Black Gratification Parts 1 and 2

A/N: I gave fair warning last week. This is a villain story. It's not going to be a happy story for many characters. Well, not as they were in canon anyway.  (Though it won't stray into territory that would cause problems for me here. At least I hope not.)

I tweaked it a bit for the sake of not putting the full character build in the chapter.

-(-)-

 “... You.” 

 “Me!” It feels like the Blob of light is glaring at me. Why for?! We were such good friends last time! 

 “How did you enjoy your time as a sea slug?” 

 “It was absolutely miserable! Day in, day out, eating ocean garbage and accomplishing nothing! But I knew in my heart of hearts I needed to be a slug for justice and righteousness! I lived my life day by day for the betterment of my fellow slugs! I guided them to the juiciest crap before I would partake! I even went so far as to, in my dying days, feed myself to a hungry crab. Getting eaten? Wouldn't recommend it. But it was a sacrifice I was proud to make for the sake of my fellow ocean-dwelling creature–“ 

 “Yes, yes. You can stop laying it on so thick. You qualify for a good reincarnation this time.” 

 I breath an impossible sigh of relief given my lack of lungs, or mouth. “Phew! That's good news! I was worried since I was a sea slug last time even though when I was in the RWBYverse I didn't do anything that bad. I even saved the world! … Technically.” Plowing Salem into a post-orgasmic mess so often she couldn't think of anything but my cock did mean she wasn't planning world domination anymore. 

 “To be perfectly frank, you didn't. I just made sure that was what you got since you jerked us around so much. Rewriting reality for your perverse ends is not something we take lightly.” 

 “Oh. Well... That makes sense. Sorry about that.” I look around with my not-eyes at the empty void. “So...” 

 The Blob sighs. “What do you want.” 

 “... The RWBY CYOA again?” 

 “Again?! I feel like I'm repeating myself but do you have no originality?!” 

 “Hey!” I protest, “I had a lot of time to think while I was slugging it up for the past year and I had a new idea! Also... I kind of miss my girls.” 

 I get the impression of glaring again but also that Blob is considering it. “Ground rules.” 

 “Yes!” 

 “No more post-insertion changes. If you don't pick a dead woman, she stays dead.” 

 That's fair. 

 “Second, you're using the most recent version of this thing! And no picking and choosing which version you'd like to take bits from! It's all the same one! Understand?! No cheap loopholes!” 

 “Got it. No cheap loopholes.” Only the ones I can find in the actual thing.
 The glaring feeling harshens. Oh right, it can probably hear my thoughts. Oops.
 With a Blobby wave, a new menu appears. “Go ahead.” 

 Woo! 

 Let's see... James Moriarty this time! Early to mid thirties, let's say thirty-three. Starts in Vale on the criminal side of things, obviously. A genius, again, obviously. Arrogant. Can't take a punch but has an incredible mind and ability to manipulate others. Skills in every field needed for successful criminal enterprise from white collar to burglary to street thuggery.  

 A lot of aura. Semblance is... Okay. How about Calculation. The ability to understand his surroundings to an inhuman degree, figuring out cause and effect to the point that it's almost like precognition. 

 “Alright! That should do it for the profile!” 

 “... Your new idea. Was to be a different Fate character?”

 
 “Fan. Fic. Tion. Wri. Ter.” 

 “Point. But you didn't get the weird missile coffin thing?” 

 “That would've cost me most of my funds at best. Also I kind of hate it and think it's stupid.” 

 “Fair enough. Now, for this next part, remember the rules.” 

 “Yeah, yeah...” 

 The secual component of my options I admit, I absolutely abuse every loophole I can find to get as many perks and opportunities as I possibly can. My starting options might get me in a little trouble but I think it'll be worth it. 

 “... You motherfucker.” 

 “That looks likely,” I figuratively grin, laughter in my not-voice. 

 “So you're just planning to skip most of the game aspects and collect superpowers by fucking attractive women?” 

 “That's the plan!” 

 “You realise this time you're planning to be a crime lord, yes?” the Blob asks, not even hiding its disdain. “Your next life will be filled with torment for this.” 

 “That remains to be seen,” I note. “I have to save the world this time too, after all.” 

 “You haven't thought through what your character is.” 

 “What?” 

