"YOU WANT ME TO WHAT?"
Sierra chuckled at Stiles's reaction to her words, holding his hand as they exited the hospital. Melissa finally let Stiles go after he went through an MRI, since Sierra's presence made him stick around.
She stopped in front of the jeep and Stiles faced her, gripping her hand tighter. "I want you," Sierra gently poked his chest, "to work with Malia on listening to Lorraine's tape. You think there's a clue in there, right?"
"I do," Stiles agreed with a nod. "But do you really think that's a good idea? She's barely talked to me since the whole Peter thing."
"Which is why this is a perfect opportunity for you to apologize," Sierra pointed out, but sighed once she saw him purse his lips. "Look, I know she was mad, okay? We both were. But we had a really good talk the other day and I know she misses hanging out with you."
Stiles tilted his head, "Are you sure?"
"Yes, I am," Sierra declared. "And it works out perfectly because I have to help Scott and Kira protect Satomi and her pack."
"How are you going to get there?" he questioned. "I mean, if we're going home right now."
"Jemma, Braeden and Derek are meeting me at my house," Sierra answered. "Scott and I are gonna need all the help we can get dealing with this." Worry was evident in Stiles's eyes as he looked at her, Sierra recognizing the stare. "Stop; stop with the look, Stiles."
"Look?" Stiles feigned innocence. "I'm sorry, what look are you referring to? I only stare at you with love."
Sierra rolled her eyes, but a smile slipped onto her lips. "You know what look, you dork."
"Hey, you can't be mad at me for worrying about you," Stiles replied on a more serious note. "Promise me you'll be careful?"
"I always am," Sierra assured, creating distance to get inside the jeep. Stiles tugged on her hand, stopping her from letting go. She turned back around with raised eyebrows. "Yes?"
"Nothing," Stiles shrugged his shoulders, but pulled her closer to him. "I just wanted to do this one thing first."
Sierra squinted her eyes, and stepped back up on the sidewalk. She stood in front of him, confused when he didn't move. "Okay, what? I give up."
Stiles smirked. "This."
He leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers. Sierra smiled as she kissed him back, but couldn't help herself and chuckled at his eagerness. Pulling away slightly, he pouted, "Why are you giggling like that? I can't kiss you when you're giggling."
"I know," Sierra laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. "And I'm sorry, you know I love you, but I also know your alternative motive."
Stiles raised an eyebrow, "Oh yeah, what?"
"You're scared to talk with Malia," Sierra deducted and before he could protest, she went on. "Don't even deny it, Stiles. And I understand your worry, but we gotta sort this whole thing out and it starts with Malia forgiving you."
She didn't give him time to argue, releasing his hand to once again go to the passenger side of the jeep. "Now, come on," she urged him. "I don't want my sister leaving without me."
Stiles sighed, but nodded his head. Opening the driver side door, he stated, "All I'm saying is that if Malia kills me, I'm going to need someone to resurrect me so I can tell you I told you so."
"You're over-exaggerating, Stiles," Sierra rolled her eyes as she climbed in, buckling her seat belt. "Everyone knows you could just come back as a ghost."
"Ha ha, very funny, Sierra," Stiles mocked as he started the engine. "But you won't be laughing when I haunt you from the grave."
"Believe what you want to believe, dude."
"I was literally making out with you five minutes ago, do not call me dude," Stiles deadpanned.
"Fine," Sierra corrected her words. "Believe what you wanna believe, darling."
"See, doesn't that feel better, honey?"
"Oh my Lord. Just shut up and drive, please."
*^*^*^*^*
By the time Sierra arrived at the warehouse with Jemma, Derek, and Braeden, Argent had already shown up to offer his help. Granted it was his building and he had no idea about the people staying in it till he got there, but after the situation was explained he quickly got on board.
Scott looked relieved once his best friend entered through the door, leaving the conversation he was having with Brett to greet her. "Oh, thank God," he exclaimed, pulling her into a hug. "You were gone a lot longer than I thought you'd be."
Sierra hugged him back, apologizing, "I'm sorry. Stiles and I had to talk through everything and then I rode up with Jem."
"And based on your aura, I take the conversation with Stiles went well?" Scott guessed with a smirk.
Sierra raised her eyebrows, placing her hands on her hips. "I'm sorry, did you just say based on my aura? Remind me again who the true empath is here."
"You're basically glowing," he exclaimed in defense and gently poked her side. "Come on, tell me how it went!"
