Chapter Text
“I think,” Elliot began, gesturing vaguely with his store-bought sandwich, “this is gonna be my hardest semester yet.”
Mr. Robot kicked his feet onto the desk, leaning leisurely back in his rolling chair. “You say that every semester, kiddo,” he commented earnestly, eyebrows drawn slightly into a furrow. He crossed his arms across his chest, probably itching to light himself a cigarette but begrudgingly abiding by the school’s no smoking rule. “Midterms stressing you out?”
Elliot took a bite of his sandwich, swallowing before he spoke again. “Lots of projects. It’s a bit overwhelming.” He took another bite, shrugging. “Everyone’s busy and won’t do our usual study party. I can’t really focus.”
“Even your other half?” Mr. Robot asked, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t you two—" he paused for dramatic effect, the silence before the punchline, "attached at the hip?”
Shaking his head, Elliot couldn’t help the slight frown that crawled onto his face. “Angela is tutoring her ex-boyfriend for some reason.” He took another bite of his sandwich, putting more force into it. “They broke up and she’s still helping him.”
Mr. Robot snagged his half-empty can of Dr. Pepper from his desk, taking a swig. “She’s always been too selfless for her own good,” he said, not unkindly. Much less kindly, he continued, “How about your less selfless siblings?”
Elliot stifled a laugh. “Darlene’s too busy prepping her Halloween party, and you know how Elias is.” He gestured vaguely with his sandwich again, as if that could encompass his twin’s demeanor. “Too caught up in his own head or hanging out with his friends—or caught up in his own head while hanging out with his friends.”
He took another bite of his sandwich, bunching the plastic wrap under his fingers as he reached the end. He had a very difficult time studying alone; he got distracted much too easily, finding himself going down internet search rabbit holes when he needed to be productive. He, Elias, Darlene, and Angela did study parties all throughout their childhood, especially during high school. Even if they were in different classes and caught between various different clubs, it was nice to come together, sit at the same table, and just be in the presence of friends and family.
So—Angela, Darlene, and Elias being busy during midterms was the worst possible thing to happen. Despite Elliot being a junior and midterms being a bit of a familiar stressor, he still relied on the comfort of their study parties. He had tried going to the university’s library, but found the noise of everyone else distracting. He had tried sitting outside of the dining hall at the tables there, but he feared people walking by and looking at him. His dorm room felt too big and too small at the same time.
Needless to say, studying for midterms was impossible.
“Well,” Mr. Robot said, pulling his legs from his desk and sitting up properly, “my office is always open, Elliot.”
Elliot crumpled the plastic wrap in his hands into a ball, throwing it successfully into the trash bin by Mr. Robot’s desk. “Thanks, Dad.” He leaned back in his seat with a sigh, draping his arms over the sides of the chair. “I feel bad bothering you, though. I’m sure you’ll have a lot of students coming in with midterms coming up.”
Mr. Robot scoffed. “Are you shitting me? If they come around, they better bring me a beer and their best gossip.” At Elliot’s silence, he continued, “Relax, kiddo. I’m not that irresponsible as a professor. … But a beer would be nice.”
“I would buy you a beer,” Elliot began, teasing evident in his light tone, “but I just turned 20. Kind of illegal. Sorry.”
“Like that ever stopped you kids from your very legal activities,” Mr. Robot shot back, even if there was no heat to it. “But enough of that. I’m sure your brother will study with you—just ask him.” He shrugged. “Or bribe him with pancakes and a new graphics card until he says yes.”
Elliot rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Dad,” he repeated pointedly, bringing his hands to rest in his lap. “I’ll figure it out.”
Mr. Robot took another swig of his Dr. Pepper. “You make any other friends?” he asked. “Maybe ask them to study with you if your usual group won’t?”
“No,” Elliot answered hastily. He gripped his knees, the fabric of his jeans rough against his fingers. “I’ve been too busy to make friends.”
