Chapter Text
“I spy with my little eyes….something green.” Newkids starts saying, trying to find something that appeases the boredom seeping from his racing mind.
Thomas is thirty seconds and a foot away from pummeling the assassin into the ground. This is getting ridiculous. Him and Newkids were tasked from Fluixon to scout as much area of Pandora as possible. With the development of new civilizations in this world, many places they did scout were either only frameworks or the concepts of infrastructure through blueprints and ink, but the majority of Pandora’s lush greenery had yet to be stripped away for polished stone and carved wood.
So Newkids saying that he spots something green is the equivalent of saying the sky is blue and the grass is, well, obviously green.
“Newkids, just shut up for once. We have three hours before we have to get back.”
Newkids groans like a child throwing a fit. He slips his dagger out from the sheath belt around his thigh for the hundredth time and flips it between his fingers. Look, Thomas gets it, okay? He understands that the heat of the morning has been unbearable since dawn and that the trees are basically rage baiting them because they provide no respite from the thick heat, but Newkids’s poor attitude is starting to rub off on him and it’s irritating him.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do.” NewKids snaps, all bark and no bite. “What the hell is Flux doing that he can’t do this himself?”
At that ignorant comment, Thomas bristles. What was Fluixon doing that was more important than taking reconnaissance? He’s the vice president of Luminara. He has reports to handle, organizations that he is required to oversee, and most importantly, he has to help the Luminarans establish their homes and infrastructure in the place that 3BelowZero decided to settle at. Despite his position, Thomas would argue that Fluixon has too much on his plate. He took small, seemingly insignificant jobs along with his main work like keeping track of the inventory for the Farming Sector and the Miner Labor Force. He shouldn’t have to, because they’re the responsibilities of the farmers, architects, and residents and anyone else who is deemed a leader in those areas, but he does it because he wants to build a flourishing nation. The fact that Thomas and NewKids were entrusted by him to take care of this task was a sign of trust on Fluixon’s end. The fact that Fluixon had approached Thomas, the collar of his coat barely straight with his hair flattening from the humidity and a glowing light in his determined purple eyes, means that he trusts Thomas.
And that mere fact, demonstrated by the way he casually gives Thomas this task without hesitating, is more than enough to do it the best he can.
NewKids catches the glare Thomas is searing at his head. He frowns, clicking his tongue in annoyance.
“Ugh, don’t look at me like that! I know that Flux’s busy. He always has, ever since he went up and volunteered for that stupid position, but you gotta understand: I’m an assassin. What business do I have being here?!”
Thomas huffs, walking past NewKids and knowing he doesn’t have the steel to stab him in the back (Fluixon pays him way too damn much for him to even attempt to betray them).
“Just get to work and stop complaining. You’re making this task feel impossible.”
NewKids scoffs, running to catch up to Thomas. “So you agree! This job is a waste of time!”
Thomas frowns.
“What? No! I didn’t say that at all.”
NewKids just rolls his eyes, spins his dagger one more time before finally sheathing it away. Thomas mistakes it for his attention to be dimming down, but then NewKids’s eyes brighten as he finds the next best thing and he exclaims,
“Yo, Thomas! Look at that van! We gotta check it out!”
Thomas pauses, searching through the untouched grass and trees to see what the hell NewKids was yapping about. He steps forward slightly, stopping when he catches the sight of a dull, unnatural white. NewKids doesn’t exactly run towards it, but his determination to find new excitement doesn’t stop him from jogging there.
Thomas has no choice but to follow him, hoping that this sketchy van that they end up approaching doesn’t have equally as sketchy people. Or maybe it’s a good thing that they’re located here because Thomas can explicitly tell Fluixon: don’t linger in this particular part of HarbourBloom because it has people who live in…what is that? A rundown RV?
Thomas narrows his eyebrows at the sight: chipping white paint revealing a dull silver undertone, the flat tires that suggest this thing wasn’t planning to go anywhere, and the unnaturally dark tint of the windows that probably violates some nations’ window darkness policies (probably the Cass Coalition’s).
He concludes that this place is eerily sketchy and NewKids is practically reveling in that fact.
“You think we should go in?” He asks, already walking up the steps and testing out the door.
Thomas sighs.
