Chapter Text
"As the Greeks see it, elegance arises from excavation, from the cavity."
— Robert Calasso, The Marriage of Cadmus and Harmony
"My name is Chamber, and I am a sniper."
These are the first words that the newest agent speaks and Yoru is decidedly moved by the whole affair. Moved in what direction, he's not sure, and he resorts to narrowing his eyes at the man named Chamber in an attempt to pull the answers from appearance alone.
Chamber, Yoru concludes, is a frightening man. Yoru has seen scarier persons lurking in alleyways and even more terrifying creatures pretending at humanity at the edges of the rift. No, what makes Chamber frightening is that he's rather attractive. Tall, long-legged, broad shouldered, richly dressed in tailored clothing that accentuates his coltish-like figure and strong arms. Paired with perfectly slicked back hair, golden rivers on his face and neck, and a smile that makes you feel like you have returned home after a long journey and Yoru scents danger in the air. Chamber's voice, coloured by a mild French accent, swam like a warm current laden with promise that Yoru felt immediately compelled to trust. There's just the matter of his instincts and the content of the introduction that produces a punch of scepticism. It's a little cool, he supposes, but he has to wonder what pathway this Chamber had walked to end up as a trained marksman and, more importantly, end up here.
"You think he moonlights as a waiter?" Raze whispers at Yoru's right side, angling her face towards him and showing a smirk.
Yoru huffs behind his hand. "Hell no," he returns just as quietly. "Look at the guy, he probably gets mad at waiters if they forget his fork or something."
Raze snickers, turns it into a cough, and adjusts herself in her chair. Whatever Brimstone had been saying is lost on both of them and Yoru's eyes return to Chamber. A perfect looking man of dubious origin who comes to them already knowing how to take a life—it all feels rather…by design. Atavistic instincts remind him that bright colours often signal danger out in the wild and Yoru reflexively cracks his knuckles. "I look forward to working with you all," Chamber is saying pleasantly. Yoru's eyes meet Chamber's and he's keenly aware of being seen. It's no ordinary look that encompasses the tangible. Instead, Yoru feels observed in a way that he's only ever felt when being caught in a lie.
Hackles raised, Yoru scowls at the cause of his painful uncertainty. Chamber, to his credit, takes the ire in stride and merely smiles as he claims an open seat at the long table. They have a briefing for a mission and Chamber is not exempt from participating now that he has joined their ranks. Yoru only half listens to Brimstone droning on about their plans because it always gets derailed (and, anyways, he prefers to operate on his own terms). The hairs at the back of his neck prickle uncomfortably and Yoru turns a glare to the only possible source of the sensation. Chamber, seated primly on the opposite side of the table, is already watching him with a studious touch to his brown eyes. Yoru is hardly insecure, but that doesn't mean he enjoys getting stared at—especially not by a complete stranger. He mouths a snappy 'What?' which only elicits a bemused twitch at the corner of Chamber's lips.
Yoru decides that there must be something deeply wrong with Chamber. No normal person is that happy all of the time. In fact, Yoru harbours an inherent distrust of too-cheery individuals (with very few exceptions). He rolls his eyes and drums his fingers on his leg as the minutes tick by, the feeling of being watched never waning. Yoru is mostly content to move on from this weird introduction and release all of his bellicosity through shooting down their Omega counterparts, except the universe has decided that he is not to be afforded any peace. Chamber, apparently not to be deterred by officially joining them only half an hour prior, inserts himself onto the mission team following quiet words with Brimstone. Stupid, arrogant, or both; it doesn't matter. Yoru can do nothing when they board the Vulture and Chamber sits elects to sit next to him.
He looks at Chamber just long enough to see the beginnings of a charming smile, the sort that sleazy men use when they spot an attractive woman at a bar. A feeling starts in his stomach and works its way outwards until it prickles just beneath his skin, a hot and agitated thing that requests his attention. "Don't even think about it, Chandler," he snaps when he sees preparation to speak.
"Chamber," the self-proclaimed sniper corrects, entirely unperturbed by the attitude he's being given.
"Whatever."
"I simply wanted to express my excitement at being able to work with you on my first mission." Chamber's voice is a fresh honey that glides across his thoughts with over-saturated geniality. "I have heard much about you," Chamber continues, either not noticing Yoru's intense gaze and thinned lips or choosing to ignore it altogether.
