Work Text:
The sound of a lighter replaced the quietness of the area; sparks leaping out of its tiny opening for just an instant before a flame emerged, and a cigarette was lit with it; two fingers brought it up to a man's lips as he held it carefully. Inhaling and slowly puffing smoke out as he closed his eyes for a few seconds. He returned the lighter to his pocket, pulled the cigarette away from his lips, and took a good look at his surroundings once more, taking the scenery in. It was just another dusty plaza near the town hall of the capital. His foot was tapping on the ground as he tried to calm himself.
He glanced over his shoulder; two of his henchmen stood there, so ridiculously tall with their trench coats and fedoras. As they both noticed there wasn't anything or anyone to interact with, they started chatting quietly, so low it was practically whispering. The Editor didn't seem to mind them, as he began getting lost in his thoughts, too entertained to even bother discerning a single word the cyborgs were muttering.
The brunette pushed his glasses back with his middle finger as they had slid down his nose bridge on the walk to the plaza. He allowed himself to lead the cigarette back up to his lips; while slowly drifting his attention to a clothesline dangling on the side of what he assumed to be an apartment building. His first thought was that the living spaces in the building were probably too small for anyone to actually live in –he could never stand to be caged in such a tiny room–. The second thought that came to his head had to do with the blankets hanging on the clothesline.
His eyes probably stared at them for too long before he could realize he was viewing himself under his own bedsheets that same morning. Just after awaking, eyesight so blurry, he probably wouldn't be able to tell what his surroundings were if it weren't for the fact he'd slept in that same place for the past year. The man groaned, frowning a bit as he stretched his arms and back, reaching for the case he'd put his glasses in on the nightstand a few seconds after.
There was not a single noise in the entire penthouse. On one side, the brunette was glad it was so silent in the mornings. The man would probably not stand it if anyone woke him up. But on the other side, it was kind of odd; he was pretty sure at least 4 or 5 people were staying in his home that night. He got out of bed, pulling his hair back, a bit disgusted it was all over the place, and changed into a more presentable attire: a white button-up, grey dress pants, white socks, and his favourite pair of patent leather shoes; he decided he'd put on the matching coat and his usual orange striped tie after he was done having breakfast.
The Editor left his room, making sure to lock the door after him as he hid some terribly precious items he would not like to lose. He started walking around the place, checking every room in hopes to see any guests who could've possibly stayed over; he was washed over by stinging disappointment at the sight of no one but his goons in the beds. He knew it was because they had stuff to do, and they probably left before he woke up, so the disappointment faded soon. After all, he was aware he was delightful to be around and being honest, he understood it was probably shameful for them to be required to leave his presence so soon. He did forgive all of them, though.
The man had to get his first great meal before he could truly begin working, so he made his way to his kitchen. He did not feel like cooking today –or ever, really–, so he ordered one of his many robots to cook his breakfast instead. Something fancy yet simple enough that would reasonably not take him long to eat.
While he waited, he pulled out a small green box from a drawer, tapping it twice before a detailed hologram screen emerged from it. It was supposed to display any news and information he'd probably be interested in. He scrolled down, boring his eyes on the immense amounts of information he deemed worthless; the algorithm had become worse as of late in figuring out the kind of things he liked.
At least that's what he thought until a particular piece of media caught his eye. It was about that guy he had kidnapped some time ago. In the picture included in the information sheet, said man could be seen wearing his usual tacky yellow suit, his hat and showing off that annoying white moustache. The brunette made a quick hand motion, making the article expand on the translucent screen. He read through it quickly with an uninterested expression, simply because he was surprised this one old guy was still going with his business after so much. There was some confusing info about stuff he presumably wanted, something like “nail polish for electric tigers”, he didn't bother reading more about the object, as he simply thought it was useless. The man didn't pay much attention until he got to the lines where the agent in charge of the mission was revealed; he raised both eyebrows, a little surprised.
It was no other than Polyblank! It certainly had been a while since they last had seen each other. He brought a hand up to his cheek, brushing his fingers against the place where the spy had thrown a punch the last time they saw the other. He let out a chuckle, rolling his eyes at the memory of him getting home with a purple bruise. Not only that, but he couldn't believe he had let the spy get him in such a vulnerable spot that one time. But of course, the man had been the one to allow the punch to happen; after all, that ugly bruise staining his face wouldn't have been there for a whole week if he hadn't permitted it.
