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When a dark-haired woman walked into the common lounge, Chamber didn't look at her. He couldn’t. Too busy mixing coffee.
She sat on one of the chairs next to a blacked-out window–a pity, Chamber had reserved that seat for himself–and went on her phone, typing away. He listened to the clicking for a moment, took a sip, and found a spot on the opposite side of the room.
The clock hit seven in the morning. He’s been wide awake since five. Nightmares had never posed a threat since he last served in the military, but recently he couldn’t go longer than three hours without choking on air as cold sweat ran down his back. Radiant power is no laughing matter, he learned it the hard way.
They were yet to mouth a word, taking in the early morning bit by bit. He’d assumed Fade—as she’s been called by others—was about to leave as typing stopped, but she remained seated. He took another sip of coffee and shivered, regretting sitting with his back facing her. But he couldn’t look at her. Not after what she did.
It’s her fault, the woman behind him.
All the dossiers she had scattered across the globe. She had taunted and angered everyone in the HQs by throwing the entire organization into a panic. There were countless meetings, talks, and arguments, which never led to anything specific. Back then he was sure she didn’t have anything on him. He had thought he had experience with people like her, and he was proved wrong. Too egotistical to admit the fault in his judgement, too proud to be alarmed as everyone else was. He had walked around the base with his head held high, playing pretend as he usually did, giving out advice and thinking of tactics they could use to catch her.
He’d known that the upper command was wary of him, hence the lack of information he’d had access to. The only route he could take at that point was to bluff and put on a confident, though subtly concerned role. It paid off in the end—Brimstone ignored Viper’s call and let him attend several sessions when they’d speculate about the intentions behind the dossiers and who was responsible for them.
But then they found his dossier. For the first time in forever, he didn’t know what to do. When the news got to HQ, he was seated for a long series of questioning that had gone on for hours on end. It was nothing he couldn't handle, but his stakes were high.
Yoru. Yoru was his highest stake.
At that point, the base had been in mentally broken-down shambles. He could tell Brimstone hadn’t slept for days and Viper had been running on pure spite and anger. He wasn’t doing better than them either. Trapped in a corner and smaller than a mouse was everything he could experience to be. In the moment of communal storm and panic, they rained their questions down on him.
Some things he denied, the other ones he lied about. As the higher-ups grew impatient and snappy, he had to make a decision on the fly. For one, he didn’t want to jeopardize his position in the org any further. With a heavy heart and anxiety prickling down his neck, he handpicked a set of truths to give up, but on one condition.
“Don’t tell Yoru,” he said, his hoarse voice dry from constant talking.
“It’s not up to you to decide who this information will be shared with” Viper replied back. She was stubborn till the end but tired. They found her dossier shortly after his, and he could tell it weakened her, immobilized. “But it is classified. For the time being anyway,” she said at last, hawking down at him and waiting for puzzle pieces to fall into her hands.
He let out a short sigh of relief and pressed his lips tight in a thin line. He needed to play this act right.
“We could push him and his potential further,” he spoke up.
Brimstone leaned back on his chair. His stamina was running out by a minute. “What do you mean by that?”
He lifted his head, looking at Brimstone first, then Viper. The room was spinning, it was too much for him to handle, and he lowered his head again. He needs to play this right.
“Just like I suggested to release Neon’s surge protector—”
“Suggested is a weak word,” Viper scoffed.
He didn’t pay attention to the snarky remark and continued. “—We could outsource his Radiant power to fuel new teleport instances.”
He felt cold sweat roll down his back as he pronounced the words. He couldn’t believe he finally said his thoughts out loud. After what he went through in the past up until that point, he shouldn’t have felt this… shitty. He shouldn’t feel this urge to eat his own words and never say them again. He shouldn’t feel like he’s betraying Yoru. After everything they’d done together, he shouldn’t be able to treat him like a means to an end.
“No,” Brimstone interjected. Somehow, the man’s immediate rejection served as a relief to Chamber. “We can’t. His dimensional travel doesn’t work that way.” He sounded like an overprotective father. Chamber didn’t like his tone at first, but then guilt pooled in his stomach. He should’ve cared about Yoru as much as Brimstone did. “He walks through the fabric on a surface level,” the man continued. “Abusing his power is like asking him to dive to the bottom of the ocean with no oxygen tank or gear. He’ll get crushed before he realizes.”
