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The compound was a house, and definitely not a home. Fade was welcomed in, on a professional level– shaking hands and a full protocol tour and a personal escort to her new room–, but she could not really say she felt welcome.
Home is an illusion. Always has been. A walk down the halls of the protocol is tense with cold hostility; she passes by muffled chatter, knowing she is uninvited, as the heels of her shoes click against the marble floor. Through the overwhelming labyrinth.
She leaves her room no more than three times a day, at first, even though she doesn’t need to see the blinking surveillance, right above the sliding entrance, to feel it watching over her. The air bounds her tightly and she’s trapped in her own safety, left to fester in her quarters.
93 scribbles on her calendar mark 94 days since she had joined the VALORANT protocol, and it had eased. Some.
That original discomfort, expressed in her presence, was very much expected. Anticipated. And she was right to expect it; they hung clear with caution, avoiding her like the plague. The worry that they’d be caught up in the mess and the suffering and the nightmares once more overwhelm them at their cores. But, time passes.
Agent by agent, slowly they had warmed up to her— on a varied level of degrees.
Well, mostly.
Jett is cold. Bitchy at the best of times and actually insufferable at the worst. She hasn’t changed from the day they met.
Although, Sage is warm. Reyna is something, but Cypher, he’s nice and warm, too.
And Neon… Neon is hot.
As in, she’s very kind. Thoughtful.
Things change. It’s a startling bucket full of freezing guilt dumped all over her, and it drowns her in contemplation.
She doesn’t deserve such kindness.
It’s nice.
It’s a little helpless. It’s tearing her apart.
Despite her inner turmoil, she does her job and she aims to do it well. She can be trusted. She wants to do good. She chants it over and over in her head. A mantra.
The work attempts to establish a sense of normalcy in her life. A distraction. From all that haunts her. Past, present, future; the nightmares and dread, the paranoia, regret, guilt. Missing him.
It’s what she aches for. A distraction.
And it’s what she gets. 6:30pm, she receives an announcement that tomorrow she would be activated alongside Neon, Killjoy, Yoru and Viper. The major details will find out later but, for now she’s told it’s simply a surveillance mission. To get a feel of the area, or, more specifically, get a feel of the emotions lingering in the air.
From what she’s gathered the team selected is a good choice. Neon’s a powerhouse— brimming with extraordinary strength and that’s without even mentioning her radiant abilities. Killjoy, much like Fade herself, an information freak who would often nag at Cypher to be placed on these surveillance missions in place of himself. Yoru, an expert at getting in, out and gifted with stealth and trickery. Viper, who is a senior agent of the VALORANT protocol, and most definitely well equipped for any mission.
And then there’s Fade— thoughtful, capable, a deadly bounty hunter who knows she belongs, but doesn’t feel like it.
It’s quite the team. She hopes she can prove useful, regardless of what she knows she can do.
The night doesn’t pass by, though. Each minute takes an hour as she lay in her solitude, collapsed in bed, making shapes out of the patterns in the ceiling. She’s been here before, this very moments. More than a couple times. Deja vu simmers through her, an unsettling existence. Cold, tense, and tiring. Tingling, from her fingertips, along her arms, through her body and even in the strands of her hair. This sensation would keep her awake all night with no remorse, leaving her to daydream the million roads of possible thought. All in the presence of those same four, dreadfully plain walls.
When morning finally comes, lack of sleep has her eyes drying up and sore. She blinks through it.
There’s a knock at her door, not to wake her— anyone who would care to knock would know better—, but to presumably instruct her to start getting ready. She has 1 hour and 47 minutes before they kick off.
She hauls herself out of bed with just a little resistance. This is what she wanted, she choruses internally. A distraction. That doesn’t mean it’s still not a challenge. With hair a tangled mess and pajamas creased, she staggers to her door to greet the individual behind it.
It’s Sage she spots, bleary eyed. She’s dressed casually-smart: pressed white v-neck t-shirt tucked into tight-fitting charcoal slacks. And she smells as clean as washed linen, notes of garden-fresh lavender and thyme dancing in the air. Her hair is neat and, well, she’s a complete juxtaposition to Fade. She knows she’s untidy without even seeing herself in the mirror. Her cheeks feel hot.