 -(-)- 

 Nnnnnnnngh! Okay! Not fucking around with the memory melding this time!
 And my scroll is ringing. Not the best start jumping in like this but I'll wing it. Looking at the picture of the caller I see... Oh. Roma. Seems she's a bit of a flirt in this version of the world too if the picture of her blowing a kiss is any indication. “Hello.” 

 “James! It's been too long! How's the family?” 

 The response annoys me but I can't– Oh, she didn't know my name until last week. Cinder. “Non-existent, as I imagine you have been informed. Your new associate doesn't seem to have much care for information security, Ms Torchwick.” 

 “She is a handful, isn't she? Doesn't have much care for you either from what I can tell. What's that about? A little bad blood?” 

 “What can I do for you, Ms Torchwick?” 

 The crackle of a sigh comes through the speaker. “All business as always, and still on a last name basis? I thought we could be such good friends now, James.” 

 “You have thought many things over the years, Ms Torchwick. Some of them even turned out to be true. However, I do have other business to attend to so if there's nothing–“ 

 “Robbery last night went bad, some little wannabe huntress. Some of my guys got nabbed and I need them out.” 

 So that's when I am. Good to know. Less than a week until the school year starts. “How unusual. You tend not to care overmuch for your hired hands. Certainly not enough that you would stomach paying the usual remunerations for my time and expertise.” 

 I can practically hear the grimace on the other end of the line. “They weren't... exactly my guys. And I'm not in the kind of position where I can piss off the Xiong right now. They get touchy about their guys getting put away, and not in the fun way.” 

 I sigh theatrically. “Very well. I shall await my usual fee before getting to work.” 

 “Aww, come on Jimmy! You can't cut me a break now that we're on the same team?” 

 Not if you keep calling me Jimmy. “And which team might that be, my dear?”
 “The winning one, naturally!” I can hear her cheeky grin in her voice.
 “Payment in full, please.” 

 “Damn.” 

 Hanging up the call, I start trying to process my new set of memories. A few minutes into it I receive a message notifying me of a transfer of funds to one of my accounts in the name of some missing person who probably became Grimm chow. Roma, prompt as always, at least when she needs something. With that sorted, I get to work twisting the systems of the Vale Police Department to my desires. A few orders for the moving of evidence. Bribes sent to less scrupulous officers to move said unsecured evidence to the nearest dumpster. Alterations to written reports and witness statements– Oh! Looks like it was Officer Alabaster took the statement for the shop owner! That makes things simpler. 

 So. I'm James Moriarty now. Turns out he/I wasn't that interesting growing up beyond being incredibly intelligent and almost certainly either a sociopath or psychopath depending on who you ask. That is, depending on who you ask what those particular terms mean. If you were to ask whether James Moriarty was either one the people who knew him would laugh at you. 'What, James? No, he's a lovely young man! So courteous with everyone!' 

 Masters in economics and law, a bachelors in information science. He took great pains to learn everything about the great machines of society humans built for themselves. Those machines grew wildly beyond the layperson's understanding. So to understand them, James thought, would be to understand the system of levers that guided the world and grant the ability to manipulate them to one's own ends. Sadly, he was a victim of his own success. He understood the underpinnings of society so well that he realised even at his young age of twenty-two he could put himself on the Atlesian council within a matter of months. And then what? Such a position would be dreadfully boring, listening to his fellow councillors bickering, each indulging a pretence that they understood the world as well as he. No, absolutely not. He needed something else. Some other challenge. 

 In the end, it was not at the top of society where he found those of similar understanding, but at the bottom. Or rather, those who did not bother with the trappings of modern society understood them best. And so Moriarty dove head-first into the criminal element. Why would he not? Were he to stay inside the system of humanity he would win easily. But on the outside? On the outside, he could play. Toy with their little worlds like the child tormenting ants with a magnifying glass. 

 An incredible mind was an invaluable tool, but in the world of crime one needed strength. A more primal, basic strength. And so, as was common practice for those who skirted the law, he had his aura unlocked. They lived to the fullest every day regardless, what was being mild Grimm bait on top of that? With aura came training, came a semblance. Calculation. Perfect understanding of the world around him with a two meter range. At first he used it to tune up his fighting style. If he threw a punch, what was the perfect angle, the perfect movement, perfect velocity? His semblance could tell him and all he needed was to execute it. Punch. No, that was wrong. Do it again. Do it again. No need for trainers, just the occasional sparring partner to work out the flaws himself. All the while his semblance improved until his range expanded to a terrifying one-hundred meters. An entire battlefield would be his to predict. 

