Work Text:
18:00
The King's Pass Museum was holding a special event for their latest exhibit. Three, ivory white masks. Imported from somewhere the average person can't pronounce. The family who owned the museum took a lot of pride in acquiring these relics— but of course they'd never tell the specifics. Most of the museum's exhibits were acquired illegally under the guise of "conservation" which sounded a lot better than "stealing artworks" to maintain their funding.
It was a VIP exclusive event, one that required patrons to buy expensive tickets to attend. There was a line that stretched down the main avenue, packed with patrons wearing expensive suits and dresses that cost an arm and a leg. What bores. They didn't care about the exhibit. Most of them were here to show off their wealth and spend some pocket change on tickets.
A man in a suit stood in line, leaning against the velvet handrails. He has short, dark hair and tan skin. While he stood in the mile-long line, he fidgeted with his tie. There was a black earpiece fitted in his ear. Between all the wealthy patrons in mink coats and cashmere suits, he looked the most bored of them all.
"I hope there's something nice to drink, I could really go for a whiskey right about now.."
"Focus on the task at hand, Agent Tiso."
"This suit's uncomfortable, I can barely move my arms."
"Should've mentioned that when we did the costume check."
Tiso mentally rolled his eyes. He adjusted the cuffs on his sleeves and straightened himself up. They don't pay me enough for this, Tiso lamented to himself as the museum's line began to move. Unlike the other guests, Tiso wasn't here to make friends or pretend to care about a rich person brag about their wealth.
Tiso's job was to snatch all three of those masks, making sure no one got in his way. In all honesty, he could care less about what happened to the relics. He wouldn't bat an eye if these priceless, pale masks shattered into a million tiny pieces. He's just here because he needs the money. There's underground markets willing to pay hefty amounts to have these in their possession.
However, tonight was too risky to pull a heist unless he wanted an audience, he was here to get a grasp on where the masks were secured and where they would be. Pulling off a stunt like this required knowing where the back doors were, where the guards were placed, and where the blind spots in the cameras were. But, if the stars aligned and the time is right, he wasn't going to leave empty-handed.
"Do you think they'll have fancy wine?"
"Tiso, focus."
"Whatever."
Guests had to walk through metal detectors to make sure they didn't have anything that could possibly damage the exhibition or ruin their little party. Luckily, most of Tiso's gear could pass a metal detector with no problem. Who would be suspicious of a ballpoint pen and a pair of sunglasses in his pockets, anyway?
When it was his turn, he raised his hands and walked through the metal detector. After a few more checks and showing the event curators a fake invitation, Tiso finally made it in. He wove through crowds of rich folks blabbering about their cars and businesses, making his way through the museum halls. Some of the areas were roped off with the lights turned off, guests could only wander through certain parts of the museum.
"I don't see the masks anywhere," Tiso muttered into his earpiece.
"Just walk around some more, socialize a bit. Act natural and don't give yourself away."
With a short buzz, his comms went out.
That was the thing, Tiso was terrible at acting. All he wanted to do was get out of there and go home. Back to his apartment and go to bed. He's been on plenty of missions before for a variety of clients — wherever his handlers wanted him to go. Acting wasn't his strong suit, he preferred to get things over with right as he entered the room.
Most of the guests were socializing and talking with one another, while some enjoyed the exhibits that the museum allowed them access to. Tiso's dress shoes pattered against the polished wood floors as he occasionally took sips from his drink. It was tangy and sweet, the fruit juice completely masking the taste of what was supposed to be whiskey. The sweetness was almost unbearable, but at least he wasn't standing there fidgeting with his tie like an idiot anymore — he blended in with the crowd a bit better.
Tiso was now standing in front of a painting, a cocktail in his hand. One of those fancy ones with a slice of fruit and a little umbrella, served in one of those fancy highball glasses. So far, there's been no sight of the masks he was sent here to search for. It was still early in the evening, maybe this was the opening reception.
