Work Text:
Mercenaries only have the motive of money.
It didn't matter who provided them their contracts as long as they paid well.
Their work was merciless, filled with danger every step they took. Violence was their shadow, following behind them. Targets don't get taken down without a fight, doing whatever it takes for their survival. Collateral damage happened as a byproduct and it wasn't their issue to resolve. All that mattered was following the task given and seeing results.
Agent was pursuing one of their targets with the team, chasing them down in an aerial dogfight. On their hover vehicle, they were shooting glitch beams toward a stick figure that held far too much power for their own good.
A blast suddenly struck the side of their vehicle, sending them downwards.
The view swept by them into an incomprehensible blur. Quickly shifting through their toolbar, they selected the rectangle tool to form a shield to lessen the blow.
Crashing onto the terrain, their vehicle dismantled itself as it made impact with the ground.
They found themselves in a suburban area, lying on the ground trying to regain their energy.
An orange stick figure rushed over upon hearing the bruit, standing over Agent. He promptly pulled them off of the ground in a panic, inspecting for any wounds as the remains of the vehicle came into his vision, "Are you alright there?"
"I'm fine," Agent said, brushing the dust off of their clothes. They had suffered far worse in the past, this was only a minor inconvenience to them.
"That's good… Do you need anything?"
They weren’t quite used to the notion of someone who displayed much genuine concern for them, but they appreciated the effort.
"Thank you," Agent shook their head, "I'll be able to manage myself from here, however."
The orange stick placed a hand on Agent's shoulder, "Stay safe, okay?"
"I'll do my best," They replied, knowing that they weren't allowed to be safe for long thanks to their occupation. However, they rather not worry a complete stranger.
"Good, I'll let you be now," He nodded, receding from the scene as he confirmed that Agent was okay.
Now, they needed to return to proper protocol. They connected to the rest of the team, telling them about their whereabouts.
"This is Agent speaking. My tech sustained some damage, but I'm fine myself," Agent said over the comms, "I'll send over the coordinates."
They stood beside the mechanical debris, waiting for an escort to be dispatched.
Mercenaries are not supposed to get attached to people as well.
When it came to their colleagues, being detached made sure that grieving wouldn’t overwhelm them in the case. When it came to those outside of the field, it kept them focused on their duty instead of frivolous nonsense.
In theory, it would make the brutality of their occupation far easier to reconcile with.
Though, life does not work in perfect accordance with theories. Teams do not work well if there are no attachments. Agent knew that well, at least establishing some sort of connection with the other mercenaries so they could all be synchronized.
They were on their way to lead a training session, walking through the city and traversing through the crowds. Transportation had been arranged for them nearby since there weren’t any spare vehicles for them.
From the reflection of their sunglasses, there was a familiar face. There was the same orange stick figure from a week ago, most likely getting off his work shift.
The stick noticed Agent looking at them, "You again! Are you doing better?"
"Definitely," Agent kept an upright form to show that they were completely fine.
He grinned as he heard those words but paused momentarily. With an awkward chuckle, he scratched the back of his head, "I didn’t get a name now that I think of it… I should ask for your name now, right?"
"My name is confidential," Agent bluntly responded, though they made it clear that they had no ill will, "It's a basic safety measure."
"Ah, I see," He nodded in understanding, "Though, what should I call you for now?"
"Agent," They decided to simply give out their title, "I suppose that I have to ask for your name now in return."
"King Orange, though King is just fine as well," He said with a gleeful tone, pleased to finally have a proper introduction.
There was a beep coming from Agent's smart watch, indicating that their escort was about to arrive at the designated location.
They were about to be late for training if they didn't depart from the conversation now. Though, at least knowing the other's name was sufficient. Even if the two didn't cross paths once again, they could still attribute a name to a face.
"I have to get going, sorry that I can’t stay for long,” They didn’t want to hurry off without explanation, the social equivalent of going AWOL.
King received the message, letting Agent rush away without question.
Mercenaries do not have proper homes either, they can never return to the lives they once lived.
They have nowhere to go, only jumping from place to place where their clients wanted. They were drifting throughout the outerweb, evading being pursued by any potential enemies that drew close to them.
Though, there were brief moments of tranquility that came on occasion. Agent was strolling around the city, taking a moment to clear their mind from the stressors of their work. It had been days since they began leading training sessions for their fellow mercenaries, sapping all of their energy away.
They felt a familiar presence nearby, wondering if they were friend or foe.
