Olivia [Ch. 8]
Call me Liv again, and I'll show you scary
Welcome back, Night Owls.
Grab a snack; it’s time for more adventures from your favorite psychopathic serial killer & the Great Value Avengers.
Content Warning: Olivia contains mature content not suitable for readers under 17. This series explores psychological profiling, manipulation, and emotionally detached narration that may be unsettling for some readers. Content is rated Mature (17+) for realistic violence, strong language, and dark psychological themes.
Reader discretion is advised.
You can read chapters 1-7 below
Chapter 1: Necessary Introductions
Chapter 2: Boundaries
Chapter 3: The One Where Olivia Makes A Mistake
Chapter 4: Clean Up Time
Chapter 5: Is Who Losing Her Edge?
Chapter 6: The Cavalry
Chapter 7: You’re Not In Quantico Anymore, Dorothy
Where we left off:
Ben turned to me. “Alright, Olivia. We had an hour. You used it to take notes.” he said, and cracked the smallest grin. “Let’s hope those notes save your ass, because I certainly won’t.”
“And you used that hour to beat a federal agent to death with a chair—or was it the screwdriver that did it?” I smiled back. “If anyone’s ass needs saving, it’s yours. Lucky for you, I ran the numbers and they’re in your favor. Don’t screw it up.”
The knock came exactly forty-seven minutes after we’d finished cleaning up the mess, coordinated the story, and reacquainted ourselves with our fake IDs. The timing was as precise as it was irritating. If anything, I had to admire their efficiency.
Ben exchanged a quick glance with me.
I adjusted my posture, shoulders slumped just enough to signal mild confusion rather than alertness, and moved toward the door. Ben had settled into his casual-but-annoyed persona, lounging on the couch like we'd just been interrupted during movie night.
If I’m honest with myself, the idea of a movie night with Ben wasn’t terrible.
Another knock—firm but professional, the kind that said, “We’re here to ruin your evening politely.”
I cracked the door open, swallowing the lump rising in my throat, aiming for the perfect mix of surprise and unease. I came face to face with an agent.
“Oh—uh, oh my—that’s a lot of guns and badges.” My voice pitched slightly higher, uncertainty bleeding through. “What’s going on?”
Behind me, Ben straightened slightly, playing equally stunned but cooperative. Our eyes locked briefly as if we were both trying to gauge how long it would take the other to crack under pressure.
The agent in front stepped forward, flashing his ID. “Special Agent Collins, FBI. We’re investigating an incident involving missing federal personnel. Their last known location traces here. We’ll need to check your identification.”
I forced a shaky laugh, blinking rapidly. “Missing? Oh my god…that’s horrible. We’ve been home all night—we haven’t seen anyone.”
Ben slowly pulled out his wallet as if caught off guard, and I followed suit, handing over each of our meticulously forged IDs—readily available, given our… unique professions—with hesitant hands.
Collins examined them in silence, clearly waiting for one of us to flinch. Rookie mistake. Internally, I counted seconds, keeping my expression carefully neutral. If he found anything amiss, his poker face would give it away.
"Mind if we have a quick look around?" Collins finally asked, his tone making clear that refusal wasn't an option.
“Of course,” I murmured, stepping back graciously, silently grateful I’d double-checked every visible surface twice.
Ben stepped forward suddenly, irritation threading into his voice. "Hold on there, pal—do you have a warrant for that?"
His entire demeanor had shifted to one of fragile masculinity. He puffed his chest, eyes barely meeting the agents. It was performative, of course, but I could tell that he was intimately familiar with the reaction insecure men have toward authority.
Collins's eyes narrowed slightly, but he maintained a calm front. "Given the urgency, this is a courtesy check. Your cooperation would help clear things up quickly."
One agent began to enter cautiously—his chest bumped Ben’s flexed hand.
"Ehhhh, I’ve seen the TV shows, you have to have a warrant for that." Ben let out an exasperated sigh, playing the reluctant civilian perfectly. “Listen, you come back with a warrant, and you and your friends can search top to bottom. But without a warrant….”