Sierra swatted his hand away, "Would you quit it? Now is not the time, Scotty. Not the time."
"I know," Scott sighed, dropping his facade. "I just wanted to hear some good news."
He glanced at the people behind them and lowered his voice, "Sierra, these people are really scared and I hate to admit it, but I'm kind of freaking out too. You and I are still at the top of the deadpool. These assassins are targeting us too. And if you die on my watch, Stiles is gonna kill me."
"Scott, in this type of situation you can't let fear dictate your decisions," Sierra advised wisely. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we've never gone down without a fight. Tonight isn't going to be any different."
"How do you know?"
"Because Lydia is working on Meredith," Sierra explained, wanting him to be more optimistic. "Stiles and Malia are working on the tapes. Our whole team is working to protect everyone, and it's going to pay off. You just got to have faith in these type of things."
"She's right, Scott," Jemma spoke up in agreement as she approached her sister's side. "Everything's going to be fine."
"What about you?" Scott's eyes shifted to Derek, who walked over to stand next to his girlfriend. "Do you think these people will be okay?"
Derek hesitated to answer as he scanned Satomi's pack. The alpha herself was a great warrior, but her betas had been taught since the beginning on how to maintain their abilities. "They've got claws and fangs, but they're not fighters," he concluded quietly.
"Well, that's why I called you," Scott informed him.
Derek replied truthfully, "Try and remember I don't have claws and fangs anymore either."
"Which is why Sierra called us," Jemma piped up, referencing herself and Braeden, who lifted up her shotgun with a smirk.
"Am I the only one still hoping that this could all just be a false alarm?" Kira asked the group, glancing between everyone. "I mean, it's possible we could wait here all night and nothing happens. Right?"
Scott and Sierra exchanged knowing glances; no way would they get that lucky.
Braeden changed the topic, "Have either of you heard from Stiles or Lydia yet?"
"Lydia is still talking to Meredith," Scott revealed with a sigh.
Sierra finished, "And Stiles and Malia think they've got a lead to follow." She felt the emotion in the room fall heavy, making her add, "They're trying to stop it."
"What if there is no stopping it?" Brett questioned from behind, making them all turn around. He had been listening to the entire conversation. "What if it doesn't end until we're all dead?"
A silence fell over the group, Brett's words feeling like a punch to the gut. But everyone looked to Derek as he spoke up, drawing their attention. "Then let's send a message," he declared, eyes flickering over the mix of supernatural creatures. "Let's make tonight perfectly clear to anyone with a copy of that list."
He started to pace, letting his voice bounce off the walls. "It doesn't matter if they're professional assassins, hunters, or an amateur who picked up a gun," he held up his pistol. "Anyone who thinks they can hunt and kill us for money will be put on another list. Our list. They get to be a name on our deadpool."
Braeden cocked her shotgun, signaling the time to get everyone prepared.
Scott and Sierra approached Derek, the girl smirking. "So did you come up with that out of the blue or did you have a team of writers feed you that speech?" she asked sarcastically, making Derek roll his eyes.
"Yeah, that's funny," he scoffed. "Nice one, Sierra."
Sierra's smirk widened and she stepped away to let Scott talk with Derek one-on-one. "Thanks, I thought so too."
She chuckled as Derek flipped her the bird, not even bothered by his action as she headed towards Satomi.
The alpha was talking with Chris when Sierra joined the conversation. "Three things cannot long be hidden," Chris started off. "The sun, the moon, the truth...what exactly does that mean?"
"The truth cannot stay hidden," Satomi replied with the simplest of answers.
"I know what the saying means," Chris told her, clarifying, "I meant, what does it mean for you?"
Sierra listened intently as Satomi explained that werewolves were violent creatures. Repeating the Buddhist mantra helped subdue their violent impulses. Satomi's eyes flickered to Sierra and she stated, "Your mother showed me how to keep control, Sierra. How to be gentle despite our nature."
"Were you two close?" Sierra couldn't help but ask, wanting to learn more about her mom.
Satomi offered her a warm smile and nodded. "She always told me she wanted to help people," Satomi shared. "You remind me of her greatly, especially with your eyes."
Sierra tilted her head, not understanding. "My eyes?"
"You have the same light," Satomi said, reminiscing. "I know she'd be proud of you."