Yoru exhales sharply. He looks away towards the safety of the familiar interior surrounding him. False posturing is idiotic and useless on him and he really hates having his time wasted. "Shut it, save your breath," he orders abruptly. "Or don't. You can go die for all I care." His hand finds his and begins to weave it around his fingers, an action he knows is being watched. He swears Chamber laughs at him, soft and low and almost hidden beneath the engine's roar. Ignoring it is the best course of action and the rest of their flight is mercifully silent.
The cool breeze of Ascent is a welcome reprise from the choked atmosphere of the Vulture. Stepping off the ramp places them all close to the edge and the dizzying drop that is pared with its stunning view that Yoru has seen countless times before. He ignores Chamber's tattoos as they catch the light, gold melting into shimmering ichor along his skin. "Don't get lost," Yoru huffs as he shoulders past, following their team further from certain death at the hands of gravity.
Long, confident strides telegraph Chamber's swift approach to his side. "Rest assured I will not," Chamber says smoothly. "I studied all of the maps for many of the radiant hot spots that we will be fighting over."
Right. Of course he would have. "You want a gold star sticker or somethin'?" Yoru grumbles as he trudges forward to meet Sage, Viper, and Reyna.
"I would be delighted to have one!" Chamber chirps.
"Idiot," Yoru fires back, loud enough for Sage to give him a reprimanding look. He holds his tongue as they make final adjustments, not that is matters to him because he knows exactly what he'll be doing. When they disperse, Yoru remains standing by a stack of old, industrial crates and looking through the worn archway before him. It's a bland view that he only takes stock of through the lens of concealment of potential threats. Yoru believes himself to be appropriately coiled in preparation, not overly so because he's done this so many times, yet he can't conceal the jerking of his body in response to a snap and a metallic bubbling sound that drags his attention to the top of the boxes.
There is Chamber, appearing taller than he had on the ground with his long legs rising from above Yoru's head. The crisp lines of Chamber's being melt into a steadily flowing river, sure in its path and steady enough to carve away the earth beneath its tread. He observes the same archway—perhaps he sees something in it that Yoru never did—with his hands clasped behind his back; a confident surveyor of a dangerous land. Chamber is at ease despite the imminent danger. Yoru watches him, watches the way Chamber's fingers glide over his sloping knuckles before trailing languidly up his forearm in an absent and familiar motion that follows the golden pathways in his skin. Where do those pathways lead? so steady and certain and deliberate as the man beneath them. Chamber rolls his shoulders and moves as if to hold a gun, which would have been comical if not for the fact that one appears in his hands; gold and glistening with mechanisms that seem to breathe along with its maker.
Yoru doesn't know how he's come to that conclusion, he only knows that it's correct. It's a captivating image that pricks his psyche like rose thorns, teasing him with the beauty that lies just beyond them. Chamber is lovely in a disarming way that invites one into danger, Yoru thinks, and it's swiftly confirmed by Viper's voice in their ears telling them that someone is approaching their location. Yoru wrenches his eyes away and draws his own gun. He spots Skye's fiery hair a second before a metallic boom sounds from Chamber's gun and she drops beneath the arch.
He springs into action, following instinct more than command as they push back familiar faces. Yoru flashes, kills, teleports, and returns. It's an old song and dance that carries him through the violence as a feather upon water. Confidence guides him towards Killjoy who has remained hidden with the spike in the abandoned boathouse, baiting them all into her trap. Her little grenades explode beneath his feet and force him to retreat. The beeping increases its speed to the tune of his racing heart, taunting him and drowning out the noise of his teammates in his ear. There's no time to wait and no time to try some other way—he is their best chance.
Gun at the ready, he clears the wall of the preceding hut and fires. The sound of the bullet impacting in the stone wall is like a gong that signals his doom. Yoru doesn't need to check any further to know that Killjoy is not back there, only her tenacious turret that locks onto his body and begins to fire. Perpetual motion saves him from the initial barrage of bullets as he careens off the raised ledge and prepares to run as soon as his feet touch the ground. The rift is a pulsing alarm in his veins that he almost obeys. There's a bullet primed for his head and if he tears through the rift now, he knows he can save himself.
