Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When you first walked in, you’d notice it had no windows.

No signs of the morning sun, no clocks, no windows. Just flickering lights moving back-and-forth.

Time worked differently here. Or at least it felt like that.

So did grief.

Leafy moved across the hall. The dim, emergency lighting caught her chestnut eyes. Her dreadlocks swung from side to side with careful, calculated precision. Every movement was already made up in her head, steps already done countless times.

Her hair hung from her shoulders to the middle of her back, a bright, vibrant green style in two, thick braids. Pin would always do them, fussing and scolding her while she tamed Leafy’s locks of unruly hair.

It was the only part that stood out to the new recruits, the trainees - Her evergreen braids that fell over her shoulders, roots a light, burnt-umber. 

“Medic’s here.”
“How d’ya know?”

Leafy walked past the two trainees mumbling about her. It was a bit disappointing, how they let their guards down in times like these.

Agents were supposed to always be on the lookout. She’d know that better than anyone.


“Green hair. Only one who walks these halls like she’s got ghosts on her heels.”

She tensed up, the sweat reflecting off her forehead. Leafy sighed, wiping it off with the sleeve of her dark bronze uniform, the shift of her utility tool belt following her movements.

Leafy tried not to think about Firey’s death.


She could still see herself standing over his grave, hands trembling and failing to fight back the tears that spilled over. Pin beside her, hugging her tightly, while Coiny stared down at the grey headstone in horror. 

They were only seventeen…


And he would forever stay that way.


He had been perfectly fine before that accident- messing around and ruffling her hair constantly, finding it funny that she’d get so worked up over it.

Every night she'd mourn him.

Her best friend.

The man she wished could've been more.


Though, she'd never say that out loud.


Not when Pin would come in every morning with tea and something she had freshly baked after Leafy woke up trembling.


Not when Coiny reassured her just before missions, ready to fight off anyone who dared to ask what was wrong with her.


Not even when she was alone, whispering his name over and over again like he would respond.


Leafy had buried away those memories. Convinced herself that the fire in her chest would fade out soon enough. But it never did. That was the thing with guilt. It flickered, low, quiet, warm, until it had become a part of her. Something she felt wrong without.


Just like the agency.


Just like the ghosts.


“Hey, Leafster!”


Her shoulders tensed, gaze lifting up reluctantly to meet Coiny’s. “What’s with the long face?”


She forced a laugh, trying to focus on the way his curly blonde hair bobbed up and down while he moved, rather than that.

“Just tired, I guess.”


Coiny and Pin had joined the agency together, the reason as to why quite obvious, yet they never disclosed it to anyone except her. They had been dating since the year Firey died.


She shook off the thought, smiling. “Why’re you asking? What’s in it for you, Coiny?”


Four years .


Coiny simply rolled his eyes, playfully shoving the girl back, despite being a good, half-a-ruler shorter in height.

“What, am I not allowed to check in on you anymore?”


“...”


“Okay- fine. You’ve got a mission.”


Leafy laughed softly, ruffling his hair. “Thanks, Coin-man.” The girl strolled off, heading to the board in the center of this grey prison.


Missing Agents: 5

Operation Corvus - Delayed

Her gaze darted to the notice scribbled onto green paper, a soft smile reaching her lips. That was definitely the boss’ handwriting.


She squinted her eyes, trying to bring the paper closer to get a good look at whatever had been jotted down there. The faint clicking of plastic keys could be heard in the distant, rows after rows of agents contacting the others who dared to step foot outside the agency, and put their lives on the line.


Or, as Coiny liked to think of it, 'the people who did all the work'.


She sighed, stuffing the note into her vest pocket. Man, Four needed to improve on his writing. It was almost illegible, for Tree’s sake.


Mission 94-A

Assigning to Agent Everglade, Medical.

Status: Active, Medic.

Target: Wounded agent from Site Goiky Mall

WARNING: High Possibility of Encounter - Code Red Operation

Other personnel from opposing agency: Agent Inferno

Her brow lifted, fomring a few, practiced lines on her forehead. Code Red?