It’s not an unlikely idea that Sage has seen far worse in her med bay, on the battlefield, in her past. And behind it all, the cleanliness and beauty, she looks tired too.
At least from what Fade can gather; standing up too fast has her dizzy, and her ears are ringing with a growing hum.
It’s fine.
She takes a firm hold of the doorframe beside her.
“Good morning,” she addresses politely, “the mission briefing will begin shortly, so I'm here to advise you to get ready.” Her lips quirk into a small, tight-lipped smile as she nods firmly to establish her words— it’s an order, but Sage is too gentle to bark at her. And Fade is still too drowsy from laying down doing absolutely zilch to take it as one, a little wobbly too, so forgive her brain for acting on a delay; Sage is always there to waft the fog away, therefore when a few seconds pass without a reply she claps her hands together in an abrupt slap. The sharpness of it doesn’t necessarily make Fade jump, but her eyes widen and she’s nodding before her mind even catches up. Sage takes it.
“You have about 40 minutes to get ready and have breakfast,” she informs, hands still clasped by her front. She stands strong. No swaying, like a figure of strength and confidence. She never seems nervous of Fade at all.
Fade blinks hard.
“Okay, I won’t be late,” she replies honestly, because 40 minutes is a long time for someone who doesn’t fancy any breakfast other than coffee. Her voice is rough as if she had just slept for a week. She clears the back of her throat.
Sage bobs her head again, but instead of stepping away, ready to carry on with the day, she takes a step forward. Towards Fade. Her expression, typically on the softer side, tightens as her eyes narrow and eyebrows come in. That glare stiffens Fade up in an instant. She’s been on her best behavior.
A touch brings her attention elsewhere. Sage gently reaches over to hold Fade’s wrist as they sit, crossed over her chest. A contrast to bite of her face, it’s a soft and caring gesture. “Eat breakfast, Fade.” she instructs sternly.
Fade exhales a breath she didn’t even realise she was holding. Add mindreading to the list of the medic’s radiant abilities, because she sussed Fade out quicker than is comfortable.
“Okay,” she replies, and it comes out as a frail whisper. Sage looks at her incredulously, but regardless takes that as an answer. Now, she takes her leave, and Fade can hear the echo of her shoes clicking against the floor as their distance increases.
She doesn’t eat breakfast.
The indulgence in caffeine is an ease, and it’s delicious; something that is a constant in her life.
She dresses herself step by step: a sports bra underneath a plain black, tight-fitting cotton t-shirt and spandex sports pants. It’s not a particularly flattering look, yet it’s tactical and mission ready.
In the mirror, she scowls at herself as if looking at a stranger. Deep purple bruises underneath her eyes– usual– and lifeless skin, devoid of any sort of joy. Empty, dull focus. She can’t help but think how drab she appears.
You look half dead.
I feel it.
Typical.
She loiters until she has to head to Brimstone’s office.
She’s still early.
Neon’s already there and she’s who Fade notices first despite it being Brimstone’s office. She dresses similarly but unlike herself, she pulls it off. Her athletic build– strong, toned arms and firm legs–, it’s a complete difference to Fade’s own body, which is pushing the malnourished label. She’s jogging on the spot, always overflowing with endless energy. If only Fade could borrow some.
Brimstone is seated. Viper hovering next to him, hand on her hip, foot tapping. They appear to be in conversation, but they’re speaking so quietly Fade can’t make out a note. She slowly edges herself towards the oval table in the middle of the room and awkwardly lowers herself down into one of the plastic, disagreeable seats. She guesses they’re waiting for Killjoy and Yoru.
Neon’s humming to herself. Fade notices earphones plugged into her ears and wonders what she’s listening to. Whatever it is, it’s upbeat, and it’s turned up to the max, evident in the bassy thumps leaking from the earpieces.
Yoru arrives next. He’s dressed casually; his usual darkly coloured attire, contrasted by his flashy jacket, alongside that lack of giving-a-shit attitude which would stop him from dressing appropriately for the situation. It doesn’t matter that much, she thinks. He’s got the skills to make up for everything else. Might as well be comfortable and look good. He sinks into the chair next to fade with a muted thud, the chains around his belt rattling as he lands.