Collins turned to the rookie agent. They stared at each other for a moment before Collin’s handed back our IDs. "Seems we got our wires crossed, anyway."
I nodded sympathetically. "Mistakes happen—especially under pressure, I imagine."
Collins hesitated briefly at the door, eyeing Ben’s bored expression before turning back to me. "If you notice anything unusual—"
"You’ll be our first call," Ben interjected dryly. "Promise."
Collins pressed his lips into a thin line and gave a curt nod. "Good evening."
I closed the door gently behind them, leaning against it with practiced exhaustion. Ben was already moving toward the basement.
The unmarked trucks exited my driveway. Shortly after, Garcia and Jackson pulled in. They sat together in a shared vehicle in the driveway for nine minutes.
“I find it odd they’re not coming inside,” I said to Ben, not taking my eyes off the driveway. Ben looked and sounded confident, but I caught a slight waver in his voice. I couldn’t tell if it was the adrenaline wearing off.
“You’re panicking, Olivia. It’s fine. They’re probably just—” He stopped, and pulled out an RF detector and began searching for bugs. Coded language became our new best friend. “Probably just discussing how crazy movie night was last night. They might not want us to hear—it might spoil the whole movie.”
The tension radiating from both Garcia and Jackson, even from outside, made me question Ben’s judgement when it came to friends.
They finally got out of the car. Two silhouettes, moving with all the subtlety of wolves circling a wounded deer. No hurry. That was worse. Ben seemed to think so too. I could tell by the way his shoulder tensed, and his breathing regulated.
Ben didn’t seem nervous—he seemed tense in the way someone gets tense right before a bar fight: half adrenaline, half calculation.
“Movie night,” I muttered, eyes never leaving the door as their footsteps hit the porch. “Next time, you pick the film.”
The door exploded open before Ben could reply. Garcia moved first—blunt force, straight at Ben. It was less a tackle and more a violent reunion; Ben barely had time to tense before Garcia had him in a bear hug so tight I heard the air punch out of him.
“HANDS OUT, BAKER! DON’T FIGHT BACK!” Garcia’s voice shook the windows.
Ben managed, “WHO THE HELL IS BAKER?” before Jackson—who I was never calling Air Bud again after this—was on me, weapon drawn and pointed dead at my face.
“Hands where I can see them. On the ground. Now.” There was little to no room for argument. His finger twitched near the trigger. His eyes flickered—nervous, almost apologetic.
I sighed, and dropped to my knees, palms flat out, eyes locked on the barrel of Jackson’s gun. “You’re not going to shoot me,” I said softly, and I meant it. I could see it in his face—he was terrified of making another mistake.
Ben was pinned, cursing, face half-buried in the carpet. “I told the feds that were just here that we don’t know anything,” he grunted.
Everyone stopped moving. Then Garcia’s knee dug into Ben’s spine. “You talk when I tell you to, tough guy. We have some questions and you’re going to give us answers.”
Jackson’s hands were surprisingly gentle as he zip-tied my wrists, but the muzzle never left my face. “Sorry, Liv,” he whispered, “but we can’t take any chances. You… you’re small but scary as hell.”
I flashed him my best flat, unbothered smile. “My name isn’t Liv. Call me ‘Liv’ again, and I’ll show you scary.”
Garcia barked a laugh—nervous energy. “Jesus Christ, she’s not even pretending to be normal.”
Ben twisted under Garcia’s weight, fury rising in his voice. “Would you just listen for two seconds—?!”
“Not until we’re sure you’re not compromised. Quiet.” Garcia finished with a zip tie, checked Ben’s pulse as if looking for a sign I’d replaced his brain with AI.
I looked to my left, caught Ben’s eye, and then—just a fraction of a second—flicked my gaze toward the wall vent by the front door. It was subtle, but I knew he’d see it. If there was a bug, that’s the only place they could’ve planted it discreetly.