The Editor allowed himself to think back on that one occasion, when they were fighting over something he deemed was incredibly stupid, but really, who was he to refuse a little bit of thrill and adrenaline? He'd be lying if he said he didn't miss fighting like that. And with no other than his enemy, who seemed to make every stupid little fight and game even more entertaining! Sure, he wouldn't get his payment if he didn't stop the spy, but he didn't actually need the money. Chasing after him was just a hobby at that point.
He quickly turned his head –like a kid who was just caught doing something he shouldn't be doing– at the sudden 'ding!' that came from the kitchen; the food was ready, according to the bot. Scrolling back up to the part to the part where the objective of the mission was described, he decided he actually wanted to try to get… whatever the fuck Polyblank was going to be working hard to obtain, simply because the man decided he wanted it now.
The screeching of a car's wheels somewhere close to him got him to blink a couple of times as he slowly focused on reality again. Still in the same plaza, accompanied by the cyborg's chattering right behind him and the sky's blue above his head receding and letting sweet tints of an intense orange colour stain it as the sun started setting.
His legs were pained from standing up for so long, so he started asking himself for how long he'd been daydreaming just now. Shaking his head to concentrate, he drew his right hand out of his pocket, taking his cigarette with the left one as he looked at his clock. It had been… Forty minutes already, and the spy was nowhere to be seen.
It was odd. The brunette was pretty sure the guy was supposed to pass right in front of them at least 30 minutes ago. He looked back at his goons and snapped his fingers, instantly getting their attention.
“Will you two go look for the spy? I think he might've found another way to leave this hellhole…” He paused for a bit, fixing his tie as he looked at the two idiots behind him. They looked… unwilling and confused, so he sighed and added onto his last sentence. “And we wouldn't want you two to starve to death when I don't get paid for letting him go, would we?”
That got them moving, as he'd wanted. Both of them rushed, splitting into opposite directions. It was no surprise to him that the only thing in their mind was food, so he simply stayed still where he stood, bringing the cigarette back to his lips as he tried to relax a bit. He didn't know why he had even expected Polyblank to be punctual. He was late every time. But he wouldn't stoop down to his level, so he smiled to himself proudly. At least he had manners.
As far as he knew, Polyblank didn't know a single thing about manners. It showed! He didn't even try to look presentable: with his uncombed, messy black hair, his dusty shoes, his foolish, tacky ties with weird patterns and his suit always being buttoned up wrong. The spy always managed to do the most inappropriate things in every situation, like the way he pulled out that dumb confetti gun that definitely didn't amuse him not one bit, to his habit of getting distracted whenever the brunette spoke to him and how ridiculous his face looked whenever the guy started daydreaming amid their quarrels.
Just when he started thinking of his stupid bitter expression when they were playing some Sport that one time, the same man he was thinking about just then seemed to jump right out of his imagination running straight into him out of nowhere while he seemed to be turning a corner, without looking. It knocked the cigarette out of his lips and made both of them fall back, making the man with glasses yelp as they were also knocked out of his face.
“Gosh darn it, you-” The shorter man huffed out, frowning as he rubbed his hip with his hand. He dragged his gaze to the ground, looking for his glasses, as he totally would not be able to understand the man if he tried to sign anything. “You should really consider starting to be aware of where you're going!” He started practically caressing the ground as he attempted to find his glasses, squinting his eyes as if that would help him.
Just as he was about to complain, the glasses he was looking for were pushed into his face. Upside down, but fitting at the sides of his head. He blinked twice, taking them with his hands and putting them on the correct way this time. Polyblank had already stood up and was looking down at him with an awkward smile, extending his hand at him to help him get back to his feet. Editor looked at his hand with disgust, shaking his head as a way to say no. He wouldn't allow himself to get down to his level.
Not that Polyblank was waiting for an answer, as he simply pulled him up as he wished, giving him a handshake when he was back on his feet and nodding once as a way to greet him. The man with the glasses nodded to himself, and only himself.
