A/N: UWU Thank you for waiting!!!! I'm so sorry, I wasn't satisfied where I would've ended the chapter if I'd uploaded this last week so I wrote a little more and got it out this week instead ;-; thank you for being patient!

I've written the skeleton for the Hitman!AU and am contemplating writing that next week instead of Chapter 52 but I'd ALSO just missed the Halloween festive period because wow my schedule is a mess HAHAHAHA but at the same time am hoping bits of the spooooki spirit would remain so that everyone would still be in the mood to read some spicy adult tension LOL. 

Enjoy!

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[Vanilla]

"What's going on?" "She pulled a muscle." "Where?" "Right calf. It's the flippers." "Medic?" "On the way." "You holding up?" "Cox, take her to one of the loungers in the back. Everyone else move out of the way."

I was greeted by a horde of fishermen gathered outside the salon looking out onto the deck, visible concern in their eyes. It took me a minute to gather bits and pieces of the current situation unfolding before me; panicked voices calling across the deck and nervous whispers all around. The honorary emergency medic had picked Layla up in one seemingly effortless motion before carefully lowering her onto an outdoor lounge chair. Her eyes were scrunched shut in pain and she was all curled up—pale hands refusing to leave part of her upper calf. Chef Garland looked equally distraught. Cameras followed.

It would've been a silly move to approach Layla and the experts tending to her at a time like this. The last thing they needed was a bunch of questions breathing down their necks adding stress on top of the situation.

I spotted a lone fisherman stepping out of his speedboat docked right by the superyacht heading up the stairs to the deck with a bucket in hand. I recognized him as the villager who'd set off with Leroy and Chef Saito earlier this morning for fish.

"Hi. Hello," I approached him on impulse, forgetting to consult an interpreter and realizing mid-sentence. "I... um. Sorry, but, do you know what happened?" I gestured at the chairs and the people who'd gathered around Layla, including the yacht's official crew medic who'd finally arrived on the scene.

The fisherman proceeded to respond in Bahasa but with an equal amount of hand gestures that sufficiently depicted a rough order of events. Leroy and Chef Saito had agreed to split up at the shallow reef, with the former agreeing to hunt at a location somewhat close by the red team. He'd noticed Layla writhing in the waters with a missing flipper and had helped her get to the surface and back onto the boat. Seconds more and he could've been far too late.

"He fish."

I was about to thank the villager for his quick rundown of things when he lifted the bucket in his hands and prompted me to take a closer look. I peered in.

It was an adult-sized seabass. And relatively large too. "Leroy caught this?" Already?

With one man officially down and half the team breaking up in disagreements, the red team was nowhere fit to compete against the blue team. Director Stan had finally emerged from the indoor arena to break up the commotion and send everyone 'back to work' at their designated posts. Chef Garland and Leroy were pulled aside for a word with the production team. The fishermen and crew members who'd lingered to watch soon dispersed when a stretcher came wheeling out onto the deck.

"Careful," I reached out to Layla as soon as the crowd thinned, steadying her while she shifted into a comfortable position on the stretcher. "Is there an infirmary she can rest in?" I said to the yacht's crew medic.

He shook his head. "We'll take her back to her cabin for treatment."

"That sounds convenient and all, but there might not be sufficient room to fit the lot of you comfortably whilst allowing Miss Tenner the space she needs for a good rest. Use my room instead," I offered, feeling her hand on my wrist tighten in warning. I gave her a look. "No excuses. You're out, and you need to rest."

She was having a hard time digesting the multiple setbacks in a row and the team's severe handicap. It didn't matter very much—this was no elimination round and would merely guarantee her team a cooking spot on the next round and some unhappiness. This being the overall result of an unforeseen circumstance however, should not in any way negatively affect her standing as a leader. Unless the production team decides to twist the facts in some unreasonable fashion, of course.

"Mr. White." I turned and it was Siegfried calling out to me from across the deck, script in hand and a thumb over his shoulder. Well... time to see what they had in store.

