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Sova was exactly five centimeters taller.
The archer sat across from him on the transport, silent as always. Cypher looked without looking, his mask hiding any eye movement.
Five centimeters. Nothing, really. Hardly even noticeable in the day to day unless they stood side by side; a rare occurrence, if Sova had any say in it. Height was meaningless in the grand scheme of things anyway. Half of Valorant was taller than Cypher and he'd never given it a second thought past reading the data in personnel files.
Except when it came to him. To Sova.
He could never understand why, though. It wasn't jealousy, or anger. Just this strange focus, a minor fact he could never quite seem to dislodge from his mind no matter how hard he tried.
“Ah Sova, my measured friend. Between you and me, there’s nowhere they can hide.” he laughed. “How fun!”
Sova barely reacted, only briefly glancing at Cypher before his eyes darted away, clearly uninterested in engaging. The line of his mouth thinned, just a little, just enough to be noticeable. Cypher smiled under the mask. It never mattered what he said, the mere sound of his voice seemed to be enough to rile the other man up.
Tokyo, Japan. The site of the next attack, so they thought. The sun was setting as they hit solid ground, just beginning its descent below the horizon. The city center might have been nice once, beautiful even. Pieces of it remained in the old architecture, the well maintained trees growing on street corners and hanging over privacy walls, the odd meticulously maintained garden and doorsteps. They were contrasted, however, nearly overwhelmed even, by Kingdom. The corporate giant encroached on space like a bright white void swallowing the surrounding area whole.
The towering Kingdom building was so...inviting, in a way. If they had time, he may just have to leave some gifts behind.
Sova would surely not approve. A heartwarming thought.
Cypher split from the others immediately, as planned. He’d already poured over the map, tracking routes, identifying the best angles. He was quick to get to work. The enemy could be there at any moment after all.
He was to sit here, alone, guarding the alleys and streets leading to the main site, getting the information his team needed to be able to go on the attack. Or defense, as it were. Brimstone seemed relatively certain of where the enemy would show up; it was just a matter of catching them before they got that far. The rest of the team was set up on the main point, a train station with no train to pull in anytime soon. It sat nestled up against the still under construction Kingdom building. No doubt intended to facilitate traffic to the many Kingdom owned shops scattered around the base of the giant building.
It was a familiar feeling, huddled against an alley wall, trash scattered across the ground, with darkness and chill setting in. He’d been here, like this, in places thousands of miles away, more times than he could count. Waiting.
Though rarely alongside others.
Everything went quiet. What few pedestrians were out were starting to disperse, finding their way to wherever they would lay their heads for the night.
There was a little chatter on the radio as the others figured out their own positioning but they settled quickly, routine and training kicking in.
Cypher settled into his own routine, flicking between cameras in a rhythm, so completely absorbed in the distant sounds and sights he may as well have been the cameras, a floating consciousness that only existed in a lens. Trip wires had been strategically placed around him. Nobody could get close without him knowing.
It was quiet. It was still. It was calm. The distant sounds of the city at night barely penetrated here. There was something about Kingdom that kept people away, an environment of sharp smiles hiding impenetrable dark depths beneath. There was hardly even any graffiti slapped across the makeshift barriers surrounding the massive skyscraper destroying the skyline.
God, what Cypher would give to get inside, even for just a minute. The things he could do. The things he could learn…
A flicker pulled his attention away. Small enough to be nothing. Gone fast enough to be suspicious.
He scanned more thoroughly now, relying on his tech and his eyes as he searched each camera, each view, checking every hidden corner they might think themselves safe in. Where were they hiding…?
And then they stepped out. Perhaps they heard the slight noise of his camera activating, perhaps they’d been watching before and seen him set up. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
There were only two things he knew for certain upon seeing the eerily familiar figure.
They knew he was there.
They knew how to counter his traps.
There was always a fraction of a second between exiting a camera’s view and returning to his own eyes, his own senses. Inconsequential in most cases, hardly noticeable to anyone else.
Cypher was very aware of that extra time, though. Painfully aware. And this time it was just a little too long.
