting you as there have been some strange activities on your account. If you weren't the one retrieving £3000 out of your account, contact us immediately. Until we have confirmed your involvement, we have locked your account.

We wish you a nice weekend.’

EXCUSE HIM!? £3000?! That was a lot of money! How had he not heard of that earlier? That email was quite old as well… three weeks by now! How had Stanley not opened that yet?

What was Stanley doing? What was he… hiding?

Did he really accuse his partner for hiding something from him?

…

He did, didn't he? First all of these articles about Mike, then the costume and now this!

What would someone use all of the money for anyway!?

It was like he had to pay some ransome! Wait– waitwaitwait. What if he did?

What if he tried to free Mike!? What if he did manage to contact the mystery man and asked him where he had put Mike?! What if he then asked for a ransome and he delivered– just to be unsatisfied anyway and kidnap Stanley!

He scrolled through the email list, eyes skimming over the subject lines.

Bills, bills, some comments on a youtube video, commissions, a message from his boss, another one, bla bla bla bla. 

Okay, it wasn't worth scrolling further upwards, he had reached two years worth of emails already. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

He sighed, making a screenshot of the strange email.

He sent it to his own email account, grabbing his phone in a swift motion.

He checked whether he had gotten any new emails– wait when had he missed two new calls?

And why did both of them come from Stanley's number?

Chapter Text

Those calls were from two hours ago! JUST TWO HOURS AGO! WHY HADN'T HE STAYED AWAKE!?

How had he even called him? Wasn't his phone broken? If it wasn't his smashed phone on the floor… who's was it?!

What else was he missing!?

He called it back, phone ringing twice until it went over to the voicemail.

Why had he called him? He couldn't even talk? Perhaps to show him he was alive? That was probably it. 

Stanley was alive– of course he was! There was no way he'd be dead! 

This was proof, wasn't it?

He shook his head, trying it another time.

Why was he even attempting to call Stanley? He would not be able to hear him anyway… Perhaps they could switch to a video call then? But he'd have to pick up first for that to happen…

Just the voicemail again.

Why has Stanley turned out to be so mysterious? Why had he hidden all of this?!

His fingers gripped the drawer of the desk, pulling on it tightly. Not a chance. 

Perhaps it really was Stanley throwing away the strange uniform of the mystery man. Maybe they agreed for Stanley to help him go undercover, give him some money?

Why? Why would Stanley help the mystery man? 

He pulled onto the drawer once again, this time with more force. Nope.

Why would he have so many articles on Mike!? Why would he have contacts with the man who kidnapped Mike!?

… 

Another pull.

This made no sense whatsoever! None! Nada!

Crack.

Unless–

He pulled again, slowly opening the damaged drawer.

He had helped mystery man–

Why did he have Mike's passport in his drawer–

Oh goodness– he had kidnapped Mike.

He was the accomplice of the man he was supposed to kill for the disappearance of Mike!

Was that why Stanley tensed up every time he talked about him? He wasn't actually worried for him– he was scared of his cover being blown, of his accomplice to spill the beans about him!

Was that it?

…

No. No, he was going crazy! He clearly cared for him! He had a ring in his drawer out of all places! He had told him to be careful every time, waited for him to return.

There was a piece of cloth drenched with chloroform for goodness sake!

He never wanted for this to happen–

He wanted to forget this ever happened. Wanted to make sure he never was caught. 

Was that why he had so many articles about Mike? Because he had been… scared?

Was that why he barely went out, worked at home most of the time?

He swallowed. Did Stanley really know what happened to Mike?

And did the mystery man decide to make sure he never talked about the kidnapping?

To make sure he himself could pretend to live a normal life?

He felt his head lay in the palms of his hands, holding his breath for a second.

This was too convoluted, strange!

How had he never found out about ANY of this!?

How much had Stanley hidden about his past? It certainly was more than he thought it would be. Way too much.

He thought… they'd write their own story. Perhaps Stanley did too. It did seem like he had a change of heart. Like he wanted to stop this madness.

Perhaps he wanted to pay the man some money to never involve him again.

Maybe he got dragged into something he couldn't escape.

He did seem– at least slightly familiar with the Apartent family. He was at their wedding after all. 

He groaned. Why was this all so complicated! WHY HAD STANLEY NOT SAID A SINGLE WORD ABOUT IT!

Did he not trust him enough…?

Maybe it was to keep him from the danger his backstory held?

… maybe he had been scared of his reaction?

He shook his head. Did it matter? He didn't know. It was frustrating, he was sure of that.

Not sure of much beside that. Mostly speculation…

His eyes drifted to the pile of broken glass on the floor again, analysing the remains of the phone.

Who's phone was this!?

It wasn't Stanley's, there was no way it was. 

Was it the one from the mystery man? Why would he smash it though? Why would he do it if he was going to vanish anyway?

He rubbed his forehead. This was the second time he regretted not taking that coffee earlier.

He glanced into the darkness being emitted from outside.

One day now.

He had been gone for a day.

And he was as far away from him as he had been the day prior. 

Too far away.

Though Stanley was okay! He was fine and he'd find him! Just a few more hours and he would solve this case!

Definitely. Probably. Maybe. If they were lucky.

…

He shook his head. He didn't need luck! He had the power of his ingenuity!

He just had to use it!

…

So he had to find the mystery man. No problem whatsoever, not at all! Ha…ha… ha.

He was so screwed! What was he supposed to do! 

He still had the same amount of information about the mystery man as before!

The only thing that changed was the fact that he now knew that Stanley somehow was involved with him!

Has Stanley ever commented on him? Left an unwanted hint or two about the mysterious man?

He thought back to their past conversations, the one prior to the dreaded event coming into his mind.