It was Polyblank. He couldn't act like a normal human being for more than 5 minutes. He muttered a quiet: 'You can let go of my hand now, you're going to dirty my glove'. The taller man let go as he'd asked, raising an eyebrow and waiting for him to speak again. Once they were all set, he cleared his throat, put on a smug smirk, looked at him as the lowly being he was and began his little speech.
“Ah, Polyblank. I've been waiting to get this talk with you. You see-” He was interrupted as both of his goons finally came back, panting as if they were struggling to breathe. He looked at them, scanned them both in a quick up-and-down glance, and the smirk he was trying so hard to put on for the spy dropped to a disappointed expression. He knew they were not as good as he'd wanted them to be, but he could only think about how incredibly lame they were at that time. He sighed and nodded to himself once before he could put his act back on, speaking again. “As I was saying, I've been informed by a secret source you've gone on this new mission, right? And in this new mission, you've obtained something. A special something I've developed an interest in.”
As he spoke, he could notice his enemy was… Smiling. Smiling like a kid who'd just been handed a lollipop. Editor felt a bit of a tug at his pride or something deep inside him. Was he not being menacing enough? He decided to ignore it and kept going.
“I'd adore if we could do this civically, without the need to get me to chase you around and… You causing a ruckus like you always tend to do.” He hoped that was enough to make the other feel at least a bit threatened. And if not for his safety, for his ego. “Well, hand it over.”
You could say he did not get the reaction he expected or the response he was waiting for. Instead, Polyblank kept his smile and signed something back at him.
“What do you want from me? I was only getting pretzels.”
And with that said, the black-haired man raised a finger as a way to tell him to wait and started digging through his pocket, taking a few too many seconds until he pulled out a bunch of pretzels and threw them into Editor's face. Easy to say, he was dumbfounded more than anything. Was he taking him for a fool?
“Right, If you would hand me the… The nail polish for electric tigers already, we can both go our separate ways and attempt to murder the other another day.” The man with glasses took a step forward, looking at him expectantly. He felt absolutely delighted at the spy's reaction: getting tense and not smiling as wide anymore. His eyes set themselves on his expression and every move. The way, he looked back, only to see his henchmen right behind him, blocking the exit.
“Well?” Editor extended a hand over to him, smiling and tilting his head as a way to edge him on. The spy's grin slowly faded as a frown made its appearance on his features. God, he adored that expression.
It was certainly unexpected when his enemy turned his back on him and ignored him as he looked for a possible way out, but that only meant he was doing his job so well, he was making him nervous!
Editor let out a chuckle as he shook his head, making a quick sign to one of his cyborgs, who instantly complied with his wish and handed him his favourite baseball bat. His pupils went down to scan the bat, boring themselves in the tiny, thin lines that it had and his own autograph on one of its sides. He was his biggest fan, after all. Then, his pupils went up. So did the baseball bat, which was now pointing at the man in front of him, like a sword.
The spy turned around, and the nervous expression he was waiting for became something he'd say he liked even more! There was fear in those two eyes! The man thought he would absolutely kiss himself if he could! He was being so great, even he was having a hard time believing it.
Polyblank looked at his face for a few seconds, still looking as scared as Editor knew he was, and against any prognostic, started laughing in silence, completely throwing him off. The brunette frowned, simply looking at the way the spy was still giggling. He pushed him with the tip of the bat, not too strong, but definitely strong enough so he would at least pay attention to him.
“Did I say a joke or something? What's that you think is so… hilarious?” He kept poking him with the bat, but the way he spoke only seemed to make him laugh even more intensely than before –crazy how someone can cackle so hard without making a single noise, he thought–. He was starting to get worried. Was there something wrong with his face? Had he been acting scared all that time just so he could laugh at him? Had his hair become a mess when he'd fallen to the ground? He was having a hard time understanding whatever was going on.
Polyblank seemed to calm down a minute or two later. And when he did, he approached his antagonist. He grabbed his wrist firmly (the one whose hand was holding the bat–, and used the fabric of his sleeve to get rid of the tears on the brink of his eyes.
Editor just stared at him in stupefactive silence for a good 10 seconds before a small smile popped up on his lips. He raised an eyebrow.