 Before long, he had a powerful body to match his mind. Though with his desire for perfection he never did learn to take a punch. 

 Finally, the day came that he had been waiting for. After years of being an underling he decided to make a clean break. One miscalculation and, tragically, his boss' entire organisation was pulled out at the root in the very moment before their greatest success. The boss and all of his lieutenants gunned down by AK units. 

 Except Moriarty, of course. He was on a flight to Vale, ready to start over, in charge of his own destiny. 

 A month later, every criminal faction in Vale, from Torchwick to the Xiong to even the White Fang received an anonymous message offering the services of the Consultant, Martin Iro. High risk robbery in the works? Thugs got pinched? You got pinched? The Consultant always has a way to make your problems a thing of the past! Well, he didn't phrase it quite so much like a late night shopping network ad. But that was the gist of it. 

 The Xiong, fancying themselves information brokers among their other enterprises, tried to find out who he was with no success. It was Torchwick who first took him up on the offer and was rewarded with greater success for it. Cue her trying to find out who he was so she could get him working for her full time. And for that, who would she go to but the Xiong? The Xiong get curious, give him some work as a test run and just like that he became an in-demand fixer for crime in Vale. 

 He didn't seek fortune from this venture. He priced his services enough to live well but not ostentatiously. It was just a way to turn his amusing himself to a profitable end. He would also take more... personal projects. He always found he had a way with women. They seemed to gravitate towards him with only the slightest effort on his part. The ones he found amusing he brought home. 

 And broke them. 

 Not physically. Never anything so grotesque. No, he would torment them with pleasure over and over again. Slaking his own lusts on them until their minds just... melted, reforming into something more to his preference. It was deeply amusing for him, how they would just seem to lose all focus on the things that mattered to them so much before. Gradually losing themselves in their need for him. And after a time he would grow bored and ever so sweetly ask them if they would work for this nice man. How he would appreciate it so very much. 

 The prostitution business got quite the boost in their workforce thanks to his efforts. New and eager whores, his broken sluts one and all. 

 And the fact that I'm okay with that means I didn't just make myself a villain. I made myself a villain. Blob's warning makes a little more sense now. My next life is going to be rough but in this new life I find it hard to care about the people I'm stepping on. Not for me, but from who I am now. I'm Moriarty and I have no care for the fate of those so foolish as to fall into my clutches. 

 But on the subject of falling into someone's clutches, it was the last three months that were the most eventful. 

 -(-)- 

 “Ahhh...” 

 He awoke as he had fairly often, with the feel of a woman wrapped around his cock. It had happened many times and usually his inclination would be to enjoy it for a moment, before punishing the girl severely for her impertinence. Depending on how far into her training it was, they would either both thoroughly enjoy it or he alone would. 

 Only, in this instance, something was wrong. Not only did he not recognise the particular tone of that pleased sigh, as his mind awakened he realised he did not currently have a woman eager to service him like this. He had disposed of Aqua a week ago. 

 As his eyes opened and got a glimpse of the woman riding him, her grey skin lined with angry red veins, he quickly activated his semblance. A woman. A Grimm. Beautiful in a haunting way. Seemed to be enjoying herself. Correction, was enjoying herself. Didn't kill him. Could have killed him. Moved him without him knowing. Wasn't rough. Knew he was awake– Oh. “Good morning.” 

 “Hmhmhmhm, and good morning to you as well,” she chuckled, rolling her hips back and forth, her heaving breasts shaking with the motions. “Ahhh...” 

 “You'll have to forgive me, I usually get hngh! Get the names of my conquests before this point. Terrible manners on my part.” 

 “Your naivety in thinking I'm your conquest is charming, James.” Without even a hitch in her voice her hips start bouncing violently against his, taking his inhumanly large penis to the base without even a grunt of exertion. “May I call you James?” 

 “With this level of intimacy I feel you must,” he laughed, managing not to let it sound as uncertain as he felt. “And you are...?” 

 “I'm called many things,” she says with a smile. “Mother of Grimm, My Lady, one particularly devoted follower of mine calls me Goddess!” He felt it hard to argue with the word as a descriptor. She was beautiful, motherly, dangerous. And riding him so hard he felt his balls churn angrily. He felt like his soul followed his seed as it sprayed inside her. “But in light of our intimacy,” she finished with a smile as she rubbed the outline of how her body deformed around his shaft, “You may call me Salem.” 

