Chapter Text
The landing ramp of the VL/T-R descended with a low whirr, and the bleak, cloud-covered sky of the VALORANT Protocol base came into view.
Fade stood at the top, squinting against the biting wind. Istanbul had been warmer, but it wasn’t just the physical cold that unsettled her.
Behind her, the hulking figure of KAY/O followed. He hadn’t left her side since Istanbul, where she’d packed the last of her belongings under his surveillance. No words had been exchanged then, the robot just made sure she didn’t make any sudden moves. It reminded her that she wasn’t trusted. Not yet. Maybe never.
“Let’s go.” Sage’s voice snapped Fade from her thoughts. She stood at the bottom of the ramp, arms crossed.
Her demeanor wasn’t as warm or reassuring as Fade might’ve expected. Then again, she hadn’t really expected warmth.
Descending the ramp, Fade brushed aside her hair as the wind whipped it across her face. She met Sage’s eyes briefly before quickly glancing away. They moved toward the base in silence, as KAY/O peeled off toward the hangar.
"Welcome to the Protocol," Sage said as they entered through thick steel doors.
Inside, the air felt too clean. Bright white lights, surgical steel walls, the faint sting of bleach clinging to the vents. Unwelcoming, like a lab waiting to dissect her.
Fade had since pulled Nightmare’s influence from the base, but it seemed that there were still after effects lingering.
Sage guided her through the winding hallways, explaining the basics of the base as they passed by empty training rooms and quiet corridors. “Everyone here pulls their weight,” she said, “Duty rotations keep everything running. Cleaning, kitchen duties, equipment maintenance—it’s all handled by us.”
I know. Fade thought privately. She did spend the better part of the month figuring out how the mysterious Protocol functioned. Fade nodded anyway, her attention drifting to what seemed like a mess hall. Conversations died the moment they walked by. She didn’t need to look back to feel the sting.
As they reached the dormitory wing, Sage stopped in front of a door marked “20” and pressed her hand to the scanner. The door slid open, revealing a small, bare room. A single bed, a metal desk, and a toilet. Fade stepped inside slowly, and still smelled a metallic scent of newness clinging to the air.
“This will be your room,” Sage said, standing at the doorway. “You will be allowed to decorate it however you wish.”
Fade gave a curt nod.
"I’ll let you settle in," Sage said as she turned to leave. But before she could go, Fade cleared her throat to speak, “Thank you for showing me here. You did not have to, but, thanks.”
Sage hesitated, her lips parting like she was about to speak, but then she stopped herself. Her eyes lingered on Fade’s face for a moment too long. There was something guarded, almost cold, behind them.
“It’s my duty,” Sage finally said, her voice flat. She gave a small nod and walked away, her footsteps a little too quick as she left.
Fade sat down on the bed, the frame creaking under her weight. She rubbed her wrists, the metal cuffs from earlier left phantom pressure on her skin. She wasn’t naïve; she knew the animosity she faced here was well-earned. She had terrorised them, blackmailed them, haunted them in their own minds.
She couldn’t blame them for hating her. If she were them, she might hate her too.
As she placed her few belongings on the desk, they looked out of place against the cold metal and bare walls. A dark leather jacket. A small kit of henna tools. A lacquered box that still held the faintest scent of Istanbul. It all felt like fragments of another life, scattered in a place that refused to bend to any shape but its own.
Maybe, in time, the air would stop pressing in like a warning. Maybe it could feel like…
She exhaled through her nose. What nonsense.
She stared at her effects for a bit. Those comforts were small and distant, like the voice of Brimstone in her ear, reminding her that she was here for a purpose, not for peace. Call me when you’re more settled in, He’d told her.
She scoffed. “Settled.” As if she’d ever be that. Not here or anywhere. This was just a temporary assignment, nothing more.
She got right to it, opened the Protocol-issued mobile phone and dialled in his code.
It went right to voicemail. She wasn’t surprised.
“So… what do I call you now? Sir? Commander?”