Yoru is wonderful at ignoring logic and gut feelings though, and he pushes forward just as the death knell sounds. The brassy shot sings like a hellish choir as it rips through the stone to his right. Yoru narrowly avoids tripping on Killjoy's body as it topples from the small box. He's not a religious man nor is a beggar of any sort, but he pleads in his head that he's made it in time. He almost doesn't realise that the beeping has ceased and the spike has gone dull beneath his hands. Yoru supposes he can be classified as a thankless man considering the absolute silence of his thoughts as he stands, grabbing the spike and making his way out into the shadowed hall.
Sage is already there, giving him a relieved smile as she lays a hand on the graze at his bicep that he hadn't noticed before. Her healing is a cool balm that soothes the burn of his flesh stitching itself back together. His attention stays resolutely on her touch as he skirts Phoenix's prone body. Sage's wall shimmers above it, resting on spare boxes and offering the perfect vantage point. Yoru scoffs, quickening his pace. It's not enough to stave off any other distressing apparitions and Yoru is shaking his head before Chamber speaks. "Bon travail, Yoru!" Chamber chirps as he falls into step with Yoru. "Your power, it is magnificent! You are as skilled as they said."
If he stays silent, perhaps Chamber would talk himself into a stupor and allow him some much needed peace. "I would love to see more," Chamber continues.
"Why?" Yoru asks before he can stop himself.
"Why?" Chamber parrots, smiling. "The way you move during battle is captivating; consider me inspired." They duck out of the hall and into the sun. The light sets Chamber's tattoos aflame with a heavenly glow that burns itself into Yoru's retinas. "How about this: you can assist me in getting acquainted with the practice range and then I will make you dinner."
Yoru barely refrains from snapping his teeth at Chamber in a freak display of cornered stress. He'd been correct in assuming that Chamber would be one of the annoying womanizer types, he just hadn't expected to fall under the full spectrum of Chamber's 'interests'. "Hope off it, already," he bites out, directing a brief snarl at the man before whipping his face away when his own words finally register in his head.
He considers the matter settled for eternity until a few clicks and a wavering hum grabs his attention. Out of all the expected outcomes to a rejection, Yoru hadn't even considered the possibility of having a gun pulled. The golden barrel is aimed at his head, glimmering like a Valkyrie's spear. "What the hell?" he demands irately. Though his tone is as scornful as usual, his question prompts muted inhales from his teammates further ahead. "You're really gonna shoot me in broad daylight over this shit?" Chamber looks deep into his eyes, quiet as a mouse, and pulls the trigger.
Yoru remains unharmed and thoroughly baffled at the detached calculation in Chamber's eyes. Though he'd adjusted his aim, he hadn't looked away. Sage's voice prompts Yoru to finally turn around and witness his own body sprawled on the ground. "He must have been hiding from the start," Reyna comments with a distasteful sneer as she moves closer and nudges Yoru's double with the toe of her boot. "For all the good that did him."
"And you were all gonna let me get shot?" Yoru demands.
Viper motions for them to get a move on. "Sure, if you had been replaced."
"You trust Chamber? He just got here!"
The chemist shakes here head with the same coolness she gives to an unexpected outcome of an experiment. Reyna tilts her head to the side with an unnerving smile. "Don't get too comfortable, maybe we'll torture you for information back at base," she says with dark glee. Yoru practically snarls at her indifferent back as he stalks after the rest of the team.
Chamber doesn't leave his side, releasing a plaintive sigh as he adjusts his tie. The golden gun is nowhere to be found. "Not even a chance?" Chamber laments as if they hadn't just been interrupted by death. Yoru looks at Chamber for the sole purpose of pushing him an arm's length away.
"Never."
Chamber appears far from surprised by the rejection. In fact, he seems almost pleased as he studies Yoru and sagely nods his head. "I see," Chamber says as they board the Vulture. They retake their seats and are back where they started. Yoru won't waste his breath on demanding answers, especially when Chamber looks unsettlingly inexorable. In the ensuing silence, Yoru makes a promise to himself to be extremely cautious of Chamber. Disregarding him entirely would only add to the danger and Yoru didn't need Chamber's little stunt to prove that.