The sound hit just before the blast, booming in his ears before throwing him off his feet. The force slammed him hard into the concrete. He was too disoriented to react and landed awkwardly on his side, a soft crack filling the air as the side of his mask broke under the pressure. His vision blurred and every sound turned muffled and distant. Every movement was a struggle, the simple act of reaching for a weapon taking an eternity.
An eternity, as he found out, was too long. Breach-the other Breach, he hoped-rounded the corner, grinning in that stupid lopsided way of his as he looked down on Cypher. Mechanical arms returned to their normal shape as he stormed forward.
Breach should have shot him then and there, but the swede was too proud of himself. Or maybe he just hated Cypher a little too much. Maybe both.
He swiftly kicked Cypher in the stomach, the heavy boot slamming him back into the alley wall.
A part of him registered all of the pain at once; his back against the wall, the sharp crack from his body, the vomit trying to claw its way out of his throat in reaction. But all he could focus on was the way the air had been pushed from his lungs. He fought for breath, gasping desperately as his head swam.
“Didn’t see me coming, rat.”
Breach reached up, grabbing the gun on his back to swing it around to his front.
Cypher flexed his hand, still connected to the cameras. The mask flicked his vision over, giving him an aerial view of the swede looming over his body. He could see the gun being swung into place, taking no time at all even as time crawled by.
The camera flashed.
Breach would know what was happening. He would know what Cypher’s cameras could do, the little tricks he slid into each one, the way the information broker used them to distract and disorient.
But the human body is a funny thing. When your muscle memory is built on years and years of training and practice, on life or death situations, you can’t help but react, no matter what your mind might say, no matter how quickly you realize your mistake.
Cypher was reaching for his ghost before Breach had even finished turning around, and he fired before the man had a chance to turn back.
The first bullet didn’t quite land, only skimming Breach’s face, but the second one landed true. He collapsed instantly, crashing to the pavement and sending his gun sliding across the alley.
One down.
Cypher tapped into the comms, still a little breathless as he tried to speak.
“Hostiles detecte-”
He paused. Something was wrong. All he could hear was static.
“Hello? Hello? Phoenix? Jett? Skye?”
Nothing.
They’d known he was there. They’d known how to get around his tripwires, his cameras. It wasn’t a surprise that they’d found a way to block comms too.
Or one had, at least.
Cypher pushed himself up, doing his best to ignore the pain radiating through his body. Something was wrong with his ribs, but he wasn’t coughing up blood, so it could wait. There was pain in his back, but nothing that prevented him from moving. He was more bothered by the spittle in his mask from where he’d choked, but he would have to wait to clean that out later. He held a hand up to his face. The crack was long, but luckily not enough to break his tech entirely.
He switched back to his cameras. What had he missed…?
Ah. There. Two of his cameras was gone, destroyed while he had been otherwise occupied. A particularly important one monitoring an odd connection between an alley and the construction site, as well as one watching the connection from there to the back alley where he was now. A perfect choice if they wanted him to panic, to assume they’d already made their way through to the main site. He couldn’t contact his allies, so he would have to go himself.
He wanted to laugh. So they knew Breach would fail. Or suspected, at least. They sacrificed the man in order to manipulate Cypher’s information. Smart.
The fastest way there would be the back alley he stood in now. It formed a straight path to the site. It was the reason Cypher had chosen this positioning in the first place. If Breach had been able to avoid his cameras any of them could. Someone would be waiting.
Cypher stepped over Breach’s body and picked up the man’s rifle. The exact same model favored by their own Breach. He grimaced when he noticed blood on his boots as he stepped away, ghost set back into coat and rifle comfortably in his hands. He tried to scrape what he could on the ground but there was only so much he could do. He could only hope they wouldn’t be so quick to notice the bloodstained footsteps he left behind him.
He stepped out of the alley into a small excuse for a square that sat snugly between several cramped apartment buildings shoved into a space too small for them. Though the space likely was meant to function as a sort of loading area in its original space, it had been locked in, only allowing enough space for pedestrian pathways that led out in three directions. One into the alley, one into the street proper, and one into a small marketplace that had once been far busier in the pre-Kingdom days.