That agency- the one that had been lurking undercover for years now under Two’s guidance. No known Headquarters, no clear mission commands. Yet they had raised themselves quickly, known for the monsters that mindlessly followed their orders.

Leafy sighed quietly, her mind wandering back on that agent. 'Inferno'. She’d never heard of that one before. Leafy scoffed- but her stomach twisted, straightening her vest. Probably just another recruit.


“Don’t lose your head over it.” Leafy turned back, noticing the straight, red hair and brown eyes that stood a stark contrast against the girl’s olive skin. Pin. “Well, don’t lose your head in general.Y’know.”


She stifled a laugh, smiling back at her. Pin had a tight collar around her neck, sometimes making Leafy wonder how in the world she even breathed in that, and guns stuffed into the loopholes of her belt. Her sharp, black uniform stood as a big contrast to the rest of her. Pin's brows were almost always furrowed,  continuously on the lookout. She admired that about her. “You’ll be fine, Everglade. You’ve done this plenty of times?”


She smirked, rolling her eyes. “Not with this one.”


Pin peered over her shoulder, chuckling. “‘Inferno’, huh? Sounds like some sort of edgy trainee ." The girl playfully nudged her shoulder. "You’ll be fine. We've handled worse."


She remembered what Pin had told her. About Two. About the moment everything had changed.


It started small. Like a bug in the stem. Ever since New Years, Two had been slumped against his coral bed sheets, the light gone from his eyes, the smile off of his lips. He hadn't moved, hadn't spoken. Just stared, as if he was waiting for something to happen.


And then it started.


Contestants were getting killed. Not recovered- killed in competitions, and he just sat there, giggling to himself. Two started enjoying the chaos, as weird as it sounded for the man. Fanny was the first to call him out. Loudly.

Pin had tried to talk her out of it. Something was clearly wrong, and there was no denying that.


But after being stripped of her freedom, her mouth and her host, she was not letting this slide.


Leafy could remember Pin calling her, voice cracking and thoughts in a blur, Coiny's voice just audible over the speakers.


That so-called 'host' had his hands covered in blood, Fanny's head split open on the ground. The blood had soaked his once coral sheets, a dark, vermillion shade of red. Her white hair was no longer white, but rather scarlet, soaking and scrunching up her hair, and dripping down her face. 

A deep, gut-wrenching shade of scarlet.


Her left eye was still twitching, lip still parted as if she had desperately tried to cry for help before this . The egg-white part of her skill was visible, a clean slice across the top of her face to the bottom of her right cheek, piercing through one eye socket.


The right half of her face was peeled open, almost like a book, her skull painted red. The eye was on the carpet, the light blue iris bulging out, a dark contrast to the red that covered the rest of the sphere. A single artery dangled, still connecting the eye to her body.


Two had stared up at Pin. He just laughed.


It wasn't mad. I was satisfied.


That was the day they stopped thinking of Two as a host.


That's when the resistance was made.


Leafy smiled. Pin was always there to help her out. She had stayed by her side, nights on end, after he had…


Snap out of it, Leafy.


“Yeah. Just hate that we don’t know what we’re getting ourselves into.”


Pin scoffed. “Welcome to the team, Leafy. Honestly, though, you’ll be fine.”


Leafy took out her phone, looking over at the documented agents from the other agency’s. She scrolled down, reaching a profile.


No picture. No file photo. No background. Just a codename, and Code Red.


Her muscles tensed. “C’mon then, let’s go save our teammates.”


She smiled, reloading her gun and slipping it into her cargo’s pocket.


And soon, she was going to point that gun at someone else.


Someone she thought she’d buried four years ago.

Chapter Text

Goiky Malls was in ruins.


Not to say that wasn’t expected - the place had been run down with robberies and public shootings that were enough to send a shiver down even her spine.


Nonetheless, it was nothing that Leafy could remember. Nor that she wanted to remember, frankly.

Pin stared at her, gaze narrowed and hands clenched into fists, her nails making little, half-crescents on her palm.


“So? Are you gonna stand there, or are we getting to work?”