His caution, unfortunately, manifested as a 'mysterious allure' (or so he assumes based on Chamber's continued interest in him). Despite the vague acceptance of Yoru's flat and final rejection, Chamber sees fit to approach him in mostly insubstantial ways that still managed to lodge themselves firmly within Yoru's thoughts. He blames this entirely on Chamber's appearance, all at once gaudy and fitting, even in its stupidity—who in their right mind would elect to wear a tailored vest into a gun fight? Their first mission together had turned into their only mission together, leaving Yoru with more questions than answers regarding the man's strange and pavonine habits. Unlike Chamber, Yoru remains steadfastly taciturn.
Innocuous questions direct his way go unacknowledged. Yoru feels singled-out, oddly enough, despite the fact that Chamber sticks his crooked nose into everyone's business at every second of the day. It all speaks to Chamber's self-serving tendencies; his constant poking around for information on others without offering even the smallest fact about himself in return. Yoru is smarter enough to recognise ulterior motives when they waltz into his life (especially when they're sparkling gold). When Yoru slinks into the kitchen days later, he instantly regrets not waiting until after his laundry was done as he usually would. Chamber is already in the kitchen and taking up precious space with his cooking.
"Bonjour, Yoru," Chamber greets as he looks up from the cheese and tomatoes he's slicing. His movements are smooth and sure, almost mindless. "How are you today?
On any other day and with anybody else, Yoru would have kept silent and left, maybe after a noncommittal shrug. He doesn't care what Chamber's opinion of him is, he only worries what Chamber might read into such an exit. He refuses to be seen as skittish or impacted in any way by Chamber's drop-in-the-water existence. "Fine," he answers, moving to root through the fridge.
"Would you want to share in what I'm making?" Chamber asks. Yoru doesn't even consider the offer.
"No." He must've sounded disgusted to some degree because the sounds from the counter pause before resuming a moment later. Yoru looks over, prompted by a foreign sense of dread.
Chamber's sleeves are rolled to the elbow, the gold lines on his arms glistening under the harsh overhead light. Yoru takes great pains each day to style his hair and dress in his signature blues, but he's never cared so much as to wear an apron as Chamber now does. Wouldn't it have been easier to wear something that doesn't need to be kept spotless? He hardly thinks that the apron makes Chamber look suddenly more trustworthy and approachable.
Yoru watches Chamber as he turns to place something into a pan on the stove that immediately starts to toast and give off a simple and enticing aroma. It would definitely save him some time and energy to let Chamber do all of the cooking, but Yoru gets the feeling that this would begin a snowball into depths he could never crawl out of. Chamber could be truly nice in this moment or he could be attempting to weasel his way past Yoru's defences. It's the beginning of a cautionary tale; one where the stakes start slow and the price is inconsequential until, suddenly, your life is no longer in your own hands. The thought of not being in control—of being at the mercy of someone else—causes Yoru to shudder.
"It's not that bad," Chamber says, his words tinged with mild amusement. The fridge begins to beep out a warning. "It's a croque monsieur."
Yoru snorts. "A fancy grilled cheese? Definitely not." He tries to be somewhat flippant about the entire exchange, yet the words come out sharper than intended.
"So little faith!" Chamber exclaims. His words ring nicely above the sounds of his cooking as he continues to impress his point upon Yoru. "It is much more than that!"
That sing-song voice of dim jazz clubs, smoke, and wine grates at Yoru like a knife. It's far too perfect to be earnest, much like Chamber's clothes, and Yoru wonders how ugly truths would sound being confessed from that silver tongue. "I think you're just full of yourself," Yoru jabs, grabbing a random container of leftovers and finally closing the fridge. His cold nose immediately notices the warmth from the stove as he rises.
Chamber turns to him with a blithe smile. "You would not be the first to think that," comes the airy reply. Yoru sees a brief twinkle in Chamber's eye, like the sun's rays filtering through trees, that vanishes with the minute downturn of Chamber's lips. For a moment, Yoru sees complete emptiness in the fall of Chamber's countenance and it stills him in turn. No teasing delight around the eyes, no faux hurt in a pout adopted just for show; it's blank. Like he'd forgotten how to be human.
