Chapter Text
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Chapter 1
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Operation Strix.
Anya.
A headache.
Loid presses his forefinger and thumb into the bridge of his nose, suppressing a long-suffering sigh.
The man, ever in a whirlwind of stress and movement, finds himself lying on the couch in his new living room, taking a moment to rest. A novel idea, to be sure, but one he was forced into.
The test had been stressful. He hadn’t been sure that Anya would pass at all.
But she had, which was a miracle to say the least.
And now he’s wasted a day– not that he particularly wanted to– relaxing and gathering his strength for the next mission… Finding a fake wife.
Another wave of headache.
How humorless.
Gathering the small amount of strength he needs to lift from the couch, Loid goes to fix himself up. He combs his hair, makes sure the bags that had been under his eyes are gone, and brushes his teeth.
He’s making breakfast for himself and Anya when there’s a knock on his door.
Opening the door with a spatula in hand, a man smiles back at him, “Good morning to you, sir!” His tone was bright and jovial. “I have a package here for you!”
Loid nods, taking the small package with a tight-lipped smile of his own, “Thank you!”
The two smile for a moment longer before the man waves a goodbye and turns around to leave.
‘Hm…’ Loid thinks, looking down at the package. A label pressed on the top depicting a rabbit sticks out to him, ‘Ah, a R cipher, then.’
Anya has emerged from her room now, hair sticking up and rubbing her eyes.
“Papa, whatcha’ got there?”
Opening the box and taking out the ‘thank you’ letter, he smiles, handing her the box. “A new toy for you, here.”
Wide awake now, Anya stares at him with big green eyes– which seem to know too much and too little all in one– before grinning and taking the box, “Thank you!”
He nods, heading back to the kitchen, note in hand.
He reads as he finishes breakfast, absolutely bedraggled.
‘Twilight, we have news of a human trafficking ring on West Street. Go infiltrate this ring and gather intel to bring it down. The next meeting will be on…”
Loid groaned. He already had a lot on his plate, needing to find a wife on top of making sure Anya was ready for the interview… and now they were piling more missions on top of it all? Were they trying to kill him with work?
Begrudgingly nodding to himself, he throws the paper away and brings out the food he’s made for himself and Anya.
The girl is giddily running around, brand-new wooden plane in her grasp. At least they got the girl a toy while breaking the news of a mission to him. It was… helpful?
He calls over Anya with a smile, all while mulling over how to get alone without the girl following.
Maybe he could call in a favor from Frankie…
—
“She doesn’t look much like a Grande Champion…”
“Nah. She may look twigish, but this girl here packs a punch. She’s a head-dog, and that muzzle isn’t for show, either.”
“Ahh…” The man leans down, his navy coat spreading around him as he surveys the contents of the cage. His eyes linger, smoldering with temptation, “What did you say her name was?”
“Marytr.”
“Now that’s a name!”
And the girl in the cage glares back, not backing down, but not making a move.
“Looks like a sound bet. I’ll give you the rest when she wins, ok?”
Navy Coat stands again, handing her Handler a small bag of Dalc. Handler checks it over and nods, a grin spreading across his face.
And the two men laugh, causing a shiver to run down the girl's spine as she presses her back against the back wall of the enclosure.
She didn’t want to… She didn’t wanna fight! But with her jaw clamped shut, and her hands tied and fixed to the floor, there was nothing she could do!
She doesn't let her fear show, though. Of course not.
That’s the first rule you learn in the Kennels. Don’t show fear. Stay quiet. Win.
And, if that’s what it took to stay alive, then that’s what she’d do.
—
“Alright, girl.” Handler’s voice was dripping with malice, “we’ve got some big backers tonight. Win and i’ll buy ya something sweet from the store, okay? Lose… and we’re gonna have an issue.”
Nodding, the girl bows her head, long, unkempt hair falling into her vision as she does. The muzzle around her presses harder into her already broken skin for a moment before releasing completely, Handler undoing the clasp. Then, her hands are unbound.
She takes a moment to roll her wrists, the bones popping satisfingly. Then, her jaw, which feels horrendous as she opens and closes her mouth. The skin is broken where the muzzle had sat for days, red, irritated, and damaged.
“To the start.”
Glaring at the man, she cracked her neck once before heading through the doors. There, a ring of people cheered, surrounding the Pit. She tried to ignore their cheering and shouting as she made her way in.
