Chapter Text
It's not that Wang Yibo grew up wanting to be a master spy. It's that he's so good at it. And who doesn't like being good at something?
"Tracer!" The aggrieved shout from Guo Chen comes quicker than he anticipated, beating the acrid stench of the henchmen as they round the corner and spot Yibo, who is already a block down the street. A mixed pack of betas and alphas, there are at least half a dozen, and Yibo starts moving faster towards his motorcycle. He hears footsteps pounding in the distance and doesn't waste a moment to turn around, trusting that the crowds around him will keep them from shooting.
*ping*
Or—not. Apparently the goons are angrier than Yibo expected at being tricked, a bullet ricocheting off his sleek black Yamaha as he races off. Sparing a glance, Yibo sees half a dozen men eating his dust in the distance, but no more bullets are flying, and he seems to have lost them. Despite how overworked their agents are—especially after the latest losses—Yuehua at least manages to outfit them with quality equipment. The amount of money his government spends must be astronomical, but that isn’t Yibo’s concern. He takes a moment to catch his breath and enjoy feeling the motorcycle humming beneath him, the roar of the engine the only sound as he turns onto a less crowded street.
*screech*
Cursing, Yibo swerves around the white cargo van that pulls up next to him, guns blazing as the tinted windows roll down to show how comically full the back of the van is, a dozen guns pointed in his direction. "Shit!" Revving his engine, Yibo pushes the motorcycle as fast as it will go towards his destination—a construction site, currently closed for the day.
The van manages to keep up, but Tracer is known for being always prepared, and he carefully navigates through scaffolding and construction materials that he'd scouted the day before. Yibo maneuvers the gangsters onto a platform and the van ends up stuck, wheels spinning uselessly in the air as the driver’s face turns red, cursing at him as Yibo continues on his way..
Yibo throws a victory sign in the air as he floors it, escaping the worksite with nobody following behind him.
Code name: Tracer. A spy.
No longer are wars handled via trenches. Now it’s all infiltrating databases and taking out enemies of the state. Spies are not only alphas, like Wang Yibo, but also betas and omegas. It’s not only athletic men who have trained for it for years, but also grandmothers who can get away with literal murder just because they appear sweet and harmless.
Spies come in all shapes and sizes.
And Tracer is known for being one of the best. He loves the adrenaline rush, loves pushing his skills to their limit. Nothing makes him happier than getting to learn something new.
This current challenge, though, will take all of Yibo’s experience to survive.
“Daddy was in such a bad mood today. Someone stole some pictures from his boring job. Who cares? Everyone has embarrassing photos nowadays.” The spoiled omega he is sitting across from heaves a sigh, clearly done thinking about someone other than herself, her usual favorite topic of conversation. “He barely looked at me, just gave me my allowance and told me he was busy.” Guo Cuifen pouts at Yibo, her voice becoming even more whiny than usual. “Yang Zhen! Are you even listening?”
He nods, finishing the last bite of their dinner. It took all of his discipline as an agent to actually drive to the restaurant to tie up this loose end instead of just ghosting her completely. These past few weeks, the hardest part of his mission has been pretending to be interested in what Guo Cuifen prattled on about. Her narcissism made her almost as unpleasant as her father, Guo Chen, but it was a necessary sacrifice for Yibo to get the information needed to complete his objective.
His skills at deceit combined with his usual prescription-level scent blockers helped Yibo hide his true feelings from her, though Guo Cuifen has been more and more pushy in the past week, interested in getting to “explore their intimacy more.” The way she’s been making sure to show her unmarked neck at every opportunity and pumping out her scent every moment he was within smelling distance has left little doubt in his mind that he is the latest acquisition the brat is interested in making. He takes another deep breath through his mouth, trying to avoid her cloying pheromones.
“Mn,” Yibo says, ready to end this painfully uninteresting meal, but he doesn’t manage to get anything else out before applause starts, and both of them turn to see what is happening.
“Oh,” Guo Cuifen sighs, putting her hands over her heart as she stares at the romantic scene. If this were a cartoon, Yibo thinks this is the moment that hearts would be shining in her eyes as an anime character. Some beta is on her knee in front of, presumably, her partner, a glittering ring on display from the box in her hand.
Yibo averts his eyes from the ostentatious display and wishes he could cover his nose without looking rude. The restaurant simply reeks with sentiment and overdone emotions, and Yibo has had enough, patting his lips with the napkin and motioning to the waiter for the check.