The marketplace is where the break in the construction wall sat, an odd opening directly into the Kingdom building itself that Cypher could no longer see. The next best path to the site. Not as fast as the back alley, but relatively direct, if the building plans he’d acquired were remotely accurate. Another good spot for an ambush. They would wait for him before attacking. They had to, it was the only way to be sure they had the advantage moving in. Going in now would only ensure an enemy at their back as they attacked. They would want them afraid, unsure, weakened. Cypher needed to be dead for that.
So there was no point in rushing, no point in cutting through. No doubt they would have someone waiting the long way around as well, but maybe he had a better chance of catching someone off guard and wasting their time in the process.
He activated his cages and crept through the square, throwing up a wall of visual static between him and anyone watching. He made sure to activate the ones hidden down the back alley as well. Harder to attack him as a united front if they were unsure of his location.
He kept to the walls, stopping and starting at random to avoid predictable killing him with a lucky shot in the dark. He used those moments to flick into the view of a camera before immediately flickering back out, trying to check corners before he rounded them. The darkness would protect them just as much as it did him.
He could hear the odd car passing down the street, closer and closer with each step. His cameras suggested the street wasn’t busy enough to bring any late night pedestrians, at least.
He paused before rounding the last corner that would take him to the street and raised his weapon. He ignored the protests of his injured body as he moved slowly, quietly, rifle held as still as possible as he aimed it in the exact corner his camera didn’t reach.
Now.
He moved all at once, practically throwing himself out from cover as he fired near instantaneously.
Jett-the other Jett, the Jett who tried to kill Phoenix, the Jett who destroyed Venice, the Jett whose face now twisted into violent determination from the corner she had been hiding in as she reacted, sharp knives flying towards him. The wind assassin was too quick for him, striking him three times, one in the shoulder, one glancing past his head, one digging into his side.
But it never mattered how fast you were, how quickly the wind could take you. Never bring knives to a gunfight.
It took her a moment longer than it took Breach. She had time for shock, for the realization to set in before she fell. She slumped gently to the ground. Her light frame didn't hit with the same impact as Breach's. Blood pooled around her wounds, leaking from where multiple bullets had found their mark in her chest.
Two.
He stumbled and fell back against a wall. He dropped the rifle unceremoniously, gripping the knife stuck in his shoulder with his good hand. He ignored the voices of Skye and Sage in his head and pulled, wrenching it out as quickly as he could. He bit back a cry as pain lanced through his body again, almost enough to send him to his knees. Someone else would be here soon. They would know exactly where he was.
His vision went white. The world faded away, completely blotted out by blood red pain. He couldn’t tell how much time passed before he drifted back into the world, the edge of the dark street just barely visible from where he stood. He ignored Jett’s body as he grasped the other knife in his leg and repeated the process. He didn't have time for the pain.
The second knife clattered to the floor. He realized belatedly that his hands shook. Blood had found its way down his entire right arm until it reached his glove. His grip would be slick and unsteady now.
The seconds dragged as he awkwardly slapped bandages under his coat and over the pants. The longer he sat still the more likely he would die; Skye could heal him once he reached site, he only needed to avoid bleeding out before then.
There was a moment of dizziness as he stepped forward again, his entire body swaying in protest of the movement. Cypher waited it out, gritting his teeth against the now familiar pains across his body.
He picked up the rifle, ignoring the blood he smeared across it and left, stepping over Jett’s body as he exited onto the street.
It was nice in the open air. Less stifling than in the alleys. Nice enough to distract him from his aching body for just a moment.
Which, of course, was when the poison erupted from the ground. The familiar green smoke shot out of the devices he'd been too stupid to notice, completely obscuring his vision. Tendrils drifted around his mask, seeking even the smallest leak to get inside.
He froze, cutting off his breath instantly. Viper was near, if not on top of him already. His mask wasn’t like her’s, it wouldn’t protect him for long, and she knew it. All she had to do was wait.
What had she told him? The one not trying to kill him. Well, the one not actively trying to kill him. Well, the one not trying to kill him right now. It had been done reluctantly and with a sneer, but she’d told him all the same.
”That piece of plastic won’t do shit. A few seconds, at most, if you’re lucky. A few seconds after that, well...I’d suggest you not let it get that far.”