He didn’t exactly go out of his way to befriend others, either. He had his siblings and Angela. He had his dad. Why would he need anyone else? Having to reach out and talk to people was terrifying. Having people see him and acknowledge him was daunting. Having someone consider him a friend and want to know more about him? Pick a headstone for his grave now.
Besides, he didn’t really have much in common with other people in his major. They were art students—it was easy to keep to yourself and stick to your own canvas. Elliot did his work, participated when he could, and headed back to his dorm to chip away at assignments. When he wasn't in his dorm, he was in Mr. Robot's office as his assistant, thankfully getting paid through a student employment program. And then he was also in Funwell’s Theatre Workshop, but he was stage crew; he did his job and that was it. It was nothing like when he was an actor in high school; he just didn't have the time to commit to memorizing lines, working on accents, and practicing love confessions he didn't mean.
He had his siblings and Angela. He had never needed anyone else.
Elliot thought of the three full illustrations he needed to complete, the art review he still needed to write up, an analytical essay for his music theory course, and a program he still needed to code for an elective class—and realized that maybe, for the first time in his life, he needed someone else.
“Professor Alderson!”
Elliot’s head snapped up, turning towards the door. There was a man right outside of the office, dressed in a perfectly pressed button-up shirt, dark slacks, and black dress shoes. His hair was a dirty blond, gelled and neatly combed back. His cross-body satchel looked heavy, filled with a textbook or two. His face was what caught Elliot’s eye, however; the man had the bluest eyes Elliot had ever seen.
“Oh, I didn’t realize you already had a student with you,” the man said, his voice apologetic. He appraised Elliot for a beat longer than necessary before shifting his gaze to Mr. Robot. “I wanted to discuss my project, but—”
“Come in, Tyrell,” Mr. Robot cut him off, placing his empty soda can on his desk. He glanced towards his son, tilting his head slightly. “Elliot was heading to his next class anyway. Right, kiddo?”
Mr. Robot’s silent you should leave was obvious. Elliot understood faculty-student confidentiality, but there seemed to be a warning in his dad’s tone. Was Tyrell someone he needed to watch out for?
After a few awkward moments, Elliot offered a nod. “Yeah.” He stood up and reached down to grab his backpack, slinging it over one shoulder. He glanced between his dad and Tyrell, forcing a small smile. “I was just heading out.”
When Elliot tried to squeeze by Tyrell to leave his dad’s office, Tyrell stopped him. “I don’t mean to overstep, but I overheard your… midterm dilemma.” He tilted his head just so, as if he was practiced in picking the right words and appealing to the common denominator of people. “Coincidentally, I’m also searching for a study partner right now.”
Mr. Robot’s warning echoed in Elliot’s head, his fight or flight sense whirring into action. Was Tyrell dangerous? He was offering to be his study partner. He was stopping into Mr. Robot’s office for help on a project. He was a good, dedicated student. He was… offering to help.
But something about Tyrell irked Elliot. His smile was too plastic, his eyes crinkled perfectly to reflect a shine. His wardrobe was chosen deliberately, every abnormality ironed out. Everything about him was so perfectly constructed—like he was a corporate product, designed to sell, rather than a human being.
“I’m… good, but thanks,” Elliot managed, a bit awkwardly. He forced another nod, squeezing past Tyrell and out of his dad’s office. “Bye.”
“Elliot, was it?” Tyrell said, and Elliot reluctantly glanced over his shoulder. He couldn’t help but notice that Tyrell’s diction was clear, but every now and then, his accent shaped some words differently. “The offer still stands.” He brandished his arm—a handshake, Elliot realized belatedly. “Tyrell Wellick. I’m a senior.”
It would be rude if he walked away, even if all Elliot wanted to do was book it down the stairs. Reluctantly, Elliot took his hand, giving it a brief shake. “Elliot Alderson. Junior.”