Sierra wanted nothing more than to continue the conversation. Unfortunately, any reply she would've made got cut off from a sudden beeping filling the room. "What is that?" she demanded to Argent, her body tensing from fright.
Argent's face hardened.
"They're coming."
*^*^*^*^*
"Where's Sierra?"
That was the first question that tumbled out of Malia's mouth the moment she entered Stiles's house.
Stiles, sat at his desk, jumped from her sudden appearance. "Geez, Mal," he relaxed when his eyes landed on her, but still felt his heart rate spike at the scare. "You could've knocked!"
"The door was open," Malia replied, confused.
"Still you can't just--" Stiles cut himself off with a sigh. "You know what, never mind. It doesn't matter."
"So where is she?" Malia repeated her original question, glancing around the room. She sniffed the air, "I can tell she was here."
"She was here," Stiles agreed with a nod. "But she had to leave to help Scott and Kira."
"Okay." Malia accepted his answer and swiftly turned on her heel, ready to leave.
"Malia, wait!" Stiles called out after her, quickly raising to his feet. "We really need to talk."
Malia paused but didn't turn around. She bit down on her bottom lip, contemplating what to do. Stiles noticed her hesitation and took it as an opportunity to start apologizing.
"I know you're still mad at me, and you have every right to be," he began sincerely. "I kept part of your life from you, and I just crossed the line. I thought I was protecting you, but I know now I hurt you worse by lying to you."
Malia didn't say anything, but faced him properly. Stiles let out a sigh of relief, and continued. "Sierra told me she wanted us to work together on the tapes," he explained, motioning to the cassette player on his desk. "And I could really use your help."
Malia only focused on part of his words, speaking up, "You talked with Sierra?"
Stiles nodded his head as he replied, "When I was at the hospital, yeah. Melissa wouldn't let us out of the room until we talked. I guess it worked, because she found it in her heart to forgive me." He almost stopped talking, but realized he never finished his apology. "I'm so sorry, Malia. About everything."
Malia pursed her lips, processing the information. "Okay," she finally stated quietly.
Stiles furrowed his eyebrows together. "Okay?" he echoed. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, okay," Malia repeated herself a little louder. "I forgive you."
"Really?"
Malia rolled her eyes, "Yes, Stiles. Really."
"I'm not going to lie," Stiles forced a chuckle as he rubbed the back of his neck, "I thought you were going to kill me or something."
Malia blatantly replied, "I thought about it." His sudden frozen nature made her laugh and admit, "Stiles, I'm just kidding. Plus, Sierra told me something really important the other day."
"What?"
"Families forgive each other," she stated with a shrug. "Even if it's hard at first."
Stiles smiled at her, recognizing the wisdom of his girlfriend's words. "Sierra is a smart cookie, isn't she?" Stiles remembered what they were supposed to be doing. "So, does this mean you'll help me with a tape?"
"Put it in the player, Stilinski."
Stiles did as he was told, both of them taking seats at his desk. Hearing Lorraine's words was difficult on Stiles as he sat there, his mind flashing back to just the night before with Brunski. But he pulled through, listening for anything out of the ordinary.
"Let's go, Lorraine," Brunski's gruff voice ordered.
"Listen to me," Lydia's grandmother replied. "Please listen....There's something I have to do. There's something I have to stop."
Brunski let out a low chuckle. "I've got to take you back to Eichen, Lorraine."
Stiles leaned forward, turning up the volume so he and Malia could hear the volume more clearly as Lorraine disagreed. "No," she said, her voice choking up, "No, I don't think you're going to be taking me anywhere."
Malia looked disturbed at Lorraine's next words and looked at Stiles, not wanting to go on.
"I can hear the recorder in your pocket. It's on now, isn't it? You're making a tape," the banshee realized. "Just like you taped the others."
Stiles shut it off.
The wheels in his brain turned as he told Malia, "This didn't happen at Eichen House."
"Then where'd she go?" Malia asked.
"That's what we need to find out," Stiles replied with a sigh, and hit the rewind button.
It took the tape playing five times for Malia to catch anything. "Wait, right there," Malia pointed out the noise she heard. "Play it back and turn it up one more time."
Stiles listened, cranking the dial all the up and pressing the start button. Once again, Brunski's voice entered their ears.
"...take you back to Eichen, Lorraine."
"No. No, I don't think you're gonna be taking me anywhere." Malia squinted in concentration, tuning into the background noise rather than Lorraine.