She had to have come from the market, there was no way she had set up somewhere so exposed as the main street. No doubt she was waiting near it, watching her gas dissipate just slowly enough to choke out any poor soul caught inside. Even checking a camera would take up precious time he didn’t have.
Cypher had been facing the street. The street entrance to the market was close by, mere yards to his left.
He swung left and fired.
He heard a gasp, followed by a soft grunt, and finally a solid thump.
He wasted no time jumping away from the green cloud, coughing violently as he stumbled back into (mostly) clear air. His throat burned, the air going through it more like flames licking up the sides of his esophagus. Something had gotten through after all. Between the blood loss and poison, his chances were getting increasingly slim. Hopefully nothing Skye couldn’t fix.
Viper’s poison was unique in its composition, heavy and slow to spread without something assisting it. It came to a crawl almost instantly, her mechanism shutting off without her around to keep it on. Without fresh poison being pushed into the air it quickly fell apart, leaving the space strangely opaque and hazy from what was left, but otherwise clear.
Cypher ignored the body as he switched his bloodstained, nearly empty rifle for hers. He wiped his gloves on what clean parts of his coat he could find, annoyed at the trickle of blood still pushing out from his wound. He could barely even feel it now, just a distant throbbing pain.
He had no desire to look into the lifeless eyes no longer capable of staring back at him. He would see the living version soon enough, whether he wished to or not. The familiar faces changed nothing, after all. They were the enemy, and he was a killer.
Three.
Breach had been the initial bait, Jett was meant to guard one exit, and Viper most likely had been holding the exit out to the empty market area. No doubt she heard Jett’s death over their own comms and realized what path Cypher was taking. Each of them seemed so sure they could take him on their own. There had to be at least two left. The first he’d glimpsed and the one he was sure had been guarding the back alley, waiting for him to rush to his own team. They would have learned by now to stick together, surely.
Outnumbered, though, their plans must have changed. He just wasn’t sure what.
He tried to get in contact with his team once again, only to be met with more static. He would have glared if there were anyone around to glare at. What were they doing that none of them had even noticed?
Cypher wasn’t given any more chances to wonder. He heard the telltale sound behind him, felt the slight waver in the air as reality shifted. He tried to move, tried to step aside, but he was too slow, his reactions too dulled. He didn’t need to turn around to know it was Yoru sliding a blade into his back, pushing it deep enough in one fast movement the hilt struck the flesh of his back.
A hand grasped his shoulder, holding him in place, as if there was anything Cypher could even do. This was the moment the other one chose to appear, his own white coat pristine as he stepped from the shadows, head tilted ever so slightly. Watching him like a curiosity.
The other him, the first shadow that had crossed his cameras. Perhaps the real bait from the beginning, Cypher belatedly realized as his knees buckled.
His counterpart must be just as unsure at seeing himself reflected back. Just as giddy and curious and angry and confused. If he was really the same man. If it was really Aamir under the perfectly molded mask, Aamir who carefully avoided bloodstains on the ground as he tiptoed his way forward.
Yoru yanked the knife out and finally let go. With a quiet gasp Cypher finally collapsed to the ground, watching his counterpart’s false blue eyes flicker in response to some emotion behind the mask. He’d purposely designed his own mask to be inscrutable, unreactive to most expressions. Clearly the other had done the same.
The world swam in front of him. He couldn’t breathe. He could barely move, his body no longer really his to command. His vision was overtaken by familiar boots, the tail of the other’s coat swishing behind him as he came to a stop. The other him spoke, voice slick, and oh so painfully his. His voice, his words, his tone, his intonation.
“My eyes were better, Aamir.”
Cruel last words to hear.
He would have said the same.
The world disappeared as the last shreds of consciousness faded away. He heard something faint and sharp, an odd twang he knew but couldn’t place. The other him moved, he thought. Maybe a shout.
None of it mattered. He only had one last thought. Or perhaps more of a memory. Their faces as he had known them, the only way he could ever know them again, and then.
Then he knew nothing.
***
They were warmth. The warmth of the past, the warmth of memories, of dreams. The warmth of smiling faces forever frozen in photographs, never doing more than hinting at real emotions underneath.
