Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s fun, riling up Mirage.

When he first joined the games, Crypto couldn’t really put his finger on why . It’s not because it’s easy ; it is easy, but it’s not what makes it fun. For a while, Crypto thought it was because Mirage reminded him of Mystik, if only because he was always her favorite. He would wonder, sometimes, if she still watched the games once he became a participant. He liked to think that if she saw the way he poked at Mirage, she would be happy. 

It’s the realization of why it would make her happy that finally makes things click into place for him. 

Mirage, as annoying and childish as he can be, is the only person that actually talks to Crypto, at least in the sense that he interacts with him beyond basic commands and communication during a Game. Not that Crypto blamed the others; why build relationships with people who may soon die, and worse, who may have to die by your own hand? Still, it’s the closest thing to a sense of normalcy that he has , so he clings to it and enjoys it where he can.

The first time he feels relief at being paired with Mirage for a match, at the knowledge that he won’t have to worry about seeing him on the other end of his gun, he knows he’s in trouble.

Crypto is no stranger to distancing himself from the people around him. He knew better than most that even those closest to you could betray you. It was a cruel lesson he’d learned early on, when his parents abandoned him on the streets of Suotomo as a child. Even after being taken into the orphanage, he had kept his distance; it was truly a miracle that Mila and Mystik had managed to break through the walls he’d built. Because of them, he had managed to have as “normal” of a childhood as someone in his position could possibly hope for. 

Once he’d been framed for Mila’s murder, however, he’d had to clamp down harder than ever before. He’d had to change entirely just to survive. There was no space for mercy in his new world; when facing something as big and influential as the Syndicate, everyone was suspect. Danger lurked around all corners. What little empathy he’d tried to cling to had quickly been stamped out when he’d let a courier leave his hideout alive against his better judgement; the Syndicate had been at his door within hours. The courier, who had received a handsome payment of credits from the Syndicate for the information, soon found himself without his reward. The money was instead anonymously given to a headhunter as a ransom for his death. Crypto hadn’t checked in to see if the job was successful, but trusted that even if it weren’t , the courier had learned their lesson.

He had since killed his fair share of people, many of whom likely didn’t deserve it. He felt guilt about it, especially at first, but had long since trained himself to put his emotions aside and do what had to be done. Everyone was expendable, with Mystik serving as the sole exception to his harsh new rules. 

So why, then, was Mirage different?

It’s such thoughts that drive him to a gym late one night, a quiet hole-in-the-wall with basic equipment. He’s dressed down, his usual bulky jacket draped across a nearby bench. He wears a lightweight black hoodie in its place, with a pair of joggers and sneakers. He’s the sole occupant of the gym at the moment, and he finds the quiet comforting. It’s easy to pick out sounds when it’s quiet, easy to find a sense of peace. The lights above him give off a low buzz, blending in with the muted droning sound of Hack hovering near the ceiling. His sneakers scuff against the floor as he moves around a worn punching bag, a huffed exhale leaving him with each strike made to the bag, making the chain suspending it rattle.

He focuses on clearing his head as he works,  pushing all thoughts and worries to the back of his mind so he can  have a moment of peace to himself. In that moment, in the gym, there is no immediate danger. There are no Apex Games. There are no Apex Legends. There is no Mirage. It’s just him, Hack, and a bag that is perfectly suited to take the brunt of someone’s pent-up frustration.

It’s just him...until, suddenly, it isn’t.

He’s first alerted to the new presence by Hack, who makes a little whirring sound when it detects movement. Crypto stops immediately, pressing a fist against the bag to slow its swaying. He moves towards the bench where his coat and a small duffel bag sit, keeping the entrance to the hallway in his peripheral vision as he unzips the bag. He reaches inside, his hand closing around the grip of his Wingman as Hack flies down from the ceiling, waiting at the doors.

The double doors open, his grip tightens, Hack whirs -- and an all-too-familiar voice shouts, the sound echoing through the otherwise empty gym. 

“ Christ , what the hell?” Mirage is at the door, also dressed down from his usual attire, a bag slung over his shoulder. Crypto breathes out a quiet sigh, reaches for a water bottle in his duffel instead, pulling it out and turning to face Mirage with a controlled expression. Mirage straightens from where he’d crouched down at the sight of Hack, a sour expression on his face as he smoothes a hand down his jacket. His scowl shifts to realization as he eyes Hack, and his gaze slides across the room to where Crypto is standing. He holds out his arms before letting them drop to his sides, his head falling back briefly. “Aw, man, you gotta be kidding me…” he mutters under his breath, the sound carrying easily.

Crypto hides a smile behind his water bottle. 

By the time he lowers the bottle and clicks the top closed, only a hint of an amused smirk remains. He sets it down on the bench beside his duffel, moving back to the punching bag. He does wonder how Mirage found his way to the same reclusive gym he’s taken to using, but he catches sight of a membership card dangling from Mirage’s keyring, worn from use. Just their luck, then, that they would pick the same gym.

He relaxes, if only a little, and turns his attention back to the punching bag, striking out with precise punches once more. Mirage grumbles as he passes him by, headed to set his things down on another bench. Crypto doesn’t know what to say, or if he should say anything to begin with, but he’s sure that Mirage will take care of that for him, anyway. He’s right, as per usual.

“Man, you pick a gym thinking it’s gonna be nice and--and private , but nooo .”

Crypto is caught off-guard by the comment, and his fist rests against the bag to steady it once more. He turns to face Mirage, his brows slightly furrowed. “...This is a public gym , Witt.”

Mirage seems to realize the hypocrisy of what he’s said, pausing for a moment before waving a hand dismissively, trying to play it off. “Yeah, well, you know, it’s...It’s like three in the morning, what are you even doing here?” he asks, in a clear attempt to deflect the question. 

“...Training,” Crypto answers bluntly. He knows it’s not the answer that Mirage is looking for, but he finds himself chasing that spark of satisfied amusement each time he needles at him. 

“Well -- yeah , no shit, I mean-- you know what I mean ,” he insists. He shrugs out of his jacket as he speaks, revealing what looks to be an old worn shirt cut into a muscle tank, the sleeves cut off just at the shoulder and wider arm holes cut into the sides to allow for breathability.

Crypto realizes in that moment that he’s never seen Mirage out of his usual getup for the games, let alone with his arms bare. If he had , he wouldn’t have been so surprised to see just how built he really is. He’s all broad, toned muscle with a natural tan. The tone is darker on his face due to being exposed more often, but his arms are somehow still similarly dark despite him always wearing long sleeves. Either his DNA was just that good , or he spent a lot of time outdoors to compensate for the sun he got in the Games.

‘Probably just self-tanner,’ Crypto tells himself sternly as he turns back to the punching bag, landing a few blows in quick succession.

Mirage continues undeterred, as he fortunately seems to have missed Crypto looking him over. “Do you just not sleep , or…?”

Crypto keeps his gaze focused on the punching bag as he replies, his voice terse from the effort of continuous punching. “You are also here, Witt,” he points out. The deflection is equal parts habit born from an unwillingness to divulge personal information, intentional bluntness to continue to prod at Mirage, and an attempt to avoid contributing too much to the conversation lest he get pulled in. Bad enough that he was there specifically to avoid thinking about Mirage, bad enough that the man in question showed up in a fucking tank , and even worse still that he seemed dead-set on engaging in conversation.

“Yeah, but I run a bar,” Mirage is quick to counter. He has a point, but Crypto isn’t about to acknowledge that. Crypto picks up on the sound of footsteps behind him and shifts ever so slightly out of instinct, keeping him in his peripheral. The idiot is sauntering closer like he’s just won some sort of prize, which isn’t surprising given how he usually acts, but is infuriating all the same. 

“Then again,” he continues airily. “You nerd types don’t sleep much, huh.”

Crypto finds himself stopping yet again, this time not bothering to slow the swaying of the bag as he turns towards Mirage with narrowed eyes. “ Nerd types?” he asks, a hint of icy irritation coloring his words. He keeps his gaze focused pointedly on his face; the last thing he needed was for Mirage of all people to think he was checking him out.

“Yeah, you know,” Mirage continues on, unbothered. “Computer geeks. Smart guys. Nerdy types.”