‘What if he's immoral,’ he had signed, had furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head.

So was he? Was the mysterious man truly… immoral? 

Or was it sarcasm? Why did he have to question every word his lover had said– or signed?

He just wanted to find Stanley and he'd even forgive him if he did kidnap Mike for goodness sake! He'd cuddle up in his arms and hear the whole story, listen to it all. He'd listen to Stanley tell his own story. Stanley was the only person to know about it in all its ups and downs.

He was ready to move across the country, avoid public spaces! He was getting desperate already, wasn't he?

This was too much for his brain to wrap around. He wanted it gone, GONE! He just wanted Stanley back, for these problems to be a thing of the past.

He swallowed, shaking his head. 

It was time to write Mrs. Apartent an email as she definitely knew more about the mystery man than she was willing to share.

It was the closest thing he had to a connection to the mystery man. He really had to come up with a better name. 

‘Dear Mrs. Apartent,

I'd like to ask you some questions regarding my last target.’

Chapter Text

Fingers drummed onto the table, mind running in circles. 

What to do, what to do, what to do!

He couldn't just wait until she replied! 

But what could he do?

Had he written something down? Missed a clue or two he could investigate more?

Why did he have to do the investigation anyway!? Why had the police been so incompetent and stupid! How had they not spotted the piece of cloth with chloroform on the balcony! If that didn't scream kidnapping, what did?!

…

Was it too late to print out missing posters?

It surely wasn't, was it? Was there a time limit to when it was too late?

He could surely try, couldn't he? It wouldn't do any harm and maybe he'd get some clues that way as well.

He sighed. He should have done it earlier, shouldn't he have?

He opened up a document, typing away. Name, description, age, height, last seen location and the things he presumably wore.

He printed it out maybe thirty times, letting his hand glide over the smooth surface.

Now he had to distribute them, hang them around the various locations people could have seen him.

Starting around his house would be a good idea, wouldn't it be?

He walked out of their flat, only now realising he had worn his shoes all day. He'd feel bad if it wasn't for the fact that he didn't have time for these casualties! He was wasting enough time already, making missing posters that probably got him nowhere!

He hung up the posters wherever they felt appropriate, quick steps making their way through the whole city. Stamina had never been a problem for him. Running over roofs, following people, these were the things he was used to. 

He felt strangely in his element and he hated it. Every single part of it. 

Especially because he knew the person he was trying to catch. A person he had unfortunately grown fond of. 

Why? Because Mr. Mystery never seemed to be much of a threat. He seemed invincible… but never malicious. He could have fought back, could have probably caught him off guard a time or two. But he never did. The weird game of cat and mouse was never… feeling too serious. At least not after the third time he was sure he had killed him. But he never had! Not a single time! 

Perhaps he truly was invincible. Perhaps Stanley's weird movie choices came from the fact he knew such and wanted to find out more.

He didn't know. Maybe he never would…

Why did he think that?! He shook his head, almost dropping the stack of papers he was still carrying.

No, Stanley was absolutely well. He was fine and he was stubborn and– oh goodness– what if he was too stubborn and didn't comply and got himself…

He didn't want to think that far. He had called him earlier. It was okay. He was okay!

He'd find him and hug him and make sure he was absolutely okay!

Yeah! 

He hung up another poster, the already too filled wall wouldn't mind another poster.

He could feel eyes on him, his strange training gave him some sort of sense when it came to it. It seemed a bit magical and superstitious but he didn't mind. It was useful after all.

He turned to face the person, though he couldn't find the face. How strange…

“Excuse me?”

He had to look around some more to find the person. They were a lot smaller than he was, perhaps he had looked over them before?

“I– um I know him. Rider– Stanley, right?”

The voice seemed familiar… Why did it?

“Yes! That's him! And you are–?”

“Oh yeah, sorry. I'm a coworker of his. Employee 432 they call me. Probably told you ‘bout me, right? I'd say we're buddies, hasn't he told you?”

He scrutinised the smaller… adult, absolutely miniscule human being.

“I can't say I have, I'm afraid. Has he behaved differently in office for any of the past few weeks?”

“No, not really. Was like he always was. Minding his own business. A bit awkwards toward me or the others and always soooo busy. I get keeping the wheel going but that's over the top! Overhead the boss shooing him out of the office one day cause he never took a day off!”

They began to look over his shoulder. He followed their vision, landing on the poster he had just hung up.

“Haven't seen him all day though, is he– oh,” it seemed like they had just read the content on the poster. How they had missed the giant ‘Missing’ on the poster was a mystery to him.

“Well that answers my question. He wasn't at the office all that much to begin with but that was even weird for him. What a shame. He was a fun dude!”

How could this person not shut up? He had other things to do! Hang up more posters, get more ideas! Not listen to the office stories!

… Wait.

“... and like he was always nice to me. Like he's supporting my side business! He even bought–”

“He's been at your company for quite some time now, right?”

“Hm? Yeah, he's like one of the og’s or something. No one questions him or corrects him and stuff. They all seem to trust him a lot. Maybe like eight years now? Dunno, haven't been looking into his exact files.”

“Did he ever mention any… friends? People he'd go out to drink with or something?”

Stanley wasn't one to drink much, he knew that. It was more about the meeting up with Mr. Mystery to discuss… kidnapping matters.

Perhaps it was someone he knew personally beforehand. It probably was. How else would he have made contact with the mystery man?

“I mean not really? Mentioned a boyfriend twice but that's it. Pretty secretive guy now that I think ‘bout it. Weird, isn't it?”

He was the boyfriend, he hoped he was at least. Now that he also thought about it… Stanley had never talked about any of his past. He indeed was– a ‘pretty secretive guy’.