The Pit’s walls were steep, slick stone. She’s tried to climb them during a match once, to no avail. Bright lights blinded her momentarily as she stopped at the Scratch line. The start.
Across from her in the Pit were two people. One man, a handler, and a boy. Teenage, most likely. Definitely older than her by a few years. The teen looked weary and nervous, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
Damn, was she facing a newbie? She suppressed a growl. She really was turning into a dog.
Her handler stood next to her, hand on her shoulder, and a glint in her eyes, “You know what to do. So do it right.”
Breathing once more down her neck, he finally stepped away from her, nodding toward the announcer's booth.
The handler across the pit did the same, and the announcer's voice broke out, reaching across the jeering crowd.
“Ladies and gentleman! Today has been the start of a brand new match-list, and a brand new show! For our last match of the day, new to the Pit, but a promising pup– give it up for– Blitz!”
So that was his name? He must be fast. Looking across at the teen, the girl narrowed her eyes. Poor thing looks ready to cry.
“And, special for you folks today, you know her! You love her! Let’s hear it for– Grand Champion of our last Show– Martyr!”
Screaming and cheering broke out once again as a sharp whistle blew, both Handlers stepping even farther away from the Pit.
Blitz was frozen for a solid second, his Handler screaming at him to move.
Meanwhile, Martyr took a solid two steps in, hers staying quiet behind her. He knew better. This was how she worked.
She never attacked first. She wouldn’t let herself.
If she was going to fight, it would be in self-defense. It would be because she was provoked.
Besides, this gave her an advantage, as she looked for weaknesses.
So, when the teen suddenly lunged forward, fists raised to attack, and she caught sight of a slight limp, she side-stepped him entirely. The boy fell, skittering across the dirt floor, as she swung around, aiming a kick for his head.
He has the good sense to roll away, negating the blow to the nape of his neck.
Damn. This would've been done so much quicker if she’d gotten that hit. Him getting a concussion, or even knocking him out, would’ve been enough to end the fight and make Handler happy.
Gritting her teeth, she lowers herself, balling her hands into fists, and lunging for the boy.
He’s still on the ground, the blow to his neck more damaging than he’d most likely been prepared for. But, as she lunges for him, he takes a moment to swing a punch her way as well.
The punch had been shaky and unpracticed, yet had a surprising amount of power. She can feel a crack in her nose, blood starting to pour from it immediately, and pain shooting up between her eyes.
She pays no mind to this, though, and finishes a straddling hold on him, pinning his arms by his side with her knees. She growls as he squirms under her, trying to break her grasp, which she can’t let happen. His eyes widen with fear, tears pricking.
Heh, she must look terrifying to him. She almost pities him…
But.
She has to win.
She has to-
She-
Leaning down, she takes a fistful of his hair and is about to bash the teen’s head into the ground when there’s a scream from the crowd.
Two sharp whistles are blown, and Martyr hops off the boy, who lies still on the field, in shock. Normally, she’d try to help her opponent up after a fight, giving any semblance of kindness or shred of generosity. Showing them that, while the situation was shit, not everyone was truly against them.
But today was different.
As the crowd was screaming, and standing, and rushing for the exits, she hurried to her Handler, eyes narrowed. He wastes no time re-muzzling her, to which she hisses as the metal presses into the bridge of her broken nose, grabbing her wrist to lead her out.
There had been a breach. Someone had gotten in.
And in his haste to leave… Handler hadn’t bound her hands.
Handler was muttering under his breath when the blow hit him. It was a tight, strong, preemptive punch, straight to the back of his skull. He lets go of her other wrist, hunching over to grab his head. As such, she sends a kick to his already-off-center body, causing him to fall to the floor.
Then she does what she didn’t get to in the Pit.
Grabbing the struggling man by the hair, she bashes his head into the ground, a sickening crack ringing down the empty hallway. She used more force than she’d ever use in the pit, and as blood pools below the man, she quickly stands and swallows.
He’s alive.
Probably.
Not wanting to stick around for the aftermath of… this… She turns tail and runs down the way they’d been headed.
If she could just find the exit to this hellhole, then maybe, just maybe, she’d finally be free.
—
Agent Twilight hisses as he runs down the halls of the maze-like building.
This had… admittedly, not been in the plan.