"I can hear the recorder in your pocket. It's on now, isn't it? You're making a tape. Just like you taped the others."
"It's the record player," Malia realized, Stiles instantly turning off the tape.
"What record player?"
Malia stood up, answering, "The one in the lake house. In the study!"
Stiles looked up at her, puzzled. The pieces falling before them didn't make any sense. "So she escaped from Eichen House to go back to listen to a record player?"
"Well, she was like Lydia, right?" Malia questioned, her knee bouncing as potential idea formed in her head. "She was a banshee?"
"Yeah, but only once," Stiles reminded her. "She predicted Maddy's death and spent decades trying to predict something else."
A thought dawned on Malia as she turned back around to face him. "Maybe she finally did." Stiles scrunched up his face in confusion, allowing her to explain. "And what if this time, it wasn't just one death. It was a lot of deaths."
Stiles started to catch up on her thought process, and he leaned forward. "Like the deadpool."
"What if all those years ago, Lorraine predicted it?" Malia questioned intently. "And she knew there was something in the study that could stop it."
Stiles instantly grabbed his keys off his desk and stood up. "Then we're going to the lake house. Right now."
*^*^*^*^*^*
Peter ruined everything.
Lydia followed through on Meredith's request and called Peter to come to the station. Right from the beginning, Peter thought Lydia was pulling a prank. He didn't care that Meredith was a banshee or that she was a patient at Eichen House; he just wanted answers.
Sitting down in an interrogation room solved nothing. Peter stated to Meredith he had never met her before, but as Meredith stared at him in wonder, confused by how he didn't have the burns scarring his face, Lydia realized he was wrong.
Meredith and Peter met.
But Peter didn't remember.
And he didn't let that stop him. Before Lydia, Parrish, or the sheriff could react, Peter sunk his claws into the back of Meredith's neck. The girl gasped from the intense pain as Noah and Lydia rushed into the room, Parrish scrambling to stand from Peter pushing him aside.
"Don't touch them!" Lydia shouted as Noah and Parrish pointed their guns at Peter, who stood perfectly still in the trance just like Meredith. "If you break the bond, you could kill them. Both of them."
"What're we supposed to do?" Noah demanded, not lowering his gun.
"I, uh," Lydia was at a loss for words. "I don't know."
Dropping his weapon slightly, Parrish wanted to know, "What the hell is he doing to her?"
Lydia didn't respond, all of their attention brought to Meredith as she inhaled sharply, her eyes widening. Words tumbled from her lips in a jumble, barely above a whisper.
Noah exchanged glances with Parrish, "Do you hear that? She's saying something."
Parrish looked at Lydia. "Can you understand that?"
"I can," Lydia confirmed softly, stepping closer to hear better. "I can hear perfectly." Lydia relayed everything to them.
Meredith had been in the hospital; the same hospital Peter went to right after the Hale fire. Meredith could hear his every thought, despite both of them being in comatose. Somehow, the two connected on the same wavelength and everything going through Peter's mind went straight into hers.
For weeks, possibly months, Meredith heard nothing but his anger and frustration. It felt as if Peter stood right over her bedside, yelling his want and need for revenge.
Lydia tensed as Meredith revealed the plan for the deadpool, influenced from Peter's insane thoughts. Use the money in the vault, hire assassins and then rebuild the supernatural world as he saw fit; that had been the plan playing on a loop inside Meredith's brain. And it all was Peter's fault.
Suddenly, Peter jerked back from Meredith, stumbling away from her onto the floor. Parrish checked on the girl as Noah pointed his gun at Peter with a glare, Lydia narrowing her eyes at the werewolf.
"It was your idea and you don't even remember it," Lydia spat in anger. Her and her friends had been on the run, narrowly escaping death all because of him. He ruined her life before, scratching her the night of the winter formal, and he was doing it again.
"Are you kidding me?" Peter asked them in disbelief.
"Hands where I can see them," Noah ordered sternly, not wavering his gun.
"How the hell was I supposed to remember any of that?" Peter demanded as he scrambled to his feet.
Lydia clenched her fists at her side and forced herself to keep her voice level. "She got it from you."
"I was out of my mind!" Peter defended, matching her tone. "Do you know what it's like for one of us to be in a coma? Paralyzed with a cognizant? You try not going crazy."
"She was listening to you," Parrish joined the conversation now, standing beside Meredith in case Peter attacked her again.