It was a large splatter of blue, stretched across the wide composition. It was bright and deep cobalt, with spotlights all around the painting's frame to really bring out the royal hue. Supposedly, it was a very very special kind of blue. The recipe to mix it has been lost to time. The blue splotches are scattered across the canvas, bright and bold under the museum lights.
But, the longer he stared, the more stuck to the floor he became. Do people normally stop and stare at paintings for hours? Would it help him blend in with the other art collectors if he stayed just a split second longer? He looked at the other patrons in the museum's hall. Some were taking pictures, others were here to find another piece for their collection.
He checked his watch, the opening ceremony was going to start in twenty minutes.
"It's fascinating, isn't it?"
Tiso froze. He glanced beside him to see another man in a suit standing beside him. He had black hair that was combed back so it curled slightly at the bottom and a pair of wire-framed glasses. There was a badge on his chest with the emblem of the museum on it: The shell of a beetle with wings and a crown at the top. He must be a curator or someone who works at the museum. He stopped himself from staring at the man further, turning his attention back to the wall.
"Yeah. It is," Tiso replied, "I heard it's special."
"You'd be correct," the man replied, "I.K.B. International Klein Blue, is what they call it. A hallmark of his practice, using vivid ultramarine to represent the infinite void. To make the invisible visible. He wanted to capture this feeling in a painting with a color most painters fail to replicate today."
Tiso took a sip of his drink, tilting his head in curiosity. "Is that so?"
Of course, the curator would start telling him more about the piece. About how the artist loved the infinite skies and seas. Like there was a whole world out there to explore and places to venture. It almost sounded like the man was unprepared to give such a speech, like he didn't think anybody would stop for a painting of ultramarine blue splattered on a white canvas. He spoke with a smile, yet Tiso could pick up on hints of resentment in his voice masked by politeness.
"It's quite captivating," Tiso commented as he slipped his hand in his pocket. "You guys must be lucky to get such a rare painting then."
The curator's smile faded slightly when he said that. "Yes. Yes, we are."
Tiso could almost see his reflection in the polished glass case. In his suit with the drink still in his hand. The curator that stood next to him looked at his own reflection more than the painting itself.
"There's something so beautiful about something so simple."
To Tiso, it was just blue. One of those paintings that would make someone say "I could do this myself" if they didn't bother listening to what it represented. However, the longer he stared, the more he wished that it wasn't just blue. The splashes of the ultramarine void didn't look like the skies or seas to him even though he lied about how he "could see it" when it was really just incoherent blotches. He didn't bother making up some sentimental crap about how the painting makes him feel— he didn't owe that to the curator. It was just blue. An empty blue. If only it were more than that to him.
As the two stood in silence, Tiso realized his drink was empty. The ice didn't even fully melt yet and the fruit had sunk to the bottom — buried under some of the half-melted chunks. He didn't want the unnaturally bright red cherry at the bottom anyway. Yeesh. No wonder he was starting to get sentimental, the whiskey was probably doing the talking for him.
"Are you enjoying the exhibition hall tonight?" The curator asked.
"It's my first time at one of these things," Tiso admitted, "I guess it's alright. Invitations were hard to get."
"I'm sure," the curator teases back. He sighs and folds his arms across his chest. "I do wish it was more open to the public, I believe everyone deserves to have a chance to look at these works of art for themselves. But, the museum needs to get their funding somehow."
"Right… That's understandable…" Tiso simply nodded. It was half-hearted, not because he wasn't paying attention or anything. If anything, he wished he was able to come to an event like this— As a regular person. Without the fancy suits or pretending to care about the ceremony or for work. To be here. To experience these works of art for himself.
But now's not the time to be sentimental. He has a job to do.
"Well then, I hope you enjoy the ceremony. It was lovely speaking to you, Tiso," The curator waved and turned to leave, attending to other guests at the museum.
Tiso was about to wave back when he paused with his hand half raised. Hold on a second.
That's not right.
He never told the curator his name.