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Origins

Fisher's with the Snakes on the night of his initiation. He knows what's coming and isn't sure he can do it. In fact, he's pretty sure he can't do it. But he can't let them know he's chickening out. He's not even supposed to know what the initiation is. And mostly, he still doesn't. At least, he doesn't know the target. He has no idea what poor soul has annoyed Spike into putting their name on his list. But it's a long list and Fisher has no inclination to make it shorter for him by actually completing the initiation assignment of cold blooded murder. In fact, he's probably going to end up making it longer by adding his name to it. Membership in Spike's gang is supposed to be an honor and to reject it by refusing initiation... Imagine spitting in the face of the most powerful man in the world and then turning your back. It's that scary. At least for him, it is. Because Spike is powerful. Which is why Fisher's still following Bot and Scales and the other gang members through hallways and alleyways. They pass through a doorway and the bouncers nod as the other members pass. They ignore Fisher. He doesn't even know what they're protecting. It's not the nicest dance club in the area. He keeps following the guys and sees the door at the back labeled custodial services and his blood runs cold. 

Through that door lies substances, tools, and people designed and trained to clean up messes. But those messes usually aren't spilled drinks and the remnants of some drunk's last meal. Fisher has the foreboding impression that in the space of an hour, he's about to become a mess that Spike will have cleaned up unless he decides to start cleaning someone else's throat with his knife. His head starts pounding to the beat of the loud music and he starts looking around the room, searching for exits that might be ignored. He doesn't see any by the bar where gang members are ordering drinks and it's difficult to spot anything else through the packed crowd of tight clothes, roaming hands, and an abundance of glow sticks and glitter.  

When all the men have their drinks, they make their way to the dance floor and Fisher almost begins to hope escape is possible. But the crowd parts around them and they walk through without sparing a glance for the other dancers. Fisher follows behind, still searching for any shred of hope when someone dances right into him. Or crashes. It's hard to tell. But she grabs his arm to steady herself and Fisher stops walking. She looks up into his face and smiles. She's short, curvy, and freckled, with the biggest thickest cloud of curly hair Fisher has ever seen. Her dress is covered in glitter and the flashing lights make it hard to tell what color anything is but her eyes are sparkling and her grin is blinding and for just a second, Fisher forgets what he's doing and smiles back. She opens her mouth to say something and then Bot is there, laying a hand on his shoulder, and the spell is broken. The girl lets go of his arm and winks at him before rejoining the dance and the next thing he knows, Fisher is hustled through the door and it slams behind him, shutting out all sound, light, and hope he'd found on the dance floor. 

He'd half expected Spike to be sitting in a swivel chair waiting for him to arrive so he could turn around dramatically while petting some evil animal sidekick. But instead, Spike was leaning against the wall, cleaning his knife with an old towel. It was too dark to see what exactly coated the blade, but Fisher could guess. He glanced up as the gang entered but returned his attention to his knife as they filed in, forming a circle around the room and forcing Fisher into the middle. Fisher watched Spike lovingly polish the blade before inspecting it meticulously for flaws or remaining stains. When he seemed satisfied, he slipped it into his pocket and finally looked at Fisher. 

"So. You ready for this?" His deceptively smooth voice was almost calming. 

"I don't know." Fisher lied. He did know. He wasn't ready. He wouldn't ever be ready. 

"Well, here's the good news. You're not expected to finish in one night. It should take you two or three weeks to get everything done, if you do it right." Fisher's forehead wrinkled but he didn't question it. He directed his gaze at the floor while Spike continued.