Crypto eyes him for a moment before scoffing and shaking his head. “There are different types of intelligence . You know that, right?”

“Sure,” Mirage quickly counters. “Doesn’t change that you’re a nerd, though.” He’s sauntering closer, an infuriating and mischievous smirk pulling at his lips, and Crypto instinctively leans away with a scowl.

“ Right ,” he says. “And you’re still a child relying on playground insults to get the upper hand in a conversation,” he replies dryly, lips downturned as he crosses his arms.

“Whoa, whoa, hey .” Mirage holds his hands up defensively and stops his approach. “Look, I’m--I-I think we got off on the wrong foot here. Your drone was in my face when I opened the door, and I thought this place would be empty, and--a-and anyway , call it force of habit.”

Crypto eyes him for a moment, jaw tense, then sighs. “...Alright,” he says, uncrossing his arms and turning  back to the punching bag. Before he can get a single punch in, however, Mirage is already speaking again.

“But, you know, look at it this way; this could be a good thing!”

Crypto puffs out a frustrated sigh, and the fist he’d drawn back to hit the bag falls limply against it instead. He ducks his head forward, leaning it against the punching bag and letting his eyes fall closed. “And how , exactly, is this a good thing?”

MIrage pauses, the awkwardness of the moment palpable before he speaks again. “I mean...I-I dunno, none of us really talk , you know? I mean, aside from the robot, but he never shuts up --”

“I can’t imagine what that must be like for you,” Crypto responds dryly, but Mirage continues anyway. 

“--And he doesn’t exactly make for great conversio--conve--con--he’s not the best guy to chat with,” he corrects, huffing out a sigh. “I dunno, I figured we could maybe get to know each other or something.”

Crypto’s eyes open, and he stares at the floor for half a beat before responding. “No,” he says simply, straightening and moving to collect his things. He should have left as soon as he saw who it was. How stupid was he, anyway? Mirage was the Syndicate’s golden boy, after all, the star of the Apex Games and a fan favorite. If any of the Legends were likely to be connected to or working for the Syndicate, it was him. Even if he was... uncouth at times.

“Whoa, hey, come on .” Mirage follows after him, and Crypto’s jaw tenses again. He shoves his water bottle into his bag and zips it shut as Mirage continues to protest him leaving. “What’s so bad about that? What’s got you so wound up , huh? I mean, I tried to say hello on the ship on your first day and you nearly broke my damn arm-- ”

“You’re in danger of worse if you don’t leave me alone , Witt.” The words come of their own accord, a defensive knee-jerk response to the concept of being known . He feels a small stab of guilt at his own comment -- after all, the most likely situation was that Mirage truly was simply trying to talk to him and make friends (for some ungodly reason), which hardly deserved a threat as a response -- but he slings his bag over his shoulder anyway. It was better if he kept his distance. Safer . 

“Hey, wow . That’s a little much, don’t you think?”

Crypto casts him a lingering sidelong glance as he snatches up his jacket, considers replying, but  sighs instead and turns to leave. Hack flies down to join him, and Mirage follows despite the threat of physical harm; If Crypto were to credit him with anything, it would be the man’s damned tenacity .

“Hey, c’mon. Look, you’re obviously hiding something if you would twist my arm just for asking --”

Something in Crypto snaps. Maybe he’s just overwhelmed in the moment. Maybe it’s because he came to escape Mirage, only to have him turn up and refuse to leave him alone. Maybe it’s because he’s kept his distance from everyone so carefully over the past few years that he hasn’t had to deal with someone prying for information -- at least, not someone asking out of genuine interest, if that’s what this was. Maybe it was the struggle of trying to determine what was genuine and what was performative , of not knowing whether or not Mirage truly posed a threat to him. Maybe he’s sick of questioning every aspect of his life and every person he came into contact with. Maybe he just wanted some damned peace and quiet for once, far removed from the nightmare his life had become ever since Mila’s murder.

Either way, when he whirls to face Mirage, the mask is on. His gaze is narrowed, his brows furrowed, his nose wrinkled, and his lips sharply downturned. “ What do you want from me , Mirage? If I am hiding something, which is none of your business anyway , do you really think I would tell the village idiot who runs his mouth at every possible opportunity? Do you really think I would risk divulging whatever secret I may or may not have to the man that hounds me at every given opportunity? Do you think yourself so important that you are deserving of knowing every detail of my life, when I so clearly don’t want to give it?”

Mirage, initially, looks shocked. Maybe a little hurt, even, but that quickly fades and is replaced instead with a focused calm. He keeps his hands up, palms turned towards Crypto defensively. He waits a moment after he’s done, unblinking in the face of his sudden anger, and when he speaks it’s with a tone that Crypto hasn’t heard him use yet. His voice is lowered, calm, and surprisingly gentle , though there’s obvious intent behind his words.

“I think …” he starts, his gaze never leaving Crypto’s own. He doesn’t stutter as he continues, his voice even. “That you don’t mean that. And I think you should let me finish.”

Crypto eyes him for a long moment, hands tightening their grip around his jacket and the strap of his bag. He purses his lips, debates leaving, but can’t bring himself to commit to it in the moment. Mirage apparently takes it as his cue to continue, and Crypto doesn’t stop him; after all, if he was still willing to talk, after everything, he at least deserved that much.

“You’re obviously hiding something,” Mirage repeats, slowly lowering his hands. “But that’s none of my business. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. Deal?” 

Guilt swells and settles heavily in Crypto’s chest. His lips tense further in an effort to keep it from showing, but his expression softens at least a little. Mirage once again takes his silence as an answer of sorts, or at least permission to continue, and he does exactly that.

“Deal or not, I just--I don’t know. You seem lonely , kid. I mean, you’re in a gym alone with your drone out watching your back--”

“You’re here alone too,” Crypto quickly cuts in, defensive despite himself, but it only serves to prove Mirage’s point.

“And--see? That-- that right there , that’s what I’m talking about.” Crypto looks at him with clear confusion, and he presses on earnestly. “You’re constantly looking over your shoulder, you’re always on edge. I’ve seen you in the ring and on the dropship, and you never relax. I’m not saying we have to be friends , I’m not saying you have to tell me your secrets , but, you know…” He grows a little awkward as he trails off, raising a hand to rub the back of his neck. “I...get the feeling you don’t even want to be here. Not everyone does. I mean, it’s a bloodsport, it’s not like it’s pleasant , so it makes sense , I just--” He cuts off, seeming to realize he was getting off-topic, and clears his throat before continuing.

“Anyway, I-I just...if you do decide that you want any of that, or just to hang out or get a drink or something...o-or, you know, we could just spar or something? We keep getting matched up for the Games, may as well train together. Right?”

Mirage waits expectantly, but Crypto is unable to respond initially; he’s honestly in shock. Mirage is far more perceptive than he had initially given him credit for (which only serves to make him regret his previous insult more than he already did), and he seems genuine, all things considered. He glances up to Hack, who whirs in a quiet tone as if giving an actual answer, and heaves a sigh, shaking his head. He shouldn’t stay, should keep his guard up and maintain distance from the others...but he can’t bring himself to turn him down.

“...Fine,” he says, moving to set his things down on  another bench nearby. “We can train,” he confirms, his gaze fixed pointedly on his things as he sets them down with more care than necessary in an effort to avoid looking at him.

“Really?” MIrage asks, sounding surprised, but quickly corrects. “Cool. Gotta admit, I’ve been looking forward to showing you what I’ve got ever since that stunt you pulled on the drop ship,” he begins rambling on as if they hadn’t just had a whole awkward, personal (and yet not) interaction over the past few minutes. “Now that you can’t just surprise me like you did last time.”

Crypto gives a small smirk despite himself as he unzips his hoodie and shrugs it off. “Don’t be so sure, Witt. I’m full of surprises.”

Mirage smirks as he walks backwards towards a sparring mat. “Oh, I believe it. Bring it on, kid.”

Chapter Text

CHAMPIONS OF THE ARENA...AND LOVE?

By Tabitha Jones for Solace Magazine

As many of our readers well know, the hot new duo for the Apex Games is none other than Mirage and Crypto. What started as an amusing and seemingly friendly rivalry has blossomed into something much more in recent months; the two seem to work so seamlessly together that it’s hard to imagine anyone knocking them from their position at the top. 