“Oh my god, you're a weird one, aren't you, Polyblank?” His smile couldn't help but get wider as the latter nodded in agreement.
He noticed his two goons were quite literally just staring at him, which made him a tad bit uncomfortable. So he decided he'd send them elsewhere.
“Excuse me, you two. Go for a walk or patrol around the city to see if there's any danger or something. There are some private matters to discuss, and I wouldn't like there to be any eavesdroppers.” His voice was firm and clear. The man tilted his head in a direction; both of them agreed and left as instructed.
Once they were completely out of sight, Editor took a step back from the man in front of him, setting some space between them and once again clearing his throat. He also ran a hand down his hair in case it had become messier as he suspected before.
“Good. We're alone now, so I'm afraid I'll have to get back on topic. No more games, Polyblank.” He looked him in the eye before bringing down his gaze to scan his suit, putting special attention to every pocket in case there was anything to give the location of the object away. He couldn't help but notice the spy had actually buttoned his coat up right this time, which was an improvement! But he didn't want to get lost in thought, and all of his pockets seemed to be as stuffed full, so he didn't lose any more time and went back to look him in the eye. The spy didn't look nervous at all; he was, in fact, just smiling confidently.
“Do say, Polyblank. Why were you the chosen agent for this mission in particular? I mean, I'm pretty sure the Director might have other agents to deploy for his… Absurd wishes. Editor crossed his arms –holding the bat between one of his arms and his side–, relaxing a bit as he tried to intimidate him enough, so he'd comply with his demands.
“I'm the only one as far as I know. I had been bored without anything to do, so going on this trip solved that problem.” The spy explained, making sure he wasn't signing too fast, so he could understand. He thought that was mindful of him.
“I see…” Editor knew that wasn't true. He was pretty sure the Director had many more agents. Maybe some who weren't as peculiar as Polyblank was. “And you're here exactly because you can only get the objective of your mission in this exact plaza, am I right?”
The taller man nodded, really slowly, as if being cautious. Editor gave him a sympathetic smile, nodding back, before he went on with his speech.
“The thing is, Polyblank, I need it. I'll also need you to hand it over, and you can leave unharmed. Does that sound good to you?” The spy raised both eyebrows and kept smiling at him like he knew he was lying. “Why are you looking at me like that? Can you really not believe me? I'm a man of my word, I'll let you know.” The Editor involuntarily let out a chuckle, shaking his head in amusement.
“Oh, man. You don’t know what it’s for, do you? Did you come all the way here because you wanted to see me or something?” The black-haired man signed at him, grinning widely, almost as if he knew the implications of his statement would absolutely disgust him.
“That is… Distasteful. God, no. The least I wish for is to see you and your awful face.” The man finally let go of his bat, allowing himself to cross his arms comfortably as he shook his head in denial. Sure, maybe he was a little more interested in missions that involved his enemy, but again, that was just because he was entertaining. “In fact, I thought you were aware of me wanting you dead, or have you forgotten that?”
The brunette looked away, frowning, as he didn't expect their conversation to go this way. He wanted to go home and bury himself in his bed. Not because he was embarrassed, of course, but because he was tired of the spy's tricks.
“Guess I'm right. Couldn't wait for me to kick your ass?” The spy signed enthusiastically, with an expression of excitement Editor found annoying. So irritating, he looked away again, trying not to see him anymore. That seemed to amuse his enemy, who began with his chuckling. Again.
“I've grown tired of this. Just give it to me already, or we're going to have some serious issues.” Editor brought a hand to his pocket, extending the other one towards him as he saw him take a step back. If he wasn't wrong, there was doubt in the spy's eyes. There was… maybe fear? For some reason, that didn't satisfy him anymore. Instead, the feeling manifested like pressure in his chest, like bubbling hot water in a pot.
The man brought a hand up to his chest with a pensive expression as he didn't quite recognize or enjoy the sensation; he played it off by fixing his tie again, taking a deep breath and returning to look at the guy. Polyblank looked as uncomfortable as he was, so he also decided to take a step back, trying to put himself in a position where he could escape if he wanted to.