Tyrell’s eyes widened slightly, and Elliot waited for the revelation to come. “Are you—”
“Yeah,” Elliot confirmed, pulling his hand away. “Mr. Robot’s my dad.”
Tyrell returned his hand to his bag, fighting back a laugh. “You’re the only person I’ve ever heard call him that,” he commented, and somehow, Elliot could tell that his smile genuinely reached his eyes. “The name never stuck for me. Professor Alderson has always rolled off the tongue a bit easier.”
“One day,” Mr. Robot called from inside his office, reminding Elliot that he was still there, “you’ll all call me Mr. Robot. Or Professor Robot.”
“A day that’s not today, Professor,” Tyrell said with a roll of his eyes. Elliot was caught off guard by the familiarity of it; Tyrell must have been on good terms with Mr. Robot if he was teasing him about the nickname.
Maybe… Tyrell wasn’t bad? Maybe Elliot had misinterpreted Mr. Robot’s farewell and simply assumed something bad. He was becoming just like Elias—expecting the worst in people.
“Let’s exchange numbers,” Elliot blurted out, the words escaping his throat before he could think further on them. At Tyrell’s owlish surprise, Elliot bit back a fuck. “To study. For midterms,” he amended pathetically.
“I’d like that,” Tyrell said, retrieving his phone from his pocket and tapping away at it. After a moment, he handed it to Elliot on the add new contact screen.
Well. Elliot couldn’t turn back now. He added his name and phone number, saved the contact, and passed the phone back to Tyrell. “Thanks, man. I, uh,” he gestured towards the stairwell, “I gotta get to class. I’ll—I’ll talk to you later?”
Tyrell offered a smile—plastic or real, Elliot couldn’t tell—and said, “Take care, Elliot.”
Elliot nodded, unwilling to open his mouth in case some other self-incriminating phrase fell out of his lips. He didn’t even say goodbye to Mr. Robot in his hurry to get away from Tyrell. He briskly maneuvered around other students, exited the hallway, made it down two flights of stairs, and ran into the nearest bathroom before he pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket and opened a conversation at the top of his list.
El | 13:02
Do you know Tyrell Wellick?
He’s a senior and has Dad as a professor
HACKERMAN | 13:02
The guy who tried to sleep with the Provost’s wife and somehow didn’t get expelled for it
Lots of other shit too
Did you not hear about it
El | 13:03
Been a bit busy
HACKERMAN | 13:03
You free after class
We should talk
El | 13:03
Professor cancelled, family emergency
Are you already at our dorm?
HACKERMAN | 13:04
No
Was grabbing food
Class in a few hours
El | 13:04
Heading there from Dad's now
Elliot waited for a reply for about ten seconds, but when he received nothing, he exited the bathroom, avoided any and all eye contact in the hallway, and left the building. Once he stood outside of the college of engineering, he took a moment to appreciate the campus before he began his trek to his dormitory. The fall air was crisp, and the various trees on campus had changing leaves, painting the campus a pleasant red, orange, and pink. His allergies would come back with a vengeance if he hung outside for too long, but it was a nice sight to enjoy every autumn.
He kept to the sidewalks, dodging any other students that walked on the opposite side. There were many groups of friends chattering with each other, all laughing and smiling. Elliot kept his head low, wishing he had one of Elias’ hoodies to pull over his head and pretend he didn’t exist for a while.
It was one thing to feel alone. It was an even worse thing to be alone surrounded by people who weren’t alone.
Elliot turned on his phone, frowning at his empty lock screen. Elias hated small talk; once the main point of the conversation was over, he stopped answering. Elliot didn’t know why he expected another text from his twin. It unfortunately seemed like loneliness was Elliot’s most stable companion at this point.
He continued his walk, making himself as small and unnoticeable as possible. He held his thumbs over his phone, opening the notes app. He’d type a few words every few steps, as if he were texting someone. It made him look like he had friends who liked talking to him; it helped him feel less alone, even if he was utterly and desperately lonesome at the moment.