Meeting them, however, paints a slightly different picture; the two couldn’t be more opposite in personality. Where we all know Mirage as the charismatic and lovable rogue, and Crypto as the dark and mysterious man of mystery, these are but glimpses of the truth. 

Thankfully for our readers, I was able to secure a dual interview with the both of them, as well as the opportunity to watch them train together (and don’t worry; we got pictures).

When you first meet Crypto, it’s hard not to be intimidated. He doesn’t speak much, and doesn’t need to; when he looks at you, it feels like you’re being picked apart by someone ten times more capable and dangerous than you could ever hope to be. However, once you get him talking, he is surprisingly polite and mild-mannered one-on-one (despite the fact that I’m quite certain he isn’t a fan of doing interviews), especially in comparison to many of his fellow Legends. This interesting duality only lends to the air of mystery about him, something I don’t think is going to change any time soon. He’s a master of deflection, and to this day we know very little about him aside from his name: Hyeon Kim. Even a database search pulls up next to nothing, and he doesn’t care to share any personal details.

When you talk to Mirage, you can’t help but feel comfortable. He’s friendly and approachable, but beyond that he has a sense of earnest honesty that makes you feel like you can trust him. Some of his fellow Legends may disagree with this assessment (see December’s issue, where I get each Legend’s perspective on the Mirage Voyage, the hover yacht that soon found a home in the World’s Edge arena, as well as its owner) , but I found his company to be nothing short of fun . He has a sort of energetic friendliness about him that would likely draw you in even on the darkest of days.

Unless, that is, you’re Crypto. The man seems to have a near immunity to the bright personality of his frequent teammate and fellow Champion, but this isn’t necessarily a bad thing; Mirage’s loud, boisterous humour is frequently met with quiet, deadpan witticism. While this seems to do little in the way of actually deterring Mirage, it does seem to reel him in when he’s operating on sheer bravado, grounding him and bringing him back to the real world with the rest of us. He is, after all, larger than life more often than not.

The basic dynamic of their banter differs little from what we see in the Games, but there is a familiarity between the pair that leads me to believe they spend more time together than they let on. Whether or not that is true is anyone’s guess, but you can make your own assumptions when you read the interview, which takes place in a fan favorite location in the World’s Edge arena: the Mirage Voyage.

A video of the interview is available on our website, at solacemagazine.net

Interviewer (Tabitha Jones): Before we begin, I wanted to take this time to thank the two of you once again for agreeing to meet with me today.

Mirage: Of course , happy to be here. Hey, anything for the fans, am I right, Crypto?

Crypto: ...Yes. Of course.

I: Great, glad to hear it. Now, the two of you have been matched on the same team with increasing frequency ever since Crypto’s debut back in late September. I’d like to see what things were like then versus now , almost five months later. What were your first impressions of one another? Mirage, you can go first.

M: Oh, you know. Kinda just thought he was a pain in the ass know-it-all when we first met. [Short laugh.] But, you know...he did alright in that first match, I guess.

[Crypto scoffs at this, but offers no further comment. He watches Mirage as he answers.]

I: I see. And now?

M: Well, he’s--he’s alright, I guess. I mean, he’s still a pain in my ass, heh, still a know-it-all, but...I mean, if we’re being honest here, all cards out on the table or whatever? He’s a good teammate. Reliable. Smart. He’s, you know, a good kid.

M: You can stop staring at me, Crypto.

[Crypto does not stop staring at Mirage.]

M: [Clears throat.] Anyway, like I was saying. I’m, uh, glad he joined the team. He’s a good person to have watching your back.

I: That’s quite the development. And you, Crypto? What was your first impression of Mirage?

[Mirage looks to Crypto expectantly. Crypto looks back to the interviewer.]

C: That he was an idiot.

I: I-- oh .

M: What? Seriously, Crypto?

C: It’s an honest answer.

I: Well...anything else?

C: No, nothing worth mentioning.

[Mirage glowers in Crypto’s direction. Crypto continues to ignore him.]

C: Actually, I apologize. I thought he was childish. Too loud. Brash. Egotistical.

I: Okay, and...now? Has anything changed?

C: Yes. I don’t think he’s an idiot. He’s a good teammate. Capable.

I: Do you still think he’s childish?

[Crypto seems to weigh his response before answering.]

C: ...Yes, at times.

M: Aw, Crypto, come on . I said a bunch of nice stuff about you.

C: Now is a good example.

[Mirage opens his mouth as if to say something, but seems to think better of it and falls silent instead.]

I: I see. 

C: He’s good with people. I’ll give him that.

I: Well, looks like you both have gotten to know each other pretty well over the past few months.

C: We fight and train together. It’s to be expected.

I: Oh, definitely. It’s also to be expected that the fans have taken a greater interest in the two of you since you’ve started working together, especially given that your win percentage has gone up since then, Mirage.

M: [Under his breath.] ...Yeah, yeah…

I: Some of the fans believe there’s something...more between the two of you.

M: I-- what? Are you kidding me?

C: [With concern.] What exactly do you mean, Ms. Jones?

I: Well...they think you two might be the first case of in-game romance. 

C: Excuse me?

I: Do you have a problem with that?

C: I--

M: Let me just, uh, cut in there real quick, hah. I think we’re both just a little... surprised .

C: I can speak for myself, Witt.

M: I know, I know. I’m just--you know. Surprised , yeah. Why ...would people think that?

I: Well...I think this best example here would be the winking.

M: The what?

C: Mueos? [trans: “The what?”]

I: You know...the winks? You guys have a habit of winking at each other.

[Both Legends stare at the interviewer blankly.]

I: What, you don’t know? Here, look. 

[The interviewer pulls up a video on her phone, a fan-made compilation of the two Legends winking at each other in various matches, as seen from the live feed cams. Most clips are of Mirage.]

C: That’s…

M: Coincidence, is what it is. C’mon, Tabby, level with me here. You’ve interviewed me I don’t even know how many times now, right?

I: Right, of course.

M: You know me. I’m Mirage! I just wink at people. It’s a thing I do . I’m just friendly. Crypto only does it when he’s being smart. 

I: I believe it, trust me. It’s just the fans--

M: And I totally get where they’re coming from, but take it from me: There’s nothing there .

(cont. on the next page.)

Crypto flips to the next page of the magazine with a scowl, shaking his head and tossing it aside. He leans forward from where he’s sitting at Witt’s bar, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his face fall into his hand with a heavy sigh.

“Aw, c’mon, Crypto. It’s not--it’s not that bad .” Mirage stands behind the bar, looking like the human equivalent of a wince. “I mean, it was bound to happen. The fans, man, phew . They can be a lot sometimes. A-and I mean a lot , like have you ever even read your fan mail? I mean...do--do you get…? You get...fan mail, right?” He chews on his bottom lip as he eyes the man across from him,  waiting for an answer for a moment before clearing his throat and trying again. “...Crypto? You there, buddy?”

“...Yeah.” Crypto doesn’t raise his head from where it rests in his hands, his fingers pushed up into his bangs. “I need a drink,” he announces, in the way of a blunt request.

“Right, a drink, yup. On it.” Mirage immediately steps back and pulls down a clean glass, making his drink with practiced ease. He skips the soju and goes straight for the liquor, sensing that Crypto is going to want something harder than beer at that moment. He sets it down on the bar and pushes it over to him gently, wiping his hands on a dish towel as he watches him. 

Crypto sighs as he drops a hand so he can eye the glass for a long moment, his lips pursed tightly. After a moment, he sits up, his free hand pushing back to comb through his hair as he takes the offered glass. He takes a long drink before setting it back down on the bar, slowly rotating it with his fingers as he stares down at it.

“Uh...Crypto?” Mirage begins, sounding uncertain. “Can you... say some--I-I mean, it really wasn’t that bad , I don’t...see why it’s--ya know, it’s just the fans .”

“Yeah.” Crypto doesn’t offer more of a response, raising the glass to his lips instead as he stares off distantly, gaze unfocused.

“Can you...maybe fill me in a bit here, babe? It’s--”

“Don’t.” Crypto pulls the glass away and holds it between his forefinger and thumb, his other three fingers raising as if to physically stop him from speaking. “...Don’t. It was one time , Witt.”