One of Chamber's sleeves begins to unfurl and Chamber wakes up to set it right once again, dusting invisible crumbs from his hands before guiding the fabric with a refined dexterity that makes Yoru feel wildly gauche for standing with his feet planted too far apart. Chamber returns his attention to Yoru as a mischievous light shines through his brown eyes. "I think you only need to try it; I am a very good cook," Chamber urges lightly, sounding delighted as if nothing Yoru had said had even come close to landing.
Yoru rolls his eyes despite the unsettling roil in his stomach. Chamber had reset himself like a machine. He'd faltered as a needle skips briefly across a record in a disconcerting display of emotion that Yoru doesn't know what to make of. The food in his hands nauseates him. "Yeah, sure," he starts, diving into sarcasm to escape Chamber's depths, "and I'm America's next top model." Yoru decides that leaving now would be appropriate and extremely beneficial to his sanity, so he turns on his heel and makes his way out of the kitchen.
"You could be!" he hears from over his shoulder. It's only after he returns to his room that he remembers he hadn't grabbed a single utensil, leaving the cold pasta to taunt him from his desk. He's hardly spent any time with Chamber and yet the man had apparently developed some sort of wicked control over his thoughts, able to divert them from what's important at a moment's notice. It's a nuisance task to try and ignore Chamber considering the man drags all available attention to himself when he enters a room or leaves behind the heavy scent of his cologne long after he's left. No matter where Yoru turns, Chamber is there.
So he takes to lingering.
He's not opposed to confrontation, but why waste his precious energy on snide comments when he can simply let Chamber run his mouth until he exhausts himself? It's a bonus that lingering alone is his hallmark; no one quests his habits or thinks twice about why he watches Chamber from the corner of his eyes until chamber has disappeared from view. Sometimes, it only takes witnessing one of Chamber's practised smiles to send fire ants crawling underneath his skin. It's baffling how much effort Chamber puts into attempting to forge some sort of bond with them all when it hardly seems to be working. When Yoru lurks at the outskirts of rooms, Chamber is almost always similarly distanced. Even Sage, who is known for being kind and agreeable to everyone, keeps a barely-imperceptible step and a half between them at all times. Caution dominates all of them in their profession, but Yoru can't recall anyone else who'd ever had a similar challenge of easing into their ranks.
Yoru recognizes (only privately and in his own head) that his heightened distrust and hesitancy to get close to others creates its own barrier to friendship, but he prefers it this way. At least he doesn't pretend to be someone that he's not which, in itself, creates a natural pool of trust. Regardless of how crass he behaves, no one anticipates anything different. Chamber's every action carries the expectation of acceptance with none of the work to get to that point. Maintaining an aloof reticence about his life has only invited more suspicion with each passing day. Yoru wonders what lurks behind every single one of Chamber's careful silences and perfect deflections (not to mention his perfect appearance, never a single flaw on display). It's what he attacks when one of Chamber's comments strikes him when his fuse is already short.
Unable to entirely avoid Chamber, Yoru does his best to put up enough of an icy front that Chamber would deem too much of a hassle to try and hurdle. At least this time he's already on his way out, and he's nearly clear of the common room's borders when he hears his name. "What do you think, Yoru?"
He turns around with a prepared scowl that he fires at Chamber who'd said his name as one asks their god for the answers to their plights. He belatedly notices that Sage is also looking at him with earnest interest and a tough of elation that she no longer has to converse with Chamber alone. She's a ferocious woman when she needs to be, but she prefers to dip into her saint-like patience and politeness before upending peace.
"Don't care," Yoru says. He almost feels guilty enough to salvage his response for Sage, but he holds back. She merely raises an eyebrow and glances at Chamber with a mild expression on her face, perhaps not nearly as distressed as he first thought her to be. "I think your hairline sucks." Sage releases a weary sigh.
"Really?" Chamber intones in response, spinning a black and gold card in his hand. Apparently he has no interest in taking Yoru's bait as he continues on and ignores the taunt entirely. "This seems like something you would have a strong opinion on."
Had Chamber really assumed that he is so interesting that Yoru would've listened in on his conversation with Sage instead of minding his own business? Was he seeking the chance to repeat himself for the sake of hearing the sound of his own voice?