“Thank you… Employee 432. I'm sure he had his reasons.”

Because that was the justification he had made for Stanley to not talk about some topics. That he'd feel uncomfortable.

But now… perhaps there were other factors playing into effect.

“Yeahh, hope you find him though. Good guy, makes good articles. Seems a bit focused on that one police station at the moment but the point still stands! Asked him what he was about and he said that it was just something to do with a relative or something? Dunno, strange. Hope you find him!”

“Yes– I will.”

“Imagine what could have happened. What if he ran–”

“He did NOT run away.”

“Chill out! I meant maybe he ran into some trafficking ring?”

He cleared his throat.

“Perhaps,” he answered, though he believed otherwise. It wasn't a thing he had considered yet. Because it was personal. They had kidnapped Stanley from their balcony, ransacked their whole office!

And there was confirmed footage of none other than Mr. Mystery running through the park near their home. 

“I'll look into it,” he still spoke, thoughts lingering on the scene.

“Well, good luck! Gotta run some errands now! If I get more information, I'll let you know! Here’s my card if you need anything from me by the way.”

A small business card was placed in his hand. He pocketed it into his jacket.

“Right– thank you.”

And they had walked off, just like that. As suddenly as they had arrived.

He hung up the last few posters, mind spinning around the strange person. If it hadn't been for their height and strange linguistic choices… he might have considered them for a potential suspect. They had a very similar voice to Mr. Mystery. The way they accented their words, lifted their voice at the end of the sentences. Besides that… being outside in this darkness? Only potential threats did that.

He should have asked what they had done two days ago. It was too late now anyways. 

He had circled back to their home, quietly making his way up the stairs. 

What could he do now? What had he done recently? 

Hmm…

He unlocked their home, walking up to the table in the living room. Right. Stanley's jacket. And the tape recorder.

Tape recorder! He could finally listen to the tape!

He walked over to the recorder, picking it up. How did this thing work? How would one open it?

He pressed a few buttons, hoping the machine would open up.

Instead, it began to make strange noises and finally…

“Greetings, I am afraid this is our last meeting. While I would love to chat, I have run long enough.”

He couldn't believe his ears. It was him! Mr. Mystery's voice. The exact thing he had said. 

He held his breath, waiting for the next line to be spoken. ‘I'd like to stay in the shadows’ he had said. And he expected these lines to play out.

Though it wasn't what he remembered.

“I am Mike.”

Chapter Text

Wait wait wait.

Mr. Mystery was… Mike? No, he wasn't. Or was he? But why would he– of course! He couldn't just hide out in the open! He had to find an accomplice! And Stanley was said accomplice…

It made sense of the appearance of Mr. Mystery after Mike's disappearance, cleared up why they had been monitoring the missing case so closely. It wasn't Stanley being scared of getting caught, it was Mike.

Did Mrs. Apartent know about it? That the man she was trying to kill was actually her husband? Probably not. Otherwise she wouldn't have asked him to kill him to avenge her husband.

Stanley was trying to support Mr. Mystery. Not because he helped kidnap Mike– he supposed he did in a way help in that– but to hide him. To dispose of any evidence leading back to him.

Was the £3000 for Mike then? For him to start a new life? It would be an answer. But was it the right one? 

He didn't know. 

It did clear up why he hid it from him. He was the one who was supposed to kill Mr. Mystery. And Stanley was the one who was supposed to do the opposite. 

…

That didn't answer the biggest question though– why was Stanley gone then? Why would he kidnap the person who tried to help him? To make sure the secret never got out? It seemed a bit… morbid.

Though faking one's own disappearance was a strange thing itself. Why did he do it? Why didn't he stage his own death if he came to it? Why did he even want to leave his wife like that?

Perhaps he should research a bit more about Mrs. Apartent. She seemed very… interesting.

He walked to their computer, opening a browser.

‘M,’ he typed into the search field.

It immediately recommended ‘Mr Apartent missing case’. 

Stanley had been researching a lot, hadn't he?

He typed in ‘ “Mrs Apartent” ’ making sure he used quotation marks to refine his search.

He had picked up some handy tricks over the years. 

A few links sprung onto the screen as he hit search, screen filling with various articles about the missing case. He sighed, sorting everything by oldest.

He wasn't sure how handy that would be, though it was worth a shot.

Hm. Bizarre. Why was an article about the police station at the top? The one he had recently visited to report the abduction of Stanley…

He clicked onto the link, eyes scanning over the article quickly.

He remembered it, it was one of the ones Stanley had printed out– but why? Why was it so crucial to this whole case?

There it was. The name of the sponsor of said police station. Mrs. Apartent herself. 

His eyebrows furrowed and he felt himself lean into the screen. 

He was surely missing something, right? Why was Mrs. Apartent funding this station?

Was she that desperate for help? These bastards were incompetent fools! She was wasting her money on them. Every single last penny was wasted.

But she was standing there, next to these officers, look determined and eyes locked with the camera. He shivered at the sight. She looked as if she was ready to murder someone. He supposed she wanted him to do the dirty work of actually killing. 

Good for her that he had failed. But now both Mike and Mr. Mystery have vanished. And in her point of view that would be the worst outcome, wouldn't it be?

Though she didn't seem to actually care about Mr. Mystery anymore, did she? While she said she needed him alive, she also wrote they had found another source of information. 

…

Was said source Stanley? Had she kidnapped him? What if she did? How would he know? How would he even go about finding her if she had!

Surely not– How would she even know Stanley's connection to Mike?!

He supposed he was at their wedding but that couldn't be enough, right?!

He was thinking too quickly again, wasn't he? How would he know it was Stanley she kidnapped? There had been plenty of evidence that spoke for Stanley and Mr. Mystery knowing each other. There also was a good amount of evidence leading to Stanley and Mike knowing each other.