A pause. Then, dryer, “Maybe not..”
Thinking for a while, she decided honesty about her Radiance was as good a lie as any.
“The Nightmare is not an easy thing to wield. Rarely has it led me amiss... and yet it has. That is regrettable. But it is behind us. I will help you scout this ’Omega Earth’ as you call it. But there can be no secrets between us. I carry your banner as long as it brings me closer to Him.”
She paused momentarily, before adding a light warning,”With that said, if I even sense that you have strayed from your word... Well, you will be lucky if you never see me again."
She hoped desperately that this was not going to waste her time, because with every passing day, He got further away.
* * * * *
Jett’s voice echoed through the hallway as she stormed out of the lounge, anger trailing behind her like smoke. She had just sent a voicemail to Brimstone—ten voicemails at that—but that didn’t stop her from ranting to whoever would listen.
“I can’t believe this!” Jett snapped. “She just waltzes in here, and we’re supposed to pretend nothing happened?!”
Neon trailed behind, barely keeping up with Jett’s furious pace. Phoenix and Yoru exchanged grim glances, their expressions equally stormy. Skye stayed quiet a few steps behind, her eyes downcast, clearly uneasy.
“She’s a snake, mate,” Phoenix grumbled, his fists igniting. “We should’ve left her in that cell to rot.”
Yoru grunted darkly. “Tch. Who lets their enemy sleep under the same roof? It’s common sense.”
Neon’s stomach churned violently. Her throat felt tight, like a noose of dread tightening with every step. How could Brimstone even consider letting that monster stay here—just one door away from her? The thought made her pulse spike, with anger, bitterness, anxiety.
“This is insane!” Neon finally spat, “We’re supposed to just accept having someone who terrorized us living right next door? What’s next, sleepovers?”
Jett spun on her heel, eyes blazing as she pointed sharply at Neon. “Exactly! I’ve emailed Brimstone three times. He hasn’t replied once. So now he has ten voicemails. If he doesn’t fix this, I swear—”
“—you’ll what?” Skye finally spoke, her voice soft but firm. “Brimstone must have a reason for this, right? Maybe she’s changed?”
“Changed?” Neon’s voice rose, almost incredulous as she echoed Jett. “People like her don’t change, Skye. She haunted us. She messed with our heads. You think that’s something you can just walk away from?”
Phoenix nodded fervently. “Yeah! And next you’ll be telling me Viper gives out hugs. Come off it. We can’t trust her, man.”
Neon clenched her fists so tightly they sparked. Her chest burned with resentment she hadn’t known was there until now. Fade wasn’t just the reason behind sleepless nights and anxiety-filled days. She represented every vulnerability Neon had fought to hide. To know Fade would be there every time she opened her door was unthinkable, unbearable.
Jett stormed off again, boots thundering against the floor. The group dispersed soon after. Phoenix muttered something about training, Yoru scoffing, and Skye hesitating just long enough to offer Neon a sympathetic glance.
But Neon wasn’t looking for comfort.
She was looking for answers, for justice, for something she feared no one was going to give her.
* * * * *
The familiar hum of the capacitor echoed through the lab, but Neon’s mind was miles away. She closed her eyes, trying to focus, trying to channel the energy in a steady stream.
Nothing.
Killjoy stood a few feet away, monitoring the output on the screen. She glanced over at Neon, her brows furrowed in concentration. “You’re distracted,” she said, her voice even but tinged with frustration.
Neon gritted her teeth. Of course I’m distracted. How could she not be? The image of Fade, sitting smug in her room, was like a thorn in her side. Every time she closed her eyes, it was there—like Fade had wormed her way into Neon’s thoughts, just like she had with their secrets.
“I know.” Neon muttered, trying again to focus on the energy coursing through her veins. Her vision flickered with blue light for a moment, but then it fizzled out, the capacitor reading nothing close to what they needed.