"She was listening to the ranting and the raving of a lunatic!" Peter snapped back, before he realized he had insulted himself. He corrected his words, "A former lunatic. I'm much healthier now." He looked back at Noah, enunciating, "I had nothing to do with this."
"If she was following your lead on this, how do we know there isn't more?" the sheriff pointed out, the barrel of the gun still pointed at Peter's chest.
Peter couldn't believe his ears. "Stealing my own money?!" he exclaimed, glancing between everyone with his hands slightly raised in the air. "Really?"
"You were going to use it anyway."
"Stop," Lydia whispered, coming to a realization. She turned to Noah. "Stop it, this is what she wants. That's why she's here." When he didn't move, she insisted, "Look around, Sheriff, there's three people in here right now. Three people still on the deadpool! Me, Parrish...and Meredith."
"But not him," Parrish caught on, his eyes glaring at Peter.
"Lydia's right," Peter agreed. "We don't want to kill each other."
"The only person I'm pointing a gun at is you," Noah retaliated sharply.
Peter narrowed his eyes, tilting his head at the man. "Then you better make it a perfect shot, Sheriff," he warned, "because I don't go down easy."
More than frustrated at the situation, Noah clenched his teeth and moved his gun so the end pointed straight at Peter's head. "Well, I'm willing to bet a bullet between the eyes doesn't heal real fast." Noah spit, "Not even for your kind."
"Stop," Lydia spoke up again, shaking her head. "Please, stop."
But Peter wasn't done. "This department is getting more corrupt by the second," he commented wittily, his lips slithering into a smirk. "What're you gonna charge me with, Sheriff? How are you going to explain this to a judge?" he questioned, knowing realistically, Noah couldn't do anything.
Peter mocked, "Telepathic girl hears thoughts of comatose werewolf, and decides to reenact his plans for retribution?" He clicked his tongue as he pretended to think before declaring, "They'll be pointing a gun at your head, asking you to go quietly."
Noah hardened his glare as Lydia told him once again to let Peter go. Lydia knew there was only one way out of this situation. "You have to let him go."
"I'd take the word of a banshee, Sheriff," Peter advised, more than ready to strike if Noah pulled the trigger. "I leave. No triggers pulled and no bloodshed."
Everything in Noah's head screamed at him to shoot Peter and be done with it. But he couldn't do it. Not with Lydia, Parrish, and Meredith at risk. Noah inhaled sharply as he finally lowered his gun and stepped away.
Peter smirked and headed for the door, only pausing in the doorway as the sheriff spoke. "That's twice, Peter," Noah referred to the incident with the Mute at the school. "There's not gonna be a third."
Peter didn't say anything. He just walked right out of the door. This simple action made Meredith go berserk, causing Parrish to wrestle to keep her from chasing him. "No, it's not finished!" Meredith shouted in protest. "No, it's not done!"
"It's not finished!"
*^*^*^*^*
Chaos.
The abandoned warehouse was in complete and utter chaos.
Only minutes after the alarms went off, multiple smoke bombs acted as a shadow for the assassins to move in. Sierra could barely see through the thick haze and fell to the floor as bullets started rain down over her head. They weren't coming from a certain entrance either, Sierra quickly realized. They were attacking from every angle.
They had guns, they had knifes and they had motive.
Whoever these people were, clothed in dark bulletproof suits and masks, only had their eyes on the money.
They weren't even aiming at a specific target, just opened fire with hopes of knocking someone down.
Argent, hidden behind a wall, started to shoot back. As did Derek and Braeden, who jumped through a broken piece of drywall to avoid being hit. Kira found an opportunity to strike, using her katana as a shield to block bullets. She swiftly kicked one man in the stomach, causing him to collapse into a metal shelf.
Scott growled and swung with every chance he got, dodging the attempts to knock him off his feet. His eyes gleamed red as he attacked one from behind, tackling him to the floor. Banging his head against the concrete, Scott then sent punch after punch into his chest and only left when he fell unconscious.
Sierra and Jemma used different tactics, aiming their tremors at the weapons in the assassins's hands. The men held no idea as to what was going on, their guns suddenly falling to pieces.
Sierra smirked at their confused expressions before running forward. Using one foot to bounce off the wall, Sierra broke a man's jaw as she came down.
"Duck!" Jemma shouted at her sister.
Sierra didn't question her and did as she was told, right as Jemma flung her hand to launch a man across the room. Jemma then helped Sierra stand, both of them going back to back as Derek and Braeden joined their side.