Leafy forced out a chuckle, hands running through her hair, before remembering that she had braided it and wincing. “Yeah, yeah.” Her hands were working through a fluorescent, medical bag. She had asked Four to change it into something less vibrant, but apparently, the budget cuts of their previous seasons were still running deep. She pulled out an egg-white, bandage wrap, tugging it over Taco’s arm. The girl winced, eyes squinting shut. Her bouncy, green curls bobbing up and down.


“Thanks, Everglade.”


Leafy’s gaze softened, managing a small nod. “Anything for a-”


No. This is strictly for work purposes. No friends, no connections.


“- A teammate.”


The three sat in a comfortable silence for a while, Leafy talking through her comms. “Bell? Bell, do you hear me?”


A small, quiet voice was heard on the other line, whispering. “Y-yeah. There’s an agent here. I- I don’t know- I’ve never seen him-”


Agent Inferno.


Leafy felt her heart drop, shuddering. “Bell, breathe. Who’s with you?”


She heard a pitiful whimper from the other end. “M-me, Barf Bag, I-I think I Spongy’s still on his way-”


A sudden shot echoes through the ground, loud and clear. Like someone was purposely blowing their cover. Like they wanted to be heard. 

But their team had no orders to shoot.


The three froze.


“Bell, do you copy?” Leafy hissed into her comms.

Silence.

Then another shot.

Closer.

Followed by a scream.

Her blood ran cold, hands trembling. “Pin, Taco, stay down. I’m checking the site.”


Pin grabbed her wrist, staring Leafy down. “You don’t wanna do this, Everglade.”


Leafy sighed, pulling her wrist back. “You don’t tell me what to do, Scarlett.”


She ran off, clutching the gun in her belt. “Bell? Bell-”


For the first time in forever, Leafy felt something else. Not responsibility, not concern-


Fear.


She stumbled back, feeling the bile rise to her throat as she stared at Spongy’s, limp course, rolls of fat lining up against the gravel. His eyes were still wide open, caught in horror, and a bullet hole ran through his head.


Leafy forced herself to lift her gaze, meeting his.


A dark brown one, she had seen countless times before. 

The gaze.

The stance.

The lazy confidence in the way he moved.

He didn’t even blink.

She had to force herself to snap out of it. He was gone.


Until the edge of his lips twitched upwards. “Surprised to see me, Sunshine?” He laughed, that low, deep chuckle something that only ever came from someone who had too much, and expected too little. “Didn’t expect you to show up on this side of the operation.” 

Because it was him.


She raised her gun in a vice-grip, her ring finger hovering over the trigger. “T-this isn’t real.”


“But it is.”


She scoffed, glaring daggers at the boy. “I saw them bury you.”


But Firey simply smiled, shrugging. “And I saw you cry. Even?”


She stared, every single rib in her chest shaking, trembling with unforeseen cries and feelings. “You’re not supposed to be here. I-I- You’re dead.”


His gaze shifted into something. Something unrecognizable. Something so unlike the boy she had loved. “Came back.” Firey stepped forward from the shadows with a careless bounce in his step, his hair tied back into a rough ponytail, flaring like an ember that’d never gone out at the tips. Through the sunlight, she made out the streaks of burning orange and smoldering crimson, casting shadows across the sharp angles of his face.

His skin was sun-kissed, glowing like dying coal, a tired, cocky slant to his eyes. The same eyes that had watched her rant on about stars, the eyes she had assumed had died out.


His movements were almost cold, calculated, in sync to the flow of his scuffed burgundy uniform, sleeves rolled up just enough to see the cigarette burns engraved into his arms. She felt her stomach hurl.


“It’s not that hard, y’know. You just need a good alibi, and a decent amount of tears.”


He smiled. “But you gave plenty, which works too.”


She glared at him, eyes stinging with the threat of tears. “Shut up. You- You shouldn’t be doing this.”


He laughed. Head thrown back, shoulders shaking. “You haven’t changed a bit. Still the same cautious and naive Leafy.”


His gaze snapped back to hers, a cold, cocky grin in his effortless arrogance. “Orders, Sunshine. Same as yours.”

He turned fully toward her, the corners of his lips curling across his face as he let out a sigh.


“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he said, gaze sharp. “But hey—secrets don’t stay buried forever.”