“Why are you looking at me like that instead of giving me what I deserve? I- You know I didn't come here to leave empty-handed.” He usually liked how he carried himself around and the way he spoke, but there was something about himself in those moments. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but he was not liking it. It felt like losing. Editor could feel a tingling sensation on his throat, which slowly evolved into a kind of pain. He refused to believe he was feeling desperate. He seemed to have no effect on the other man. “So stop playing around and give it to me already, unless you want things to get bad.”
Polyblank agreed with a nod, slipping a hand under his coat, taking a step closer before slowly proceeding to pull his hand out. Editor stared at it expectantly, only to be finger gunned, poked in the nose –a bit too hard, maybe– and being left behind as the spy began running away, moving past him.
Since he'd sent his henchmen away, there was no one to stop him as he made his escape. He cursed under his breath, taking off after him, making sure to be right on his tail as he tried to keep up the pace. His opponent was surprisingly good at making sharp turns and jumping around, to the point it should not be possible for a human being to make those jumps. But to be frank, he wasn't even that sure if Polyblank was even human–.
Editor considered his body was in excellent shape and condition. Yet even then, for some reason, even he was getting incredibly exhausted from running all that much –even jumping from a building's window to another at some point–, and his legs ached, terribly. He could feel his lungs burning and his breathing becoming frantic pants for air, as he hadn't had a break since they started running.
As they ran, Polyblank looked back at him to see if he'd already lost him, his carelessness only made him run straight into a wall, as he didn’t look where he was going. That slowed him down enough for Editor to eventually catch up to him. And once he did get as close as he wanted to, he managed to grab him by the collar and push him into an alleyway with a dead-end, making him trip and end on the ground.
The brunette stood before the spy, blocking the exit. Hair a mess; sweat running down his temple to his cheek, falling off his jaw, and with the tie out of his coat. His chest was heaving up and down rapidly as he tried his best to finally get some air to fill his lungs. Damn Polyblank.
The spy's eyes focused on his, wide open, while he also tried to catch his breath on the ground for a few seconds. He stood up slowly without breaking eye contact a bit after, almost looking like he was trapped by the other man's gaze, a smile crept up to his lips once they were face to face.
“I… I've got to admit. You- You're pretty quick on your feet, aren't you?” Polyblank nodded as his smile widened. He was probably so fucking amused at seeing him like this. “I would've preferred if we didn't have to escalate this any further, but when I said I was done playing games, I was serious. The man sighed, and reached into a pocket inside his coat, pulling a pistol out. He aimed it at the spy's chest. “Give me the- the thing already.”
Polyblank tensed up, eyes wide as his breath hitched, looking at the gun and then at the man in front of him. He took a deep breath and took a step closer. Editor didn't like that, so he took a more offensive stance. He was grabbing the pistol with both hands now; one with its finger on the trigger and the other supporting the gun, trying to stabilize his aim, as his hands were shaking from running so much.
“Don't you dare come any closer! Leave it on the floor and get out of my presence before I change my mind and shoot you dead!” The shorter man spoke between gritted teeth, lifting the security lock on the gun with his finger.
He didn't want to admit it, but he was feeling kind of scared. There was something about the thought of killing the man that deeply unsettled him, but he also did not appreciate feeling so… Afraid, not when he was winning. Editor was in the game to win, to prove to anyone and everyone he was above.
He didn't realize he'd become distracted until the gun he'd been holding was knocked out of his hands with a strong blow. It was smashed on the wall by his side. He was left with just enough time to look back at his enemy, who was already dashing in front of him. Not enough time to respond to the action, though, as his reaction time was cut short when his chest was struck with a powerful kick. He yelped as the force of the blow sent him to the ground.
The man was quick to clutch his chest with a gloved hand, applying pressure. A bit of air had been knocked out of his lungs, so he struggled to catch his breath even more. Squeezing his eyes shut, he could hear frantic steps, so he did his best to open his eyes. He could catch a glimpse of Polyblank who signed a quick “Sorry!” at him.
Editor could tell his enemy was about to flee the scene, so before he could actually take more than three steps, the man swung his right leg by the spy’s feet, effectively colliding with them and causing the taller man to lose his balance, taking him down, just like he himself had before.