 “A pleasure to meet you,” he gasped, composure fractured at the sheer presence of this woman utterly overwhelming him. 

 “Indeed it is,” she purred. “I must admit, you weren't brought here for this purpose. I had been told of your... Uncanny ability to charm the fairer sex. I found myself curious and I was not disappointed.” She rose from her knees, belly flattening as the monstrous shaft was freed from her distended pussy lips. Shuffling back, she took it in her hands, gently stroking it. “I haven't felt one like this since my dalliances after the eradication of humanity.” 

 “I'm glad. I would hate to leave such a beautiful woman unsatisfied.” 

 She lets out a throaty chuckle. “I think you're lying to me. From what I've heard, you always leave them unsatisfied, begging for more, not a thought in their heads otherwise.” Leaning into his groin, she took a deep breath in through her nose, savouring the scent. “I believe you and I might have a desire in common.” 

 “A desire in common?” 

 The woman, the Grimm, Salem, her chuckle was deep and throaty as she gracefully pivoted to roll off of the bed, releasing his slowly softening shaft to slap against his abdomen. “Oh, James. I have heard such grand tales of your intellect. While you may be,” a ghostly white hand slid over her curves, guiding his eye up to hers, “distracted, I would hope you won't leave me disappointed. I promise you, I am the last woman for whom you should be found wanting. Mm.” Suddenly her hand swept back down over her abdomen, then lower. The slow trickle of semen from her womanhood increased to a quick spray that then collected into a swirling sphere over her palm. “I suppose you were not the only one distracted  It is a pleasant feeling being so utterly filled after so long, but... No matter.” 

 James watched as the sphere of liquid flowed cleanly into a readied receptacle. Semblance. Semen control? Ridiculous. Fluid control. Experienced. Kept it. Has a purpose for it. Engaged in intercourse on capture. Purpose for being brought here is sexual in nature. Reproductive? Inconclusive. “I appreciate the particularly friendly welcome,” he offered as he rose from the bed himself. Not restrained. Not deceived. Interest in working together. Correction. Expectation of working under her. Certain of her power and superiority. “Though I remain at a loss as to what you wished to gain from bringing me here.” Knows of abilities to charm women. Wants them turned to her purposes. Seeks subversion of specific women. 

 “You are the one with such a gift for analysis, James,” Salem purrs, “Perhaps you should tell me?” 

 Correction. Multiple purposes. Seeks subversion of specific women. Seeks strategic assistance for broader purposes. “I have made some educated guesses.” 

 The Grimm woman only looked amused. “Quite. And what would those be?” 

 Facade. Getting impatient. Expects answers. Demands obedience. Will demonstrate superiority if pushed. He didn't like being pressured like this. It reminded him of his time in Atlas. But friction was something to be avoided, especially when uncertain of the situation. Information is key to survival and Moriarty didn't have enough. “Very well. Broadly speaking you intend to acquire my intellect for your cause. However, the specific purpose you have in mind is to have me suborn particular women, likely women of influence and power, and either sway them to your ends or remove them as obstacles.” 

 “Bravo!” she praised him not entirely condescendingly, offering some soft applause at his deduction. “Correct on every point. I shall have to thank Arthur for pointing us in your direction. He is quite excited to see you again.”

 
 “Arthur?” James asked with just a hint of unease. Three Arthurs known. Two unaware of capabilities. 

 “Arthur Watts. He was rather excited to find you still alive and why.” She let out a soft laugh of remembrance. “I have never seen him quite so giddy before. Not to worry, he holds no grudge for the eradication of your little syndicate.” 

 That was rather good news, with just a smidgen of bad. Arthur had always been enamoured with him, thought the two shared some sort of bond. Holds dangerous information. Not revealed to threaten... Wants to endear herself. Interest runs deeper than practical purposes. “If we were to work together, I would like to know what we would be working towards, if you would be so kind.” 

 “I can be kind,” she promised with fingers grazing his chin as she turned, the hand reaching for a dress that floated into her– Correction. Not fluid control. Kinesis semblance. “Your clothes are on the dresser, but of course I'm certain you noticed that already,” she told him with amusement as her long flowing dress slid down to cover her curves, a multitude of ribbons coiling into her hair to form an elaborate hairstyle. “Get dressed, and we will discuss your place here.” Will have a place here, compliant or not. 