She stared, finger shaking against the gun’s trigger. “Firey…” Leafy stared him down, gun still aimed. Her voice cracked, one set of nails digging into her palm, and the other holding a tight, desperate grip on the gun. As if this was all a cruel nightmare, and she'd wake up in a cold sweat. 

He didn’t blink. Didn’t speak for a moment, boots sticky with blood as he moved over Spongy's body that lay paralyzed in fear.

“You think this is a game ?” Her voice rose, shaking. “You let me stand over your grave—your empty grave—and sob for someone who wasn’t even dead.”


Firey stopped, a few feet ahead of her. “You wanted closure. I gave you it.”


“That’s not closure,” Her voice shook, gun trembling in her grip.


He huffed out a laugh. “Yes it is. That guy you knew died a long time ago.” He smiled, a bitter, infuriating smile that wanted her to swipe it off clean. He chuckled, footsteps thudding against the cold pavement as he made his way towards her. “You know," he smirked, a flicker of something dangerous running behind his eyes.
"You always did get so… emotional." Firey chuckled. "It's almost ironic, considering just how much has changed, Sunshine."


He turned on his heel, flicking the gun in his grip. Like this was just a game. Like he had done this countless times before - playing and messing with his victims until they broke. 


Oh god, she was going to be sick.


The helicopters whirred above them, loud, deafening sirens echoing through the empty halls. 


The boy glanced over his shoulder, movements no longer clumsy and reckless. No. There was something so precise and so calculated to his every move. The way his eyes scanned his targets. The way his lips curled into a smirk. 


He looked like he would set the world on fire and watch everyone go down with him.


“Oh, and don’t call me that.”

A ghost of a grin.

“It’s Inferno now.”

Chapter Text

Leafy was no stranger to grief. To the tightness that grew in your chest, to the eyes that burnt and the throats that closed up every time your mind lingered back.


Grief was simple. It came in waves.


But betrayal? It burnt. 

The blankets shifted around her, what was the most trusted medic in Four’s operation, now reduced to that of a schoolgirl, tossing and turning every few minutes.


He was alive.


That should’ve been a blessing. In any other case, she would’ve been cheering at the time. But the blood that stained his gloves and boots, the smirk that was fixed on his lips, the voice she’d known in her sleep, but never in the daylight.


Firey was alive.


Agent Inferno was alive. 

And he’d left her to mourn him, well aware. To sob over an empty casket. To engrave his name onto the headstone and her nightmares.


Leafy felt the tears fighting to reach the surface once more, her throat bobbing as she buried her face into the pillows. 

This wasn’t fair. 


Hell, when was anything fair anymore?, Leafy thought to herself, standing up for the fourth time that night to trudge over to the kitchen. The cold click of the tap went off, freezing water filling the cup half-way, only to be finished in another five minutes.


Some part of her, buried deep down, hated him for staying silent for so long. It wasn’t like Firey at all. He was loud, impulsive, reckless, stubborn. Never quiet.


So why hadn’t he told her? He had gone off dilly-dallying and what not, while she’s been stuck holding onto the fragments of her heart-


“Leafy?”


Dammnit.


She forced her shoulders back, the corners of her lips twitching. “Coiny! Hey!”


The blonde’s eyes narrowed, his blue hoodie that he wore ever so often hanging below his torso. “Uh, you okay?”


“Of course!” she answered just a bit too quickly. Leafy felt her palms grow moist, fiddling with the ends of her sleeves. 

Coiny didn’t buy it.


Well, he didn’t buy a lot of things she’d said in the past. The echoing ‘It’s fine, I’m doing great!’ that plagued him whenever he passed her. Whenever he noticed her staring at the wall in a silence that spoke louder than words could. Sure, she was good at a lot of things, but lying wasn’t one of them.


Leaning against the counter, he persisted. “You sure? You’ve been pacing the walls every night this week?”


“You noticed?”


He let out the huff of a laugh, though nothing was amusing. “I’m not that bad at taking hints.”

Leafy’s laugh came brittle. “You notice everything.”