“You look like shit,” he speaks with no regard to how rude it may sound, as he turns to her flippantly and checks her up and down. Hazal scoffs, raising at eyebrow at him dubiously.
“Wow, thanks,” she replies flatly, “you look pretty tired yourself.”
And he does. Not as bad as hers, that’s for sure, but he sports the same bruises underneath his own eyes. Seems like everyone’s a little under the weather today. Sage looks weary, Yoru seems worn out, Hazal is… well, perpetually exhausted, but that doesn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things.
Everyone except neon, of course, who’s still eagerly warming up to her music. The rub of her sneakers on the foul brown carpet never leaves her ears alone. It’s a little grating.
He huffs and turns back. “Late night,” he mutters, clearly ending the conversation.
In the meantime, Killjoy arrives. She enters warmly, wishing everyone a good morning in her native tongue. If she’s fatigued, her voice doesn’t show it. She’s a little too much like Cypher that way, up all night for days, tinkering away with her intelligent gadgets, yet still having much to do.
She takes a seat. Viper makes a move to join them, but on her way, she nudges Neon on her side, whose eyes are closed and would have had no way of knowing they were ready to begin. Steady on her feet, supported by strong legs, she doesn’t budge, but she does crack her eyes open at the movement. Fade watches as she scans the area and witnesses all eyes on her. She apparently doesn’t give a shit about embarrassment as she huffs out a “that’s my favourite song,” tearing her earphones out and letting them tangle onto the floor.
Once she’s seated, Brimstone begins, “as you’ve already been told, this is a surveillance mission. Cypher has deducted that this area, located in Italy, may be a place of interest and your job is to find out why that could be,” he announces, voice booming. Fade shifts in her chair uncomfortably. “Or at the very least, bring back something worth mentioning. All information will be passed onto Cypher who will analyse it—“
Before he can finish his sentence, Killjoy interjects, hand shooting up and waving eagerly like she was back at school waiting to answer a question like the genius she is, “I would like to help with that!”
The sigh Brimstone exhales is plenty audible and it makes Fade chuckle a little inwardly. “I’m sure you can work something out with him. As I was saying, Cypher is in charge of figuring out anything you may find so please do not stress yourself out doing so– it’s his job, not yours. As for during the mission, Viper is in charge. If you find yourself in a mess or discovering something urgent, radio her and she will contact Cypher and myself. Simple enough.”
It seems the end of his speech has arrived, as he corrects himself in his chair and reaches to scratch at his beard.
Fade breaths in, and out.
“Let’s go then, what are we waiting for?” Neon exclaims, jumping up and ready. Maybe she has something planned for later… Maybe she just needs to let some of her energy loose.
Viper coughs, a quiet ahem, and stands up firmly. She nods at their captain and signals for them to get going.
A single drop of sweat rolls down Fade’s forehead.
x
They land in Italy with no problems. A spread area had been blocked off before their arrival, not a single native resident in sight. No life. The architecture is beautiful, however... Simply stunning. Gorgeous greenery, clear waters, detailed buildings. But, no people. It’s odd, and deeply off-putting to see a place like this no matter how many similar missions she's sent on.
Viper quickly goes over a brief plan, but soon everyone splits off. That is, almost everyone. Neon trails behind Fade, who was more than happy to leave on her own. Probably not intentionally. There’s only so many directions they could’ve gone.
Fade scans the area and simply, it’s dead. No trails of spine-chilling fear to be detected, no emotions or abnormalities. She wonders what had gotten Cypher’s attention. What makes this place special?
Well, the area is fairly large. So she takes her time breathing in her surroundings. No one speaks through the comms, so she figures everyone’s in the same boat as her.
She can hear Neon’s footsteps behind her.
She can only take so much of it.
“What are you feeling?” Fade asks, abruptly turning to the other. Neon seems a little startled, her blue hair bouncing as she pauses suddenly, wobbling in place. She recovers quickly, blowing upwards to knock the hair that fell onto her face away. She scratches the back of her neck for a moment, then the fine hairs along her left arm.