He paused to scale the stairs on the side of the engineering building, prioritizing staying on his feet and not toppling down the stairs and landing on his ass. Once he was on flat ground, he looked back at his phone to type more nothing words, but found a text from an unknown number at the top of his screen.
212-200-2178 | 13:14
Bonsoir, Elliot! This is Tyrell. I know you’re in class right now, but I thought you should have my number if we’ll be studying together. Are you free this weekend?
Elliot nearly froze in place, but he forced his legs to keep working, pushing himself towards his dormitory. He kept walking, fingers hovering over his keyboard. Should he answer now? He was supposed to be in class at the moment. Maybe he would wait to talk to Elias and see what he had to say.
Elliot frowned at the thought of his brother. Elias would somehow twist this and make it about him. He looked for the worst in people, and he liked to play hero at every opportunity. Elliot could already imagine it: Elias stealing his phone, replying to Tyrell with a resounding no, and blocking his number. Elias was controlling, and for a reason unbeknownst to Elliot, incredibly protective of him. It made no sense.
As Elliot took careful steps down another small break of stairs, he thought back on Elias’ text from earlier. Tyrell was the guy who tried to sleep with the Provost’s wife and somehow didn’t get expelled for it. Lots of other shit too, according to Elias. Obviously not a good person. Maybe Elias would be justified in keeping Tyrell away from Elliot… but it wasn’t Elias’ decision to make. Elliot was his own person, and while he would listen to his twin, it didn’t mean he needed to follow Elias blindly.
He continued down the sidewalk that led to his dormitory, keeping his breathing even in the final stretch. (It wasn’t even that big of a campus, why was he so out of breath? For being on the track team in high school, he was wildly out of form.) Before he could think better of it, he opened a new text and began typing.
El
> Hey, Dad. When you told me to leave for class, were you trying to get me away from Tyrell? Elias mentioned he attempted sleeping with the Provost’s wife? You guys seemed like you were on good terms based on how you were talking. Should I study with him or should I tell him I’m good now and don’t need a study partner because
Elliot squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, exhaled heavily, and deleted his draft. He wouldn’t bother his dad right now. He was probably still meeting with Tyrell…
Before he could pocket his phone, a new notification appeared at the top of his screen.
HACKERMAN | 13:19
Picked the lock because you weren’t here yet
You should work on your security
Anyone could break in, man
Elliot left his brother on read and slid his phone into his jeans. Ignoring the fact that Elias had broken into his own dorm, this breach wasn't anything new. Elias had no understanding of the word privacy. He always carried his lockpick on him, he eavesdropped on conversations whenever possible, and he still hacked people to get to know them. He probably brushed the breaking and entering under the rug, claiming that it was for the greater good in testing the strength of Elliot’s lock. Or something else completely righteous and morally acceptable in Elias’ personal dictionary of justice.
Once he got to the door, Elliot swiped his school ID, grabbing the handle and entering the building. The foyer had a few students loitering around, mostly staring at their phones or talking with their friends in small groups. Elliot kept his head down, making his way past the other students and down the hallway to the elevator. He hit the button a bit impatiently, frowning at his reflection in the steel doors.
With the ducked head, shadowed eyes, and heavy frown, he found he looked more like Elias at the moment. No wonder people still got them mixed up all the time; all Elliot needed to do was frown and he was Elias. And Elias—all he needed to do was wear something besides a black hoodie and he could pass as Elliot. They were both awful with eye contact, and they both fidgeted a lot, and—well. Maybe it was better to say they could pass as each other without much of an issue.
Elias needed to work on his… social skills a bit more, however. Yes or no questions couldn’t be answered with an okay, no matter how much Elias favored the word.