It was more than he’d had in years. Aamir grasped it as tightly as he could, dragging it to him, dragging himself closer. Anything to get to them, anything to be with them in any way. They were so close, he could feel them, he could see them, he was sure.
But it couldn’t last. Just out of reach, something pulled him back, icy tendrils grasping and dragging him away. He cried out, reaching, desperately clawing. They couldn’t do this to him, not again, never again. Why, when he was so close? Why why why why-
”Why-”
It was like being plunged into ice water. Like being frozen and burned at the same time, lungs knocked empty, throat closed and unable to draw in air.
He flung himself up, gasping so violently it hurt. The light cut into his eyes like knives as they snapped open, the cybernetic receptors struggling to adjust to the sudden influx. Tears clouded his vision further, streaming down his face between skin and plastic.
Aamir choked and coughed, heartbeat in his mouth as his body struggled to adjust.
“I saw them, why-”
“Cypher! Cypher, it’s all right. You’re ok.”
He jumped, head swiveling to find the source of the noise, entire body tensing.
Sage.
Something clicked in his mind. He could only stare for a moment, or several, it was hard to tell, as the pieces fell into place. Slowly, his body acclimated, heartbeat steadying and breath falling into a calmer, easier rhythm.
He was in the med bay with Sage. There was only one conclusion to draw from that.
He had died.
Working more on instinct than thought he reached up to his face, panic jolting through him. But no, his mask was still there, still in place. Still cracked, but in one piece. He glanced down. His entire outfit was thoroughly ruined, every inch either ripped or bloodstained or coated with grime or damaged in some way.
“Cypher, do you know where you are?” Sage asked, voice steady and calm. No doubt trying to keep him calm, considering, you know. He’d died.
He patted his coat, a shaky hand reaching in. His ghost was still there, somehow. That was good.
“Cypher.” She repeated, a little sharper, but still kind as always.
“Valorant Protocal’s base, I presume,” he croaked out as quickly as he could, cutting anything else she had to say off.
He would have to throw the entire coat away. He’d died in it, after all. He could hardly keep it.
His hat...had he lost that, when he died?
Killed by…
“Cypher, will you look at me?” She spoke again, softly. He jerked his head up, his eyes finding hers. Her expression and stance exuded exhaustion. Raising the dead must take a lot out of a person.
“I should change. Unless blood is fashionable now, of course, in which case I would be happy to oblige.” His voice was wrong even to his own ears, too coarse, too thick. He pretended he didn't notice. Maybe, if he were lucky, they would pretend too.
Sage glanced to the side, exchanging a look with Brimstone, who Cypher had somehow managed to completely miss until this exact moment. The soldier stood a few feet back. Enough to give Sage space to work but close enough to help.
They thought he was upset, off kilter. Likely because he had died, as if that were such a special thing.
Brimstone cleared his throat.
“I think it would be a good idea for you to spend the night here. We can get you something clean to change into.” He spoke with the authority of his position and experience, leveling a steady gaze at Cypher as he left no room for argument in his tone.
“I disagree,” Cypher argued, “I’m an incredibly light sleeper, I need the proper environment! My own room would be best, surely.”
Not his best bullshit, even he had to admit. He just wanted to-needed to-he had to get out of this room. Away from these looks. Away from these people.
“If you would like, I can escort him there.”
The other voice came out of nowhere, completely catching him off guard. He froze, cautiously turning towards the owner, the last person in the room he had somehow also completely and utterly missed.
Sova, stoic as always, stood a little away from the others, up against the far wall near the exit.
Something like panic shot through him. Why the fuck was Sova here? What was this, a goddamn spectacle?
Brimstone frowned, clearly not fond of the idea. Something they could agree on.
Cypher pushed himself off the table he’d been laying on, ignoring Sage’s protest and his body’s own unsteady reaction as he did. There was a moment of dizziness before the world righted itself.
“I would so hate to impose on our dear archer. I can manage myself.”
Sova didn’t react despite Cypher’s efforts to sound as sarcastic and condescending as possible.
“It would be no trouble.”
How was the man’s voice so achingly, disgustingly sincere? Cypher opened his mouth, fully prepared to say something most definitely clever and scathing, but Brimstone had the gall to speak first. After one of his trademark heavy sighs, of course.