Ben’s jaw flexed, and I watched him bite back a curse.
“Don’t separate them,” Garcia said, grabbing Ben by the shoulders and half-dragging, half-carrying him toward the hallway. Jackson hauled me up by the arm, keeping his weapon trained but his grip gentle enough to suggest he’d rather be anywhere else.
“You have the right to remain silent, Olivia,” he said, mostly for the joke. “But I’m guessing that’s not going to be a problem for you.”
“I said my name isn’t Olivia.” I leaned in, voice soft and so even I could almost feel the bug trying to listen. “You have no idea.”
He shoved us down the stairs into the basement and closed the door, punctuating our predicament with the click of the lock—which also meant we were out of potential bug range.
Garcia folded his arms across his chest, watching Ben with wary suspicion, as if he might suddenly sprout wings and fly into a homicidal rage.
"You've gotta be kidding me," Ben finally growled, testing his restraints with a frustrated jerk of his wrists. He shot Garcia a glare hot enough to melt steel. "Garcia. Seriously?"
Garcia didn't budge, his stare unwavering. "Just precautions. If she's done something to your head, I'm not risking it."
I almost laughed—almost. I settled instead for a thin, mocking smile. "Brainwashing is tedious. Ben isn't interesting enough for that."
Ben's scowl deepened. "Thanks."
Air Bud shifted uncomfortably, weapon still awkwardly aimed in my general direction. "She's got a point, Garcia. This might be an overreaction."
Garcia shot him a withering look. "She managed to rope Ben—our Ben—into whatever this mess is. She's dangerous."
“Excuse me,” I cut him off. “Roped your precious Ben into what mess, exactly?” My voice lowered when I remembered the bugs line of sight—basement wasn’t full proof, especially not at a volume any louder than normal conversation. “He killed the first guy.”
Ben chimed in. “Then, you two chuckle-fucks showed up and we offed the last two—what does this have to do with Olivia?”
The other two exchanged looks as if to say “what do you mean what does this have to do with Olivia” before Jackson stepped forward. His face was an awkward, silent apology.
“Look, we’re not unreasonable. But you’ve gotta see it from our perspective here. I mean, you left us behind to find person that killed Martin. Then we get an emergency SOS saying you’ve been compromised—and ‘not in a fun way,’ remember? We got you out of immediate danger but—”
Garcia spoke up, practically whispering. “We can’t just take you at your word.”
Martin. Last names are standard for service members—but that one happened to be familiar. The Martin that I knew had a service record—one littered with insubordination and an “other-than-honorable” discharge.
The Great Value Avengers’ records were so redacted they practically didn’t exist at all. There was no way they would’ve served together. Unless—
That’s when I noticed everyone’s eyes on me.
“Way to fucking ruin the whole job, jackass,” Ben stared at Jackson, eyes searing into his skull.
Garcia rubbed his face, exasperated, and muttered; “Oh good fucking god…”
“I’ve removed more than a couple of men from this timeline,” I interrupted. “I’m gonna need more to go off of than ‘Martin’.”
“So you DID kill him.” Garcia moved quickly across the basement; his face was suddenly inches from mine. I didn’t flinch. I could feel Ben’s body tense, ready to come between me and his perception of danger for the millionth time in less than a week.
My eyes stayed locked on Garcia’s. “I said I need more information.”
“His name was Greg.” Jackson chimed in. “Gregory Martin was our friend. His wife said he went out with some friends and never came home that night. When we checked the footage, he was last seen leaving the bar with you, Liv.”
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Until the next chapter,
—The Narrator.
Who doesn’t love a good… ahem… movie night?
And Olivia, scary?
Come on. What sweet natured and thoroughly analytical girl could ever be scary? 😉
Loving this, as always… apart from it ending.
Excuse me??? What kind of cliff hanger was that?? Where is the next chapter? How much do I have to pay to see it NOW 😭