“Well...heh, more than once , if I remember correctly.” Mirage is wearing one of his infuriating and smug smirks when Crypto looks up, but it quickly falls as he sees the expression he’s wearing. He clears his throat again, picking up a glass to begin cleaning imaginary smudges off of it with his rag.

“ One time. But--” Crypto repeats sternly, but is cut off before he can continue.

“ Well... one and a half.”

“ Stop it, ” Crypto says, raising his glass with a sigh as he tries once again to continue. “ But because you can’t keep it in your pants and feel the need to constantly flirt during matches…”

“Aww, c’mon. You like it. Admit it,” he goads. The only response Crypto offers in return is a single quirked brow as he drinks from his glass again, pointedly refusing to look at the other man as he drinks. “Besides,” Witt continues. “It’s really not that bad . You’re not the first person people have thought I was dating. I mean--you would not believe how many people thought Wraith and I were an item. Besides, I ‘flirt’ with everyone --”

“Oh, really? Hadn’t noticed,” Crypto responds dryly before he can stop himself, and he immediately curses himself. He was supposed to be maintaining distance , dammit, and he was doing a worse job of it with every visit to the bar, sparring match, and -- god forbid -- match . He blamed it on Mirage. He had been honest when he said he was good with people; Crypto himself proved to be no exception.

“--So it’s not like--” For a brief, blissful moment, Crypto thought his comment had gone unheard. He should know better than to think himself lucky . His life was a testament to the opposite being true, after all. “Wait, wait, wait. What was that?”

Crypto huffs performatively, rolling his eyes. “Oh, here we go,” he says, waving the glass towards him dismissively.

“No, no, I think this is important,” Mirage insists, setting aside the glass he’d been fake-cleaning in favor of crossing his arms over the bar, leaning in closer to Crypto. “Was that... jealousy I detected, Crypto?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Crypto responds, casting him a sidelong glance as he drinks from his glass once more.

Witt’s smile only widens into an outright grin at the response. “ No , no, I think I’m onto something here,” he insists. “Besides, I’m good at people. Said so yourself,” he points out, reaching over to rap a knuckle against the cover of the discarded magazine.

“Mm, actually ,” Crypto begins, finally turning to face Witt once more, setting his glass down. “I said you were good with people. If you’re going to quote me, Witt, at least do me the service of quoting me correctly .” He smirks despite himself, raising the glass once more. “And, for the record, I regret saying it already.” Despite what he says, it’s obvious he’s teasing at this point, and though he hadn’t thought it possible, it seems to only make Witt’s smile grow wider.

“Uh-huh. Sure, babe.”

Crypto’s smirk falls, and he sighs. “ Mirage --” he begins to protest, but he’s cut off before he can continue.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But seriously . I know you’re newer to the whole ‘fame’ thing, but it’s really not bad . They’re just stirring up rumors to get more readers. Nothing is going to come from this, okay? Promise .”

Crypto sits there quietly for a moment, lips pursed as he weighs whether or not to trust him on the subject. He ultimately decides to, if only because there’s nothing he can do to change the article at this point if he wanted to, and because Mirage has been a household name of sorts in the Outlands for some time now, so it stands to reason that his experience holds some weight in the given situation. In lieu of answering him, however, he gives a low hum and nudges his glass with a finger.

“Getting close to empty,” he hints.

Witt smirks in response, pulling away from the bar and reaching for another glass. “Got it.” 

As his back is turned, Crypto allows himself a small smile, glancing down at the drink he’s nearly finished while he waits. By the time Mirage has turned to face him again, the smile is hidden around the rim of his glass. Instead of just one drink, however, MIrage sets down two shots next to it, pushing one closer to him. Crypto eyes it suspiciously, then glances up to him with a raised brow. “...What’s this?” he asks.

“Best brandy in the house, is what that is.”

“No, I mean why the shot?”

“Oh, I know,” Mirage responds coyly, raising his own in a toast. Crypto sighs as his own habitual teasing is turned back on him, but takes the shot glass nonetheless and holds it up expectantly.

“To a night free of nosy interviewers,” Mirage proclaims, and Crypto breaths out a quiet sigh of relief.

“ Yeah . I can drink to that,” he replies, clinking the shot glasses together and raising his to his lips. Mirage eyes him expectantly, though he isn’t sure why; he assumes it’s to see what he thinks of the brandy. He’s wrong. Once he’s emptied the contents of the shot glass, Mirage speaks up again, smirking mischievously as he adds to the toast before taking his own.

“And to more than one time . Well, more than one and a half.”

Crypto nearly chokes on the liquor, but by some miracle manages to keep it down. He pitches forward, a hand pressing to his chest and the other raising to cover his mouth as he struggles to finish swallowing it down. He coughs once he’s safely able, eyes watering slightly. “ Witt-- ” he chokes out between barely-suppressed coughing, voice raspy.

Witt’s laugh echoes through the empty bar, but he quickly fixes up a glass of water. “Aw, don’t get all choked up about it,” he teases, setting the water down. Crypto musters up his best glower in response, but his eyes are still watery and he can’t quite speak yet, so he only earns another laugh in response. He takes the water and sips it with whatever remaining dignity he can muster, sighing as he finally settles down. 

“... You ...are the worst,” he finally manages, voice still slightly strained from the aftermath of the toast. On the plus side, nearly choking to death on his shot is ample excuse for any redness that may or may not have been coloring his cheeks.

“Mm, if you say so. I’ll still see you tonight. My place, 2:30 AM. Don’t be late, ‘kay?”

Crypto swallows thickly and takes another drink of his water, not trusting himself to speak in that moment. He wants to believe himself capable of turning him down, but he knows without a single doubt in his mind that he will be at Witt’s door as instructed, and likely early . He just isn’t sure how he’s supposed to wait that long, given the persistent sense of need he now feels. He holds up a hand when Witt looks like he’s about to speak again, his other hand raising to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“...Just...give me a minute,” he all but pleads, and Mirage thankfully agrees, chuckling as he steps away to get ready to open the bar. Crypto sighs and turns his attention to his second drink, making quick work of it; he finds himself wanting to get the hell out of there as soon as humanly possible, but he also wants to stick around for some infuriating reason. He decides on the former, if only so he can preserve whatever dignity he has left until he inevitably shows up at Witt’s that night.

He chances a glance at the clock as he finishes his drink, and it serves to further convince him to leave. The bar will be opening soon, after all, and he’s loath to give anyone more reason to talk . “What do I owe you?” he asks, sounding tired.

“Nothing,” Witt responds, and Crypto shoots him a look of mixed confusion and mild irritation. “Seriously,” he insists. “I can cover a couple drinks... especially considering you’re not going to be able to walk come morning.”

The words are like a shock to his system. He’s not sure where this bold new side of Mirage came from, but he’s at least relatively certain it’s his own fault; after all, no one forced him to show up at Elliot’s one night and all but insist that they hook up. He can’t even pretend he regrets it -- despite the logical side of his brain all but screaming that this is a bad idea , he’s absolutely, thoroughly turned on.

“I--I hate you. You know that, right?” he asks, but his words aren’t taken seriously. 

“No, you don’t.” 

The smug smirk on Witt’s lips is enough to drive him wild, and Crypto makes a show of rolling his eyes yet again before making  a beeline for the door; he needed to get the hell out of there, if he wanted any hope of preserving his sanity long enough to make it to Witt’s that evening.

“Hey, Crypto,” Witt calls out from behind the bar, just as Crypto’s hand touches the door. He stops, turning to face him with a brow raised inquisitively. 

“Yeah?”

“See you tonight?” he asks, and then he fucking winks , because of course does, and Crypto wonders for what feels like the thousandth time why he’s attracted to the man. He gives a low groan of frustration, rolling his eyes and shouldering open the door as he leaves, Mirage’s laughter echoing through the bar behind him.

Chapter Text

“ Move, move, move! ” The light and friendly tone that Elliott usually used had been replaced with one of urgency; given the circumstances, it was more than warranted. The day’s match had been one incident after another, with the fights feeling nearly nonstop since the moment they dropped. He was paired with Crypto and Ajay, and had been the one to pick their drop location. He’d chosen Thermal Station, assuming it was well enough off the drop path to be a safe spot to loot without worrying about being too far from the next ring.