The elevator opened with a ding, and Elliot walked in. There were luckily no other students inside, so when he pressed the 5 button, the doors closed immediately. As usual, there was the brief feeling of weightlessness; Elliot kept his eyes on his shoes, as if to reassure himself that he was still standing. He hated elevators, and if he didn’t room on the fifth floor, he would take the stairs all the time. Unfortunately, there was no justifiable reason to willingly take five flights of stairs when there was an elevator available to him—but he still avoided the elevator as much as possible, hating how claustrophobic it made him feel.
The elevator dinged again, doors sliding open before Elliot. No one waited outside, so he was in the final stretch of getting back to his dorm. Considering the current situation, he needed all of his social battery to talk with Elias.
He made his way down the narrow hallway, finding his room towards the end. It was far enough from the elevator that he could sleep through late night partiers returning to their dorms, but it made returning to his room at the end of the day feel much longer. It was usually worse, considering Elliot took the stairs most of the time, which were even further away from their room. He took a steadying breath before opening his door.
Elias sat in Elliot's desk chair, staring at him expectantly with his usual wide eyes. “Change your lock, man,” he said, completely serious. “Someone could easily break in.”
Elliot shrugged off his backpack and placed it at the foot of his bed. “I think I’m a bit late on that,” he answered blandly. He closed his door behind him, locking it while maintaining eye contact with his twin—which failed to serve its point, as Elias glanced away after a second. With a sigh, Elliot toed off his shoes and sat at the head of his bed, staring at his twin. Looked like he needed to start the conversation. “You think Tyrell is bad news?”
“You don’t?” Elias asked in reply. He bristled, drawing his shoulders inward. “That freak tried coming onto Mr. Robot.”
Elliot’s heart dropped into his stomach. Tyrell… had tried getting with their dad? What the fuck?
“He fucks all of his professors,” Elias continued, not sparing any of the details. “But he’s such a fucking weasel that he gets out clean. He gets blackmail on the professors so they can’t report him. He’s a fucking piece of shit.” Elias stuffed his hands into his hoodie pockets, his voice growing in intensity. “Nearly fucked Provost Knowles’ wife before he finally got reported. But for some reason, he didn’t get expelled. He’s got some deal with someone in administration. I’m trying to figure out who.”
Most of Elias’ rant went over Elliot’s head. He was still reeling over the fact that Tyrell had come onto their father. “Why didn’t Dad say anything?” he asked in a whisper, unsure if he was even breathing. God, he felt so lightheaded at the thought of it. Tyrell tried sleeping with Mr. Robot. What the fuck? “Why did Dad act like he was fine with Tyrell today if—”
“Because Tyrell also has shit on Mr. Robot,” Elias cut off his spiraling, lips pulled into a heavy frown. “Mr. Robot decided to hack into the school’s systems to get himself a job here. His background check was—sketchy. Lots of illegal stuff when he was younger.” Elias averted his eyes to his lap. “I saw it when I was looking into Tyrell.”
Elliot braced his arms on his bed so he wouldn’t pass out on the spot. This was… a lot to take in at once. He took in a shaky breath, feeling the rattle in his chest, and exhaled. He’d probably cry once Elias left for class, and he was certain he wouldn’t feel any better afterwards. Fuck.
“So what do we do?” he asked helplessly. He hated feeling this powerless. He hated fueling Elias’ hero complex. He hated feeding Elias’ endless quest for justice, knowing just how far his twin would go in destroying someone’s life. But when the situation seemed so dire, what else was there to do besides look for Elias’ guidance?
Elias, for one haunting moment, stared at him with piercing gray eyes. “We delete Tyrell.”
Elliot swallowed past the lump in his throat, fear settling in the pit of his stomach. “How… how do you plan on doing that?”
Elias quirked his head, never losing his intensity. “You said you met him,” he began. “Did you talk?”
Ever since they were younger, Elias had a certain way about him. He was like a shark in the water; once he saw blood, he wouldn’t stop until his target was destroyed. He dug his fangs in and didn’t let go. He was relentless and vicious—everything Elliot couldn’t be if he tried.