"How many are there?!" Derek demanded, but the girls were too busy to count.
"Too many," Braeden snapped, Jemma covering her as she changed the cartridge on her shotgun. And then, she started firing again.
Scott took down another assassin easily, swiping his claws against the stomach. From where he raised to his feet, he couldn't see Sierra or Kira. He stumbled as a bullet pierced his shoulder, but didn't fall. Brett appeared through the fog, scared beyond belief as Scott instructed to get the others back. "Tell them to hide!"
Brett nodded and ran off to listen to him, just as Scott got shot again. It went right through him, allowing his body to heal while he shouted, "Kira!" Blood covered his face from all the people he had fought, but his only concern was his friends. "Sierra! Kira!"
"Brett!" Lori had gotten lost in the sudden attack, not being able to see anything in front of her. Tears ran down her pale cheeks as she tried to find her brother. "Brett!" She gulped from the sound of gunshots blaring every millisecond. She just wanted to go home. "Brett, where are you?"
Lori froze from hearing footsteps behind her. She whirled around, just as one of the assassins stepped through the smoke with his laser pointed at her head.
But she couldn't fight. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. Her heart beat a mile per second, her eyes focused on nothing but the gun.
Unable to take it anymore, Lori closed her eyes, waiting for the bullet to strike. But it never did.
She jumped at the sound of someone being thrown against the wall and opened her eyes. Then, did she see Sierra.
Her normal blue irises has been lost under the silver abyss as she glared at the man in front of her. She held him up in the air, his screams filling the room from the intense pressure puncturing his chest. A scowl was etched on Sierra's lips as she finally let him fall, stalking over to him. "You..sick," Sierra cursed as she punched him repeatedly through her words, "Son of a...bitch!"
She couldn't understand. How are these people were so desperate? For some worthless bills, they were trying to murder others they didn't even know. Lori was just a kid. And all these assassins saw when they looked at her was a paycheck.
Sierra huffed as she stepped away from him, turning to see Lori still standing there, completely terrified. "Are you hurt?" Sierra rushed over, checking Lori for injuries. "Are you okay?"
Lori barely nodded, but Sierra accepted her answer due to the situation. Sierra quickly looked around, seeing a corner more closed off from the rest of the warehouse. "Here, come on. Keep your head low!"
They ran, Lori keeping her eyes towards the ground while Sierra guided her with her hand. Lori huddled her body into a tight ball, Sierra kneeling down in front of her. "I know this is really scary," she started off quietly, but her tone was stern so Lori would listen. "But you should be safe here. Do not move until Brett comes and finds you, got it?"
Lori nodded again, her lip trembling. Sierra's face softened. "Everything is going to be okay," she tried to reassure her as she stood back up. "Just stay here."
Sierra sprinted off carefully, not wanting to draw attention to Lori's location. And as she continued fighting, she started to doubt her own words. Alongside Scott, she quickly noticed they were outnumbered, more men appearing out of nowhere.
She knew Scott and herself were gifted, but if someone didn't think of a solution soon, it wouldn't matter. Sierra didn't want to die in the warehouse, yet she was starting to believe she wouldn't have a choice.
*^*^*^*^*
Stiles and Malia held no clue as to how desperate Scott and Sierra were for them to stop the deadpool.
They had been at the lake house for the past twenty minutes, listening aimlessly to the record player in the study.
Tapping his finger impatiently against his jeans, Stiles finally gave up. He raised back to his feet, snapping in aggravation. "What're we even doing? This room wasn't meant for us. We need someone like Lydia or Meredith. You know? We're just sitting here listening to a stupid record player play a record that doesn't play anything!"
He huffed, stepping forward to switch the device off. "Come on, Mal. There's plenty of other useless things we could be doing." Stiles stalk off to the door to the study, swinging it open. But Malia called out to him.
"Wait," she stopped herself from getting up, her ears still perked. "Stiles?"
Pinching the bridge of his nose to fight his frustration, he turned back around. "Yes?"
"I can still hear it."
Stiles made a face, not believing her. "But it's not on."
Malia raised her eyebrows, glancing up from the floor. "Then it's something else," she told him seriously, standing up beside him as he walked back over. "Something is spinning."
Stiles was puzzled, but scanned the record player to explain the noises. His eyes followed the wire all the way into the way, where he had been expecting to see an outlet. Yet the wire just continued through it. Tilting his head, he gently rolled the record player aside to investigate the wall more closely.