“About this? Because I’m perfectly fine. This, is weird, because I can't see anything wrong.” Well, good to know that she’s okay. Not what she meant but fade will take it. As for the rest, it’s as she suspected. It’s not just her suspicious about their mission.
“Yes, the same here,” she replies, before trailing onto, “i’m curious,” almost as if pondering out loud. Neon makes a sound of agreement.
She observes the other for a second longer, who is restless on her feet, before turning away to admire the landscape.
She wonders what time it is. They’ve been walking now for what seems like an eternity, but that could just be the boredom talking. The watch strapped to her wrist nags at her to check. So she does. She senses Neon stroll past her as she brings her wrist closer to her face. It’s in the last afternoon. They’ve been there almost an hour. Neon’s footsteps are getting quieter.
Right as she drops her wrist, and looks around a little helplessly, her phone chimes and vibrates against her chest where it’s kept in her bra. Which is unusual, as her fellow agents wouldn’t be texting her during a mission. She knows it’s something to do with the mission. There’s no hesitation, she’s fishing it out from her clothing. The message is a little too in sync with her checking the time and it’s disturbing.
Intel received. Very soon, you will not be alone. Be alert. – Cypher
It reads.
And a second later, Viper’s voice is received through the comms, right into her ear, crackling for the first moment from lack of use. “Sounds like we have visitors. As the message reads, be alert. Do not get compromised.” An order.
Well, what starts ‘good’ usually ends up terrible.
She needs to catch up with Neon. This isn’t good.
x
Neon’s more difficult to find than expected, with her brightly coloured blue hair, but soon enough, Fade catches sight of her and breaks into a swift jog. She can hear her own breathing. As she gets closer, she can see her clutching her frenzy tightly, already prepared for the worst. With the deep look of concentration etched on her face, Fade knows if someone were to jump out on them now, Neon would have their backs. It’s surprising seeing her this way, somewhat. She’s seen Neon on the field before and knows the power she wields, but the way she went from brimming with energy to concentrated in no time. It’s… amazing, what she’s capable of. Her dedication to her job… incredible.
Upon hearing Fade’s approach, she spins to denounce her, face scrunched up tightly, gun aimed right at Fade. The tip presses sharply into her chest. That action alone knocks some shock into Fade, but mostly, it’s reassuring. A gun pointing right at you should be anything but, though seeing her swift reactions, it just is. Certain acts of violence never seem to not amaze her. She raises her hands in surrender, wincing ever so slightly.
The moment of realization, it’s as clear as ever; it washes over the other as her arms drop from the threatening position and her face relaxes. Her skin looks soft from this close.
Bad time to be thinking about that.
She shakes her head, reprimanding herself internally.
“I’m sorry,” Neon mutters, mirroring Fade’s actions perfectly.
“For defending yourself?”
“I could’ve killed you,” breathlessly, she comments. Fade has never heard her like that before. For someone whose stamina succeeds everyone else’s to sound out of breath, that’s deeply unsettling. Neon, she’s worried. Hazal can feel it; tendrils of dismay climbing up Neon’s legs, threatening her with possession.
She doesn’t want it to.
“It’s okay,” she expresses, and hesitantly reaches over, pausing in mid-air for a moment before ultimately going for it, and squeezing her bicep. It’s almost distractingly firm. Fade swallows harshly. It's supposed to be comforting. “They threw us in the deep end with this one, hey?”
That gets a laugh out of Neon. Just a huff, but a laugh regardless. Fade’s fingers tingle. “That’s for sure,” Neon replies, and Fade drops her hand.
Above them, Fade can hear a jet fly over.
x
They rush into the first unlocked building they can find, pushing the metal door open with so little care it almost falls off its hinges as it echoes. It’s a warehouse of sorts. Fade does question herself why on earth a warehouse would be left unlocked while unattended, but doesn’t let it bother her. At this given moment, it is their saving grace. They hurry through, weaving in and out of tall shelves, lined with brown cardboard boxes. Neon’s so fast she bumps into a couple, but she’s a professional and takes it well.
Not only are they joined by mirrors of the protocol, their doubles brought some extra help. Robots, tall, sturdy and most importantly, deadly. One had charged right at them with such speed even Neon had been shocked.