And there were a few clues piecing Mike and Mr. Mystery together. As one person. The tape being the most solid proof.

But what gave the connection between Stanley and Mrs. Apartent?

Mike. Mike was the connection, wasn't he? Had Stanley hung out a lot with them? He'd have to ask, didn't he? But if he did ask, she might catch on that he was eying her as a suspect. 

Stanley had the wedding pictures of Mike and his wife. He wouldn't have kept them if he wasn't close to the two, right? So was it that unbelievable that Mrs. Apartent might have put two and two together and made that connection? Especially since she had a lot more information on the case than he did.

She was working directly with the police on that one, even funding them directly!

How was that even legal– Were they that desperate for money?

He shook his head, did it matter? He supposed it didn't. 

He pressed the return button on the browser, fingers hovering over the keyboard. 

Before he could type in anything though, his phone rang. HIS PHONE RANG!

He jumped up, running to their living room. He really should have taken his phone with him when he stood up. 

His heart sank once he realised it wasn't Stanley calling him but an unknown caller.

“Hello?,” he still picked up, listening to the other side of the call.

“Ah, yes. Do I speak with um– the one who hung up the missing posters of Stanley Rider?”

“Yes– ah, yes, that's me. Do you know something about Stanley?”

“Well– I'm not too sure whether it was him or someone who looks very similar– but I saw him in an alley a week or two ago with some shady looking man.”

Shady looking man? He had to write this down.

“I didn't know what they were doing and I didn't really care all too much either. I just remember because it looked like they were selling drugs or something. Pretty sure it wasn't drugs though, looked more like exchanging some documents? Don't really know what exactly. Some shady business it looked like. I think one of them was Stanley, but I'm not that sure.”

“Oh– that's news to me. Thank you nonetheless. Which street was that in?”

“I don't really remember the name but it's the street right around the corner of that internet café, pretty sure you know that one.”

-Alley next to café

“Hmh, I think I do. Thank you for your help, I appreciate it greatly!”

“No need to thank me, I just hope the poor guy gets found– ain't the first missing case over here unfortunately. Glad I could help!”

“Yes– have a nice evening.”

“You too, bye!”

…

What shady business? He surely had to have left some trace of whatever he was doing there, right?!

He tapped the pen against the paper, again and again and again.

Shady business. Shady business. Some sort of transaction? Was that what the money was for then? No support for Mike? Perhaps only part of it went to him. 

But what documents would he want? Why would he spend his money on random documents? They probably weren't random– but what could they be about? Were they somewhere around the office? How would he know what to search for?

… and was he sure Stanley had used all of his money? Perhaps he still had some in his wallet?

… It was worth a look, wasn't it?

He stood up, quick steps making their way over to the living room table. The surface held all kinds of evidence by now though he was looking through Stanley's jacket once more, pulling out the leather wallet.

£50. That wasn't nearly as much as £3000. So he actually spent his money on that… deal? Surely. 

Where would he even find these people? It was like he just had a lot of contacts! Like they worked with him or something! Imagine it was a coworker! Or a former customer!

Wait– coworker–

His hand reached into his own jacket, pulling out a small business card. Employee 432.

Didn't they say Stanley had bought from them? It would be a stretch and a half– but it could just be close enough to Stanley to be viable.

Fingers typed out the number, finger hovering over the button. He was going crazy, wasn't he? How stupid would it be for 432 to tell him they actually sold illegal things? Even if they didn't explicitly say that–

He pressed the call button anyway.

A clue was a clue. Even an absurd one would do.

Beep, beep, beep–

“Hello? Number 432 here?”

Chapter Text

“Hello, 432, it's me–”

“Oh, yeah, I remember you. You're the guy who hung up these posters, right? Any news about Stanley?”

“Yes, that's me– not yet but I'm working on it. Actually– I have some questions.”

“Oh– yeah, right! Ask away!”

The question lay on his tongue but he couldn't just start with that, could he? If so– he'd have to package it– as at least a bit less conspicuous.

“Has Stanley said anything about going to meet someone around the last three weeks?”

“Not really– didn't you ask me this question before?”

“Ah, I might have– Did you see him carry around more money like usual– or spend it strangely?”

“Woah, these are getting specific. Uhm– no? He seemed normal. Didn't see him spend more on coffee or something, even less than usual maybe?”

“Less? Interesting.”

So he tried to save up some money after spending it all on that– transaction. 

“And he didn't happen to buy something from you in that time frame?”

“Okay– I don't like where this is going– no, he didn't?”

“Are you sure? Theoretically, if you were to be involved with… not very legal matters– I wouldn't tell on you.”

“What? Chill out, you thought I sell Stanley drugs?”

“Nono, no drugs. More like– documents.”

“Why would I want to sell him documents? I don't even sell any secret formulas?!”

“Then what do you sell to Stanley!?”

“First of all– he asked me whether he could commission something–”

“Commission?” Why did that seem so familiar?

“Yeah, commission. That's the second thing I wanted to say. I sell audio commissions!”

“Audio commissions?!”

“You make it sound like I'm doing something illegal. Wait– was Stanley buying illegal documents?”

“I– No. No, of course not.”

Except he had, hadn't he?

“I was just– curious about your business transactions.”

“I know this missing stuff is pretty stressful– but that's a bit messed up, don't you think? Accusing me of illegal trading with Stanley? He hasn't asked me for a new commission in months by the way. If you have his email you can check– we usually talk back and forth in the making of them.”

He stood up again, making his way over.

This time he had his phone with him, the voice of the employee echoing through it.

“What's your email address?,” he asked the other.

“Four three two underscore commissions dot email dot com.”