“Do you think that will ever be us, Zhen-ge?” she asks, batting her eyelashes at him. “What do you see for our future?”
Good timing.
“I think we should stop seeing each other,” Yibo replies flatly.
“Wait, what?”
He stands up, brushing off his fitted suit. “I don’t see this going anywhere. Have a good life."
“Zhen-ge!”
As Yibo briskly walks out, the screeching behind him is eerily reminiscent of her father's own only a few hours ago.
Like father, like daughter.
This is part of the choice Yibo made to be the successful master spy that he is. The hopes of marriage, the joys of an ordinary life, none of these are for Yibo.
Despite not seeing anyone following as he drives away from the restaurant, Yibo still does his normal protocol to lose any trackers, driving a circuitous route to make sure he loses anyone who might be tracking him.
*ring ring*
Yibo answers without looking, eyes focused on the road before him. “Mission accomplished.”
Well done.
Yibo grins, happy to hear Wang Han on the other end rather than the nasally tones of the usual mission operators.
“What else did you expect?” he boasts, pleased to hear Wang Han’s cheerful laughter in response.
Nothing else from you, Tracer… Which is why we have another mission for you.
Of course they do. Well, it isn’t as if Yibo has anything else to do. Being an agent for Yuehua is all he has ever known.
“I’m ready.”
Xu Tengfei is the new leader of the National Unity Party. He is outspoken against Westalis, and we suspect he might have something to do with the death of our latest diplomat to Ostania. Before we send someone else, we want to find out more about what he and his colleagues are up to.
“Okay, so my mission is to get close to him?”
It sounds easy enough. But why does Han-ge sound so hesitant?
Yes. Your mission is to monitor him for suspicious activities. In order to accomplish this—
There’s a pause for long enough that Yibo wonders if Wang Han is still there.
In order to accomplish this, you must get married and have a child.
Yibo manages to avoid running into the truck in front of him only by the slimmest of margins, his trained reflexes running on autopilot even while his brain is running a million kilometers a minute.
“What?!”
Enrollment is due by next week, you have seven days. We’re calling it Operation Chelone.
This can’t be happening.
But it is. Despite Yibo’s protests, Wang Han insists that this is the only way to get close to Xu Tengfei. The man is apparently paranoid and suspicious of any outsiders. The only place Yibo will be able to interact with him safely will be at Elysium Academy, an elite school that requires an intensive entrance exam. Great.
After abandoning the bike and switching his clothes in a nearby alley, Yibo makes his way to an apartment that is near the school. Yuehua will send someone to clean up after him, disposing of the bike and any remnants of Tracer’s prior mission. Normally he would have at least a day to himself between missions, but Ostania has been capturing spies at an alarming frequency these past few months.
Yibo’s country of Westalia has run several searches for moles within Yuehua—and the government in general—to make sure there are no traitors, but while Yibo is ever-wary, he thinks the discoveries are more blind luck than anything else. Ostania’s secret police have been anything but true to their name lately, appearing in droves to arrest anyone under the merest suspicion of spying. While he did not like Guo Cuifen for her own awful personality, he did understand her desperation. At 25 years old and single, the omega is exactly the type to stand out on any government lists, despite not being a traitor to her country. Well, not on purpose, anyway.
“What do you think?” His prospective landlord is a cheerful alpha whose intelligent gaze keeps Yibo on his toes as he wanders the apartment. “This is one of our furnished single-family apartments. Do you have a child?”
“Mn,” Yibo nods curtly.
“This place is great for kids,” the landlord gushes. “There is plenty of room in the apartment and a communal space for kids in the courtyard.”
There are securable escape routes and no listening devices, Yibo thinks to himself, looking at the fire escape and taking a quick look at his phone to make sure the area is clean.
“I’ll take it,” he replies.
Despite his decisiveness, there’s a strange feeling as he looks down at the paperwork in front of him.
Wang Yibo. Manager. Family man. That’s my new life.
After his earlier musings on the impossibility of marriage and family, it is strange to be signing paperwork for such an apartment as this.
I can do this. It’s just for a mission.
Yibo signs quickly, trying not to overthink this. His unintelligible scrawl is apparently sufficient as the landlord smiles and takes the contract.
“You said you had a child? Do you have a son or daughter?” It's a simple question. The alpha is just trying to make conversation as she escorts him out, locking the door behind them and handing him the key. Unfortunately, it’s not a question he can yet answer.