They had followed them in, that’s without a doubt. The sounds of their metallic feet ring behind them. Gradually, as they make it further in, the two of them slow. It just became a game of stealth. The air is frozen around them, still as they wade through it like a solid. Tenacity in the silence. Around them stand moonless walls, yet illuminated by a line of lighting that travels all across the surface. Towers of storage are placed in rows, and Fade notes that if necessary they would provide great cover. They scrutinize the area intently, cutting zero corners, searching for anything: an exit, better cover. And Fade can’t really feel anything, other than her own apprehension.
That is until she does sense a presence.
She yanks Neon down who stumbles and falls into a set of boxes, sending them all over and causing too much noise. Fade swears, and Neon checks around herself frantically before sinking down further. For now, this is the best they have.
There’s more than one. There are too many. They wouldn’t have enough ammo. How did they fit so many goddamn bots on their jet?
They cower, in the places they fell, and while Fade surveys their surroundings for an opening, a grasp of freedom to make their safe escape, Neon stares straight ahead, eyebrows furrowed. Her sight almost looks hypnotised. Fade’s eyes settle on the other, unnoticed by her, in her trance. Her chest rises and falls heavily, and she’s close enough that Fade can see her nostrils flare with each echoing breath, deep, through her nose. She moves suddenly, hand flying to her chest and the movement sends a jolt through Fade, who jumps in place as her heart thuds. The firm hold Neon has on herself makes her fingers turn paper white. She lets her eyes fall closed as she tilts her head back, huffs twice out of her mouth and nods to herself.
All too late, Fade realises she’s psyching herself up.
With determined speed, before Fade can say anything, Neon is up and sliding into battle. alone.
Fade attempts to join, scrambling around, clutching her pistol tightly, but Neon’s yelling, voice strained, “stay down!” and Fade wonders if it is towards her or the enemy.
It’s not like Fade couldn't handle it. She’s been in situations which would scar her allies for life. Nightmare fuel. And that’s not putting it lightly either. She's well aware of their strengths, weaknesses, their most hidden phobias, and what they could do. Her thing is hers, and theirs is theirs. Digging through blood and dirt and pain, her vision has been plagued by horrors incomprehensible, and this hardens a person in battle. But, Fade is not like Neon, not exactly, who’s designed for moments like this. She can handle this. She can. She’s strong, more so than Fade. The best way she can help is to stay safe enough to pick up the pieces when it’s all over. So she takes no offense and ducks back down, rubbing at her sweaty forehead to shift the hair that sticks.
Everything. She can hear it all. It’s enough to make Fade squeeze her eyes shut and pray to whoever’s listening. The metallic echo of hostile bots falling to the ground, Neon’s pained screams as she strains herself to keep them, keep Fade, safe. Around her, Fade can hear the air she slices through, taking out all who stand in their way. Energy as electricity, sizzling distinctly as Neon delivers every single ounce she can muster. It builds up in the environment, making the hair on Fade’s arms stand tall and the air around them feel unstable.
Neon’s fucking incredible. And it’s terrifying.
What if she gets hurt? What if she is killed while Fade sits clutching herself, doing nothing to help? Her thoughts become one-track, no more passing comments of Neon’s superiority— her skill, going home with her successfully—, she is only captured by freezing and alert visions of Neon laying lifeless, carrying her corpse back and the eyes of her fellow agents burning into her; I knew this would happen, of course, you were there, you did this…
It settles. She opens her eyes cautiously, terrified she’s about to turn around and witness something horrifying, and readjusting to the dim light that surrounds them. For a second, the silence is too quiet. Her heart rate is sky high, thumping through her chest so hard, blood pumping in her ears so loud she can’t hear anything anymore. She breathes hard, in through her nose, out past her lips. And then, there’s Neon’s exhausted grunts.
She’s okay.
Fade jumps up.
Neon stands there, all crooked, bent double, grasping at herself like she's got a stomach ache. It's too painful to watch. Fade rushes towards her.
Before she can reach her, Neon’s body all of a sudden loses all rigidity, dropping to the floor like a skeleton with no structure to keep it upright. Fade doesn’t need to be the body that feels to know she hit the ground hard. Her throat feels tight. She's sweating. She drops onto the floor beside her. Neon’s hair is dark navy, moist with sweat and sticking all across her face as she lays out cold. Fade picks it from her skin before scooping her up into her arms.
