Chapter Text
Phoenix adjusted themself from their position, listening as the door to their room edged open. They tilted their head, watching as the telltale face of their Handler poked through. He smiled softly at them as he let himself in. He fell on the chair beside them without much thought as he wrung his hands together. Phoenix squinted at the action, briefly wondering what had him so nervous.
“[Here on business, I assume?]” Phoenix signed, a haphazard smile crossing their face. Their Handler gave them a look that said ‘You caught me’ before he sighed
“You’d be exactly right there, Agent.” He began, sinking into the chair, “Let’s just say the higher-ups want you on a mission as soon as you’re recovered.”
“[Are you serious?]” Phoenix groaned, fingers subconsciously running along the bandages stretching across their eye before they crossed their arms.
“My thoughts exactly,” he laughed bitterly, “frankly, I’d prefer it if you had sufficient time to recover but apparently, the sooner this mission starts, the better.”
Their Handler paused, seemingly trying to get his thoughts in order as he tapped his fingers against the railing on their bed. Phoenix tilted their head before flicking his hands. They gave him a look that told him just to tell them– at this point, they were getting restless. While yes, they were more than eager to get out of the stuffy room they found themself trapped in, they found themself feeling a bit apprehensive about the thought of a new mission.
“Okay!” their Handler exclaimed, pulling his hands into his lap, “The, uh, higher-ups want you to go undercover as a Zoraxis operative…”
“[What..?]” Phoenix fumbled to come up with a response, hands slightly shaky as they stared at the face of their Handler, looking for any sign that he was lying.
“As much as I hate it,” he sighed, “I have to agree with their decision. Everyone thinks you’re dead, including Zoraxis. This is an opportunity that we mustn’t take for granted. We’ve tried the good-old infiltration before and we either, A: lose a promising Agent to some failed Zoraxis coup or B: an experienced Agent gets found out within the week. Agent, you have both the experience and anonymity that makes you the perfect candidate for this mission.”
Phoenix’s hands twitched, forming useless shapes as they mulled over the facts. It… made sense. Why did it have to make sense? They– they didn’t want to do this! While they were typically used to the high mortality rates of their regular missions this felt more… real. Any slight muck-up would be their downfall. At least on regular missions, they had some sort of leeway when it came to error. Acting was never their forte. Frankly, if they hadn’t been forced into a mandatory school play, they wouldn’t have had any experience full stop.
But as much as they hated the thought of pretending to be their enemy, they couldn’t deny the genius behind the idea. Surviving a fall from orbit was less than likely; The fact that they managed to live was a miracle. It was frustrating. Phoenix sighed, sinking deeper into their bed. They wanted to punch something but something told them their doctor wouldn’t be overly happy if they did. Their Handler’s hand came to rest on their shoulder as some attempt to comfort them. They leant into the touch, a small smile spreading across their face.
“[Okay,]” They signed, pulling away from the steady presence of their Handler, “[I’ll do it. Logically, it makes the most sense. What do I need to do?]”
—
Phoenix ran their fingers through their hair, grimacing at the way it felt. Short hair, they realised, felt weird. Yes, they understood that this was the best way to go about this, but it didn’t necessarily mean they liked it. Silently, they mourned the loss of their dyed streak– it’d been one of the first things they’d done when they joined the Agency; their parents never really liked the thought of coloured hair so, of course, it was the first thing they did when they ran off. In a way, it was like they’d been able to somewhat gain control over themself instead of conforming to their parent's harsh standards.
But still, did it have to be a buzzcut?
They lightheartedly glared at their Handler, arms crossed as they swivelled their chair away from the mirror. Their Handler, for the most part, seemed somewhat apologetic as he ran his hand across the back of his neck. Phoenix pushed themself up in their chair as their eyes scanned the foreign clothing they’d been dressed in. It was familiar but foreign all the same. They just never envisioned themself ever wearing a Zoraxis uniform.
Technically, they’d worn it once before to sneak into the Death Engine this felt more… real. At least then, they knew it was temporary; that they’d be in and out within the day. But now, but now they didn’t know how long they’d have to dress in the foul uniform. But hey, at least it was comfy..? Though, they’ll have to get used to the ‘Z’ belt buckle. (Even Phoenix thought it was a touch excessive– did Zor have a superiority complex or something?)
“Looking sharp Agent,” Their Handler announced, a smile in his voice, “you really do pull off the red.”
“[Need I remind you I usually wear red?]” Phoenix drawled before crossing their arms.
“Am I not allowed to compliment you?” he looked aghast, a hand resting on his chest.
“[I’m just saying, it’s not technically a compliment.]” Phoenix’s eyes narrowed as they sighed, “[So, it’s an invalid opinion! Find something else to praise me about, thank you very much.]”
Their Handler took a moment to collect his thoughts, a hand coming to rest on his chin as he scanned their form.
“I think I’ve got it,” he hummed, “Your glasses really frame your face.”
“[They’re prescription, dumbass,]” Phoenix groaned, sinking further into their chair. They flicked their hand up before nonchalantly sticking the finger up at their Handler. Said Handler took a step back from them, their arms in a faux look of surrender as he sheepishly laughed. Phoenix just shook their head as they pushed themself up with the aid of their crutches. While they were certain that they’d be more than fine without them, something told Phoenix the nurses would actually kill them if they caught them walking around without them. Apparently, they still needed some physical therapy because of their whole coma thing. (It was still bullshit if you asked them.)
“Oh cheer up!” Their Handler chimed, cutting through their scowl, “A few more days and you’ll be cleared for walking– Then, it’ll be a week before you abandon me.”
“[Finally, I wont have to see your ugly face.]” Phoenix smirked leaning on one of their crutches.
“I’ll have you know–”