I chanced a glimpse at station twelve's pride and joy, the singular flame who'd lived his days with lives in his hands. He looked incredibly attractive all of a sudden, which was clearly an indication of a malfunction in my head and therefore called for emergency pinches on my arm.

Little did I know, he was already looking my way! It was a tragedy—I promptly lost control over my facial muscles for a fraction of a second and smiled. He returned it. The idiot must've overheard Siegfried calling my name.

Either way, he appeared to have further matters to discuss with the director while Chef Garland collected herself and looked like she was preparing to hit the reefs again. The decision did not sit very well with me but there was little time to warn her against it. Siegfried escorted me back into the dining area where Pao and Amelia were waiting anxiously.

"Banilla! Is Tenner okay?" "They said she nearly drowned."

"Chef Tenner pulled a muscle in the water... it was her right calf. Something to do with her flippers, I think. Fortunately, Leroy got to her in time. She's resting in my room now."

They breathed a sigh but continued to express concern. "No permanent injuries, I hope?" "Ay, no no... that cannot happen—"

"Judges," Stan cut in with a hand on Pao's shoulder. "Places please. We're behind schedule."

"Right." Amelia nodded curtly before exchanging a private look among ourselves and crossing the room to take her place on the other end. Pao and I were positioned by the blue team's station for a quick word.

If anything, being surrounded by professionals like my counterparts was extremely reassuring. Pao was back in his usual headspace as soon as the cameras started rolling. While the commotion out on the deck had been going on, time continued to tick in the kitchen and the blue team—thanks to efficient planning and an orderly split of duties—had progressed beyond the initial prep stage and moved on to cooking their sides whilst waiting for their catch to arrive.

"Chef. Captain," Pao rephrased as we approached the grill countertop of Pierson's station. "How is everything? What is on the menu?"

"Hi chef. So, um, we thought of some sides to go with the fish entrée. Things that would work without having to worry about the type of fish our ingredient team returns with. So. We're doing butterfly pea flower rice parcels wrapped in pandan leaves and kerupuk bawang garlic-flavored deep-fried crackers that go with a peanut sauce vegetable salad."

"I see," Pao nodded, glancing my way with a silent cue. As though he knew I had some information up my sleeve. Which I did.

"Those are decent sides. I can see how they would work, depending on the preparation and cooking method of your protein," I paused. "Unless you've decided on something already?"

Chef Pierson nodded, directing our attention to several other members of the blue team down the row pounding herbs and spices in different mortars. "A sweet and spicy sambal paste, grilled on charcoal."

"A flavor profile that could work on any catch, I see..." was all I gave away, knowing it would likely go well with the perfect seabass Leroy had—

Speak of the devil.

Quite frankly, I wasn't too sure how to feel about wet feet making its way across wooden indoor flooring and him walking through the doors in his wetsuit with his catch in one hand and carbon-fiber mask in the other made for prime comedic value. Knowing the post-production team's penchant for drama however, the final cut would likely feature an overlay of some unnecessarily epic music for his entrance. Either way, I imagine a certain idiot and myself on the couch back home with Chicken and Leo, musing over the edits and the terrifying close-ups of one another.

"Just in time my boy," Pao greeted as Leroy approached the stations with his catch. "That's one beauty for the blue team."

"... actually."

He set the entire seabass on the red team's counter, right before Andre's eyes. The latter looked up from his task of onion-dicing, wide-eyed and bewildered. "Use it well," said Leroy shortly, in a voice of fair indifference, before turning and promptly leaving the way he came.

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[Leroy]

If I was a character, you'd think I was saint.

Fuck no. Zero clue how the production team pulled that idea out of their asses but Stan was crafting a narrative for every contestant and mine was apparently 'tough guy with a heart of gold.' And people like that would've given their catch to the team with a handicap just because. Truth was, I wanted to eat that fish. Sorry fish. You lived well but let's be honest, I could've done you better; Layla would've been pissed if she saw me give you away because just like me, the last thing she wanted others to be feeling for her was pity.