Yibo takes the key, and the smile he gives her in response feels sharp. Disarming. “I’ll let you know.”
The orphanage is as dire as had been described, which makes it perfect for Wang Yibo’s purposes. Rundown and weed-infested on the outside, the inside looks no better as a stocky, red-faced man yanks the door open in response to his polite, but firm, knock.
“Whatdya want?” A rotten assortment of scents drift out through the doorway, and it takes all of Yibo’s strength to not wrinkle his nose. Children are not as adept as adults at dulling their pheromone responses, and it is likely that the orphanage does not waste any money on things such as scent blockers, resulting in a potent scent mosaic comprised of anger, fear, and sadness.
This was something Yibo hadn’t considered. Besides just needing someone intelligent enough to pass the entrance exam, he will also need someone able to control their emotions enough to not be discovered. This mission just keeps getting more complicated, Yibo sighs internally.
“My partner and I have been—” Yibo has a story prepared, a sad tale of countless tries meant to garner sympathy, but he's cut off before he can even begin.
"Yea, yea," The caretaker says brusquely. "Take whichever one you want. Hell, take two."
"Just the one," Yibo replies, trying to hide his distaste for the other man. "Are there any who might be better at controlling their pheromones? And preferably can read and write?" He thinks for a moment about elaborating, giving the cover story just in case, but in the end he decides maybe the less said, the better.
The man pauses for just a moment before a flash of something crosses his face. Amusement? Relief? Guile?
"Yeah, follow me. I got just the kid for ya."
He's led to a room, a bit separate from the other children, where a young boy is sitting on the floor, playing with a stuffed lion… ish creature.
"This is Suo. Smartest kid we got. Doesn't smell like much of anything either."
Yibo looks down at the child, taking in his appearance, and discreetly inhaling. It is true enough the child has very muted pheromones, but he also doesn't look old enough. Applicants need to be at least six-years old and—
"Six. I'm Suo and I'm six!"
A bizarrely well-timed response, but good enough. It's not like any of the paperwork the school gets will be real anyway. It is the intellect that matters most and the ability to follow directions. Everything else can be faked or augmented somehow.
Yibo watches the boy's eyes widen as he stares into Yibo’s eyes, before turning his head back and forth, like he's searching for something. Brightening, the child races to the corner of the room to a box, bringing it back to a nearby small table and dumping out a pile of colored pieces and some papers. “I’m good at instructions!”
What.
He walks over to see a rudimentary set of Lego blocks, with the child sorting pieces into various piles to begin, just as he would. Building Lego sets is one of Yibo’s hobbies, or was one of his hobbies, before he got back to back missions from all the spy cullings taking place in Ostania.
First step would be to build the foundation…
No sooner does the next step cross Yibo’s mind before the child starts doing it. As Yibo mentally follows the instructions, he is pleased to see the boy does not miss a step, finishing so quickly that even Yibo is impressed.
“Well done,” he tells Suo, who smiles sweetly back at him.
Impressive. With such a clever child, his mission should be completed in no time.
“I’ll take this one.”
“Okay, listen up, kid,” Yibo says brusquely as they near the apartment complex.
“Suo!” the boy blurts out indignantly.
“Okay,” Yibo says, stifling the urge to roll his eyes, “Listen up, Suo’er.”
“Mn!” he nods emphatically in response, eyes shining.
“You’ll be my child from now on,” Yibo tells him. “But as far as everyone else is concerned, you’ve always been my son, okay? Now you’re Wang Suo.” He stares into the boy’s eyes, trying to impress on him how serious this is.
The child seems to understand the gravity of the moment, raising his hand in an attempted salute that even Yibo thinks is adorable, the corner of his mouth ticking up before he can stop it.
“Got it!” the boy chirps in reply.
“And you are to address me as ‘Father,’” Yibo continues. Just like your spoiled classmates call their parents.
The boy nods in understanding. “Papa!”
About to correct him, Yibo shrugs instead. No need to fight every battle. “Close enough.”
They walk into the complex, and the alpha that he completed the application with earlier just happens to step out from her apartment as he begins to turn the key in the lock. Who needs government spies when you have nosy neighbors?
“Oh!” he hears, footsteps scurrying over. “This must be your son!”
Yibo turns, offering her a polite smile. Time for the first test.
“This is Suo’er,” he tells her. “Suo’er, say hello to our neighbor.”