Even though his chest still hurt, he was quick enough to move and get on top of the man. Before the other could get back up, he set a foot on his right forearm. That was his dominant hand; he wouldn’t be able to do much, no matter how much he struggled. The brunette didn’t lose any more time and took a hold on the taller man’s tie, pulling it and looking him in the eyes. Polyblank brought his left hand to pull at his wrist and god, he had a strong grip.
“Gosh, you-” Editor’s breath was erratic, he swallowed hard, taking a good look at the spy’s face. He was frowning, yet he didn’t look angry at all, just surprised. Something about that expression made his blood boil. “Why can’t you be scared of me?! You just stare at me with that- With that stupid face! Stop it this instant!”
He yanked on the tie, inevitably bringing them closer to each other to the point the other’s breath had started tingling his face, mixing with his own. He scowled, speaking through gritted teeth. “I am so much better than this, this is nothing, you just- You-” His thoughts weren’t as quick as his words, he couldn’t speak. Yet he lied to himself, he refused to believe Polyblank out of all people could get him this… This weak. At that point, he didn’t even want whatever the fuck Polyblank had, his only wish was for his chest to stop bubbling whenever his own enemy looked him in the eyes. “You can’t just…” He brought his free hand up to his hair, slightly pulling on it as he looked away for a second. For just a second, while he allowed himself to get dropped into an ocean of emotions he couldn’t quite comprehend.
Editor could say he felt weak, but that wouldn’t be the word he was looking for. He could try to convince himself he was angry, but that wouldn’t make the bubbling stop anytime soon. There was a feeling of dread climbing up his throat, slowly overtaking his every sense.
The man looked down at the other’s eyes, which were still wide open, staring right back at him. They proved to be a real distraction, as he couldn’t help but notice every tiny caramel coloured line in his irises. He tensed up, his breath hitched when the spy’s breath brushed against his lips. It was just then he realized how close they were. The thought brought his gaze down to the man’s lips, for an instant, and only an instant, before he forced himself to look away.
He focused on the gun the spy had knocked out of his hand, on the floor by the wall to their right. The images of the man under him simply looking at him seemed to be stuck on his mind, being the only thing his brain seemed to process right. And there was certainly more to be said about his stupid face, right, but he also couldn't help thinking about his uncombed, black hair and those weird fingerless gloves he always wore.
Reality seemed so different from every thought there was in his head, so it gave him whiplash when a sharp pain in his hand forced him back to reality. He shrieked loudly, pulling himself back with clumsy steps that landed him back where he’d first fallen.
Polyblank had stood up already, gaining his balance and not missing a single second in running away as soon as he was freed by the antagonist. He did make sure to not lose a golden opportunity and flick him off once he was right to leave the alleyway. With that big, stupid smile, too.
That time, The Editor didn’t move a single muscle to chase after him. After all, he’d realized he had no real interest in whatever it was Polyblank had got –he’d even forgotten the name already!–. He highly doubted striking up a conversation would be of much help as well, since the spy seemed to have finishing his mission as his top priority, like it always was.
Instead, he let out a sigh he’d been holding for a bit and took a hand up to his chest, palpating around with the tip of his finger; he’d have a bruise for a while. The hand on his chest slowly trailed up to his tie, which he didn’t really bother putting back inside his coat. Instead, he held it gently, as memories from just a couple of minutes ago settled in. For some reason, even though they’d fought around like they always did, he felt a little… Empty this time. He really disliked the word, and it put him to shame to even think about it, but he’d say he felt lonely too.
Editor slid a hand through his hair, pushing it back as he produced a bitter chuckle. In all of his years of working behind shady operations and being in the eye of danger every single time, he’d never felt like this. Not in his whole life, either, really! Vulnerable and lonely.
Just the thought was able to get his blood boiling that quickly. He pulled on his own hair a bit as it settled in, his face was flushed with anger. What did Polyblank even do to him? Hell, he didn’t understand it one bit. He couldn’t understand his own thoughts and reactions. He couldn’t even understand himself at that point.
The man squeezed his eyes shut, trying his hardest not to think about any event that had taken place that day. But, of course, he failed miserably.
A smile spread across his lips while he slowly opened his eyes, looking the direction he’d left from.
“God, I’m going to kill him.”