“I’d argue but I don’t think it’ll get me anywhere. Sova, make sure he gets back ok. Cypher,” at this he stared Cypher down again, gaze oddly kind, “don’t be afraid to let us know if you need anything. Anyone here is a call away.”
There it was again, that panic. That desire to get out.
“Yessir!” He tried to salute, but the movement came off more sluggish and weak than he’d intended. Brimstone, uncharacteristically, didn’t react, only nodding as a punctuation to the conversation.
No doubt feeling a bit awkward since. Well, it made sense. Cypher had just died, after all.
He grimaced as Sova took a spot by his side for the short walk to his room, but blissfully, the man made no attempt at speaking. In fact it was no time at all before they stood in front of his door with the awkwardness of the end of a bad first date. Sova spoke first.
“Rest well, my friend.” And then he was gone. No frills, no extras, no side looks or sneers.
Cypher couldn’t help but slam the door behind him as he finally stepped inside his room.
It would be another hour before he left that spot just behind the door, on the ground, back leaned up against the thin wood. He didn't know why. Maybe he was just a bit off, he thought, pushing back the rising tide of horror into the deepest recesses of his mind. He just needed some sleep.
He had died, after all.
***
The water wasn’t hot enough. It never was in these shit showers.
He was still irritated even as he got dressed. The night before was something of a blur. He vaguely recalled showering and tossing his ruined clothes to the corner of the room to be dealt with later (where they still sat now), but the details escaped him. He’d spent more time staring at the ceiling than sleeping, unable to close his eyes for more than a few seconds without anxiety striking.
The darkness made him see things, so he turned on the light. He couldn’t sleep, so he sat at an old desk, wishing he was in the workshop with proper tools instead. His body didn’t feel like his own, so he played music in the background, desperate to overwhelm the thoughts in his mind.
A part of him had hoped another shower this morning would help in that mysterious way they sometimes did, but to no avail. The lukewarm water did nothing for him or his mood.
His hands shook ever so slightly as he tried to put his coat on. He cursed, grit his teeth, and waited a few seconds until they stilled to finish. He wanted to be done as quickly as possible which of course only slowed him down. He couldn’t help but see where the wounds were supposed to be as he did, and his mind fought against the lack of continuity. It was a funny little quirk of Sage and Skye’s healing that they left nothing behind of the wounds they closed. Not even the smallest scar to mark what had been done. As if it had never happened at all.
Cypher had no desire to leave his room and potentially face anyone else in the building. Quite frankly he was surprised someone hadn’t bothered him already. He would have expected Sage to come around first thing in the morning demanding an examination. Or perhaps Brimstone gruffly asking after him as a good leader should do. Whether the lack of attention was a blessing or not he couldn’t quite decide.
After what felt like an eternity he was dressed. It took an extra few moments to adjust his hat, which felt strangely light and unbalanced on his head. His previous one must have been lost during the fray considering he had been physically unable to grab it at the time.
Technically he had a couple of back ups. You had to while doing work such as this. But the tech itself had to be remade and reaffixed. Not from scratch, exactly, but he didn’t have any ready to go. An oversight he intended to fix.
A knock on the door broke him out of his thoughts, sending a jolt through his body before he registered what he’d heard.
He groaned internally. Just as he thought, Sage had come to check on him. He took the time to yank his gloves on before moving anywhere towards the door, throwing one last look around to ensure he hadn’t missed anything.
Another knock, though no more insistent than the first. He sighed, pushing down emotions he did not care to indulge or name in the moment. There was no point in putting it off, she would find him one way or another.
“Yes, yes, I hear you! You know I’m quite capable of-”
The words instantly died in his throat as he found himself looking exactly five centimeters up to meet the eyes of the last person he’d expected to grace his doorstep.
“Hello,” the archer said as Cypher only stared in silence. After a few seconds of awkward silence the movement of the other man’s hands drew Cypher’s gaze.
Oh. His hat. His other hat, beaten and crumpled, but surprisingly clean and with his tech still attached, the antennae almost shining where it stood still erect.