“Hello,” the child says cheerfully. “I have always been Papa’s son!”
You’re not supposed to say that part out loud!
Both alphas stare blankly at him before Yibo manages to force a laugh.
“Kids,” he says through gritted teeth, smiling awkwardly before dragging the boy into the apartment and shutting the door behind them.
“That’s not—”
Before he can give Wang Suo another lesson in how to not blow their cover, the child is across the room, staring in rapture at the big-screen TV that his agency apparently felt he needed. He has never been partial to staging locations, but he wasn't going to object.
“TV!” Wang Suo cries. “Spy Games!”
“What?” Yibo freezes. What in the—
Wang Suo grabs the remote, and before Yibo can stop him, has turned on the TV and navigated to a show with guns and spies and— oh.
Spy Games! is emblazoned on the screen in black and red. It’s a cartoon.
“My favorite,” Wang Suo informs him gravely as he blinks up at Wang Yibo with wide eyes.
“Great,” Yibo says flatly. “I need to run some errands, you can keep watchi—”
Between one blink and the next, Wang Suo is across the room and attached to his leg. “Adventure!”
“No, no adventure,” Yibo tries to pry him off to no avail. Does this kid have suction cups on his arms? How is he clinging so tightly?! “I’m just going shopping!”
Wang Suo stares up at him, his eyes brimming with unshed tears, and before he knows it, Yibo is walking down the street with a fake son in tow. He is so cheerful as he skips down the street next to him that it is as if the tearful child from minutes ago never existed.
Children are exhausting.
“I want a pistol with a silencer!” Wang Suo calls back to him, making him wince, but nobody seems to bat an eyelash, the child’s enthusiasm apparently adorable enough to ignore the strange words coming out of his mouth.
“If we find any on sale,” Yibo tells him, watching his eyes light up before racing away again. “Hey, wait—”
And… he’s gone. Wang Yibo’s job is based on stealth but everything about this kid is loud and conspicuous. “Suo’er!”
“You should hold his hand,” an older omega tells him, herding Wang Suo back to him as Yibo breathes a sigh of relief. “They move faster than you think.” The twinkle in her eye suggests she knows of what she speaks, and Yibo nods politely, thanking her as he takes Wang Suo’s tiny hand in his own.
“Let’s go, Suo’er.”
That night, Wang Yibo stares down at Suo’er after he finally falls asleep, no doubt dreaming of being one of the super spies from his favorite show. The boy had watched episode after episode with unblinking eyes until passing out on the couch. At least he has good taste, Yibo concedes.
He sits down in front of his laptop, clicking on the first hit from a search of “how to raise a kid.”
The video starts with a young omega holding a baby in his arms. “Raising a child is not for everyone,” he says to the camera. “The key to a good relationship is being willing to tell the truth.”
Yeah, that’s not going to happen, Yibo huffs a laugh. If Wang Suo knew he was part of a mission, he would probably combust from excitement.
A few hours of videos later, and Yibo feels better about the assignment. Sure, he cannot be completely honest, but Wang Suo seems obedient enough. If Yibo impresses on him how important it is to pass the test, then he should focus on studying the next few days, get accepted into the school, and then they can complete the mission.
Easy.
“NONONONO!” Wang Suo’s voice has risen to a volume that Yibo wasn’t aware his voice could go. “I don’t WANNA study!” His eyes screwed closed and face red, Wang Suo shakes his heads emphatically.
The next morning is not as easy as anticipated.
“You have to,” Yibo replies implacably, arms folded over his chest as he stares down at the equally belligerent face staring up at him.
“Why, so you can get rid of me?” Wang Suo shouts, his tiny hands in fists at his sides.
“What? No!” Yibo exclaims automatically. Yes. But he can’t know that.
Wang Yibo has been trained in deceit, and he knows how to lie. Anyone else would believe him, but somehow it feels as if Suo’er can hear the words inside Yibo’s head.
When the time comes to pick up intel from his broker, Yibo knows he needs to actually be alone. It is not easy, though, as he has apparently chosen an escape artist for a child.
“Suo’er!” The third time he catches Wang Suo sneaking behind him, Yibo is about to leave the apartment complex, and he races back to return him, anxious to get to his meeting on time.
“Stay put,” Yibo tells him sternly, and Wang Suo stares down at the ground, lip trembling. It worked the first few times, but fool Yibo more than twice, shame on Yibo. “If you leave, I’m getting rid of the TV,” he tells Suo’er, whose tears quickly change to a pout.