He’d caught sight of the State Security Service outside the center, in a stake-out of sorts, before entering. Thus, he was already on edge. Add on the stress of Operation Strix, and the fact that he’d only had a day to get ready for this mission…
But all things considered, he wasn’t entirely out of his depth.
He’d learned quite a few things, first that this underground operation was… more complex than originally thought.
There was trafficking, yes, a ring for auctioning mostly women and children, being one of the first rooms, but there was also the dogfighting ring, which he quickly learned was not about dogs.
He’d watched in object horror through one of the first fights as two teen boys scratched, bit, punched, and kicked each other until one fell unconscious. They had children competing like animals.
Maybe it was because he now had a daughter, under the pretense of a mission or not, but the thought sickened him.
Covering the lower half of his disguised face to hide his disgust, he had worked his way through most of the underground building, noting which rooms he was and wasn’t allowed in as a guest. A mental map in his head marked each hall and turn and room.
When he’d finally rounded back to the dogfighting ring– or Pit, as he’d heard some people call it– all hell broke loose.
Apparently, the SSS decided that this would be the perfect time to raid the building.
And, of course, he was still inside.
So he pushed through the throngs of people, carefully acting like any other panicked party-goer, before sleeping down one of the aforementioned off-limits hallways.
According to the structure of this building… There should be an entrance around her for the staff…
Right as he went to turn into another hallway, something fast and short rammed into his side.
Looking down with widening eyes, Twilight caught a girl.
She was short and malnourished. Maybe ten years old, at most? Her blue-white dress had old brown stains and fresh-bright red ones. A muzzle was clamped over her jaws, and her eyes were wild with fury and fear.
They stood in a standstill for a moment, the girl taking a single step back. This was before she threw a swift kick towards his knees, trying hard to sweep his legs from under him.
The attack was strong and sure, but lacked true training, and Twilight quickly avoided her leg, which made her back away further. She growled, like a dog, and for a moment, it clicked that she must be one of the Dogs.
Raising his hands placatingly, Twilight tried to give a soft smile, unusual for him in this line of work.
“Hey now, I don’t bite…” No response. “Say, I think this place is getting raided, and I really don’t think either one of us wants to be here when this place is swarmed, yeah? Why don’t we get out of here?”
But still, she holds her ground, eyes flickering past his frame for a moment.
She looks ready to lunge at him again, when from behind her, there’s a voice.
“There she is! Get her!”
And then a gunshot, shooting forward and grazing and ripping Twilight's disguised cheek. Shit.
The girl, whoever she is, freezes, caught off guard. Shaking, she turns around toward the man, giving Loid the perfect opportunity.
Grabbing the girl by the wrist, he drags her around the corner, pulling his gun and shooting it down the corridor. They don’t look like SSS members, so they might be Handlers for the Dogs.
Once he finally lands a hit on the man’s leg, he turns back to the girl, who’s now looking at him with astonishment.
She’s still frozen as he kneels by her side, “Hey, I’m gonna get us out of here, ok?”
Without responding, the girl, gingerly, and looking more like a child than a beast, raises her hand and brushes his cheek.
Gritting his teeth and looking up and down the hallway, he sighs. When he does, she quickly retracts her hand, as if she’d done something wrong.
“It’s okay, I'm okay. It’s fake, see?” And, against his better judgment, he rips off the fake mask, “I was gathering intel to bring this operation to the ground… But it looks like someone got her before me.”
He gives a light-hearted chuckle as the girl continues to stare at him with amazement.
“Here,” He extends a hand, palm up, to the girl, tight-lipped smile still on his face, “Let’s get out of here, yeah?”
And the girl, shaking and wanting nothing more than to flee, takes his hand.
—
“Hey, Frankie.”
“What? What could you possibly want from me after making me babysit!?”
“I need some help… Can you make sure Anya is asleep when I get home? Oh, and can you set up a medkit for me?”
“Shit, what did you do?”
Martyr is lying in a man’s arms, looking around at the world. He’s strong, carrying her full weight in just one arm. He’d even dodged her attack easily, and had gotten Handler off her tail. Yes, he was strong.
But, he was also kind. Kinder than anyone she’s seen in a long time. Her… her father had been strong and kind like this man… But he was just a fuzzy blur in her memories.
She gripped the man’s shirt tighter. His large jacket was pulled over her frame, swallowing her shaking form whole, warming her against the cold night air.
There was a streetlight lighting the phone booth they were in, and her gaze was caught between watching the blonde man– though now wearing a hat and mask– on the phone, and looking past the phone booth's glass to watch passing cars.