 James did not rush to dress but nor did he dawdle. Every interaction is about advantage. Which side has more and why. Moriarty knew he had very little power and on occasion that can be an advantage of its own. Not here. Here he was the next best thing to a prisoner and if he played it wrong he would be one in truth. Even so... It wasn't in his nature to truly submit, to scamper after the woman who would have him call her his master. He would ready himself in his own time, preserve his dignity, preserve his mental well-being. For in a dangerous situation like this it is his most valuable possession. 

 “Finally ready?” Salem asked as he emerged from the bedchamber. Genuine. Has all the time in the world. “Come, I shall introduce you to your new compatriots.” 

 And as she led him into a great hall dominated by a long meeting room table, she did exactly that. Tyrian Callows. A name he vaguely remembered from his time in Atlas. Utterly mad. Utterly devoted to Salem. Fool. Dangerous. Hazel Rainart. Passive. Taciturn. Allied out of pragmatism for his own purposes. Lost. 

 And– “James!” Arthur Watts cheered on seeing him, grabbing both his hands to shake, gripping them firmly. “Just wonderful to see you again! When dear Cinder contacted us to ask about a 'Martin Iro' one of her contacts mentioned I just knew! I just knew it had to be you!” 

 “Watts, it's been... A long time,” James greeted in return, turning off his semblance just so he wouldn't have to learn any more about Arthur's man-crush than he would naturally. 

 “Indeed it has, my friend! Indeed. It. Has!” Every word punctuated by a clap of his hand against Moriarty's. 

 “Arthur,” Salem cut in and if she were attempting to elicit gratitude in James' heart she was doing a fine job of it, “I was just about to inform your old friend what exactly he will do for us.” 

 “Oh! Of course, my lady! I apologise for getting so carried away! Please, James, take a seat next to me!” 

 Against his better judgement, James did so, reactivating his semblance by sheer necessity. “Once again I find myself unaware of the greater purpose at work.” 

 “Greater purpose? James, dear, of course our shared purpose is the greatest of all. Absolute dominion of humanity.” 

 Even with his excellent self-control it was a struggle for his eyes not to roll. “World domination. An ambition I have considered and discarded. I prefer domination of a more personal, intimate nature.” 

 “Oh, that has been made very clear, James. We have seen what is left of the women with whom you make such intimate connections. Even now as they are paid to be defiled by other men they ask if you are proud of them. When they will be able to see you again.” The beautiful and deadly woman sighed dreamily. “Your work is as exemplary as they are pathetic. You do excellent work.” 

 “Thank you. It isn't often I get praised for those particular endeavours. Beyond the ladies on the receiving end, of course.” 

 “Of course,” she nodded graciously Watts pulled out a scroll as she continued talking, a hologram pad lighting up in the middle of the table, “And it is those skills for which I have found a particular use. One I believe you will be delighted to see through.” An image appeared over the table, one he had seen before landing in Vale. “The illustrious Beacon Academy, headed by their near-deified Professor Ozpin.” 

 “They have a history,” Watts tried to confide quietly, though he instantly regretted it as Salem's rage-filled gaze locked onto him. He wasn't even looking at her and even still his eyes filled with terror. “M-My apologies, my lady!” 

 “Arthur is... Correct,” the woman admitted. Still trying to be accommodating. Will make Watts regret it later. “Nevertheless, the huntsman academies are the strongest line of defense for humanity. They are the backbone of their response to incursions of Grimm. In that sense, I would like to break Ozpin's spine. Metaphorically, though also literally if possible.” 

 “You want me to subvert huntresses?” If she wished to gain his interest she had certainly succeeded. That did sound like a challenge in which he would like to take part. 

 “It would be lovely if you can, though they are not the primary targets.” The image changed to an itemised list of women, all between the ages of nineteen and twenty-three. “I want you to subvert the students. Every single one. I want to break Ozpin's heart before I crush it.” 

 “You seem to have a plan in mind for how I would accomplish that.” 

 “Oh, I have no doubt you would manage even without one,” she flattered him. “I can already see those gears turning. But you are correct, you will receive assistance. You will become part of Beacon's faculty. They unfortunately lost their law and procedure professor recently. A position that must be filled by the start of the new school year. We have an asset that can give you unquestionable credentials. With little fuss, you will have an array of young, athletic women utterly at your mercy.” The human Grimm placed her hands on the table as she leaned toward him, the cut of her dress showing a tantalising glimpse of the magnificence he had witnessed earlier. “Does that appeal, James?” 

