Finch stripped his clothes and body armour off and tossed them onto the floor for his future self to deal with, flopped face first onto his bed, and welcomed sleep. It was three thirty in the morning and he’d been working for over twenty four hours now. He was just starting to drift off when his phone rang.

He ignored it. He had no idea who might have his personal number but not know to fucking call reception at this hour because he was either sleeping or working, but his voicemail message would set them straight. It rang out, and then five seconds later, it started ringing again.

Finch fumbled for his phone and squinted at the screen. Luther. Yeah, that checked out. He had given Luther his number a year ago so that he could call him back about something along with explicit instructions to never use it again after that, but it was Luther so of course he didn’t give two shits about anyone else’s boundaries.

Finch hit the answer call button. “Fucking call reception, asshole.”

“Ah, Finch,” Luther said as though Finch had just greeted him with a friendly hello. “I need your help with something.”

“You can tell Adin all about it. He’s a great listener.”

“I’m sure, but unfortunately I don’t have time to talk my way through him to get to you. This is a time sensitive situation.”

“Uh huh,” Finch murmured, eyes shut, sprawled out on his side. “But do I care?”

“It’s paying work.”

“But I’m sleepy.”

“Please, Finch. This is important.”

The rare hint of sincerity in Luther’s voice convinced Finish not to hang up on him for another minute. He sighed. “What do you want, Luther?”

“Ah,” Luther said. “I would rather not say over the phone.”

“Why?”

“I watched this movie. They… is hacked the right word? Someone hacked a phone?”

“Like, bugged it?”

“Yes. I think so? Anyway, it made me realise that I don’t really understand technology and that might be something I need to worry about.”

Finch rolled onto his back, but his eyes still refused to open. “I doubt anyone’s bugged your phone, Luther. Why would anyone even want to?”

“I can’t tell you that over the phone.”

“In case it’s bugged.”

“Right.”

“The problem is that I don’t actually like you, so…”

“That’s why I’m paying you, not asking for a favour. I can give you five hundred, in cash.”

“Fucking cash? Did you watch a movie about the dangers of bank transfers as well?”

“I’m trying to stay off the grid.”

Finch sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Luther, you called me from your normal fucking phone that you’ve been using for at least a year now.”

“I turned off location services. Is that not enough?”

“No. If you actually care about being tracked, hang up now and destroy that thing.”

“Hm. Okay.”

To Finch’s relief, Luther actually hung up. Finch tossed his phone halfway across his bed and buried his face in his pillow. He was almost off to sleep when his phone rang again.

Unknown caller. Normally he just wouldn’t answer, but he could guess what had happened.

“Go away,” Finch said as soon as he picked up.

“A thousand. That’s the best I can do right now. Please, Finch.”

That was a lot of money, and the work they took didn’t even always pay at all. Finch groaned. “What do you want me to do?”

“Do you remember that hotel you were staying in when I broke in, oh, about six years ago?”

“Vividly. Did I ever find out why you did that?”

“It doesn’t matter now. I was a different person back then. We’re in room nine zero six.”

“You want me to go there? That’s like an hour’s drive away.”

“Yes. You’d better leave now. This room has many windows and thin curtains, so we will need to sort this all out before dawn.”

“What the fuck have you gotten yourself into, Luther?”

“A lot, Finch. A lot.”

Finch yawned as he sat up, his eyes still fighting to stay closed. “I’ll be there.”

Finch tossed his phone aside, turned the light on, and got ready to tackle the mess of clothes he’d left for himself on the floor. 

His outfit required layers. A long sleeved shirt and long pants, both stretchy and form fitting, and his black body armour over the top. Normally he liked how it felt, how it fit snug against the shape of his body, lightweight and unrestrictive but strong enough to stop a bullet. Putting it on when he was already exhausted just hit different.

It also shifted Finch’s mindset from grumpy bedtime boy into work mode. As much as he disliked Luther, mostly for things that had happened years ago, he had to admit that he had never been one to make a pest of himself. Well, not when it came to business, anyway. He’d been a pest in other ways more times than Finch could count, though lately not as much.

Finch had also never known him to express fear of anything. He was this world’s only vampire, the top of the food chain, so to speak. Despite how much Finch disliked him, he had to admit that Luther played the very necessary role in the local scene of keeping the other major powers in line. Not out of altruism, of course. Finch was pretty sure Luther had made his money by playing both sides. Still, the net result was a safer city, and Finch couldn’t be too mad about that.

Finch pulled on his boots, completing his outfit, and headed out through the living room.

Adin looked up from where he’d been reading a book, his hand stilling where it had been idly rubbing at the fresh velvet on the nub of one of his antlers. At this stage they looked charming and magical, but soon would come the gory shedding of that velvet and a far too long period of accidentally gouging holes in the walls with his massive, bony antlers before they finally fell off and he spent a few months looking like a normal person before the cycle started over again. Witnessing the whole process had changed how Finch saw Adin.

Adin set his book aside. “You’re heading out again?”