"You don't know anything about me," Yoru bites out. "You'll shut up if you know what's good for you."
Sage shoots him a warning look, her usually kind eyes hard as jade. Yoru ignores it, instead watching his warning hit home. He expected an encore of the previous display of something and is startled when he sees a veiled look of consternation. Despite the frantic alertness in Chamber's eyes, his countenance remains slack and disconnected. "Yoru," Sage chastises. Her tone alludes to some sort of consequence if he continues down this path but he recognises the understanding in her gaze, so unlike how Chamber is currently looking at him without really seeing him.
He mouths' fine' to her and shrugs. When Chamber doesn't speak, he frowns. "What?"
Chamber's head tilts sharply to the left. "Nothing," he answers with a hollow smile. "For a moment, you reminded me of someone." Yoru's raised brow is met with a flippant wave of an aristocratic hand. "It's unimportant."
"Great talk," Yoru says flatly. He doesn't stick around to let the conversation unfold as it should have. Yoru is momentarily overcome by the notion that he spends a lot of his time running away from Chamber and it halts him around the corner. Whatever lurks beneath Chamber's manufactured exterior will remain an obligatory concern that he assumes will unravel itself with time. He can only prepare himself and hope to avoid being caught up in some sort of bloody machination. "Annoying," Yoru mutters as he forces himself to keep moving, dutifully ignoring the tendrils of sweetly spiced perfume that hangs like a memory in the hall.
It calls to mind an oasis of desert flowers waving in a dry breeze; pleasant in the harshness. It's unfortunately memorable in a not-upsetting way and Yoru's spirits always sink when he catches it on the breeze during a fight and discovers that it had been marred by the coppery notes of blood. Their work is a constant violence that has even the most stoic among them seeking refuge in all of the beauty their world has to offer—sue him for reproving the reminder that they all leave destruction in their wake. Yoru cradles suspicion like a tender bloom in his ribcage and promises to tend to it and to not let it get trampled through his defences.
Without realising it, Yoru takes to studying Chamber in preparation for his impending betrayal of the Protocol. Every observed movement and word came with its own theory and reasoning. 'How are you?' probes for weakness and 'What are your plans for the day?' catalogues routine. Yoru remains quiet in the face of these questions and feels a touch of satisfaction when he discovers that Chamber puts his own habits on display for all to know. Once a week, Chamber does his dry cleaning (twice if he'd been out more than usual); every Sunday he prepares ingredients and a few meals fro the coming week; he eats breakfast at 8 a.m. and retires from company around 9:30 p.m.; he goes to the range every other day at noon. If he's in none of those places or it is any other time of day, it can be assumed that he is in his office or lounging languidly in some sunny corner of the compound.
All one would need to do is follow the trail of flowers and spices.
Yoru is no tracker and Chamber is too determined in his image to ever accidentally leave any sort of physical trace. It hardly matters seeing as everyone is keeping a wary eye on Chamber and the man has given no substantial indication towards any nefarious intentions, but Yoru can't get those eyes out of his mind.
They're brown. The brown you see on mossy trees when the late autumn light hits their roots. There's a touch of red beneath it that shines through under the light of the sun, reminiscent of Bordeaux and the faded brushstrokes of blood on the canvases of classical paintings. Almost always bright with a fox's playful interest. Stunning, in short; stunning and unsettling. How could eyes filled with the designs of the world be dulled so severely? Yoru knows that Chamber must feel many emotions because he is a living, breathing human, but Chamber's persona never offered itself as being capable of such an endless task. But he'd seen the tells of more and stubbornly refuses to accept it as a fleeting recollection of something random and surprising. Chamber is much too careful to let slip anything less than untouchable and intentional control; a fact that he practically yells at them every moment of the day with his dedicated tics and overflowing self-confidence.
Yoru would much prefer to have nothing to do with Chamber—he refuses to move on from the display of audacity that had been Chamber's lame attempt at securing a date. For reasons he can't explain, that bothers him more than being moments away from death at the hands of someone he was supposed to be working with. He'd be a fool to wish that Chamber had been wrong that day and, really, he intends to outlive the bastard by a long shot, but he keeps hoping for something to give.