“I did not get a chance to return this to you before.” He held it out, waiting patiently as Cypher continued to stare, taking several seconds to actually reach out and take it from him.
There it was again, that sincerity. The sickening, frustrating sincerity, offered up so easily. Why did it strike him so wrong? Why were sneers and clipped tones so much preferable?
“Well, I will leave you-”
“Did you kill them?” He hadn’t meant to say that. Why did he say that? “Yoru and the other me, I mean.”
Sova’s eyes widened, clearly taken aback by the question. His eyes searched Cypher’s mask as if hoping some understanding would grace him from the empty plastic.
“Yes.” He answered bluntly, though there was an edge of cautiousness to his tone.
“Why?”
Now he openly stared at Cypher with concern. Cypher shook his head.
“Let me rephrase-why did you leave point? Did something happen there?”
Cypher had had plenty of time during the night to imagine what he’d missed. To think on the faces his allies might have made upon discovering the bloody scene. To think about his body being carried back to the transport, his allies pushing his corpse to the side so they could avoid looking at it during the hours it took to get back to base. The only hole in the story was in between, the question of how he’d been discovered in the first place.
Sova’s expression was...odd. Not unreadable, exactly, but nothing Cypher could easily parse. Curiosity? Confusion? Wariness?
“Communication had broken down,” he said slowly, “we could no longer speak over comms. We could not get in touch with you at all.”
Cypher nodded before Sova even finished his sentence. What he had expected. They had noticed after all, eventually. Not being able to access his information was more than enough cause to investigate.
"It was your arrow I heard," he mused. He’d spent time considering that as well, those last few seconds of vague consciousness. Parsing out what he’d heard had occupied him from roughly two in the morning to about three thirty. Was Sova the one who carried his body?
“Well,” he continued briskly, his mind suddenly rebelling against his own thoughts, “with that mystery solved I have some work to do. Do please let me know if you need anything else.”
“Cypher…” Sova trailed off even as Cypher turned in surprise at the serious tone.
“Yeeees…?” He pushed down his annoyance. If Sova didn’t say anything interesting or important in the next few seconds he would consider the conversation done.
“Will you make me tea?”
Cypher could not quite decide if he was happy or not that his mask blocked the way his mouth dropped open from Sova’s view.
“I...what?”
“Tea,” Sova repeated, oddly sure of himself all of a sudden, as if he’d said the most normal thing in the world. “I’m curious. I have never seen you make it yet you always seem so particular about how it’s prepared.”
“Because there is a particular way I prepare it!” Cypher retorted. “What do you take me for? An American?”
He didn’t exactly mean to pull a small smile from the other man, but it would be a lie to say a part of him wasn’t a little happy to see it.
“You have your own tea set, correct?”
“Of course. Though I’m curious how you know that. Been snooping, have we? How very unlike you!”
Sova’s smile turned into something more like a smirk. Cypher found himself wondering if he had missed something, as if he were in some sort of game he hadn’t yet caught on to, or perhaps a sort of challenge. The workshop seemed a world away, far less important than getting to the bottom of...whatever Sova was doing now.
“Then, if you’re willing, I would be curious to try some. I’ve had tea made by Sage, Phoenix, Jett, but never yours. Unless you are too busy! I would understand of course.”
Cypher’s eyes narrowed. He tilted his head just a touch to try and communicate his suspicion.
“Sova, if I did not know any better I would say you are trying to manipulate me.”
Sova stared directly at him.
“That would be very unlike me.”
Cypher couldn’t contain the laugh that burst out. His shoulders shook as it totally overtook him.
“I-I see!” He gasped between outbursts. It took several more seconds before he could calm down, nearly choking on his own laughter in the process. “Alright, you’ve piqued my interest. You wish to learn how to make good tea? Then I will show you.”
Stepping back into his room was like stepping into a shadow. The few seconds it took to toss his old hat to the side and gather his custom made tea set were suffocating. As if he’d never really gotten up at all, still curled up on the floor.
And then he turned, hall light cutting around Sova’s form to illuminate the space around him. It was almost too on the nose.
Fine then. Maybe spending a little time with some company wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world right now. More optimistic, open person may even say it could be enjoyable. He would survive it, at least.
He’d survived worse.