I didn't argue. At that point in time, Stan was telling me to do it like this was fly or die and the look on Garland's face could only be described as pure relief probably because she thought this could make Layla sleep at night and not the other way around.

They deal was to extend the time frame for ingredient-gathering in exchange for a shot of me handing over my prized catch; since Saito was still out there and would've probably caught something by this point, I thought... fuck it, why not. Either way, the extended time meant that I had another chance at getting something even better now that I knew what exactly it was the other team was cooking with. Right?

Probably. If I was a fictional character written by someone on the production team, sure. Plot armor, y'know—but no. I wasn't.

So here I was back at the reef, fucking around trying to land a bigger, better swimmer than before but for some reason missing all my shots; mostly thanks to pulling the trigger a tad earlier than I should be or waiting around for the right moment but losing focus when it mattered. My nerves were on edge, asking the local villager who'd tagged along in a boat for the time remaining, shown on a digital countdown.

Saito was losing it too; not even a single catch the entire time and a short breather on the boat didn't help much.

"Wait. Didn't they say you caught a big one already?"

I didn't know how to break it to him. "Yeah about that..."

His face went from sad to disappointment to rage in the span of my quick rundown of whatever happened with Stan and looking at the time, we both knew things weren't going to get any easier. The plan was to get anything at this point. Anything edible.

We split up again in different directions, scouting the reef after a tip-off from the local fisherman on board with less than five minutes on the clock. Any later than that, our team would have to work with no protein for the rest of the challenge.

The world beneath the surface was quiet. It helped the mind to think and thoughts to clear, and in waters like the reef's that felt like liquid crystals without a speck of dirt, vision was not the problem.

I stopped to take things in. Paused and floated like I was part of them in the sea and that was when I saw one skittering out from under a rock.

Crabs.

Blue swimming crabs were native to the islands; they told us yesterday on the boat out at the reef while we were on flipper practice. The only thing stopping us from catching any was that they were supposedly of higher difficulty and you'd have to aim at a specific angle to get past the hard shell.

I got down low on the seabed past some coral and took aim, firing the spear at a gap in the rocks the crab had disappeared under. It hit something. Couldn't quite tell.

Reeling the spear back towards me for a glimpse of my catch revealed not one but two blue swimming crabs on top one another. Fuck. I wasted no time bringing 'em up to the surface and running it past the local fisherman. No clue how I hit two at once and if it was even legal to do that sort of thing. I was ready to apologize and hopefully send one of them back into the reef but at the same time, there was no telling if either of them was going to make it.

"Oh—sex!"

I did a double take in the process of detaching the crabs from my spear. "Sorry what?"

He said something with a laugh and pointed at the crab that was mounted on top of the other, and then at the one below, placing both in a bucket. Oh fuck they were mating. Feels bad. I pointed at the female, then at the general area outside the boat. The fisherman shook his head. "It okay. Two can. You cook. We eat."

We had less than a minute to speed back to the yacht so I called for Saito to get back on board and showed him the crabs. Like me, he had mixed feelings about it. There was nothing else we could do; this was going to be the team's only option. Funny how the snowstorm had made me cook with this back in Italy for the sake of a challenge. In a way, we were setting ourselves up for a tough time—mostly thanks to Stan's brilliant proposal.

No one was expecting the crabs. Cameras on board crowded around us as soon as we hit the deck with our catch and the look on their faces after peering in... didn't matter very much. I handed the bucket to Saito so that he could head on into the cooking arena and get some screen time (truth was, I had enough of cameras for the day) and waited outside on the deck to shake off the adrenaline with twenty-three seconds left on the clock.

At least they had something to cook with. Still, that would mean changed plans and changed plans often came with a little panic. Those in the kitchen would've spent the past thirty minutes prepping for a standard, common fish. Not a crustacean. The last thing I wanted was to have people on the team wasting ingredients. Time wasn't the issue—this was a scripted TV show and the current challenge wasn't even part of the episode's elimination.