Ht thinks it had almost happened the second mission they'd been on together. Supposedly, Chamber's double had been on the opposing force. Yoru doesn't care how Cypher gets his hands on such information and he trusts it all well enough, but on this rare occasion Cypher had been wrong. At least, that had been the conclusion. It was wrong by way of misinterpreted bits of communication, a self-admitted shortcoming that everyone accepts as bound to happen regardless of how good someone like Cypher is. Yoru hadn't believed it. He'd been there when Chamber had managed to duck out of his radar. There had been no fanfare and Chamber had so wonderfully popped back into existence just in time to remove their Astra before she could even pull the trigger.
There is, of course, a very reasonable explanation. There always is when Chamber is involved. Perfect smiles, perfect answers; Chamber can hang every situation into a gilded frame and Yoru is expected to marvel at his museum of infallible fabrications. Yoru will not be fooled and lured into complacency. The few throwaway comments he made to Chamber regarding his missing double were tactfully diverted, leaving Yoru with a ghost in his stomach. Smoking Chamber out of his hiding turns into an acceptance of an early demise that Yoru aims to overcome by discovering whatever it is that Chamber is keeping hidden. He's certain there's something that the light hasn't seen and that bringing it to the surface will change the trajectory of all of their lives. He's certain because he's familiar with the need for careful silences and the overly attentive eyes that seek to read into everyone what they will not say.
Yoru is different from Chamber. His secrets to not endanger his fellow agents and the worst outcome of their existing is the tremble of fear that occasionally overtakes him, outside of his control. It all pales in comparison to Chamber's unknown origins and manufactured niceties, the way he vanished when his double should have shown himself and the extreme care he places on pretty appearances. Yoru purses his lips as he stalks through the halls late one afternoon, the scent of flowers much kinder than their carrier could ever hope to be. The bite of the spice registers at random intervals, some of it clinging to his own collar and assailing his nose in a quiet taunting.
A reminder that no one is out of Chamber's reach.
Chamber should be in the range at the moment. Yoru should feel confident that he isn't going to get interrupted because 'just stretching my legs' is the best excuse he's come up with so far for his seemingly aimless wandering. This should be nothing. Nothing except for the fact that the flowers are freshly bloomed and dancing vaguely through the air conditioned halls. This means Chamber has recently been here. This should be nothing. Except, on this grey afternoon, the trail of spiced flowers abruptly ends.
Tendrils of perfume—because it seems far too gentle to be a cologne—curl listlessly around Yoru. There are no doors and no windows in the immediate area; the next door he can see is several paces away and far out of the vicinity of the lingering, signature scent. He paces back and forth, marking the exact spot the trail disappears. Yoru looks up and is met with a solid ceiling (not that he would seriously consider Chamber crawling through the vents). Something so trivial shouldn't be stopping his day, but the implications that he's stumbled upon worry him. Chamber has vanished before and he's now done it again. To what ends is he playing this game?
"What are you doing all the way out here?" The voice startles him out of his thoughts and Yoru whirls around to face its owner. Viper looks at him coolly, a hand on her hip.
Yoru scowls. "Am I not allowed to be here?" he challenges, but even as he says the words the gears are beginning to turn in his mind.
The compound is a relatively open space in that there are hardly any off-limits areas. Viper considers her lab to be one of these places, though she rarely ever needs to exercise her authority to enforce her privacy seeing as none of them are eager to get melted into a puddle of glowing, green sludge. Cypher has everything watched and his own rooms locked beyond the standard measures. Chamber, Yoru assumes, locks his office because he feels special at being one of the few agents to receive a dedicated workspace that he isn't keen on sharing. A locked office would be a decent place to squirrel away secrets. This stretch of hall should therefore be nothing important, but he knows that Brimstone and Viper would store certain files away from general access. Perhaps he'd stumbled close to their confidential information, sealed away down a seldom used hall that doesn't even have windows to the outside world.
"I wouldn't be asking questions if you weren't," Viper says, tone flat. The threat of being bodily removed from anywhere designated as off-limits is thick in the undercurrent of her words. She pauses. "No one ever comes down here, that's all." Despite this observation, she doesn't seem particularly surprised to see him.
