(Number Five x Female OC)
Highest Rankings:
#1 #numbereight
#1 #numberfive
#1 #benhargreeves
#1 #aidangallagher
#1 #allisonhargreeves
After one of her brothers died and one disappeared, Number Eight and the remaining members of the Hargreeves fami...
The following day, the stakeout continued. Number Five was still adamant that Lance knew more than he was letting on, and Number Eight was still bored and hungry. The pair had blinked into Lance's car, despite Number Eight's nausea, and were awaiting Lance appearing.
"Here he comes." Number Eight whispered from the back seat, peering out of the window. He was walking towards his car in casual attire, with a small, scruffy dog tucked under his arm. Number Five was perched in the passenger seat, with a knife concealed in his blazer. He was prepared.
"One chance, that's all you've got. One chance to tell me exactly what's going on in that lab." Number Five said to Lance as he got into the car. He was taken by surprise, therefore throwing the pet dog into the back seat. Number Five held the knife against Lance's neck, threatening him.
"Aw, Five, look at the puppy! Hey Lance. No prison yet? Shame." Number Eight said to the man, sarcastically. She was content to simply sit in the back of the car and pet the adorable dog.
Lance began to stutter. "I... I manufacture prosthetic devices for fake patients. I bill the insurance companies and sell them for cash on the black market." The man explained, the words spilling out of his mouth at an alarming rate. He was panicking.
"Including eyeballs?" Number Eight asked from the back seat, now with the dog on her lap. She stroked it's head innocently as the interrogation commenced.
Lance turned his head to face her, but Number Five pressed the knife closer to his neck as a response, causing him to look back at the boy. "No, no, leave her and the dog be. It's me you need to be talking to."
Number Eight grinned. "Don't let his cute, young face deter you. He'll kill you in a second, Lance."
Lance gulped, feeling the blade of the knife pressing dangerously close to his neck. "The eyeballs. They're my biggest seller. I mean, they sell like hotcakes. I've got a list, a waiting list, probably twenty buyers."
"So the serial number I told you..." Number Five suggested, leaving time for Lance to answer. He never broke eye contact with the man.
"Uh, could've already been bought. Yes, off...off the books." Lance said, growing more and more concerned by the blade that was pressing against his skin. Number Eight was barely focusing on the two men at this point, she was far too interested in the puppy who was falling asleep on her thighs.
Number Five sighed deeply. "I needed that list, Lance. Names and numbers, and I need it now!" He snarled, leaning closer to Lance Biggs.
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"I don't have it. I mean, not on me. The only copy is in my safe at the lab." Lance said nervously, his breath hitching as he spoke.
Number Eight coughed from the back seat. "Come on Lance, you're a smart guy. What do you think we're going to say next?" She said.