He knelt down, picking it up as he looked back at Malia. She nodded, letting him know the sound was still present in her ears. He pursed his lips as he stared at the wire, knowing Lydia was going to kill him if their hunch was wrong.
He swallowed hard and then pulled the cable. The drywall cracked, splintering apart as Stiles then continued, pulling it all the way up the wall. Only when he couldn't anymore did he give one look to Malia, who then stepped forward to help.
Piece by piece, they broke off the wood paneling, revealing the hidden secret of the lake house study. Stiles's eyes widened, knowing instantly what they had found. But Malia was still confused. "What is this?" she questioned.
A deep sigh escaped Stiles as he eyed the three tall machines, certain buttons lit up while multiple, large disks swirled rapidly.
"The deadpool."
Malia stared only for a moment before her fist went flying towards it. "Hey, hey, hey," Stiles caught her wrist, looking at her in exasperation.
"You can't just smash it to pieces." Malia rolled her eyes, but lowered her fist as he went on. "If thing is being used disseminate the list, then it's probably gonna keep going until everyone's dead."
Malia cinched her brows together, not knowing how to move forward. "Then what do we do?"
"It needs some kind of prompt or command of some kind," Stiles explained. Malia took a step, Stiles grabbing her hand to pull her back. "No, no, no."
Malia shoved him off and pointed to a possible solution she had noticed. "What about a key?"
"Huh," Stiles squinted, now seeing the lock on the middle machine. "Yeah, I guess a key would work." He glanced around the room. "The problem we don't know where the key is."
"Call Lydia," Malia suggested. "I mean, this is her lake house."
"Good point."
Stiles dug his phone out of his pocket and quickly video-called Lydia for her help. She was still at the station, finishing up her conversation with Parrish and Noah when she answered. Stiles quickly explained the situation, even flipping his phone so she could look at the machines herself. "You see it?" he asked her. "There's gotta be a way to turn it off, right?"
"I don't know," Lydia replied, much to their disappointment. "I don't know anything about computers from the nineteen seventies."
Malia appeared in the frame, right above Stiles's shoulder. "Neither do we!"
"Okay," Lydia sighed, pausing in front of the station to focus on them. "Where's the monitor?"
"Lydia, there's no monitor," Stiles replied sharply, turning away from the deadpool to pace in the study. "There are buttons, knobs, spindles, but no monitor." He switched his phone between his hands, causing Lydia to see the carpet for a moment.
And that's all she needed to see to notice something was off. "Wait," she got Stiles's attention. "Point the phone back at the carpet."
"What?"
"The floor!" Lydia stated more clearly, trying not to snap at him. "Show me the floor."
Though he never understood her thinking, Stiles did as instructed, sweeping his camera lens across the study floor. "Where's the stain?" she muttered to herself before raising her voice so Malia and Stiles could hear her. "There should be red blotches--a wine stain."
Stiles and Malia exchanged confused glances as he replied, "There's nothing."
"But that doesn't make sense," she told them. "I gave the money for the carpet cleaners to Brunski--"
"Lydia, what the hell does wine have to do with anything?" Stiles interrupted, facing the camera back on him and Malia.
"Wine doesn't just disappear," she deadpanned, the wheels in her brain turning. "Unless it wasn't wine."
"What? What do you mean?"
Pieces slowly fell into place as Lydia spoke, "The ashes weren't ashes. The study isn't a study, the record player isn't a record player! So, maybe the wine wasn't wine." To Stiles, this still didn't make any sense, but Lydia demanded that he listen. "You need to find the wine! Find the bottle. There could be something about it."
"What kind?" Stiles questioned as he started to move quickly. "What's it called?"
"It's a nineteen eighty-two Cotes du Rhone," she informed him. And with that, Stiles heard everything he needed. Hanging up the phone, he took off running to retrieve the bottle. Within a minute, he burst through the door.
"I think there's something inside," he rushed out to Malia, hearing something rattle within the glass. "Do you have like a wine opener or--"
Malia didn't let him finish. She grabbed the bottle from him and slammed it to the ground with everything she had. Glass scattered the floor, the red liquid seeping into the white carpet. And amidst it all, sat a small, round key.
Stiles held it in victory, scrambling to stand with it between his fingers. Without wasting a second, he moved over to the whirling machines and placed the key in the lock. It fit perfectly.
And then, he turned it off.