He typed it into the search field of the emails, 25 matches. The last one was five months ago. He hadn't lied about that. 

It was called commission. Of course that was him– why hadn't he looked into it before?

“Was that all? It's pretty late, I have work tomorrow.”

“Ah yes, I apologise for disturbing you.”

“It's all good. Just– maybe don't go around accusing people of running a drug business?”

“It wasn't even–”

“Byeee!”

Beep, beep, beep.

He sighed. Not the smoothest execution but it worked. Good thing this wasn't him doing his job. It would get him arrested on the spot. 

He shook his head once again. Focus! The thing he apparently really lacked!

Commissions… Right. Would these emails be worth checking? What even could he need audio commissions for? 

He did like his smaller projects but he only put audios onto tapes–

The tape– the one from Mike– had he made it? Had he made them for Mike?

Why? Did Mike want to even hide his voice from the world? Just in case he would have realised it was him? The voice in the audio had sounded a lot like 432 after all…

He clicked on the newest email called commission, eyes scanning over their conversation.

‘Heyy, I've made the audio! Hope it's good! :-) -#423’

commission_final.mp3

‘Ty! It's perfect! I'll give you the money at work tmr’

Final?

He clicked onto the file, ears awaiting the familiar sentences.

“Greetings,” the voice of 432 said, “I am afraid this is our last meeting.”

This was the audio from the tape–

“While I would love to chat, I have run long enough,” the voice continued, just like he had heard twice before. Now came the question, which version was it?

“I'd like to stay in the shadows.” It was the one he had heard on the roof. “I have to admit the company was nice but I have new people to care for.”

Had Mike written the text? Did he mean a word he was too scared to speak?

He didn't know. But if Stanley had trusted him… Perhaps he could too. 

Even if he still wasn't sure whether Mike had kidnapped him or not. It was still too strong of a possibility. Even if it seemed sinister to kidnap the person that helped one.

“Tell people I died. I don't need to exist in their eyes anymore.”

His eyes perched up. This wasn't on the other tape‐ or was it? Had he paused the thing accidentally? Has it broken? 

“Tell them I burned Mike and spread it all across the ocean.”

Was that his plan all along? To trust him to carry these lies to his wife?

“I don't exist anymore. Neither does he.”

He supposed he was right. Wherever he was– he wasn't recognised as Mike anymore. Otherwise they would have found him earlier.

“Farewell, it was nice being chased by you.”

The audio ended. He really had to listen to that tape again– had he listened to the one in the bedroom already? He hadn't, had he?

He stood up once more, back aching from all the standing up and sitting down in such a short while. He sighed, walking to the living room to grab the recorder to then enter their bedroom, opening the drawer. There it sat. As if untouched.

He gathered it from the drawer, finger getting stuck on the small… box.

Right– the ring.

He felt his chest stir at the sight. Whoever kidnapped Stanley would need to pay. It wasn't fair. It simply wasn't fair! He wouldn't have just left him! Stupid police implying he didn't love him!

If it hadn't been for the kidnapping, it would have been just a matter of time until they got engaged and married! But now… 

He shook his head. He couldn't fear the worst. Not right now. Not as long as there was still hope. 

He picked up the box, opening it in reflex.

…

Stanley wouldn't be mad if he took it beforehand, right? It held a promise. The promise to do everything he could to get Stanley home. 

He slipped it onto his finger. He surely wouldn't mind. He was sure of it.

He pressed some buttons on the recorder, miraculously opening the recorder. He carefully took out the other tape, reading over the two names scribbled atop before sliding the other into the slot.

Final one of them read. The other, the one he just put inside was called Test 3 Not sure about this one.

And then he pressed play.

Chapter Text

The recorder stirred for a few seconds, fingers tapping against the plastic.

Had he pressed the right one? He wasn't so sure anymore.

And then, just right before he wanted to press the button again, 432's voice spoke out again.

“Hello. Our little chase was quite fun, I have to admit. But I feel like these secrets are haunting me. Watching my every step until I make a mistake. Somehow, someday. I know I can't run from this forever.”

A small pause played out. And he waited patiently, awaiting the continuation. 

“So here it goes! I'm Mike! Why are you following me? Why me? Who told you to kill me? Why am I important enough to be killed? I just want to be free. Is that too much to ask for?”

Mike never knew he was being hunted by his wife for his own disappearance, did he? He hadn't even told Stanley why he was hunting Mr. Mystery. Why? Because he hadn't known either. Not until Mrs. Apartent had clarified a few days ago. 

“You know what? Fuck this secret identity spiel. You know me. You know me. I'm more than that mysterious person you are assigned to hunt. More than some random person gone missing years ago. It's me.”

It's me? It's who? Who?! 

How would he know them? Who were they?! Curse them and their vague statements!

They knew about his job. They knew him. Mike knew him. Except– it wasn't Mike he knew. Mike knew him. And he apparently also knew Mike. But not as Mike. Not as Mr. Mystery either.

He knew him as–

Stanley.

No. No no no. Where did that thought come from? It couldn't be Stanley. He had been home. He had been home all of the time. He had met Mr. Mystery a few moments before Stanley disappeared– 

He surely couldn't– but he hadn't considered that Mr. Mystery couldn't have kidnapped him with the same reason then.

And that thought hadn't been as implausible as the one he was thinking of.

He surely wasn't– He was mute! He couldn't have–

That's why he made audios. Not because he wanted to keep his identity hidden– but because he just couldn’t talk. 

He was researching Mike so often because he was Mike. Because he wanted to see how close they were to finding him. Because he wanted to live… a normal life with him.

These pictures– the wedding pictures. He hadn't been a guest there. He had been the groom. That's why he had them. That's why he had Mike's passport– That's why he was never confused by the way Mr. Mystery's frequent visits. 