He wasn’t the only one who’d had that thought, it seemed. They’d landed with two other squads, and it had been pure chaos as everyone scrambled to get a weapon and try to finish off their opponents. Crypto had been quick to pull out Hack, which was expected -- he always seemed to be one step ahead of the rest of them, after all -- and the drone gave them the advantage they needed to turn the tide and come out on top. Once they were decently looted, they started the trek towards the ring, which led them...to Harvester.

That had been another disaster. Even with Crypto’s drone and Elliott’s own decoys, they barely made it out of there alive; if it weren’t for Ajay and DOC, there was a pretty good chance that they wouldn’t have. Unfortunately, by the time the fighting was done and they were patched up enough to get going, there was only more bad news.

“The ring is close ,” Crypto had warned, his gaze focused on the holoscreen in front of his face as his drone passed around to check for enemies. “I don’t see anyone behind us. We need to move.”

“Perfect. Couldn’t agree more.” Mirage’s mood was admittedly a little soured by the circumstances of the match, but they were all more or less in the same boat. As they exited one wing of Harvester to push in the direction of the next safe zone, Mirage got to see just how close the ring truly was. Once outside, the hum was easy to hear, almost deafening as it drew nearer with each passing second. It was that exact realization that spurred Elliot into shouting commands to his team to usher them forward.

Once they survived the match (because they would survive it, dammit), he would deny any responsibility for the three of them being forced into every hot zone in the match. At that moment, however, he was feeling pretty damn low. He would leave the planning to Crypto next time. Probably.

Normally, even sprinting from Harvester to the small town outside of Sorting wouldn’t have been much of a feat, but the three of them were feeling the effects of the hectic match, and they were tired . What they really needed was a moment to catch their breath, but it didn’t look like that was happening any time soon.

Elliot glances behind him as he slides down the ramp from the center of Harvester to the next wing, noting Ajay hot on his trail and Crypto bringing up the rear. He spares himself a few moments to worry about his teammates, but the moment his feet hit the ground at the end of the ramp he’s springing back to his feet and charging forward. There’s no time for second-guessing or worrying; besides, that’s Ajay’s job. There certainly isn’t time to linger on the fact that Crypto is in the rear, closest to the ring. He is the scout, after all, he usually ended up the last in “line” during situations like these. It’s normal, it’s fine. Just fine .

Thankfully, they make it to the small town outside of Sorting just in time, with the ring set to end just outside the first building through the tunnel. Elliott throws his shoulder into the doors to push them open and immediately raises his gun. He moves through the building with purpose, checking around each corner. “Clear,” he calls out, but doesn’t relax; the sound of fighting outside is clearly discernible, and it sounds close. They won’t get to rest just yet.

Crypto runs through the doors and shuts them behind him, leaning his back against them and bracing his hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath. Elliott walks back into the main area of the building, nodding to him and to Ajay. “You guys alright?” Crypto doesn’t answer verbally, merely raising a hand and nodding before dropping to a crouch, already reaching for Hack to scope out the area.

“Just catchin’ my breath is all,” Ajay says, and Elliott nods in her direction.

“Well, better catch it quick. By the sounds of it, we’ve got at least two squads between us and the next ring, and they’re close.” 

Crypto has already deployed Hack, untwisting the remote he uses to control it, the green holo display coming up in front of him. “We should attack now,” he says, though he’s still clearly out of breath. “While they’re weak. If we wait too long, we risk giving them the advantage.”

“Yup, sounds about right,” Elliott replies, sighing. “Alright, kid. You got an EMP ready?” he asks, moving to the side exit of the building and bracing his shoulder against the door, gun held at the ready. Ajay joins him, nodding in his direction.

“Yes,” Crypto responds simply, sending Hack over their way. Elliot’s gaze lingers on him where he’s crouched, brows pinched together. Whether it’s from exhaustion, pain, or focus isn’t clear, but Elliott’s willing to bet it’s a combination of all three. This match was among the rougher ones he’d fought, but he was grateful that his squad had survived with him, at least. 

“Alright.” Elliott takes a deep breath to steady himself, and flashes Ajay a winning smile. “Let’s go show these guys what Champions really look like.” He bursts through the door with Ajay hot on his heel, Crypto’s drone flying ahead of them to find where the fight is. As they approach, Hack soars overhead, deploying an EMP with perfect timing. It honestly feels pretty badass, all things considered; it probably made for a great shot for the drones broadcasting the match.

The fight doesn’t last long. They get their first actual stroke of luck that evening when there’s only two other squads; one of them is down to one person, and the other iss down to two and hurting. Once the EMP shocks them all, it's easy pickings. 

“Don’t worry about joining, Crypto, we got this,” Elliot calls over the comms. “Mind scoping ahead to make sure we’re clear?”

“Yeah, on it,” Crypto says, and Elliott watches as Hack zooms away out of the corner of his eye. He and Ajay finish off the last members of the other squad and move forward to begin looting.

“There’s a squad in range...but I don’t see where they are yet,” Crypto’s voice came over their comms again, lowered and urgent. 

“Yeah, well, let’s meet back up. I’d rather we were all together than--”

“Crypto,” Ajay cuts in, sounding far too serious for someone whose team had already fought and survived against 7 other squads. “Have you checked behind you?”

“What? He’s got the ring on his back, Ajay, it’s…” Elliott trails off as he realizes her point. The game had been so hectic, it was hard to forget that the ring behind Crypto was only the first. It was a tickle compared to most of the damage they took in the games.

The comms are quiet, and Elliott watches as Hack doubles back to check the direction they’d come from. “...I mean, it’s still not likely, right? Second ring is about to come, they’d be as good as dead at this point…” He’s rambling because he’s nervous, his words spoken in little more than a mutter as he climbs on the roof of the closest building. He pulls out his rifle and aims down the sights despite telling himself it’s pointless; the chances of him seeing something before Crypto is absurd and besides , no one watched their back like Crypto. The chances of anything happening are next to none, he’s just paranoid after all the nonstop fighting.

Right?

“ Ssi-bal. ” Elliott has heard that enough to know it’s a curse, and he finds the source of Crypto’s distress almost immediately when Hack picks up on none other than the missing squad, pushing through the ring -- and entirely too close to Crypto’s building. 

“Crypto, get out of there!” he shouts, as if his voice carrying will somehow help get him moving. In truth, he hopes to serve as a distraction; he immediately begins firing off shots at the other team, not caring that they aren’t likely to be accurate long-range with his 301 and his current scope.

“Shit, there’s a--!” 

Whatever Crypto was going to say is cut off, the sound of an explosion booming through the small town. Elliot’s heart stops, and he begins calling out over the comms as he continues to take shots at the approaching squad, doing his resolute best to hide the panic he feels. 

“Crypto? Crypto , you there, buddy? Now’s not the time to be playing mime, okay?”

“Elliott,” Ajay is calling for his attention again, and he can’t help the sharpness of his tone when he answers.

“ What, Ajay?” he snaps, still firing at the approaching squad to keep them at bay. They haven’t made it past the ring yet thankfully, which means they’re still hurting. If he can just wear them down enough--

“Fourty-five seconds, Elliott.” He pauses, glancing over as her words set in. The second ring was coming. She continues hesitantly, reaching out to touch his arm. “...I don’t want to lose two teammates today, ya understand?”

He recoils from her touch, turning his attention back to the approaching squad with a scowl. “Lose--what? You haven’t lost any teammates , Ajay, Crypto is right over there --” His stomach twists uncomfortably as reality begins to set in. He looks back at her, dread settling in the pit of his stomach. “He’s not--you can’t be serious --”

“Elliott, you know as well as I do that he just took a grenade, likely at close range. Ring’s about to be closin’ in now, our best shot at survivin’ is to keep that other team at bay and let ‘em die in the ring before we make a run for it.”

The other squad is forgotten for a moment as he registers what she’s suggesting, his gaze unfocused and faraway: She wants to leave Crypto behind. She wants to leave Crypto, the man that drove him wild in the best and worst ways possible, to die . 

His mind helpfully supplies what that would mean. No more late night knocks on his door. No more stealing little moments of affection from a man that, despite how hard he tried to pretend otherwise, was clearly terrified of letting himself be happy with someone else. No more quiet moments where he stole glances from his peripheral, when Crypto didn’t think he could see him, or the way he looked at him. 

