Making Wishes in the Dark

Prologue

It seemed like an easy enough job.

Manning a tourist information center shouldn't be something that would cause anybody too much stress, and since finding any other jobs besides performing once a week at a local coffee-house seemed to be eluding him, he'd taken it immediately. The woman on the other end of the line had sounded ecstatic and told him to show up at 8:00 sharp the next morning, and to wear something nice.

So Blaine had dug out his best suit and arrived at the specified address a little before eight, seeing a dingy door and a faded 'Information!' sign hanging over the entrance. He pushed his way inside, surprised to find the door unlocked, and immediately sneezed at the amount of dust covering everything in the tiny space.

Posters littered the walls for events that were at least five years old, a few random postcards spilled over the desk and Blaine lifted his eyes to see somebody already in the desk chair, booted feet kicked up and a grin on his face.

"Hey. You must be Blaine."

"Yes," Blaine stood up straighter and took in the other guy, from the mohawk on his head to the cocky smirk on his lips, and the fact that he was wearing a leather jacket and old jeans made Blaine feel really overdressed. "I..."

"The name's Puck," the man nodded to Blaine by way of a greeting, getting out of the chair and moving over. "And yeah, this place is a dump," he laughed, his eyes roving about the tiny room. "But don't worry, I'm sure you'll get it all cleaned up and looking good, right?"

"Pleasure to meet you, but if I can ask...what do you, um, do?" Blaine inquired hesitantly because honestly, what was going on here?

"Me? Oh, the rest of us...we've got like special projects in the back. Secret projects. Secret tourism projects," he added, in a way that only raised Blaine's suspicions even more, but it was a job and it was money and it didn't seem like there was any danger despite the fact that everything was just...very strange, so he nodded.

"Okay. So what do I need to do?"

"Well, like, get everything up to date and cleaned, I guess," he shrugged. "Sorry, dude, I didn't hire you, and Rachel's...that's who hired you...she's probably at home fucking her boyfriend or something," he snorted and Blaine recoiled, because that wasn't workplace language he'd ever heard. "Sorry. But yeah, she'll be here soon, and our boss probably will be, too. I mean, if he's not off standing on top of an office building somewhere," he rolled his eyes and adjusted something under his jacket as Blaine eyed him warily.

"He...does that often?"

"He's kinda strange. You'll see when you meet him," Puck clapped him on the shoulder hard enough that Blaine stumbled. "Oh, and can you make coffee? We got a new espresso machine like last week and all of us are hopeless with it..."

"I can take a look at it," Blaine said, because yes, he'd worked as a barista for a bit when he was doing odd jobs throughout University, and the other man grinned.

"Awesome. We'll bring it up later. I mean over. Later," he tried to cover up his words again and Blaine chose to ignore it, because he'd get to the bottom of everything soon enough.

"So I should start..."

"Yeah, just...see if anything's like still relevant and make the place look clean. I guess," he wrinkled his nose and brushed some dust off of his jacket where he'd leaned his sleeve on the filing cabinet. "And, like, answer the phone if it rings...or if people come in. I don't think they will, but..." he winced, like he'd realized that was saying too much, and Blaine opened his mouth to finally ask what the Hell was going on when the door behind the desk opened and a woman stepped through.

She was stunning, all long blonde hair and dark eyes and smooth features, but her face was set in a frown as she looked at Puck. "Noah, stop traumatizing him," her voice was low and sultry, and she stuck out a hand that Blaine shook without hesitation. "Quinn Fabray, and I hope he hasn't made you uncomfortable. I'm sure you have questions," she said briskly, a folder under her arm that Blaine could see read 'Anderson' on the label.

"I do. It doesn't seem like this place is even in operation..."

"It's not, officially, but it's a good cover and we thought that if it looked more...updated, it would convince more people," she shifted the folder. "But still, Blaine Devon Anderson, 25, degree in music performance, we wouldn't have hired you if we didn't trust you."

"I talked to...Rachel? I talked to her on the phone for five minutes, what..." Blaine was starting to get nervous and took a step back, because that was already some personal things they were getting into and he'd barely told Rachel his name, so how did they...

"We know all about you, Blaine," Quinn said slowly. "We had to, because we have to know everything about our employees and you...you were perfect. As long as we can trust you."

"And if we can't or you chicken out we'll give you a little pill and you'll forget all of this tomorrow," Puck laughed, wincing when Quinn slapped his arm. "Ow!"

"Stop it. It's your choice, Blaine. But you will take the pill if you choose to part ways with us," her voice turned icy and Puck shrugged his shoulders, his jacket falling open to reveal what looked like a handgun tucked into a pocket on the inside.

"Why do you...what..." Blaine stammered, his heart starting to pound and his breath coming rapidly, because what were these people?

"Don't freak out," Quinn tried to calm him, reaching out, but Blaine smacked her hand away and nearly tripped over the desk chair as he backed toward the door, looking for anything that would protect him from a bullet. "We're sorry we couldn't tell you more sooner, but we had another employee who had to...leave suddenly..."

"Did you kill them?" his voice rose a little and she looked surprised before smiling kindly.

"No. We're not what you're thinking we are, Blaine, I can promise you that..."

"Then tell me, because I'm not sure if I'm going crazy or if I..."

Before he could finish there was a loud gunshot from outside, followed by what sounded like a laser beam firing off, and Blaine clutched the doorframe because he was about two seconds away from passing out.

"Move!" Puck shouted, drawing his handgun and shoving past Blaine out into the early morning sunlight as Quinn pulled a gun from inside her own coat and ran out after him.

Blaine leaned against the wall, swallowing heavily, and tried to tell himself that he was safe, that it was okay, that this was weird but if these people wanted to kill him they'd have done it already.

He took a deep, calming breath and turned around, heading out and blinking while his eyes adjusted to the sunlight.

Lying on the ground in front of him, next to a pile of smoking, glittering, neon-green dust (of all things!) was undoubtedly the most gorgeous man Blaine had ever seen in his life.

He was also very obviously dead.