Killjoy sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Look, I get it. Everyone’s on edge. But we have to make this work.” She offered Neon a small, encouraging smile, though her eyes betrayed her own worries. “Let’s try again tomorrow. Same time, ya?”
Neon nodded, but inside, the frustration churned.
She left the Workshop dejected and eyes downcast. Nothing had gone right. Not the calibration, not the capacitor test, not her focus, and definitely not-
She wasn’t even looking when it happened.
A body collided with hers in the corridor. She stumbled back half a step, catching herself with a hand against the wall as sparks jumped reflexively from her skin.
The scent hit Neon like a trapdoor beneath her feet. Burnt leather, ash and old coffee. The memory of black tendrils slithering in the dark curled at the back of her throat. She couldn’t breathe past it, not until she forced herself to remember she’d already survived.
Then she snapped out of it and looked up, meeting Fade’s gaze. Too calm, as if she were waiting if she'd do something.
“Watch where you’re going.” Neon spat. She shoved past her hard enough that their shoulders knocked. The contact sent a jolt through her skin, but not electricity, something colder. Regret? No. Not regret. Not for her.
She didn’t look back.
* * * * *
Fade spent her days mapping the place. Not for strategy, though habit made her catalog those too, but mostly to understand where she could exist quietly. The west stairwell was deserted in the mornings. The small bench near the armory got afternoon sun. She started to prefer the east balcony late at night, when it emptied out. The lights there were dimmer, and she could decompress without feeling like a ghost in someone else's home.
Besides that, the only highlight so far was discovering the kitchen’s coffee machine.
It wasn’t even particularly good. The beans were over-roasted and the water never quite hot enough, but it reminded her of sleepovers at Kerem’s house with his daughters. Now, the hiss of steam and the slow drip of dark liquid were the closest thing to peace she’d found since stepping foot in this base.
Except…The peace didn’t last long. Reyna found her.
The sound of footsteps was the only warning before Reyna’s hand slammed into the wall next to Fade’s head. Fade’s breath caught in her throat as Reyna’s fingers closed around her neck, not tightly, but enough to remind her who had the power in this moment.
“Let me be clear,” Reyna whispered, her voice low and dangerous. “If you so much as breathe a word about my sanctuary, I will make sure you disappear.” Her grip tightened just enough to send a spike of discomfort down Fade’s spine. “Understand?”
Fade kept her gaze steady, but her hands itched to curl into fists. She deserved it, all of it, but that didn’t stop the anger from simmering beneath her skin. Beneath Reyna’s prowess, were tendrils of a quiet fear all around her. It had layers upon layers —a fear of weakness, a fear of hopeless love, and not being enough. Nightmare whispered and urged her to feed on it.
It would be so easy to hate Reyna, to let Nightmare feast on that raw fear and anger. But that wasn’t why she was here. No, she couldn’t let herself become what they thought she was. Not again.
“I… understand,” Fade croaked, biting back a quip. Provoking a fight was the very last thing on her agenda.
Reyna held her there for a moment longer, her gaze piercing, before letting go. “Good.” Without another word, she turned and walked away, fading into the distance.
Fade stood there for a long while, rubbing her throat. Reyna had made her point clear, and the weight of her threat lingered in the air. Fade stood still, her body rigid. The coffee in her cup had gone cold.
She stared at it, the bitterness of Reyna’s warning mixed with her own self-loathing. None of it surprised her. She’d earned their contempt a hundred times over.
For now. That part was temporary.
Hatred she could live with. It was clean, at least. She had survived far worse than cold shoulders and veiled threats. The real danger was if they decided she was useless.
And she wasn’t.
She had torn through the Protocol’s security infrastructure before they even knew her name. She could chart their blind spots, read between the patterns, and find the fractures no one else saw. She knew how to make herself indispensable.
They did not trust her. But they would use her. And she would use them. Usefulness kept her close to what mattered.
Kerem.
And if that meant enduring suspicion, so be it. Acceptance was not the goal. She was only here to survive long enough to give her mistakes a purpose.