Chapter Text
It was cold. The type of cold that kissed your beat-up car with frost and murdered any will you had to get out of bed. But alas, here you were, parking your car in the campus parking garage and trudging toward the closest bus stop.
The fact that you had to pay thousands of dollars just to park your car before walking to a bus stop made the cold feel even sharper, like a capitalist knife stabbing you in your college branded sweater (that, mind you, cost like 70 dollars) You shivered, shoved your hands deeper into your pockets, and kept moving anyway. So far, the first day of spring semester was beating your ass.
You cursed under your breath wondering why the hell you chose an 8 am in the spring semester. You then cursed again remembering why, it was the only class time available. What was worse was that you were still wrapped up. Fleece lined leggings, a warm over sized sweater, and these cute overpriced winter boots. And still, it was cold as shit. Maybe if you took out your phone and scrolled a bit it could take your mind off of your ass becoming a popsicle. Yet the moment you grabbed your phone from your pocket, you noticed something. A man on the other side of the street, smoking a cigarette. Your eyes lingered for a moment, confused and intrigued by the figure. He was tall. Brown hair slicked back like he had somewhere important to be. Glasses- you think. And… What the hell was that gold stuff on his face?
Before you could focus enough to figure it out, you immediately dropped your gaze to your phone again because, holy shit, he was crossing the street. Walking straight toward you. Thank god for modern phones and the art of pretending to be busy. You fidgeted with your screen, silently cursing the eternally late bus as you shivered.
"Ah mademoiselle, it is very cold isn't it?" The man took a puff of his cig, his deep voice and french accent hitting your ears like a calming (and sexy ngl) melody.
You nodded and smiled politely, "Yes it is, far to much for my liking"
This time, you got to take a good look at him. Who the hell was this guy and what was he doing here? Again he was tall, black glasses, and that gold on his face? intricate tattoos that seemed to spread down frown his face to his ungloved hands. He was wearing this long coat, a blue vest underneath and nice slacks.
"I can tell, you're practically shaking, ma chérie"
You let out a small laugh, rubbing your arms in a hopeless attempt to stop trembling. “I am, aren’t I?”
He took one last drag from his cigarette before flicking it neatly into the ashtray beside the bus stop. Then he looked at you, really looked, his eyes sweeping you up and down. You continued to just smile politely hiding any awkwardness you were probably feeling but the cold was currently taking all of your attention. The man smiled at you and you watched as he swiftly removed his coat and draped it over you. As you were about to protest and take off his very expensive looking coat you started to warm you up rather quickly.
The coat... ITS HEATED?? A fucking heated coat? Who has an electric heated coat?
"Ah much better, yes?"
"You must be loaded"
He laughed (a very handsome laugh mind you) and nodded "I like to think so."
"Thats nice! This coat is really nice, thank you."
"Then you shall keep it, it looks much better on you"
"Oh I couldn't-"
"You can and will, ah perfect the bus"
"Are you sure-"
"Of course, after all I'm how you say, loaded, correct?" The man smirked.
You laughed and thanked him again and waved him goodbye as you hopped on the bus. You sat down after wishing the bus driver good morning. As through the window you could see him, watching the bus, like he was analyzing it for some odd reason. But for now you focused on how the coat toasted your butt as you sat down and life was bliss. However, you couldn't ignore how odd that interaction was. Why was someone like that on campus? And ah... you never got his name. You were sure if you saw him again you'd notice him right away, you'd get his name and return this very nice coat. ...Okay you wont get rid of the coat but its the thought that counts!
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
"Chamber, I need a favor."
The moment Brimstone spoke, quiet enough that the hum of the holo-map behind him felt suddenly loud. Chamber, who had been cleaning his pistol with lazy elegance, paused mid-motion. He lifted one brow, amused.
“Ah, Brimstone,” he purred, “anything for you, mon ami.”
But Brimstone didn’t smile. Didn’t even chuckle. That was the first sign something was off.
He folded his arms, hesitation flickering in his usually resolute expression.
“It’s a new mission. Might be a long one… and to be honest with you, a bit personal.”
Chamber’s grin softened into something sharper. Interested. “Personal?”
Brimstone inhaled, like the words tasted bitter on his tongue, “My niece. There’s a hit on her.”
Chamber straightened, the casual confidence leaving him for something more alert, more dangerous.
Brimstone continued, voice lower, heavier, “She’s a student at college. She’s not trained. She’s not part of our world. Her mother has fought tooth and nail to keep her out of this life, especially after my brother died.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face, the rare vulnerability cracking through his usual stone demeanor. “I don’t want this touching her. I don’t want her terrified, or looking over her shoulder every day. I just… need her safe. Quietly.”
Chamber set down the pistol piece by piece, his movements suddenly deliberate. Controlled. He leaned forward in his chair, gold eye narrowing with interest that wasn’t entirely professional.
“And why me?” he asked softly, though the answer was already forming in his smirk. “You need someone who can disappear into a crowd, oui? Someone charming. Someone she won’t suspect.”
Brimstone sighed, clearly annoyed at how accurate that was, “Yes. Exactly.”
Chamber raised a brow and leaned forward. "Then.. why me?'
“Look,” Brim sighed, “I know you don’t blend in. I know she’ll probably notice you the second you step within ten feet of her.”
Chamber smirked. “I am rather unforgettable, yes.”
“But you’re careful,” Brim cut in. “Precise. You don’t panic. You don’t improvise unless you have to. And most importantly, you don’t miss.”
The French man chuckled, pleased, “Flattery, Brimstone? You must be desperate.”
Brimstone’s stare hardened.
“More like trust. I want someone competent,” Brim corrected. “Someone who can take a shot before anyone else even knows something’s wrong. Someone who won’t get sloppy or emotional. I’m asking you because I trust you to keep her alive without dragging her into this mess. She deserves a normal life. A quiet one.”
A long silence. Then Chamber stood, adjusting the cuffs of his immaculate coat, expression settling into something cold and calculated.
“Very well.”
He clicked his card into his glove with practiced ease.
“Send me her file,” he said quietly. “I will keep her alive.” And then, with a faint, knowing smirk,
“If she notices me… well.”
He shrugged one shoulder effortlessly, “I am very good at making a good first impression.”