"that's right danny, your boy here's a cold-blooded, ruthless murderer. and not just that, oh no, but an infamous, hired serial killer. one of the best in london, if not the."

"and that jai williams of yours, his mysterious death was simply phil's handiwork."

"dan? dan?" phil's voice dragged dan out of his trance, bringing him to where phil had led him. "h-huh? what is this place?" he questioned groggily, chris's toxic words still buzzing in the back of his head.

"this," phil started, letting out a breathy laugh. "is club 505."

loud bass music bled out through the burgundy-brick walls; the line of people going out to the street. in giant, red, neon letters the sign read the club's name, and from the looks of it, it was a rather popular joint. "just, uhm, don't talk to anyone in here, yeah?" phil shakily laughed, as if apprehensive about dan going inside the club.

"what?" dan questioned, but they were far too close to the club's entrance to be able to hear anything. phil seemed to be holding dan's hand tighter than usual as he walked past the rapidly-growing line, his gaze locked on the bouncer. dan kept his eyes down, trying to grasp onto the multitude of whispers that erupted once phil passed.

"is that phil lester?"

"hey lester! i had a cousin that you agreed to take care of, why isn't he dead yet?!"

"philip lester, i'll be damned," the bouncer chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "chekov," phil nodded in acknowledgment, "where's damien?" "he's in there, it won't be hard to find him," chekov stepped to the side, revealing the pink plastic sheets that served as an entrance. phil sighed, tightening his grip on dan's hand. "follow closely," he muttered under his breath, dan just barely catching his words as they became encompassed in music, sweat and vodka.

"oh," dan stammered, locking eyes on the elongated, purple stage where strippers were flocked around poles and hungry eyes tossed around money like it was air. suited guards looked to be stationed every few feet, and the overwhelming amount of intoxicated, sweaty bodies seemed sickening.

phil dragged the entranced dan along behind him to the bar, trying to avoid as many people as he could manage. "phil! phil lester!" someone screamed, causing throats to hitch and eyes to widen. phil rolled his eyes, people instinctively clearing away from the bar as he approached.

"four shots of the strongest shit you have," phil grumbled, "and two beers." dan took a seat on a bar stool, suddenly self-conscious as all eyes were narrowed in on him and phil. "it's phil lester everyone!" another person shouted, causing phil to clench his fists. "go back to your own bullshit!" he shouted back.

the tray was slid towards them by the overly-excited bartender, who stood hunched over on the table, a sly smile across his lips. "so, mr. phil lester," he started, "i've got this dilemma which i think you can solve. you see, i was recently let go of at my job, and my boss is a real bitch. i wouldn't mind seeing some obituary columns with her name plastered in it."

phil didn't even try to hide his groan as he met the smirking bartender's gaze. "what's your name?" he asked unenthusiastically. "mcdonnel, charlie mcdonnel."

"i'll see what i can do," he shrugged, downing his second shot.

"how does everyone know you?" dan asked quietly, his skin crawling from all the attention. "i'm phil lester, one of the best serial killers in london. of course they know me," he scoffed, taking one of dan's shots and letting the burning fluid run down his throat. "for the nerves," he shrugged, taking a swig of beer and pressing his lips to dan's cheek. "i'll be back, don't leave and don't talk to anyone," he said, starting to file his way through the now-resumed and uninterested crowd.

a flock of security guards stood around one of the upmost seats where a suited man sat, his jet black hair slicked back and his posture relaxed and leaned back. "damien!" phil shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth to be heard over the blasting music and slurred shouts of the crowd. "damien!" he repeated, earning a head turn from one of the security guards, who bent down and whispered something to the feared crime lord.

the man rose to his feet, turning on his heel. "philip, my friend. i've been wondering when i'd see you again," he smirked, waving away his guards and striding to phil. "i suppose you were the one causing all the commotion by the bar," he laughed, kissing phil's cheek and letting his soft lips linger on phil's skin. "damien," phil nodded dismally.

"we need to talk," he added, earning a knowing nod from damien. "yes yes, of course. to the back, then?" he said, putting his hand on phil's side and gesturing to his 'office' of sorts. "you can leave us," he said, turning to his guards.

it was more so a lounge than an office, and a lot fancier than phil recalled. he took a seat on the red velvet sofa as damien took to the wine cabinet. "already tested out my bar, i see," he smiled, looking throughout the bottles for an appropriate drink. "i haven't even been here an hour and have gotten multiple hirings," phil grumbled, shaking his head.