When was the last time she’d seen a car?
Craning her neck, she tries to get a closer look outside, when the man hoists her up, holding on a little tighter.
“Mhm. Thank you, yes. Be there soon.”
Clicking the phone, Martyr focuses back onto the man, eyes unblinking and wide. It was… an intimidation tactic. Sure.
“Ok, kid.” The man sets her down in the spacious booth, “Let’s get that muzzle off of you before anything else, yeah?”
Nodding and turning around, Martyr leaves herself wide open. Maybe the man will understand that this is a sign of trust? And if he breaks that trust… Then the moment the muzzle is off, he’ll pay.
His fingers hesitate, and she can feel them brush her tag, an earring with her classification. She nearly hisses at him, but doesn’t
But he doesn’t break her trust. Instead, the man's gentle fingers leave the earring, loop around the muzzle’s clasp, undoing it and releasing the mechanism's grip on her jaw. It clatters to the ground. And all she can do… is stare at it.
There's something akin to relief as she looks at it. Safety.
With the muzzle gone, she was free.
Free from the fights. Free from her Handler. Free from hurting others and being hurt.
And it was all thanks to this man.
Turning around with big, teary eyes, Martyr leaps into the man's arms. He catches her with such fragility and care, and she hopes he never lets her go.
“What’s your name?” He asks softly, rubbing her back as she cries into his shirt.
And in a moment of clarity, she remembers her voice. It’s soft and raspy from disuse, but it’s hers as she whispers out her name. Her real name. The one her father gave her. Before she was a Dog. Before she was Martyr.
“That’s a pretty name…” The man whispers back.
—
When Twilight arrives back at his house, Frankie greets him with worry.
“Are you okay? You never get hurt on missions! What happened–”
And Twilight slowly lowers his jacket, of which blanketed the sleeping girl, “This is Y/n.”
“Oh my god, you kidnapped a child.”
“She needs medical attention, but she also… well, she got in the middle of my mission, so… she knows too much. I can’t just take her to a hospital yet. Not to mention that she was a part of the trafficked people.” He keeps his voice low, knowing Anya could wake up at any point and blow their cover. “I just need to assess the damages and come up with some sort of plan.”
So the two men get to work. Frankie uses a small burner phone to contact WISE and get information on the child; meanwhile, Loid, donning his civilian persona in case his daughter woke up, assesses the child’s wounds.
There are gashes where the muzzle had pressed into her skin, and her nose was clearly broken, blood running all down her face. Her lips had been bitten to hell and back. Her knuckles are calloused and blistered. Several bruises and scars covered her arms and legs as well.
When Frankie is done on call, he returns to Loid’s side, “She’s an orphan. Apparently, her father was found dead three years ago, and she had gone missing. That ring must’ve kept her that whole time… Loid, what are you gonna do?”
Loid thinks, brows furrowing together as he does. Well, until a soft voice calls to him.
“L-Loid? Is that your name?” Y/n’s voice is quiet, but it makes Frankie jump.
“Ah,” Loid turns to the girl, making sure his movements aren't too fast, “Yes, it is.”
“Where… where are we?”
The girl is looking around, and he can see her fidgeting with the hem of his jacket. She must be nervous.
“We’re at my house…”
“Oh…”
The trio sits in silence for a moment before Loid stands, “Are you thirsty? We have juice, milk, and water.”
She just stares at him.
“Hm, how about some water, come now. Sit at the table.”
The girl nods, taking the jacket and throwing it over her shoulders, as if it were a protective barrier, before moving to the table. The whole time, she’s looking around the room in awe.
Frankie follows Loid to the kitchen, “What are you thinking? What’s the plan?” He seems frantic.
“You’ll see. Just- no sudden movements, okay?”
Frankie, wringing his hands, groans in quiet acceptance.
“Okay, here you go, Y/n, some water for you.”
“Thank you, Loid.” She nods politely before downing the water in a matter of seconds. He tries not to act surprised, instead making Frankie fetch some more water for her.
“So…” He starts, making her look him in the eyes. Wow. She’s got one intense stare, that's for sure. “I am Loid Forger, a psychiatrist working for a nearby hospital.”
Slowly, the girl nods her head.
“You see, I was at… that building… to gather intel, you remember?” Another nod. “One of the men there was my patient, and I knew he was doing something shady, which is why I was gathering intel, but someone else busted them before I could help.”