“Did you?” Elias asked with more force, leaning into Elliot’s space. For a fleeting moment, Elliot wasn’t sure if he or Tyrell was Elias’ prey.
“Fuck, man,” Elliot huffed, shaking his head, “I got his number, okay? We were gonna study together.”
Elias raised his eyebrows, incredulousness evident on his face—like Elliot was the one being unreasonable. “Well?” he asked, impatient as always, “Are you gonna give me your phone or not?”
Elliot threw his hands up in exasperation. “Why are you asking? It’s not like you’d take no for an answer.” He grabbed his phone from his jeans pocket, unlocking it and opening his conversation with Tyrell.
Without warning, Elias swiped the phone from him, eyes rolling over the screen and scrutinizing the text. “Bonsoir? Isn’t the fucker Swedish?” After a moment, he glanced up at Elliot. “Say you’re free this weekend to study. Meet up at the library.”
Elias tossed his phone back to him, and Elliot caught it in a state of shock. “What are you planning?” he asked, because there was always some sort of ulterior motive when it came to his brother.
“What the fuck do you think?” Elias asked, still staring at him like he was the one in the wrong. “I’m gonna show up and pretend to be you, catch the fucker red-handed, and expose him for the snake he is.” He rolled his eyes as he slumped back into Elliot’s chair. “I need to find out how he didn’t get expelled. I need to corner him somehow. There must be something I’m missing. Maybe I can figure it out on that study date of yours.”
Elliot’s fingers hovered tentatively over his keyboard, his throat unbearably dry. While he was completely on board with exposing Tyrell, he was growing tired of Elias always making decisions for him and using him as a tool in his pursuit of justice. Elias just lacked any regard for others, even treating his own twin brother like a chess piece rather than a person.
“You’re just like the Mastermind,” Elliot murmured, glaring at his screen. “You don’t care about who you hurt.”
Elias stayed silent.
The Mastermind was the main character of Elliot and Elias’ comic—a brooding anti-hero who was a cybersecurity engineer by day and a vigilante hacker by night. He was the ringleader of his small band of hackers—a group that went by fsociety, because fuck society. Any and every injustice in the world fueled his anger, an endless pit of rage. Just like Elias, he wouldn’t stop until all the evil was removed and the evildoers were punished.
The comic had been a way for them to vent. Elias had always had a knack for writing and spinning compelling narratives—he was an English major with a writing concentration for a reason. And Elliot had volunteered to illustrate it; it was good practice as a visual arts major. When awful shit went down, Elliot and Elias could put pencil to paper and work it out together.
Like earlier this month: Fernando Vera, one of the star players of Funwell’s football team, had raped Elias’ friend and on-and-off girlfriend, Shayla Nico. After Elias had—destroyed him, for lack of a better term—Vera faced a light punishment from the school’s administration because it was football season and he was their much needed quarterback.
So, Vera had become the next villain in the comic. By a different name and appearance, of course, but any Funwell student could tell who it was about. Not like Elliot and Elias had posted the comic anywhere, but it was quite obvious.
Just as obviously, Elias saw blood in the water. Elias always saw evil, like his eyes were specially tuned to seek bad people doing awful things. He could never see the good in people, always so honed in on the worst. Just like the Mastermind.
Tyrell was evil. Wasn’t he? He had slept with his professors to get dirt on them. He had tried sleeping with their father. He probably planned on using Elliot as a stepping stone to get to Mr. Robot. For what, Elliot didn’t know. He was missing the big picture—but so was Elias.
This felt like the blind leading the blind, but what other options did Elliot have? With Elias pushing him, the only direction to go was forward.
He read over Tyrell’s text again, pressing his lips into a thin line. Even now, he knew how this would end. It always ended the same way when Elias got involved.
El | 13:43
Does Saturday work?
It looked like the Mastermind had a new evildoer to punish.