Because he knew he couldn't have died. Because it was him. 

His feet moved to the computer, emails still opened. He hovered over the ‘deleted’ section quick press revealing another three emails. 

Meeting . One said. Deleted two weeks ago– He opened it.

5 pm, alley hot beverage store

don't be late

bring cash

No reply. So he scrolled back up, selecting the first mail between the two.

Heard I can get p4ssports here

still available?

And the reply

y. fill out formula on site

Passport? Stanley got himself a forged passport? That– actually made a lot of sense. He obviously didn't have one if he really was Mike. And he wouldn't have any papers unless… he got them forged.

So Stanley was… never Stanley to begin with? What was fake and what was real? Where did his story begin and end? This case seemed to never end! The end is never the end is never the end is– now.

If he didn't do something soon.

He shook his head, wanting to hide anything remotely close to the darkness wanting to swallow him. 

He hadn't known about any of this, he hadn't known about any of this, he hadn't known about ANY of this! How long would he have hid this from him? Would he have told him eventually? Did he actually love him? 

He didn't know. He felt as if he knew NOTHING about Stanley and everything.

He needed solid knowledge. Anything– something! He found himself opening the browser, eyes searching for the search history. A man's sacred place. BUT WHO CARED NOW! What else did Stanley hide?! He had NO reason to hide all of it! 

He felt… betrayed in a way.

He opened his search history, sorting it by oldest. The newest ones would be his. 

And there it was. Eight years ago.

Is it normal for my wife to be looking through my phone?

His rage halted.

I think my wife is following me. What to do?

Signs stalker partner

Signs abusive partner

what to do against stalking partner?

nearest police station

what to do if police doesn't care about stalking?

how to file for divorce

faster way to divorce

what to do if wife wants to kill me?

He blinked a few times, his eyes being reflected in the darkness. 

He… fled from his wife. Because she wanted to kill him. She sent him to kill her own husband. His partner. 

That fucking bitch. 

Who cared about Stanley lying to him. He wasn't out to kill his wife! He wasn't trying to hire a hitman for his own SPOUSE! 

He had tried to live a normal life, start again, away from the crazy killer WIFE!?

And they had gotten him–

they found out about him. She found him.

She got him.

He had to find them. Now. If it wasn't too late already–

Where did she even live?!?

He returned to the search field, fingers almost beginning to type.

Though something caught his eyes.

Frequently searched by you:

How do you find out if you're invincible?

What do you do if you're invincible?

Movies about invincibility

why am I invincible

Perhaps he had more time than he thought he did.

Chapter Text

He was racing down the roofs, step after step after step less careful, almost running into multiple walls.

He jumped over tiles and gaps, between alleys he knew too well or not at all. And he stopped at the place the whole story began. The apartment of Mrs. Apartent.

He discovered the surveillance camera at the bottom of the apartment complex, making his way around its presumed field of vision. 

Professional, like he was going to kill her. He might do, the rage in his veins pulsating furiously but hidden. 

He climbed up the wall, eyes gauging around to find an open window or balcony. For whatever reason this building didn't have any emergency ladders, though he didn't let himself get discouraged.

He still had to save his boyfriend after all. Even if he somehow was immortal. He would have come back if he had been able to.

Furthermore… who knew what that crazy person had up her sleeves, what torturous games Stanley had to go through.

Even thinking about it made him mad.

Furious even. Like his blood was boiling into a soup of chaos.

(‘Sometimes I can't tell whether that's blood on your cheeks or blush.’ “How about both?” ‘As long as it's not mine?’ “I'm no vampire, Stanley.”)

There was an open window– his opportunity. He just hoped the residents weren't awake. The light was out after all.

He glanced into the room, nothing but darkness being in his vision. Though not a single movement. No human roaming in the darkness.

Looked safe enough for him, he specialised in being quiet after all, hiding in the darkness.

He climbed through the window, landing as if it had just been the wind blowing through it.

The window closed behind him, wind having actually picked up. 

But now– something moved. He could see it. Hear it. Eyes scanned the room, stopping at a chair, a person squirming around, head shaking quickly.

Stanley. 

STANLEY!

He almost sprinted over, hands finding their way into his face, looking at him more closely.

His mouth was covered in tape –because that would definitely change a thing, obviously–, eyes were open, wide but tired. 

“Stanley,” he dared to whisper, “I'm getting you out of here.”

He began to pull at the tape, it surely was uncomfortable nonetheless.

Though he shook his head against his hands, frantically, eyes looking behind him. What was he trying to tell him?

His eyes squinted at the sudden light, head turning around in instinct.

If he had to fight, he would.

“What– who are you ?,” a voice asked him. The one of the crazy wife. Of Mrs. Apartent.

“The better question is– why the fuck do you have Stanley!”

The woman stood where he had imagined her to be, small, petite. Not as tiny as 432 but still a good head smaller than him. He could overpower her, kick her out of the window if he wanted to.

“Hm. Questions after questions. What a shame we won't get any answers.”

“Excuse me?,” he made sure to stand between Stanley and his ‘wife’ even if he knew Stanley couldn't die anyway. Presumably. It was his instinct to protect him from whatever madness this woman was. 

“I assumed you'd be– someone else. His accomplice so to speak. Do you know what Stanley did?”

“Why would I want to know it from the woman who kidnapped my partner? Why would I care about a single word you speak?”

“Hm. Perhaps you knew then. Oh well,” the woman smiled, “I rigged for this building to blow up two minutes after I press this, so don't come closer!”

“WHAT?!”

His eyes darted across the room, looking for any escape in their vicinity.