"Agent! It's a fine coincidence to see you around," King remarked, holding a shopping bag filled with an assortment of items.
They turned around to meet the other, "Good evening, King. What brings you here?"
"I had to run a late-night errand and now I'm heading home, what about you?"
What were they supposed to say? They didn't have a home or life like King did. He had a life that could never be rewarded to Agent. They weren't jealous over something that they had well accepted. However, they couldn't help but wonder what having a proper home to come back to was like.
"I'm simply wandering, that's all," They settled upon saying.
"Any destination in mind?"
"Not really," Agent shrugged, "It's not like I have anywhere to go to."
A wave of concern came from King as he heard those words, "I apologize if this strikes a nerve, but do you have a place to stay? Like a home of your own?"
That was a question no one had asked them before. For someone to care about them in such a way felt inexplicable to them.
They nodded, giving surface level details about their circumstances, "A hotel room for work, though not necessarily anywhere permanent. I'm a traveler, so there's nothing to worry about."
"I understand… Though I'd still like to make this offer just in case," King looked directly at Agent with a comforting look, "You can always come to me if you're in need of a home."
Agent knew early on that King held a sense of compassion, but they didn't expect such an altruistic offer.
"Thank you, I'll take that into consideration," They replied with sincerity, "Though, I can't help but wonder why you are so generous to me?"
"I neglected to give a home to someone before or offered them any kindness," He sighed, his visage turning to the skies above, "It's only fair that I make my place as free as possible for others now."
There appeared to be a lot more to King's story that he wasn't disclosing, but Agent didn't dare touch upon that subject. They pressed up the rim of their sunglasses and gently nudged the other, "How might I contact you?"
"Oh! I'll give you my phone number and address. You're always welcome to visit anytime," King picked out a memo pad and ballpoint from his pocket, briefly writing before removing the paper from the spiral binding.
A twinge of warmth rested on Agent's cheeks as they took the note. Though it was far from the idea of a permanent home, it was the closest they could get to one.
Agent cleared up their throat, storing the note in their suit pocket for safe keeping, "I'll see if I can arrange something at some point."
"That'll be delightful to look forward to! This is goodbye for now then?"
"I guess… I hope to see you again."
They didn't intend to make promises that they couldn't keep, but they would at least try to see what was possible for them.
Mercenaries are supposed to be outsiders.
They are supposed to keep a distance from those around them in order to complete their missions objectively. They weren't supposed to let themselves potentially let biases sway them away from their goals.
Despite that, Agent had decided to show up at King's dwellings after managing to find a few free hours. They had called him earlier to inform him that they were coming so that it wouldn't be a surprise.
They rang the doorbell, waiting for King to open the door.
"It's such a delight to see you! Come in," King promptly welcomed Agent inside.
The sweet aroma of pastries filled the air, imbuing it with warmth. Based on the scent, it was the classic homemade chocolate chip cookies.
"I baked some cookies with Purple before you came, they're over on the kitchen counter," King motioned over to a purple stick figure taking a bite out of one of the cookies.
"They're good! Feel free to have one!" The purple stick exclaimed before finishing up one of the cookies.
Agent assumed that they were King's child. They nodded, walking over and picking up one of the cookies, "Thank you both."
They didn't remember the last time they ate sweets; it was a luxury that they refrained from having so they didn't get too used to it. This time, they felt safe to indulge for once. It would have been rude to deny the givings of their hosts anyway.
"These are wonderful, I haven't had anything like this in some time," They softly smiled, finishing up their own share.
Though, they felt a pair of eyes lingering on them. Did they do something out of line? They were unacquainted with casual visits so it was plausible they slipped up somehow.
King chuckled, his gaze on Agent, "You ought to smile more, it's a nice look on you."
"Thanks," They said, feeling relieved that they were sufficient enough as a guest, "I'll keep that in mind."
Yet those words had made their heart pulsate like it hadn't before. It was foreign to them, but they held their suspicions. It was a feeling that they had only known through stories told by their colleagues at bars. Tales of escapades between missions that were kept quiet from their superiors. The way people longed to return for someone in a world that forced them to be separated.
Love, wasn't that what they were feeling?
Mercenaries are not supposed to fall in love, but there was no defined rule against that. Agent felt a bliss being in the comfort of King's home that they never had.
It was too soon though; Agent would rather wait to see if their feelings were able to last. They wanted to get to know King Orange better when the occasion allowed for the time.
That didn't change the fact that they were truly happy now in the one place that felt like a home.