Pitted against an injury like Layla's that could've been life threatening, worrying over something like losing the challenge and having to deal with a disadvantage in the next one sounded childish and stupid. I asked around for news about her while waiting for Saito but the camera crew didn't seem to know very much.

"Chef Cox." I turned to see Amelia returning with the bucket now in her hands, Saito trailing along behind her. "I'm here to return a crab. Remember: only one catch per team." Fuck I forgot about that.

"It's fair and square. All teams get one chance to present an entrée and that's it," she went on, holding out the bucket and flashing a smile. "Still. Vanilla tells me you're not a fan of wasting any ingredients. I suggest you make the locals some lunch. Chef Saito brought along the mise your team prepped beforehand—stuff they decided not to use after a change of plans."

It was a tray of greens, herbs, spices, and glass dishes of two different sambal flavors we'd agreed on prepping beforehand to coat the protein.

"Though I must say... we were all expecting fish to be on the menu. Pao is extremely excited about your team's dish now so I'd say changing things up for a bit did you guys a small favor. I can't say the same for everyone else on the blue team though," Amelia laughed, directing this at me and Saito. "They probably hate you guys."

"Not news." I said casually, pretty sure they'd understand once they found out about Stan's idea and how he'd set us up to fail. If we did somehow end up winning though...

"I'll leave you guys to it. Chef Garland will be joining you two on the deck since those who went foraging aren't allowed in the kitchen."

So she upped and left, leaving Saito and me to mind our own business. We started up a grill on the deck and as we were quietly figuring out what to do with the leftover mise and crab, was joined by Garland.

"Hey," she spoke to me first. "Sorry you had to do that."

Saito blinked. "Do what?"

"Stan wanted him to give his catch to the red team." "Yeah, Cox told me." "Are the cameras still rolling?" "Doesn't matter. They'd just cut this out."

It reminded me of the GoPro they'd attached to my wetsuit and I thought of changing out into something dry when one of the crew members announced that the judges would be paying us a quick visit.

I unzipped a couple more inches down the front of my wetsuit. No harm.

"Any ideas?" I asked Saito and Garland, nodding at the crab. "I have some."

They busted out a couple of vague recipes but none of them felt like they would appeal to the locals. I suggested going with the sambal flavors Pierson had the team make beforehand and they sort of stared.

"It's crab we're cooking. On a grill. Fish skin and the shell of a crab are completely different things, we can't just coat the crab in sauce and expect the flavors to infuse..."

The idea was to have it wrapped up in something. Like a parcel that went straight into the oven. But there was nothing we could use on the tray that...

"Leroy my boy!"

Heads turned. The stars of the show arrived out on the deck and one of them had, in his hands, clutched a collection of large banana leaves.

"How is everyone doing?" Pao was in a good mood as usual and headed straight for our grill. "Why is no one resting? It's been tough on you swimmers."

"If I'm honest, Chef Pao," Saito shook his head with a sigh. "I don't think we can rest well after knowing we just handed our team a big curveball."

"Ay," Pao clicked his tongue. "Leroy you're too nice. Why did you have to give your fish to the red team?"

"Stan wanted me to." I laid out honestly. They weren't going to catch me lying on camera anytime soon. At the corner of my eye, a certain snowflake mused privately to himself. "I wasn't being nice."

"Oh?" Both Pao and Amelia appeared surprised. Not sure if it was just an act, but it looked pretty real to me. "So that was planned drama. Interesting. But now your team has to deal with another challenge. Although I must say... keep this a secret, but I like crab more than I like fish." Pao was the man. He winked.

"Also, Banilla," he went on, re-directing the attention elsewhere. For good reason. He knew Stan wouldn't have liked if we spent too much time on audio he couldn't use in the final cut. "What is this? Why must you bring the banana leaves?"

"O-oh. Well um," he paused, starting a little. "That is..." and so his gaze betrayed him. Straying my way for a split second.

"It's for me." I finished. Everyone turned. It was prime comedy. He shot me a look. "I mean... the crab."