“I had this whole speech planned, about escaping me again and again and how I've realised I don't even care about whether Mike's alive or not anymore! I just want to kill his perpetrator.”

“I– but–,” his brain halted. She didn't know Mr. Man was Mike? She didn't know Stanley was both of them!?

Why was Stanley there then– why had this escalated so quickly!

“Sorry, you're just collateral damage– but Stanley helped him dispose of any evidence. So he gets the same punishment!”

“Wha– how would you know that?”

He knew better. He knew that he did. He knew that he disposed of any evidence because he was Mike. Though revealing that would do him more harm than good.

“It's quite easy to track back articles. And he seemed a bit obsessed with editing articles about a particular mysterious man. I'm certain they've worked together. I just can't get him to talk . A shame, really. Maybe I would've let him go.”

He would have run up to her and strangled her, told her that Stanley COULDN'T . Though he didn't make a move. Not as long as she had that remote.

“Sorry– do I know you? I feel as if I do.”

“Maybe it's because you broke into our apartment?!”

“Oh– you're the boyfriend of his. A shame really. You didn't need to be dragged into this. Well. You know too much now. Can't keep you around, sorry.”

Sorry– SORRY?!

“Oh, also sorry for making such a mess. Clumsy me forgot to turn off my phone before getting to yours. Had to smash my phone. Oh, and for making that mess in your office. Wasn't sure whether he had more leading to Mike and that perpetrator. That stupid hitman didn't do jack shit as well. At least he'll be quiet.”

She was rambling, and she was making her way to the exit. He heard a soft clicking noise.

Her fingers had pressed the button. Two minutes. He had two minutes.

“Tell me, how big is the explosion?,” his mind began to race, hands began to fidget.

“Hm? Oh, you're worried about me, that's sweet! Maybe two floors round here? Yeah, 

sounds about right!”

He was just worried she would get out alive.

“Oh, thanks for returning my wedding ring by the way, did Stanley have it?”

His fingers felt up to the ring on his hand. He bit his lip. It wasn't meant for him. Of course not. Why would Stanley want to marry again after– whatever this person was!

He pulled it from his finger, a small smile escaping him. Thinking back to it, there had only been one ring after all.

“You can have it back, Ms. Apartment, gladly,” he threw the ring over to her, “Don't want to bring back any bad memories at home.”

He sent a wink over to Stanley, a question mark standing in his face, only overshadowed by the panic in his eyes. Telling him, begging him to leave. 

“Well,” Ms. Apartent opened the door, keys dangling in her hand with the detonator, “I feel like this is the time to go.”

She looked down onto her wrist, onto a watch.

“It's either Stanley or me and I'm bailing. Good luck surviving!”

Normally this would have been an obvious choice, a test of loyalty. Even though this situation was not normal in the slightest, his choice still remained obvious. 

He gave Stanley a small smile, pinkies intertwining, thumb and finger crossing and finger laying on his palm. 

He could see the tension in his eyes drop as he ran after the woman threatening to escape through the door, ramming her to the ground.

“WHY DON'T YOU SAVE YOU PARTNER?!”

She yelled, she screached, “WHAT THE FUCK GET OFF OF ME! LET ME GO!”

He held her down, fingers gripping the keys.

“I'm doing this because I care about him a lot more than you ever could.”

“What? Who cares? WE’RE GOING TO EXPLODE?!”

She struggled against his grip, trying to turn and turn and turn.

“Correction, you are. Say your last words soon.”

He lifted her upwards, dragging her behind him, retracing every step they had just made.

He ripped open the door, throwing her inside, closing the door and locking it as fast as possible. Wrong key, wrong key, WHAT'S UP WITH ALL THESE KEYS?!

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? WHAT ABOUT YOUR PARTNER?!” He heard her screams and kicks through the door but he didn't care. Click. It was locked.

So he ran. Ran and ran and ran and ran and ran as fast as he could. 

A part of him died knowing Stanley was in there. A part of him wanted to turn around, curse at him for being so stupid, naive! That he didn't know for certain that he truly was invincible. The logical side of him screamed at him for ever thinking there was a way he was .

How would that even work!?

But his other side tore at him, begging him to trust Stanley. And he would. Like he always had. He could never untrust him even if there was evidence stacked against him. Even if–

He was thrown off balance, tumbling to the ground.

His ears rang, his vision blurred.

This was the moment of truth. 

He really hoped he was right. 

Chapter Text

“You were just in the street when it exploded, right?”

“Yeah, it was really loud. Like really really loud. I think it's still ringing in my ears.”

“Can you believe it when I say that only one person got hurt?”

“Not really, no. Looked like a busy complex to me. I walk by here daily and I didn't know the whole thing was empty!”

“Yeah, we've looked into…”

He lowered the volume of the TV, back shifting against the wall. He sighed, grabbing the pillow of the hospital bed he was sitting on.

He hadn't expected for his injuries to get this bad. So be it, he guessed. As long as that woman wasn't able to terrorise any more men, he was content.

In his research he had found out that she married four times prior to Mike– Stanley. And all of these marriages ended very abruptly, suspiciously, her becoming widowed. After Stanley's disappearance, she became obsessed with getting justice. And well– what could he say– he felt as if she did get her justice. 

He hadn't been out of the hospital yet. Hadn't been able to see Stanley, know if he actually was alive.

He hoped he would find him, find the message he had sent him. 

He didn't know whether the phone was being protected by that invincibility spell or not. He didn't know how it worked. He'd probably never know. And that was okay.

He barely remembered getting into the hospital. He had stumbled out of the building, probably collapsed on the sidewalk. He didn't remember. 

He had awoken there. 

The television displayed a video of the burning building, the whole existence of the Apartents going up in flames. He guessed the explosion was quite a bit bigger than Ms. Apartent had thought it would be. And he got lucky. Very lucky if he was being honest. 