He wouldn’t get to see how he flushed when Elliot showered him with praise between the sheets. He wouldn’t get to tease him when he caught glimpses of the man behind the mask. He wouldn’t get to finish watching that stupid KDrama with him, the one where he honestly didn’t even know what the hell was going on half the time (since when he asked for subtitles, Crypto turned them on in Korean ) but was invested in nonetheless. He wouldn’t get to pester him about his messy apartment, wouldn’t get to surprise him one day by helping straighten up. Wouldn't get to see his efforts to prove himself trustworthy pay off in each little piece of his life that Crypto was willing to share with him. 

He’d had to work so hard just to get Crypto to let him stay the night , even after everything. His hard work was rewarded with the absolute pleasure of getting to see what Crypto was like in the mornings: He was either all sleepy smiles and half-muttered sentences as he drifted in and out of sleep, or mussed and grouchy, squinting and glowering at any light source that dared oppress him before he had coffee and properly woke up. He loved both moods equally, loved each tiny little glimpse he was allowed into who Crypto really was.

It hits him, then: He loves him .

He loves him.

That settles for a moment, and distress is quickly replaced with angry determination. Crypto, who is so obviously used to being alone, would certainly not be left to die that way.

“No,” he answers, and something in his expression seems to catch Ajay off-guard.

“Elliott, the ring is comin’--”

“Then you better give me some extra heals,” he says, ducking into cover and reloading his gun. “Because I’m not leaving him behind.” She looks like she’s about to say something else, but he doesn’t give her the chance. “Look, you can waste your time arguing with me, or you can give me some cover fire ‘till I get over there so I can take them out. But I’m going.” With his gun reloaded, he slings it over his back, holding out his hand expectantly.

She eyes him for a beat, then sighs, reaching to retrieve some syringes. “Curse you for bein’ the fool that ya are, Witt. Here,” she says, slapping them into his hand. “Should be enough to get ya back, granted you don’t lose the fight.”

“I won’t,” he assures her, but she presses on regardless.

“I’ll give you cover fire, but I’m not stayin’ in the ring. I’ll wait for ya with DOC just outside. You make it back , ya hear me?”

He nods, shoving the syringes into a pocket in his jumpsuit before dropping down from the roof and taking off in Crypto’s direction. A part of him knows she’s right, to some extent; the best play probably would be to leave him behind, but he just...can’t. It’s the reason they’re not supposed to get close with the other Legends, after all; it makes calls like that so much harder.

God, he better make it out of there. The last thing he wants is to become some sort of cautionary tale against caring for people . Games or not, that’s the last thing he wants to stand for.

He busts in through the back door of the building and jumps over the bar counter. Gunfire sounds from either side of the building, which means that Ajay is doing a good job at providing the cover fire she’d promised. He heads straight for the front door, time slowing as he seeks out Crypto; he has to see him for himself, has to know there’s still some hope of the both of them making it out of there alive. 

He sees the front doors -- or rather, where the front doors once stood, as they’ve been shattered from the impact of the grenade. Debris is everywhere, but he can see Crypto’s legs on the ground. They aren’t moving. He tells himself it’s fine , forces himself to round the corner, and tries and fails not to hold his breath in anticipation.

His stomach drops. Crypto is there, and in one piece, but it’s easy to see he’s in pretty bad shape. His normally stark-white jacket is covered in dirt and blood has seeped through from various wounds, the most prominent of which is a piece of metal shrapnel from the door sticking out of his shoulder. His head is slumped forward, hair falling forward to cover his face, but blood mats the shorter strands of hair on one side, and it’s run down his neck, making the neckline of his shirt stick to his chest where it’s begun to soak it up. Hack’s controller is on the ground next to a limp hand, broken. 

‘Man, that’s gonna piss him off,’ he thinks to himself, but the thought brings him nothing but despair. It would only piss him off if he was alive , after all.

He feels like he’s frozen in time, taking in the sight of Crypto's broken body, but he’s snapped back to reality when he finds the sliver of hope he’d been looking for; Crypto’s chest rises, then falls, if only barely.

A blaring alarm alerts him to the next ring’s imminent progression, and he steps in front of Crypto, drawing his 301. The offending team has abandoned their cover in the hopes of making a run for it before the next ring can finish them off, but Elliott doesn’t give them that chance. He’s already shot one down before the others have realized he’s there; even then, they’re too distracted by his decoy to shoot at the actual threat.

The ring hums as it draws closer, the sound near-deafening as the wall of red approaches. He shrugs his gun over his shoulder again and turns his attention to Crypto, quickly pulling a syringe from his pocket and stabbing it into his shoulder. “C’mon, kid, stay with me,” he breathes out. The syringe’s contents are emptied, and Crypto shifts slightly with a pained expression, though his eyes don’t open.

“Yeah, you know…” Elliott mutters, his chest tightening in anticipation as the ring envelops them, and the first sharp jab of pain that comes with it jolts through his body. He hisses quietly, jabs another syringe into Crypto. “...Probably best you’re not awake for this, anyway.”

He breathes out a sigh as the second syringe empties, tossing it aside. “God, I hope this doesn’t--I don’t know, make things worse ,” he says aloud to himself, gripping one of Crypto’s arms and slinging it over his shoulder. He stands with a grunt of effort, Crypto draped over his shoulders in a soldier’s carry, and begins jogging forward. He’s soon panting from the effort, and it takes some finagling to pull another syringe from his jumpsuit without dropping Crypto, but it’s not nearly as difficult as trying to administer it without slowing to a stop completely. After a moment of shuffling around to make it work, he jabs the needle into Crypto's thigh before tossing it aside and picking up the pace once more.

“You know, if you were awake…” he says aloud, pacing his breathing as he continues. “You’d probably tell me to quit wasting my breath. But that’s the smart thing to do in this situation, huh? Actually, you’d probably be on Ajay’s side in this whole mess, wouldn’t you?” he asks aloud, knowing Crypto isn’t even awake, let alone in good enough shape to answer. He stumbles as the ring shocks him once more, and he pulls out two more syringes as he approaches the hill that will lead them down to Geyser, where Ajay is hopefully waiting for them. Man, he hopes he didn’t get her killed. 

He jabs the first syringe into Crypto; if he’s feeling the burn from the ring, he can only imagine that it’s ten times worse for Crypto, even if the poor guy isn’t awake to actively feel it. “Yeah, you probably would,” he continues on, wincing as the ring sends a shock through his system again, causing him to grit his teeth. “Nngh, yeah, but you know, that’s your thing. Making the smart move. Logic over emotion. Never been too good at that, myself,” he explains aloud, tossing aside the emptied syringe and injecting himself with the next one as he continues trudging forward. He pauses at the top of the hill and takes a moment to catch his breath. "Hey, there it is. Geyser. It's all downhill from here, Crypto. Heh, get it? 'Cause... you know. Or--or you would , if you...were... awake." He begins trudging down the hill, disappointed when the incline somehow only makes it harder to carry him.

"You were probably right, y'know, when you called me the village idiot," he continues, tossing aside the syringe and giving a grunt of effort as he adjusts Crypto's position on his shoulders. "This was stupid, but...I-I don't know. Couldn't leave you like that. Kinda...get the feeling that no one ever has your back, really. 'Cept for your drone, maybe, but--you know, can't really replace people ." At that point, he's only talking because it's something to focus on, something to distract him from the strain the ring is taking on his body. "And--y-you know what, actually? Screw the smart move. If you’re so damn smart, why didn’t you watch your back this time, huh?” He grunts through the last word as he adjusts his hold on Crypto again, trying not to think about how much heavier his feet feel with every step he takes. 

He doesn’t receive an answer.

“Yeah, yeah, I know…” he breathes out, fumbling for more syringes. He pulls out his final two, repeats the process of sticking the first into Crypto as he makes his way to the bottom of the hill. He catches the sight of bullet spray on the back end of Geyser, and sighs in relief. If they’re lucky, they can avoid getting jumped as soon as they get out of the ring, at least. “...It’s ‘cause you were watching ours ,” he finishes quietly, tossing aside the emptied syringe. He pauses before administering the second syringe to himself, glances over his shoulder to where he can see a still-unconscious Crypto out of his peripheral, blood from his head wound now running across his face due to the different angle. That meant the bleeding hadn’t stopped yet. 