If anyone can come and go as they please, then perhaps Chamber wasn't after anything at all. Except he had made himself scarce as soon as he reached this point; he must have had some necessity in disappearing so suddenly. "Just needed a quiet space to think," Yoru says. He knows that even Viper won't ask him for more, a saving grace of his lonesome habits. He's correct, and instead Viper raises an eyebrow and Yoru detests the insinuation in her eyes. "Yes, I'm fully capable of coherent thought," he growls.
Viper only nods. "Keep thinking, I'm sure you can figure it out," she says in a way that indicates only a coincidental understanding of what he's doing. She can't know the details because Yoru has only been standing in this hall for a few minutes at most and he convinces himself that she wouldn't care about the truth because she never hides her dislike of Chamber. If Yoru takes the optimistic route, she may even be attempting to pry Chamber's truth from him and Yoru knows she has zero qualms about inflicting considerable amounts of pain to get the job done. Viper, nearly as contained as he is when it comes to matters of the heart, says nothing more are she brushes past him without a second glance.
Yoru counters he retreating footsteps until they're barely audible. He spins around a few more times, studying the impersonal walls, before finally retreating back to the lively centre of the base. The scent of cooking reaches him long before the kitchen comes into view, though even the notes of something being fried can't completely wash away the flowers. He notices first Jett at the stove. She's surrounded on all sides by various dishes and ingredients that she navigates with precision and confidence. Yoru circles into the room with a question of having some of whatever she's making on the top of his tongue, but he doesn't manage to voice it.
Silence grabs him in the form of—is it gardenia? He doesn't care. Yoru snaps his attention towards the source so swiftly that something in his neck pops. Chamber is seated in a chair in the common space with his phone in one hand while the other intermittently and absently adjusts the glasses resting on his hooked nose. "Ah, Yoru," Chamber coos amorously, smiling when Yoru continues to stare. "Is there something I can assist you with?"
A thousand conjectures race through Yoru's head and he finds himself woefully incapable of settling on just one. Even if he could, the cons of putting it to Chamber before even one other person when hardly any time has passed since his joining far outweigh the pros (which consist only of gleaning information through a nonverbal reaction on Chamber's end). "Just didn't expect to see you here," Yoru casually offers up as an explanation for his brief silence. Chamber raises his eyebrow in a show of innocent curiosity. "I thought I heard you in the range," Yoru adds on with a roll of his neck. He'd passed by it at some point on his winding walk back to civilization, though it had been completely quiet.
Chamber accepts this explanation with a shallow nod. "Well, my sunshine, I plan to practice there tomorrow if you would like to join me."
Yoru rolls his eyes to the ceiling, shoving his hands into his pockets with a huff. "Calling me shitty pet names isn't gonna get me to change my mind on you," he says.
"It was worth the try," Chamber concedes gently, the fondness in his voice ever-present. He leans forward slightly, propping an elbow onto his crossed-over leg. "I shall endeavour to keep the pet names to a minimum."
"How about you just stop it altogether?"
"But you're so endearing, I can't possible stop!"
Jett glances across the kitchen island and past the back of Chamber's chair to make a gagging motion towards Yoru who doesn't bother to suppress a snicker. Chamber leans back in his seat and Yoru receives it as a sign of victory. Perhaps this had been the solution all along; Chamber doesn't like to be turned down and humiliated in any amount. "Endearing? Really?" Yoru asks with an impenitent chuckle, deciding to test the waters of this new theory. "I think you've just got a thing for getting rejected and laughed at." It's Jett's turn to snort and Chamber cocks his head in her direction like a listening predator. Yoru can't find it within himself to feel any modicum of wariness.
Chamber digests his words, appearing relatively unbothered and Yoru curses his illimitable mental fortitude. "That would be something, wouldn't it?" he says, giving Yoru a once over. Yoru is reduced to a captive audience as Chamber stretches out his legs, keeping them crossed at the ankle. Chamber's features tighten, barely noticeable, as he flexes his right leg. A fey smile creeps onto his lips as he observes Yoru; a perfect Agnus Dei with nowhere to run. "You certainly come up with the most fascinating ideas."
Yoru feels a flutter of panic that catches him by surprise because he has no notion on what he should be panicking about. He grabs hold of his violence with a snap of his jaw. Whatever comes, he will face it head on. "I don't think they're just ideas."