“That… makes sense…” She drawls out, gaze unbroken.
‘Like hell it does,’ thinks Frankie.
“Exactly, but, if I get caught having been there, I can get in trouble, or even lose my medical license… But you also need to go to the hospital, yeah?”
She screws her eyes shut as she thinks, gingerly reaching a hand toward her nose. She then opens her eyes again and nods. Loid worries about her being too trusting for a second before realizing that this works in his favor.
“So, I’m going to take you, but we have to tell them that you met me on the street okay? Or else I get in trouble.”
“Will…” Loid pauses, nodding for her to continue, “Will you be with me after the hospital?”
“Ah…” The man looks away, toward Frankie for an answer. The other man just shrugs. “I’m not sure… But, I’ll see what I can do.”
He knows he’s lying to her. Once he’d dropped her off, there's no way he’s sticking around.
But this answer seems to reassure her, as she stands, walks the length of the table, and catches his sleeve with her hands.
“You ready then?”
“Mhm…”
—
The two make a more concrete plan on the way to the hospital, Loid in a full run by this point.
“So–”
“We met on the street after I escaped my handler… and we didn’t go to your house. We only stopped at a payphone to call your daughter’s babysitter… Right?”
“Pefect.”
When they arrive, Y/n is quickly carted away to be questioned and treated.
Loid hesitates for a second before a nurse greets him.
“Hello, you were the one who brought that little girl in, correct?”
“Ah, yes, I’m Loid Forager, and I actually work here, in the Psychiatrics Wing. I brought her as soon as I could!”
“Mr. Forger! I’ve heard about you! You’re new, but are making a real impact! It’s a good thing you did bring her in! Between you and me, I heard that the SSS just recently busted a human trafficking ring, where they had ‘Dog Fights’.” As she whispers to him, she throws air quotes around Dog Fights. “We think she might have been one of the victims.”
He nods at her, feigning shock, “That’s horrible…”
“It is…” She sighs, “But don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll find her family soon, so she can reunite! Until then, will you please take a seat? We’ll update you on her condition as soon as we can.”
He nods, taking a seat. He shouldn’t be here still… but, he works here, and it’d look suspicious if he just… left. At least, that’s what he tells himself, even with a plethora of excuses to leave swirling in his mind.
I—
It takes two hours, three doctors, and several bite attempts before Y/n finally has a cast over her nose.
She is looked over thoroughly by a female doctor, and her bruises and cuts are given ointments that smell too strong and feel too sticky.
Everything is a mess of white and red and bright lights and antiseptic and burning saline.
She tried not to lash out, in fear of them sending her back, or muzzling her, or kicking her. Or– or–
Eventually, when they say she’s looking better and she just needs rest, she starts to cry. Which is a record, crying twice in a single night. She can’t remember the last time it’d been safe for her to cry.
But as she does, one of the nurses, who’d been kind enough to let her squeeze his hand, crouches beside her, “Is there anything I can do to help you feel more comfortable?”
And she remembers, nodding, “L–Loid? Can I see Loid? Please?”
And the man is caught off guard by the request, but nods, heading out to try and find whoever she might've been talking about. Which isn’t hard, as the man is dozing in one of their uncomfortable waiting room chairs, magazine propped on his knee, and eyes closed.
She waits for him anxiously, using her nails to pick apart the threads on the hospital blanket.
But then the door opens, and there he is.
“Loid!”
She runs over to him, embracing him tightly. He’d waited! He’d waited for her!
“Hey there, feeling any better?”
She nods into his shirt, body shaking, and yet, her tears have dried up.
“Were you scared?”
There’s a pause before she’s nodding once again, grip on his sleeves tightening even more.
“Mr. Forger?” The two embracing look toward the doorway, where a doctor is smiling. Although… It’s not one of the three doctors from earlier. “Can I speak with you about Miss Y/n?”
“Ah, okay.” Giving the girl a light pat on the head, he follows the doctor out.
And so the girl waits, looking through the glass window of the hospital room as Loid and the doctor talk. She wonders what it could be about, as she once again grows tired.
It takes a few minutes before she gets an answer.
“Loid!”
“Hey…” He seems a bit sullen.
“What's wrong?”
“Ah… nothing… How would you like to come stay with me and my family for a while?”
And eyes aglow, she nods her head.
“O–okay!”