"well, you are phil lester. you've gotten thousands of jobs in the few months that you've been gone. but anyways, how have you been? once i found out you'd left kendall, i put up a personal search but," he sighed, pouring two glasses of champagne. "it took me a while to find you, and you were too stoned to do shit, according to patrick. and according to kendall, he said you'd been out on the streets."

"you're still in contact with chris? he fucking hates you," phil scoffed, taking one of the two glasses.

"occasionally. after all, someone had to take care of all your unfinished hirings, and he comes in with customers every now and then," he shrugged, quickly downing his glass.

phil's fist balled up around his drink as he restfully put it down, his jaw clenched. "you've been giving chris drugs?" he growled, a twisted out of anger growing in his stomach. damien dryly laughed, refilling his glass.

"of course not. we came to a, lets say, mutual agreement. he doesn't even get paid for working," he shrugged, rubbing his wrist in slow circles. "what's the mutual agreement?" phil questioned. damien quirked an eyebrow, "that's his business."

the room enveloped in silence, though both their minds were stuck on the same topic. "where's martyn?" phil inquired darkly, gulping. damien nodded, "still where he was three months ago. london prison."

"where's chris?"

"well well, just full of questions now aren't we?" damien mocked, earning a scowl from phil. "he's out working. you know, he's been getting awful messy lately, splattered blood all over my new suit," he grumbled.

"you and your beloved suits," phil rolled his eyes. "and since when are you going out in the field? you don't like getting your hands dirty."

"no, i don't. but since you left, i haven't found anyone as good as you, except kendall of course, and had to settle matters personally. now, onto business," he said, clapping his hands together.

"goddamnit, i didn't want to come back to this," phil muttered under his breath, slouching back into his chair. "what are you here for?" damien questioned, trailing his fingers along his jawline. phil sighed deeply, rubbing his temples.

"i need jobs."

"are you sure? because its usually not the jobs but the heroin that you need." phil shook his head. "no. i need cold, hard cash jobs. nothing else. i don't want drugs," he demanded, finishing the last of his champagne.

damien scoffed. "that's a first. it'll be easier to set you up with drug jobs, it'll take longer to get cash hirings," he said, waving a guard in. "but then again, you are phil lester and anyone and everyone wants you to kill their bitchy boss so."

"eh, nothing ever takes you long. also, have you had any displeased, bloodthirsty customers who haven't already been taken care of, by any chance?" phil inquired, resting his face against his fist.

"why do you ask?" damien asked with a hint of worry laced in his voice. his eyes raked over phil's slouched over body, looking for some type of injury.

"it was the housekeeping," phil scoffed, "she was decent, too. managed to get a knife in my shoulder. do you know many people who can stab me?"

"no, but you are a hired serial killer, and you're rather infamous for what you do. you have a hell of a lot more going on besides the drug industry," he shrugged, looking over his manicured nails. "a lot of people want you dead. perhaps an unhappy customer."

"no, she was a hired killer. she had a military-grade knife, the type you'd have to get from a pretty decent dealer. of course, without having such a good knife, she was rather sloppy, but so are most hires these days," phil rambled, going over multiple theories in his head.

"i'll look into it," damien nodded. "anyways, why do you need cash jobs? he, is daniel howell. he's loaded, of course, not any more than me, though i am a crime lord," he said, gesturing out the tinted windows to the bar, where a tipsy dan sat.

"he's bankrupt. his parents cut off his cash flow," phil muttered, watching dan as a painfully familiar man sat beside him, sinisterly smirking at him.

"and why does he concern you?" he questioned, leaning back onto the couch with a specious look on his face.

"he's a friend," phil answered quietly, almost hoping that damien wouldn't hear him. but he did, of course, and scoffed. "phil, my friend, you don't have friends."

"what's it to you, anyway?" phil spat, clenching his jaw. "what? did he hire you, and now he's fresh out?"

"no, just fucking stop!" phil shouted, damien raising his hands in surrender. "just get the damn list," he growled.

"so he does know. but does he know what you're doing in here? you won't be able to go on killing sprees without him getting suspicious... and if he's already aware about where you get your money from, then he's obviously not too terribly bothered by the fact of you being a serial killer.." damien rambled, nodding to himself as he went on.

"what are you even talking about, i just want a goddamn list." phil hissed through his bared teeth.

"bring him in here," he shrugged lazily, grabbing the now-finished list from his guard and skimming his eyes over the names. "w-what?" phil spluttered, shaking his head. "no! he's not being brought into this!"

"he's an associate of yours, you already dragged him in for me. now, go get him. i want to talk."