“Luther called.”

“I’m surprised you answered.”

“He was persistent. Hey, do you think vampires can suffer from mental illness?”

“Hm…” It had mostly been a joke, but Adin quirked his head to the side as though he was genuinely considering it. “I couldn’t say. I suppose any information on that would have to come directly from Luther. Why? Are you concerned?”

Finch waved the thought away. “Nah, not really. He just seemed… on edge. It’s not like him.”

“That is concerning in itself, I suppose. For someone like him.”

“Maybe. Anyway…” Finch jabbed a thumb in the direction of the door. “I’d better get going. He’s holed himself up somewhere he’ll fry come morning, and while I’m tempted to find out exactly what that means, that’s probably against our code in some way.”

Adin nodded. “Call if you need anything.”

Finch gave him a nod of thanks and headed out to his car.

Was he even safe to drive when he was this tired? Probably not, but he’d driven when he was half bleeding to death, so this hardly ranked. He would have woken Mal up and made him drive, but they’d both been on the job so they were in about the same boat when it came to sleep. One of them might as well get some rest. Adin didn’t sleep, but he also couldn’t drive. Nor could Tyla.

Finch wasn’t really feeling his fatigue anymore by the time he started driving. He’d reached the point where his body had accepted sleep was no longer an option and had started working to keep him alert instead. Hopefully the dawn deadline meant he’d be back in bed within a few hours.

The city was still awake at this hour, at least in parts. He couldn’t imagine staying up this late just to party. Was twenty five already too old to appreciate the joys of nightlife, or had his job just taught him to respect a good night’s sleep where he could get one?

Yesterday’s job hadn’t even been exciting, just a tedious ecological hazard. Most of the things that stumbled their way through breaches were people, animals, monsters, because you typically needed legs to stumble, but yesterday it had been a giant plant that had immediately spewed forth a torrent of large seeds into a forest. If it had been spores or tiny seeds, they would have probably had to burn the whole area to the ground and hope it wasn’t the sort of plant that was into that, but the seeds had been just about findable enough that it had been worth hours upon hours of scouring the forest floor. 

Adin would try to submit a claim for government compensation for the work, but Finch wasn’t holding his breath. The Department of Breach Safety liked things to fit neatly into common categories, and if they didn’t, good luck claiming anything no matter how good your documentation was. And if they did accept your claim? Well, it’s your lucky day. Enjoy sub-minimum-wage compensation for often dangerous specialist work. Yeah, they needed that thousand dollars. Finch wasn’t the most fond of Luther, but it was side gigs like these that paid the bills.

It was still a never ending source of frustration to Finch that the government didn’t just take this shit seriously and allocate the necessary funds, but familiarity bred complacency. This had always been a shockingly permeable world and they’d survived this long, so not everywhere was willing to spend the kind of money needed to actually manage the situation properly. Their local government seemed to just figure someone else would deal with it if they didn’t, and Finch supposed he was living proof that they were right.

It was still stupid, though. There was never any guarantee that volunteers would step in to save the day. Finch was living proof of that, too, a fucking seven year old thrust into this world, lost and afraid, and nobody had ever come to help him. He’d had to find his own way, find his own people. 

But that hadn’t been such a bad thing. He’d found Adin, found other people who were strange like him. By the time he’d understood that government services and support were things that existed in this world, he’d wanted nothing to do with them. Malyn had ended up in the foster system, and that had never managed to be a real home for him. There had been educational catch up programs, psychological support, a bed to sleep in at night and food on the table, but no love. No real family. Not within the system.

Finch cast those thoughts out of his mind. After all these years, they still made him angry. Sometimes he felt like he had an abusive relationship with this city, like a kid who grows up and instead of fleeing an alcoholic parent at the first chance, sticks around out of fear their parent will drown in their own vomit without them.

But hey, what was he going to do at this point? Get a normal job? Go somewhere that would make him get all kinds of training and certifications and work for the government directly if he still wanted to do this shit? Pfft. No. He’d take the wild wild west approach of dealing with things this city had and he would complain about it constantly.

Finch arrived at the hotel and found a place to park in the lot out back. There was a club right next door blasting music, and the shouted conversations and peels of raucous laughter that escaped the place reminded Finch of the real reason he didn’t party. The sounds of crowds of people having a good time made him angry. He could deal with crowds of bored people on overcrowded public transport, irritable crowds during holiday shopping, heck, even terrified crowds running from some scary thing that had just come out of a breach. But happy people in large groups? Made his fucking blood boil.

The eyes of the receptionist locked onto him the second he entered the hotel lobby, but he gave her a wave as he headed for the elevators and she didn’t try to stop him. Good. He wanted to be done with this bullshit as soon as possible, and the fewer obstacles the better.

What had Luther said? Room 906? Finch gave the button for floor nine a firm poke and leant back against the elevator wall, letting his eyes fall shut for just a moment.

The elevator pinged, the doors slid open, and Finch let out a sigh. Time to go deal with Luther.