Looking at these horrifying pictures– he was lucky to get out of there with just a few burns and a ringing in his ears.

He covered his eyes with the pillow. That was enough of that horrible missing case. 

He just wanted to go home and forget all of this happened.

Cuddle up with Stanley, tell him he forgave him for not telling him a bit of this and then make a joke about him liking being chased by him.

He longed for normalcy.

It had been three days but these three days felt like eternities.

He was 100% sure he was going to retire now.

Knock, knock, knock.

He groaned, “Yes– Come in!”

Just another check probably. Visiting hours had been over for some time now.

He'd come visit him tomorrow, surely. He hated that small part of him that told him Stanley had left him for another restart. For a new version of Mike or Mr. Mystery or Stanley to roam the streets, unbeknownst to anyone. That he was too traumatised by these whole messes and just wanted to flee away from all of it.

He hated the fact that he could have lost Stanley and he hated that he had no clue on whether he had.

Moreover he hated the fact that Stanley didn't know whether he was okay as well. Perhaps he was waiting at home for him, praying he wasn't dead. 

He really didn't know! He simply had no–

knock, knock, knock.

“YES. COME IN!”

Perhaps they hadn't heard him the first time.

Knock, knock–

“FOR GOODNESS SAK–” his hands had lowered the pillow, eyes now staring into others. Into eyes from out of the window.

“Stanley–” he ran up to the window, opening in a swift motion.

“You're okay. Thank god you're okay.”

He helped him inside, a quick hug being exchanged. 

‘Look at yourself!’ that was the first thing he read from him.

“I don't want to hear a word about that. I'm so glad you're okay,” his hand went up Stanley's face, cupping it lightly.

“So glad,” he whispered, closing the gap in between them.

It was short, Stanley's lips were cold and they were careful. But it was beautiful, gentle. 

He watched Stanley smile. Watched as that smile turned into a sob, hands moving up to hold the hand on his cheek.

And he mouthed ‘sorry’ over and over again. It broke him to see him like that. Why would he need to apologise? Why would he need to be sorry for looking out for both of them?

“It's okay,” he returned, pulling him back into another hug, “I love you.”

And the sobs turned harder, warping into his shoulder. All that unrevealed, suppressed trauma, all that fear and pain and memories spilling out.

“It's okay,” he repeated, tightening the hug, “She's gone. You are safe.”

And they remained like that. Sob after shaky breath after deepening breaths to finally relax again.

And when they did part, they sat down on the bed, a silence between them.

And as he was about to open his mouth, Stanley began to sign, deep worry standing in his eyes.

‘I have to tell you something.’

And he nodded. He probably already knew what he was about to say. Though it didn't change the act of trust. 

The silent promise of ‘I would have told you. I wanted to tell you.’

‘I'm not Stanley. I used to live another life.’

“I know. But you'll always be Stanley to me. The man I love. I don't care whether I was supposed to hunt you or whether you are supposed to be missing right now. You will always be Stanley to me.”

‘You knew?’

“I found out maybe two days ago.”

‘And– you chose to stay with me?’

“Why wouldn't I have? It wasn't your fault.”

‘I'm so sorry. I should have told you earlier–’

He lowered Stanley's hands. 

“No– I forgave you already. I'm just happy to have you back. I missed you so much.”

He felt his head land on his shoulder, hands freeing themselves to sign a ‘ty’.

He observed his partner, a smile building in his face. It had turned out to be okay. They were okay.

Everything would be okay. 

“How did you find out you were invincible?”

He shrugged because of course he did. He always loved shrugging.

‘Fell off a roof when escaping. Didn't die.’

“Hmh. I'm proud of you.”

‘Oh really? For almost dying?’

“No– for not repeating your past. Not starting a new life.”

‘Why would I want to leave you? You’ve been nothing but nice to me.’

He placed a kiss on his head.

“What can I say– I'm the world's worst assassin.”

‘I can't say it's fair when you tried to kill someone invincible.’

“Hmh, guess you deserve some punishment for cheating–” he began to tickle Stanley, the other not trying to do anything against it. Instead he just laughed, so purely, so happily.

And they shared kisses. One kiss after the other. 

“Please don't invite 432 over by the way–” he chuckled after another kiss, “I might have accused them of selling you illegal documents.”

‘I can't believe you– What did you do to find me?!’

“I might have turned the apartment upside down.”

‘Who are you and what did you do to my boyfriend?’

“Hm, good question. Seems like he's missing, guess you'll have to find him as well.”

‘We both have stories to tell at home.’

“As long as you remain in mine, I'll tell stories my whole life long.”

‘Hmh, might take up on that offer.’

“How lovely. How about I pay you back a bit for that passport?”

‘Now how have you found out about that? I thought I was good at hiding that.’

“You have to properly delete emails dear. Also– learn how to clean up your search history.”

‘Did you read through that?’

“Not entirely, I didn't know how much time I had.”

‘I'm pretty sure I looked up how to die–’

“Didn't seem to work, now did it?,” he poked Stanley, pressing another kiss to his temple.

‘No shit sherlock.’

“What–,” the door suddenly opened, “How are you still here– visitors were supposed to leave a lot earlier.”

“Well– he is allowed to be here,” he shared a moment of eye contact with Stanley.

“Sir, I don't think it works like that– who is he?”

He nodded at Stanley. Guess this visit was cut short. 

He stepped to the window, looking out of it.

“Wait here sir– I'll be back in a second.”

The nurse left the room, Stanley leaving a small smile for him.

‘Syl.’

He waved, smiling at him. “Stanley? I think you were right,” Stanley climbed out of the window, “this went better than expected.”