He weighs his options for half a moment, grimaces, and then sticks it into Crypto’s thigh once more. He’ll survive. For Crypto’s sake, if nothing else. He tosses the syringe aside, and begins jogging towards Geyser with renewed effort.

“Elliot, I see ya. Over here.” He glances to the edge of the ring, where Ajay is using a cluster of rocks to keep her hidden from the fighting squads on the other side of Geyser. 

He breathes out a sigh of relief, and finds a final burst of energy to get him past the edge of the ring and to Ajay. He stumbles to his knees with a grunt just as he reaches the cover, grunting as he shifts to set Crypto down. Ajay is quick to help, and he’s all too willing to let her take over, laying Crypto out carefully. 

“Here, let DOC help ya out,” she says, activating the med bot without ever taking her eyes off Crypto. 

Elliott winces slightly as DOC hooks a needle into him, but he soon finds himself relaxing as he’s pumped full of whatever drugs Ajay kept in the thing. God, he loved technology. And science . Whatever made him work.

“Man, I’m so happy to see you I could cry,” he breathes out, resting his back against the rocks and allowing his eyes to fall closed for a brief moment. 

“Mm, well, ya lucky ya made it out of there,” Ajay chides, guiding another tendril from DOC over to hook up to Crypto as she assesses his condition.

“I was talking to the robot,” Elliott retorts, prompting a short bark of laughter from Ajay. He cracks his eyes open, if only to see the dirty look he’s earned from her before he chuckles, resting a hand over his chest. “Oh, by the way. Remind me to thank Nat for creating the damn ring . Maybe I’ll just--just leave a, uh, flaming pile of-of prowler crap at her door. Or-or-- something , I dunno. Y’know, it’s wild to think that she volunteers to get zapped by that thing,” he points out, picking his head up from where it had been resting against the rock wall. 

“ Rich, comin’ from you,” Ajay says dryly. “But I get the feelin’ she don’t stand in it too much,” Ajay replies, then nods her head in his direction. “But hush now. Ya hear that?”

“Hear what?” Elliot asks, sitting upright and reaching for his gun on instinct.

“ Exactly .” 

As if on cue, the announcer’s voice echoes through Geyser. “ Two squads remain. ”

“ Shit. ”

“Yeah,” Ajay says, turning her attention back to Crypto, focusing on the piece of shrapnel in  his shoulder. “Got any bright ideas left, Witt? It’s us an’ them.”

Elliott takes a deep breath and lets it out in a slow sigh, pulling DOC’s IV free and shifting so that he’s crouched on one knee. “...Yeah, actually.”

“Oh, really? An’ what’s that?” she asks, clearly not believing him. “Bad enough we’re a man down, but even after I patch him up, he’ll be in no shape for fightin’--”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I got it.”

“ Wha-- ” she turns to face Elliott fully, presumably so he can see the clear disbelief etched on her face. “What d’ya mean, ya got it?” she asks. Elliot thinks the words sound more like a threat than a question, but he presses on nonetheless.

“I mean ,” he says, reloading his gun from his earlier fight. He snaps the mag into place, and looks at her pointedly. “ I got it. I just need a distraction, something to bring them in closer so I know where they are. I’ll take care of them from there.”

She eyes him for a long moment, then sighs, apparently giving up on arguing with him. “It’s a wonder ya still alive, Witt,” she says, sucking her teeth before turning back to Crypto. “But if it’s a distraction ya need…”

She grabs the piece of shrapnel lodged in Crypto’s shoulder and gives it a fierce yank. Crypto’s eyes fly open and he gives a sharp yell of pain, surging upright. Mirage winces sympathetically, but can’t deny that it’s kind of nice to see him awake and moving, even if it’s because he’s probably feeling a lot of pain in the moment.

Ajay’s hands are immediately on Crypto’s shoulders, pushing him back down. “ Hush now, ya hear? Ya need to stay awake anyway, but there’s squads around.” Her words seem to cut through whatever haze of pain Crypto is surely feeling, as he clenches his teeth and presses his lips together. He can’t fully quiet down, however, a drawn-out, shuddering and pained groan leaving him. Ajay makes quick work of attending to his shoulder, glancing over her shoulder to Elliott.

“That good enough for ya?” she asks as she applies pressure to the wound in Crypto’s shoulder. 

“What? I’m already gone, Che.” His decoy offers a sly wink as it flickers and fades, and Mirage watches through his scope with a smirk as she rolls her eyes and returns her attention to Crypto. He’s on a nearby building, crouched on the domed roof for cover, and it’s easy to spot the enemy team as they come rushing in. They clearly expect an easy fight. He clicks the 301 over to single fire, and sends a decoy to begin running behind the team to get their attention once he’s begun firing. 

He lines up his shot, and pulls the trigger.

It's not surprising to learn that Crypto leaves the med bay before he’s cleared for release, but it’s still a disappointment when Elliott stops by to visit only to find that he’s gone. It only takes a little bit of sweet talking with the receptionist to find out what happened: he snuck out without anyone even noticing, and before he’d finished being treated. Elliott, again, is unsurprised. He thanks her for the information and makes a quick exit, driving straight to Crypto’s place. 

He hesitates at the door, suddenly unsure if he’s making the right move. He’s probably sleeping , for starters, and likely wouldn’t appreciate being woken up. On the other hand, based on what the receptionist told him, Crypto’s still hurting and could likely use some help taking care of himself. Besides, everyone liked having someone around for support when they were in bad shape, right? 

Somehow, he got the feeling that Crypto would be an exception.

He raises a fist anyway, raps his knuckles against the door, and waits. He braces his hands on his hips, looking around nonchalantly. It’s not...the best neighborhood, and it’s certainly not the first time he’s noticed as much. Not that he’s worried , of course, for himself or for Crypto -- at least, not normally , but given his current state it was a little worrisome. He spots a neighbor a few apartments down as they exit their apartment, offers a tight-lipped smile and a friendly wave that receives nothing but a dark look in response. Elliott frowns, turns back to the door, and knocks again. He almost gets impatient before he remembers that walking likely isn’t the easiest thing for Crypto currently.

Should he feel guilty? Maybe. Probably. Maybe not? He’s there to help, after all. He doesn’t know.

He glances back up to the general area where he knows a small camera is hidden so Crypto can see who’s at his door, waits expectantly for a minute longer. He sighs, raises a fist, and knocks--

The door unlocks and opens mid-knock, and Elliot’s greeted with a very disgruntled Crypto, who certainly looks worse for wear. One eye is swollen almost completely shut, his arm is in a sling, and he’s covered in scrapes and nasty-looking bruises. He realizes a beat too late that he’s openly grimacing and his fist is still raised from where he was knocking. He makes an attempt to self-correct, opening his hand in a wave instead.

“Hah, heyyy , Crypto. That looks-- ouch ,”  he says, offering a sympathetic wince as if it will make his initial response better. “How’re you-- christ , is that a gun?” he asks, looking to where a Wingman sits in the waistband of Crypto’s joggers, his shirt tucked in behind it. Again, he probably shouldn’t be surprised, but somehow he still is. Crypto looks down at the gun pointedly and looks up at him with a raised brow. He gets the meaning: Yes , it is a gun . “I-I mean--you-- saw it was me, right?” he asks, giving a nervous chuckle. The gun surely wasn't meant for him ...was it?

“Yes,” Crypto answers simply, and shuffles into the apartment, leaving the door open. Elliott stares after him blankly; is he really going to leave it at that? Crypto pulls the gun from his waistband, and Elliott instinctively tenses, mind racing as he tries to figure out what he possibly could have done to piss him off -- the only thing he can come up with is waking him up, but surely that doesn’t actually warrant bodily harm, right? Then again, this was the guy that had nearly broken his arm when he’d first tried to say hello, and he had shown up out of the blue when he was--

His thoughts are cut short when Crypto sets the gun down on his bedside table carefully, glancing back at him. “But I already had the gun.”