 'Control', he reminded himself, his mouth watering. “Yes. Yes it does.” Even if agreeing weren't the fastest escape from this particular situation, he might have found himself agreeing anyway. 

 “Wonderful,” she purred, voice low and seductive. “Cinder, the woman who brought you to our attention, she has a mission of her own and I expect you to assist each other as needed. We will put you on an airship to Mistral soon to acquire your credentials and secure an interview for the position, a certainty with Ozpin's dear friend Lionheart in your corner. Oh, and, one final thing. You may consider it your signing bonus of sorts.” His new boss swept through the room past him. “If you would follow me.” 

 The path they took through the castle was winding, heading through many passageways and down multiple sets of stairs into what could only be described as a dungeon. The walls were lined with cells that James' semblance informed him hadn't been used in decades at the least. 

 “We haven't had need to use most of this place for quite some time,” Salem informed him as they walked, “Not since I experimented with breeding Grimm the 'natural' way. No such luck, sadly. While they can be modified to have genitals, they are incapable of impregnating humans, or vice-versa.” 

 Excessive stress on 'they'. Does not include herself. Has had children. His step faltered for half an instant, enough for Salem to send a curious look back at him, then a frown. “A long time ago,” she offered by way of explanation, not willing to say any more on the matter. 

 Hint of pain. Lost her children. Rage at Ozpin related– 

 “If you value your continued survival I suggest you stop.” 

 Never before in his life had he turned off his semblance out of self-preservation.
 “Here we are,” she pronounced, stepping to one side and gesturing at the solid iron cell door at the end of the hall. Taking the hint, James pushed it open, finding it unlocked despite what he would have expected. Out of instinct, he reactivated his semblance. Prison. Prisoner. Unlocked cell. Willing prisoner. Trusted. 

 “Mistress. Is there something. You need. From me.” 

 The girl, no, the woman sitting patiently in the middle of the cell. She was dutiful. She had been sitting in that exact spot long before Salem or he had ever made their way down there. Long hair hung down her back, dark but reddened toward the ends. She wore little. Silver undergarments, bands of metal wrapped around her upper arms and thighs. Her pale skin unblemished save for old scars, none of which looked to be the work of torture. The one conspicuous ailment was her wide, unblinking, solid white eyes. 

 Broken. He knew it before his Calculation told him. Whatever had been done to this woman had left her an emotionless doll. His teeth grit despite trying to maintain his calm, anyone could torment someone until they shut down! It's artless! A complete waste! 

 “You look displeased. Is she not to your taste?” Salem asked as she followed in after him. “Ah, is it the eyes? She isn't blind, if that's what you were thinking. Her old ones were a problem so Watts provided her with replacements.” 

 “Yes. Thank you. Mistress. For your. Kindness.” 

 Salem smiled in satisfaction. Her name is Silver and she's all yours. She has training as a huntress, and as a housewife. Or a maid, if you prefer. It was our success with her that gave me the idea to procure your services. She was once one of Ozpin's prized pets.” 

 Finds the name amusing. Not her real name. Private joke. Needs context. She called this 'success'?! “I am afraid I'm not an appreciator of broken women,” he answered diplomatically, inwardly seething. 

 For the first time, Salem appeared confused, looking back and forth between him and the barely clothed woman. A moment later it seemed to dawn on her. “Oh? Oh, yes I see the difference now. That is unfortunate. It seems in this you have a skill I rather lack. Well, either way, I'm sure you shall find a use for her. Or perhaps you could find a way to build her back up and remake her as you like. At absolute worst she's a warm body you can throw at someone who wishes you harm.” She regarded the woman directly. “Silver, you are to follow this man's orders from now on. Do you understand?” 

 “Yes. Mistress. I live to. Serve.” 

 “Good girl,” the Grimm in human skin praised, returning her attention to her new underling. “Arthur will have your flight ready in a few hours. You may do as you will until then.” 

 He didn't watch her leave, eyes fixed on the broken thing on the floor. He waited for the Grimm's footsteps to fade down the hallway before speaking. “What is your real name?” He wanted to see whether anything was left of the woman she once was. 

 “My name is. Silver. Master.” Emotionless. Unblinking. Dead. Halting before and after giving her name. Like a badly spliced recording. 

 “Not the name she gave you. Your real name.” 

 “My name is. Silver. Master.” 

 James Moriarty sighed, running a hand through his grey-white hair. It had seemed such a promising opportunity only minutes ago.