"Oh, right!" Saito realized. "We could use it to wrap up the crab and grill it over the heat to smoke it. Good call." It wasn't a call. Or a suggestion. He just knew I'd do something like that and brought the leaves along.

"Well, you'd have to earn it." The avalanche was back—pushing up his glasses and standing firm.

"Banilla, they just making lunch..." Even Pao was going easy on us, taking pity on the poor three swimmers who'd had a bad start to the day. I knew he wouldn't. I liked his seriousness, only because it was free real estate to mess with.

"Okay." I held out my arms. His reaction was immediate.

"Wh—a hug?"

"What else?" I was still in my wetsuit.

"Me first," Pao really said bring it in and came straight for my torso, giving zero shit about the saltwater transfer and the fact that he now smelled like the sea. "Okay who's next? Go go. Quick."

"No no no no, I'm not ruining a perfect set of clothes," said Mr. White in panik, referring to the stuff I'd picked out and of course, my very own shirt he was wearing. "Take the leaves. Just take them."

I feigned disappointment, but accepted the gift with thanks. "Pity... maybe later." His jaw dropped.

*

One crab could feed an approximate number of four. I munched on fruit and bread while the local fishermen who taught us spearfishing and ferried us to and fro enjoyed the smoked spicy crab wrapped in banana leaves Garland, Saito and I prepped out on the deck. The setup wasn't much—the same charcoal grill used by the village cook from yesterday and three swimmers in their wetsuits, beat and hungry.

The crab was a solid eight-out-of-ten, and could've easily rivaled the decent seabass I handed over to the red team but I wasn't sure what those in the kitchen thought up last-minute. Either way, our timing was right on the money; minutes after we were done cooking for the fishermen on board and swimming in a sea of compliments, a production assistant called us in for a quick change of clothes for the final scene of the day. Results.

I asked about Layla but still no news. They gave us a couple of minutes to rinse off in the shower and get into something decent before rejoining our teams in the dining area—just as the clock hit a countdown for the final minute.

It felt weird standing idly to the side, watching the mad rush going on around both stations, red and blue. I caught a glimpse of our dish. The sides remained unchanged: blue fragrant rice and traditional deep-fried crackers. The crab was a pop of color served atop some solid leaves but one look and you could tell they'd gone for something safe. Grilled butter crab.

Nothing special or reminiscent of local flavors but... doesn't matter.

They did what they could with the resources available and I wasn't the sort to feel any attachment to winning or losing when it came down to it; probably because I hadn't played a part in the actual kitchen so all that really mattered to me was if they'd done my catch justice. Perfectly good ingredients done dirty was a life wasted. Not good.

"You caught that?" Saito was giving the red team's seabass a good long stare. It looked and smelled pretty fucking amazing. "It's huge."

"Too late," I said, numb. "Doesn't belong to us anymore. And not gonna lie, I think red has this in the bag." He fell quiet, lips thin and serious.

It all came down to the tasting; captains served up their entrées at the table—Du Bellay filling in for Layla—and the next couple of minutes featured vanity shots, short Q-and-As between the captains and the judges quiet tasting. Pao and Amelia were surprising experts at keeping thoughts out of their faces, though I'd always thought nothing could beat the surface of a frozen lake. He was ice till the very end.

Pao was the one who announced the winning dish.

"The advantage goes to... red. I love it. We loved the fish. Complex, local flavors but how you managed to get that good char on the outside and perfect cook inside, but also the five chilies mixed with the paste... the color on it, all perfect."

Andre snickered, already-inflated ego blowing up big time while the rest of the red team celebrated their win and some of them even came up to me for a clap on the back. I humored them with something half-hearted in return but really couldn't wait to break the news after the shoot. Either way, they'd won pretty much fair and square. They'd perfected the catch and whoever it was leading the team in Layla's stead; whoever it was who'd got the team together and thought of the entrée and sides... they should be the ones receiving due credit.

Objectively speaking, I wasn't surprised they'd won. Couldn't say the same about everyone else on the blue team... who looked pretty much ready to sharpen their knives and come at me with full force.