“...Oh. Right, hah, o-of course.” He gives another nervous chuckle and tries to ignore how foolish he feels in the aftermath, taking the open door as an invitation to follow Crypto inside. He shuts it behind him, locks it, and glances back to Crypto, watching as he shuffles towards the kitchen.

Whatever pain he must be in -- and Elliott imagines it must be significant, given the extent of the injuries and the fact that he likely didn’t get any pain meds before he headed home-- is well-hidden, all things considered. Elliott picks up on the little details, however, the stiffness in his posture, the way that he doesn’t take full steps as he moves further into the apartment. The small touch to his injured arm as if to stop from jostling it, the way he tenses when he accidentally raises his good arm too far when reaching for a glass. Crypto sighs, turns on the faucet with the cup still in hand, and holds it under the stream, filling it up most of the way before pulling it away. He chugs most of it down before refilling it again and turning off the faucet, moving to his couch. His face is tense from strain as he sits, holding the glass of water in his lap. He's quiet for a moment before turning a very pointed gaze back to Elliott. 

Shit . He’s been staring. He quickly averts his gaze, clearing his throat as he looks around the apartment and wanders further in. “You, uh...need anything? Anything I can--I dunno, help with? Can I get you anything?”

It seems to have been the wrong thing to say. Crypto sighs, looks away. “I’m fine , Elliott.” Even his voice is raspy; he has to be hurting way worse than he’s letting on.

Elliott purses his lips, eyes him knowingly, and draws closer. Each step is drawn out, like a lazy sort of saunter as he makes his way nearer. He grabs the sole chair perched at a small dining table as he goes, dragging it over to the couch. He sets it down in front of it, turning it so the back is facing Crypto, and straddles it, crossing his arms over the back.

Crypto eyes him warily, shifts a little uncomfortably, but doesn’t say anything. Good. Elliott has some stuff he wants to say (or he thinks he does -- he's second-guessing himself a bit, but valiantly doing his best to press on regardless), and he’s going to say them. Or some of them, at least, depending on how well the conversation is received. He feels pretty confident about what he’s going to say right up until he’s preparing to actually speak, at which point he reels himself in -- he doesn’t want to be aggressive, or even stern, really. He just wants to help . To be there.

“...You know you don’t have to do everything alone, right?” he asks, his voice softer than he’d originally intended, but he rolls with it. Crypto’s brows quirk upwards before he’s carefully schooling his expression into something difficult to read -- the wounds obscuring his features certainly work in Crypto's favor, at least in that regard. It's frustrating, but certainly not something Elliott can hold against him. He doesn’t receive a response, so he presses on.

“I just--you know. You took a beating the other day. Let me-- help out , okay?” Well, that certainly feels less impressive than he’d intended , but in his defense, Crypto isn’t talking. In fact, he still isn’t talking, he’s just... looking at him. He sort of wishes he’d waited until Crypto had healed up a bit, so he could at least have a shot at figuring out what’s going through his head in that moment (not that it was an easy thing to do ever ), but he is pretty determined to hold his ground anyway.

He waits for a response, and whatever confidence he’d felt entering the conversation begins to wane. He shifts in the seat, sucks at his teeth, and clears his throat, all in a vain effort to fill the pressing silence. There's judgement in Crypto's eyes, a look Elliott had seen countless times before and, as so many times before, it makes him start second guessing all his life choices leading up to that very moment. Just as he’s preparing to speak, Crypto interjects, almost as if he knows Elliott couldn't wait a moment longer.

“...Elliott,” he begins, and the way he says his name is enough to give him pause. His voice is unusually soft, and quieter than usual, the slight rasp only serving to add to the intensity it carries. Elliott stills immediately, meeting his eyes.

“...Yeah?” he asks, his voice naturally dropping in volume to match Crypto’s.

“...What happened during the match? How did…?” For some reason, the question has Elliott’s stomach tying into knots, and he swallows thickly. Maybe it’s how he’s asking, softly and like he’s almost afraid to know. The question somehow feels vulnerable , like he is taking a risk by seeking an answer. “I don’t...remember much, after the grenade.”

Some part of Elliott feels grateful that he doesn’t remember, hopes that means that he didn’t hear his incessant rambling while being carried to safety -- at least some of the more personal things he wanted to say when Crypto was conscious enough to remember them properly. He clears his throat, responds in a similarly quiet tone. “...What do you remember?” he asks, watching him closely.

Crypto looks away, brows pinching together in concentration. He gives a quiet sigh. “We found the squad. I saw them throw the grenade through my drone...backed out, tried to move away...knew it was too late.” He purses his lips, his eyes darkening -- or eye , since the other could hardly be seen through the swelling. “...Should have been watching my back,” he mutters, and Elliott is quick to interject.

“Yeah, well--you were kinda busy watching ours , so.”

Crypto looks at him again, and it stirs something in Elliott, makes his chest ache , though he can’t quite put his finger on why . Crypto remains quiet for a minute before giving a low hum. “It’s...pretty sparse after that. I remember...feeling like Lifeline was stabbing me when I woke up,” he offers, tilting his head to the side slightly.

“Well, hah, actually -- she-she was kinda un- stabbing you, actually.” The joke feels half-hearted, empty in comparison to the heavy atmosphere in the room. Still, the corner of Crypto’s lips quirk and he exhales a sharp puff of air through his nose. He’ll take it, consider it a win, even if his smile fades shortly after.

“... So ,” Crypto presses again, not so easily distracted from his initial conversation. “What did happen? How did I…?”

Elliott grips the back of the chair and leans back until his arms are fully extended, puffing his cheeks full of air before letting out a heavy sigh. “Oh, you know,” he says, and just like that, Mirage is there to help him smooth things over. “Just fought off the squad, picked you up, and carried you back through the ring. No biggie,” he says, all bravado and false ego. There's no point in lying, after all; the information is out there, and even if it wasn’t recorded, Crypto would be the one person capable of sniffing it out. Elliott is not all bluster, however: instead of the usual smirk he’d wear after a brag, he offers a smile. 

Crypto looks shocked, looking away as he tries to process it, possibly attempting to stir any memories he might have of his rescue. His brows furrow, his lips pressing together tightly, and when he looks back up, there is a vulnerability to him, undeniable this time. “... Why?”

The question catches him off-guard, and Elliott’s immediate instinct is to protest. “Wha--?” He cuts off, sitting forward in the chair again. He looks to Crypto with clear confusion, because why wouldn’t he? Crypto has done so much for him, even if he might not have realized it. Each tiny piece of himself that he shares with Elliott is like a piece of himself restored, slowly patching over a hole he hadn’t even realized existed. He wants nothing more than to help him through whatever is haunting him, wants to help take down anyone who would even think of doing him wrong, whoever hardened him to the world around him and made him check over his shoulder with a frequency bordering on obsession. He wants, perhaps a little selfishly, to be his safe space, to be the person he turns to when he needs it most. He wants him to know that he deserves better than dying alone in a building participating in some stupid bloodsport to entertain the masses. 

He decides to go with a simpler answer. 

“Well…’cause I’ve got your back , kid.”

Something in Crypto’s eyes changes, and he sucks in a sharp breath before looking away. He’s frowning, but Elliott gets the feeling that he said the right thing. He crosses an arm over the back of the chair, rests his other elbow on it, and sets his chin in his hand. He smiles at Crypto like he’s the best thing that ever happened to him, because he is, and gives him a moment to sort through whatever he needs to.

After a long, quiet moment, Crypto glances at him out of the corner of his eyes, turning slightly so he can see him with his unobscured eye. He eyes him for a long moment before looking away again -- Elliot knows it’s because of the way he’s looking at him, knows that Crypto doesn’t know how to react to the unfiltered adoration displayed so plainly in Elliott’s expression, but he finds it endearing and it only makes his smile grow wider. Crypto gives a small, barely-there nod, and Elliott breathes out a sigh of relief.

“Good. I’ll make dinner,” he announces, sitting back and patting his hands along the back of the chair before moving to stand. As he returns the chair to its original place, he chances a glance back at where Crypto remains on the couch, glass of water cradled against his chest as he stares off in quiet thought. He thinks of all the other things he’d wanted to say, the confessions sitting on the tip of his tongue just waiting to be given, but knows better than to try and say them now. It was baby steps, with Crypto.

And god, did he love every step.