“Not true,” he said, pushing himself off the countertop. “It took me like an hour to realise that Pin was mad at me yesterday. And I still don’t really know why.” His attempt at humour didn’t land. Hell, at that point, it didn’t even launch.


Coiny rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a sheepish laugh. “But, really, you haven’t been sleeping much, have you?”

She turned away, tracing the rim of her glass. “It’s nothing new. You know how it is.”

He sighed. “Yeah, but this,” he gestured to the way she arched over the water as if it were something precious. “- This is a whole new level. You’re acting like-”


Coiny fell quiet for a moment, his words trailing off as soon as she met his gaze.


Like he died all over again.


Leafy swallowed hard. She wanted to tell him. He’s alive. I saw him, Coiny. He’s not the same. But instead, the words jammed in her throat like broken glass. She forced a smile, nails digging into her sleeves. “You worry too much.”


“I don’t worry enough.”


Before he could reply, the intercom erupted.


“Agent Everglade, report to the office immediately. Agent Everglade.”


Her shoulders sagged, giving a last smile to Coiny. “I’m fine, really.”

But that smile felt like smoke, there, and then gone with the wisp of a flame. 

Coiny didn’t press. He never did when she wore that look.

The intercom’s call still buzzed in her head as she made her way down the hall, boots echoing against the polished concrete. These calls came often. Unprepared, unsupervised. It wasn’t anything she wasn’t used to, but she couldn’t tell what she was used to anymore.


Hadn’t I moved on? 

She passed a few agents on the way. Some nodded, some didn’t, but their eyes lingered.


And in the quiet hallways of an agency, that was all that mattered. 

Unlike the rest of the agency, the hallway to Four’s office had the slightest bit of colour. A yellow rug that reached his timber door. . Not the neon kind, that you found at crosswalks and road signs, but the kind that sat on couches and showcase rooms. A dark, shade of mustard, which in another case, would’ve made her puke. 

By the time she pushed those golden handles, the ache in her chest doubled. She forced her shoulder back, before his voice snapped through.

“Get in here already.”


Leafy stepped in, her steps heavy and reluctant, revealing the same office she’d walked into countless times before. Maps pinned along the walls, screens filled with intercepted feeds, stacks of files that he never seemed to finish, and the slightest bit of sunlight through a crack underneath all of his blueprints and plants plastered to the window. The air smelled of fresh ink and coffee gone cold. 

Four sat hunched behind his desk, his messy figure haloed by the glow of three, cyan monitors. His skin was pale, drawn tightly over his sharp bones, the kind of pallor that came from restless nights under artificial lights. A sweep of blue hair fell over his forehead, too neat to be careless, but too messy to be deliberate.


“Agent Everglade.” His eyes flicked up, sharp and unsettling, but far from cold. Four wasn’t like that. But it wasn’t soft either. It was clipped. Efficient. The sound of someone who carried too much and never let it slip.


Leafy straightened instinctively, her brows furrowed. “Sir.”

Four slid a file across the desk, his eyes unreadable, but attentive enough to know he was paying close attention. “We intercepted a signal an hour ago. Agent Static’s on a rampage.”

She rolled her eyes. Blocky.

He wasn’t a good hitman. Barely a hitman at all actually. Every time one of his cases popped up, it was either him getting hit by a bus, and Four finding the goodness in his heart to send help, or him having burnt an orphanage. 

Well, not exactly, but close enough. 

“We think he’s trying to deflect,” Four continued. “Might’ve changed sides. You’re the only one who can get in without tipping alarms.”

Leafy’s eyes scanned the first page. Reports, fragmented transmissions, an alias she knew too well. The paper in her hands trembled.


Four’s gaze lingered on her, his tone softening. “I don’t send people in blindly unless I have to. But if there’s truth in this, we can’t be wasting any time. Understood?”


She nodded, throat dry. “Understood.”


“You’ll move alone,” his tone shifted to something warmer, the closest thing to concern. “But don’t mistake trust for invincibility, Everglade.”


Leafy gave a small smile, gaze fixated on the mustard carpet below.


Blocky was a moving target. She knew that much.


Whatever waited at the end of this, it wasn’t going to be clean.