It’s not that Neon looks light, but her heaviness takes Hazal by surprise for the split second she allows it; all before dismissing the thought entirely, instead putting all her strength into lifting her and carrying her to safety. She can ponder about it later when all is well.
She stands and surveys the circle of electrified enemy corpses that encases them.
x
Sage is ready and waiting when they touch ground back at the protocol. She rushes forward and scoops Neon out of Fade’s arms. The removal of weight makes her feel a little unsteady on her feet, but Sage, she doesn’t seem to struggle at all.
x
Fade jolts awake, as if she wasn’t already. In all fairness, she really might’ve been sleeping. With the way she doesn’t remember how she got here at all, she feels akin to a mindless zombie acting on impulse alone. A sleepwalker.
Lights above her are blinding, a sharp white glare shining down on her harshly. She squints and attempts to achieve clarity.
She’s in Sage’s med bay. Specifically, she’s standing right at the end of Neon’s bed. Tala still sleeps, her poor exhausted soul, and yet, even after seeing the strength she exhorted, Fade wonders how she could, under these blinding lights?
She shouldn’t be here. It's her fault. If Neon were alone she could've made it out with no problem. She’s got the speed for it— she would have dodged straight past them. But, because she wasn’t alone she had to fight and this is where it put her.
She should go. Neon’s well looked after. She has sage.
What the hell is she doing here?
Doing what seems reasonable, she turns on her heel and starts to leave, quietly, definitely not wanting to wake the sleeping agent up.
“Fade?” a voice behind her calls.
Well. Mission failed. Fade stops dead still, stiff as a board.
“Sorry, I wanted to check on you,” she whispers, turning but not getting any closer. She’d sooner be at the door than by Tala’s side given her position. Just her luck that Neon had to wake up. Fade swallows. She brushes her hair out of her face. she shouldn’t have woken her up. It’s not fair.
“You don’t need to worry about me,” Neon replies back sweetly, voice deep with sleep. she beckons fade over with a singular movement of her hand.
She can’t say no. She owes her this much.
She tiptoes her way back to Tala’s bedside. Softly, she sits herself down on the chair by the headboard, placed for visitors. Neon smiles at that; not a tight-lipped smile, not shy, but lax, tired, and with heart. It's warming, and Fade wants to feel it wash relaxation all over her.
“I worry, it’s kind of my thing,” she answers.
Neon laughs, that same huff Fade had become familiar with, this time soft and barely there. She heard it. She wants to cherish it without even thinking.
“Well, allow me to be, uh. That freedom for you,” she whispers, a little awkward in the delivery but it means the world all the same. And her hand extends. For a moment, Fade just stares at. Her fingers shake like leaves in the wind, begging to be steadied.
It shouldn’t be like this. It yanks on the Turk’s heartstrings. She swallows again, and it hurts a little— impossibly dry throat—, reaching over to take Tala’s hand in her own calloused one and rest it gently on the bed.
Her skin is uncomfortable with tacky dried sweat, but Fade can’t find a place where that matters to her anymore. Most certainly not when Neon caresses the back of her hand with the featherlight touch of her thumb in clockwork motion. It has Fade almost choking on her breath as her throat constricts— the sincerity, kindness of Neon.
She desperately hopes her face isn’t pink.
She catches herself. Deep breath, once, twice. There won’t be any mentally recovering from this day.
“That sounds impossible, but nice,” Fade breathes. It would be.
She watches over Neon and her lovely face. Her eyelids start to flutter.
“Nothing's impossible,” Tala begins to slur, unconsciousness once again possessing her like a slow wave crashing into shore, “look at us.”
She trails off into sparse, heavy breaths. The deepness tells Fade she’s fallen back to sleep. And the sound of it oozes calm. Her head slumps to the side, lips pouting as her cheek is smooshed into the pillow underneath her. It’s tranquil looking, as if she hadn’t suffered a thing. Fade watches down as the exhaustion seeps out of her, leaving a peaceful sense of recovery and soft aura to settle in the room.
And she’s beautiful.