“No!”
“Then stay here,” Yibo tells him, finally getting acquiescence as Wang Suo stomps over to the couch and turns on the TV.
He barricades the door, keeping it secure from the outside with a couple of heavy buckets that were already in the hall courtesy of maintenance. No way will Suo’er be getting out of there this time, he tells himself gleefully.
Yibo is feeling so pleased with himself that he makes the mistake of mentioning it during his meeting.
“You’re telling me that a six-year-old is getting the better of Tracer?” Seungyoun howls, just barely avoiding spilling his drink as he pounds the table.
“Shut up,” Yibo tells him sullenly, no longer feeling quite so pleased. He looks around the cafe, but nobody appears to be paying the two men any mind. “He’s a smart kid.”
“Uh huh,” Seungyoun replies, eyes filled with mirth.
“Did you get them?” Yibo asks, changing the subject, and Seungyoun smirks at him but nods, pulling out a thick folder.
“It wasn’t easy,” he says. “Elysium Academy has tighter security than some small governments I’ve dealt with.”
“You’re the best,” Yibo says gratefully as he flips through years of old entrance exams. “It doesn’t look like it changes too much between years.”
Seungyoun nods. “These kinds of places, that’s how it works. It’s not only going to be the tests though.”
Yibo waves dismissively. “I got it.”
“Sure you do,” Seungyoun says wryly. “Check this out.”
He pulls out a slim manila folder, pushing it over to Yibo across the table. Yibo flips it open to see one sheet of paper. “What’s this?”
“It’s all the information I could find on your boy.”
Yibo glares up at him, “He’s not—”
Seungyoun interrupts him. “He just appeared at the orphanage a year ago. No age listed, no information. I’d think it would be government related, but I couldn’t find anything.”
“Huh,” Yibo says thoughtfully. Glancing at the page, there really is no information, but that doesn’t mean anything untoward. Given the sketchy man he had gotten Suo’er from in the first place, it could just be apathy rather than anything suspicious. “See if you can find anything else.”
“Got it,” Seungyoun tells him. “Anything else?”
“Not right now,” Yibo replies offhandedly. He’s distracted reading the information on Wang Suo, formerly Qian Suo and, before that, Xie Suo and Zhang Suo. “He’s gone through a few families.”
“Adopted by three families and returned within a month by each of them,” Seungyoun affirms. “Tough for the kid.”
Yibo nods, trying not to think about it too much. It’s just the mission.That’s how these things work. The kid will be fine.
Getting back to the apartment, he takes a deep breath before unlocking the door. With these old exams, they can do more focused studying for the test. A few days for this part, a few weeks to complete the assignment, and this will all be behind him.
Yibo pauses before inserting the key in the lock. Something is wrong . An icy chill races down his spine as he realizes what he subconsciously noticed.
The buckets are rotated.
Opening the door to the now-dark apartment, Yibo takes a step in and has no warning other than the movement of air, automatically twisting to avoid the crowbar coming at him from the man who had been hiding just behind the door.
There are no scents to give him a number of opponents—they must be using blockers—but Yibo can sense another gaze on him from across the room, and he just barely dodges the second brawny gangster rushing him from a dark corner.
Thinking on his feet, Yibo grabs a nearby metal figurine and slams it against the head of one of the men, who falls to the ground with a sickening thud. He lunges towards the other as the second man reaches for his gun, managing to knock it to the ground as the men grapple with each other. It’s a tense struggle, but Yibo finally manages to get the upper hand, punching him in the jaw and watching him fall to the ground with a sigh next to the other.
Rushing towards the boy’s room, Yibo doesn’t find anyone, but he freezes when he gets into his office, spotting Wang Suo’s stuffed animal toy left abandoned by the closet. Rushing over, he kneels down to grab it, his mind racing.
What happened? Who abducted Suo’er, and why?
Yibo notes abstractly that he’s trembling, the fluffy lion clenched on one fist. It must be the adrenaline from the fight. There are other kids out there. He can get another one, but his cover has obviously been blown. He should leave. He should drop the toy and go back to the orphanage.
Yibo can’t get his hand to let go of the lion, though, and he takes a moment to try to release his grip, his fingers flexing.
Catching a whiff of something musky, Yibo starts to react, but that one moment of distraction is all it takes. He turns just in time to see a metal bat flying towards his face.