Summary:

It was a Friday when the video dropped.

“What is happening?” He asked St Simon, who was holding his phone tight to his chest, his expression odd. “Someone has died?” 

Across the room he could see Marlow moving slowly upright from where he had been doing floor stretches, his phone in his hand as well, his face pinched. 

“It’s Hollander,” St Simon said. 

The bottom of Ilya’s stomach fell out, closely followed by the rest of Ilya’s organs. His chest hurt so acutely that he thought he must be having a heart attack. 

“Not dead,” St Simon added quickly, reaching out to grab Ilya’s shoulder when Ilya’s knees actually buckled. “Jesus, sorry. I should have - no it’s just -” 

“Someone tell me what the fuck is going on,” Ilya snapped, “and everyone else shut up.” 

Marlow reached him now, held his phone out to Ilya, open already to an article with a headline huge enough Ilya could easily make out the HOLLANDER blaring out of it even before his eyes focused and he took the phone from Marlow. 

A video is posted online, for Shane it feels like a death sentence. For some parts of him, it is.