Pretend theres a good name here also its past midnight help

[go to sleep dem it.... get it cuz like.... aight ill kill myself now - potato]

The Godfather sat in his penthouse office, feet on his desk and tossing a coin up and down in his hand. His rat was out and about, ready to report any findings. He chuckled to himself, real damn smart for thinking up that one. "Ah.." He sighed out, stretching his arms behind his head and leaning back in his chair. "Adkins is gonna have a field day once I start blurting out everything to him right in his face." He laughs, dropping his chair back down flat.

A knock came to his door. "Godfather? May I talk to you?"

He quickly stuffed a paper with a doodle of him laughing at Adkins into his suit pocket, "Of course, come in."

The girl stepped in, a book in one arm and a small bag in the other.

"Pepper, didn't think I'd see you talk outside of work in a long time. What's the occasion?"

"Right. We both know I'm not stupid, and a lot smarter than you are. Maybe not as strong or such, but that's besides the point."

"Speaking of which, what is your point?"

She pulls out a silenced pistol and fires it at his chest, seeing the lack of any form of damage dealt. "Explain that. No amount of planning will stop a bullet from colliding with even your shirt. A bulletproof vest would still break the suit, and I want an explanation as to how you get away with anything that comes at you."

He squints at her, then tosses up his hands. "Well, I figured someone would figure it out eventually, though I was hoping it'd be a bit later. Close the door."

She kicks the door closed from behind with her foot.

"This does not leave this room, because I know the others would go even more crazy over it." He flicks his hand outwards, a thin, black spike exiting from each of his fingertips.

She looks at him, quizzically. "I.. see. But how does that explain-"

"Getting to it." He pulls two of his fingers together then parts them, between them is an entirely different room in an entirely different building. "If what you're seeing doesn't make sense, well, you'd be right." He shuts them and pulls them apart again. She looks through it, seeing the back of her head. "Go ahead, poke your finger in. It won't kill you."

She does as told, even going as far in as to push the back of her head, jumping at her own touch. "I.. what.."

"Now imagine that, but some random room in I-don't-care, and the bullet goes through and ends up there instead of in me. Make sense?"

"As.. much as it can."

"That all you care about?"

"Uh.. yeah." She turns around towards the door, entirely in disbelief. "You're something special, really."

"Yep. Be happy, you're the only one to know about that and still be alive after a minute. Doesn't mean you can blabber about it, though. Have a good day, Pepper."

She nods, opens the door and exits. The godfather sits back in his chair, leaning back in it. "Good thing she didn't ask about anything else." He snaps, the wall opening almost like a zipper-fly into with serrated edges, exiting through the other wall. "Otherwise everyone would be all over that." He chuckles, and the wall closes back up.

Pepper sits back down in the parlor, still visibly dumbfounded.

"Hey, you look confused. You don't get confused, the hell happened?" The fellow raised an eyebrow, momentarily stopping the polishing of his gun.

"I wish I could tell you." She pulled her book back in front of her eyes to hide her face.

Adkins stood in the center of his office in front of a cork board. Tacks with strings and note cards with various words were strung all across. "Damnit, Vare what the hell.." He rubs his eyes, dragging a pen across the board. "What are you, a fucking vampire?!" He knocks the board down, throwing the pen at his office door and kicking the board.

"Sir, calm down!" A voice from outside calls.

"I'll calm down when I'm good and ready, damnit!"

He steps into the office, holding a box of files. "Sir, you've been awake for days on end, or so I've heard. The rest of us have been concerned with your well-being over this whole case, you need to take some time to rest."

The director glares at the man, slowly closing his eyes and sighing. "You're right, you're right. Tomorrow I'm taking an off-day, this is getting out of hand."

"Good to hear, Sir." The man smiles and steps towards the door.

"You're a good agent, Fravardin."

"Thank you, Sir." He turns out of the office, his smile turning into a malicious grin, continuing down the hall with his box of files, dropping it out of a window into a dumpster. He mutters to himself, "The Godfather will pick it up later.."

In the dead of night, the Godfather pokes around the dumpsters outside the FBI office, grabbing the box and smiling. "Rat found some cheese, it looks like." He chuckles to himself and begins on his way back to the Clubhouse.