Viper nodded. “I agree. There is no guarantee he’ll live even after the first trial. It’s too reckless. Even for you,” she shot daggers at Chamber. “Are you really that deep into this grandiose plan of yours?” She leaned on the table with both her arms, looming over him. “Have you lost your humanity? Have you had it to begin with?”
He swallowed hard. He wasn’t scared, Viper didn’t have it in her to frighten him enough, but the anxiety made his fingertips twitch. Her bitter words became a nail in the coffin.
“That’s a bold statement coming from you, ex-Chief. Want to chat about your incident too? Since we’re getting so personal up in here.” He couldn’t resist the urge to pinch the snake back after she’s been nagging at him for the past several hours. He knew he overstepped when she reached out one of her hands to grab him by the vest, but Brimstone stopped it by moving Viper to the side before things got ugly and physical.
“Don’t you dare talk to me like this,” she spat. Her eyes were veiled by rage and despair. He hit the nerve, he should be proud of himself, but he wasn’t. “You don’t know anything about me,” her growling voice rang loud in his ears. It wasn’t like her to be on the defensive. Perhaps her stakes were high too. “You have no idea what we’ve— what I’ve been through.”
“Enough,” Brimstone’s firm voice echoed in the room. “Questioning is over. You may go.”
The door shut behind him with a loud click. He knew he failed. He knew what was coming.
Defeated, he limped to the common lounge, regretting the decision as nausea twisted his stomach in a painful spasm. His heart pounded fast, he choked on air as he rapidly tried to grasp it but his lungs seemed to be on the verge of collapse. He somehow managed to shuffle towards the fridge, grab a bottle of water and chug it down in one go after crushing on a couch and releasing his tie. His body was ready to give up, but his mind worked overtime to come up with a solution, running faster than a cheetah hunting its prey down. While low, there was a possibility remaining that they would figure out his connection to Everett-Linde, and if they did, he’d be done for. Not only his pride was on the line, but the end goal. He bit the inside of his cheek to bring himself back to reality, but the cold in his chest had already spread down to his fingers and feet. He had to flee. He had to—
Then he heard some ruckus, laughter and hand clapping. It was at least three younger agents, and there was no way he could handle them right now, not in this state. He got up to leave but it was too late. Yoru made eye contact with him as he walked in and shared a quick smile with him.
He had to flee before it was too late.
Chamber.
Are you listening?
Vincent, are you here?
His coffee was now cold. Fade has been long gone from the lounge. Yoru was sat across from him.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?”
Chamber jolted when he heard the familiar voice being unusually concerned.
“I— I do,” he tried to crack a smile but it looked nothing like it. He took a sip of coffee and winced. “It’s complicated.” He watched Yoru cross his arms in frustration, but this time he managed to smile, genuine and warm. “Don’t like the answer?”
“You know I don’t.”
“I don’t think you’re ready to handle the truth,” Chamber replied. Half-joke, half-honesty.
He didn’t want to imagine Yoru’s face curdled in disgust and disbelief, but he also understood that he can’t keep Yoru in the dark forever. One way or the other, the word will get out, and Chamber wants to remain in control till the end by telling him the truth.
The truth that he befriended him at first because his Radiant power fascinated him. That he fantasized about exploiting it for the greater good, for his goal, to the point of laughing to himself when he was all alone in his room. That he lied through his teeth about enjoying his company so much that they should train every weekend. That it was as if love at first sight struck him down and he couldn’t hold it in any longer. That his kisses tasted like a honeydew on a hot summer afternoon. That his touch burned his skin and sent him into a state of awe every time they had sex. That he wishes he could listen to his sweet and quiet moans when he hides them over and over again. That he was worried to death when Brimstone would send him to Siberia, hoping he could handle the dimensional tear and not fall into it again. That he can’t look at him anymore because he loves him too much. That he doesn’t know what to do anymore and he wants to run, fast and far away. That he loves him.
The truth is that he so desperately loves him that it’s destroying everything he’s built and he can’t keep up with this drowning, suffocating feeling any longer.
When Yoru sat closer to him, put his head on his shoulder, and grabbed his hand, Chamber let out a deep sigh and sobbed in silence. Yoru’s touch was warm and gentle, but he wanted the opposite. He wanted the anger, he needed Yoru to lose it and cut the ties. If only he told him that he hates him, if only he told him to get out of his sight, if only he knew the truth.
If only he knew how to quit him.