If it was an abandoned base, it wouldn’t hurt to see whether the previous owners had left anything of use, even if it was discarded sugar canes or a few stray ingots, but the fresh stack of campfire wood sitting idly to the side, the bend of the grass around the entrance, and the general setup of signs (Thomas assumes) clearly hints that this base isn’t abandoned in the slightest. In fact, this area looks like its inhabitants, whoever they are, have only recently left and are planning to return soon.
“NewKids, just drop it. We should go.”
NewKids ignores him, his eyes widening in mischievous glee the moment the door gives way and opens to…
He startles back, immediately going on the defense. Thomas tenses out of instinct, following NewKids’s wariness and shifting where he’s standing so he can see who’s behind the door and what they’re armed with. All of that effort only to hear a “Woah! No patrons allowed yet, we’re only just setting up!” from a man with a distinctive white buzz cut and a saturated yellow hazmat suit. There’s a thin scar running across his nose like somebody came over it with a dagger, but his eyes are like darkening storm clouds and he’s got a sheepish smile. It’s slightly awkward, but Thomas catches the authenticity of the polite kindness in it.
NewKids is forced to step backwards from the insistence of the stranger until he’s a good distance from the entrance. He looks as annoyed as a kid who didn’t get what he wanted on his birthday, so Thomas steps in before he starts running on with his mouth and says,
“Oh, sorry. We’re just passing by.”
The stranger narrows his eyebrows. They’ve got a soft angle to him, one that reminds Thomas of somebody else with white hair and black eyes, but the thought quickly leaves him when the man echos with a disbelieving tone,
“Passing by, huh?”
Thomas laughs awkwardly, yanking NewKids next to him so he doesn’t just bolt for the door while he’s making up poor excuses. Or maybe that’ll just backfire on him if NewKids decides everything is too boring for his hyperactive brain and he’ll just out Thomas for being a bad liar.
Either way, Thomas does not want to deal with the drama that is getting caught on somebody else’s property.
“Yeah. We’re actually just taking reconnaissance for our nation. Getting to know our island better, you know?”
That seems to break away the suspicion in the stranger, because his eyes immediately shed away that wariness in a blink and says,
“Oh yeah! It’s pretty awesome. I can’t believe it’s so big.” He adds, “Did you know our island is actually an archipelago?”
Thomas smiles. “Actually, yeah, I do know. We’re from Luminara, after all.”
The stranger narrows his eyebrows just slightly in confusion, but he looks like he’s trying to hide it because it disappears soon after.
“Oh…yeah! Luminara, I’ve heard of something like that.” He says to fill the silence, his smile a little more awkward now that his voice has revealed the wobble in his tone that suggests he clearly does not know about Luminara or of its location.
Well, it won’t hurt. It’s not like knowing the locations of the building nations is going to be a secret as time goes on.
“Luminara’s a nation in the far northeast. You’ll know it when you get there because I heard our architects are planning to install enough lanterns to match our name.”
“Your nation sounds like it’s going to look beautiful.” The stranger says suddenly, his words endearingly ernest.
Thomas glances to the side, his eyes settling back to the van.
“Which nation are you a part of?” He asks, not recognizing the flag with its white backdrop and red maple leaf.
“Oh, our nation?” The stranger says, the sudden “our” piquing Thomas’s interest. How many people were living here exactly? “I’m a part of the Canadian Cartel. You could say that we uh…sell products for a living.”
Thomas narrows his eyebrows in amusement.
“Products?” He echoes. “I’ll keep in touch then. Might be useful, who knows.”
The stranger just looks a little startled, which is hilarious considering he’s literally in the stages of setting up a market for obvious illegal items, but Thomas just abruptly grabs NewKids by his hoodie and shoves him onwards to continue their scouting. The assassin yelps, his eyebrows narrowing in annoyance.
“Well, it was nice meeting you.” Thomas calls out, taking out his compass and discerning their surroundings to reassure they won’t accidentally move in inefficient directions. He ignores NewKids complaining and gestures to have him follow.
“Oh, alright!” The stranger calls out, but then he suddenly asks, “Wait, what’s your name?”
NewKids just sighs heavily. “Can we just go? Please?” He asks, forcing that last word out like it’s made of sand and dirt.
Thomas rolls his eyes in NewKids direction and looks over his shoulder, catching that stranger with his white hair in the sunlight and his grey eyes watching him intently.
He smiles.
“Thomas5200, but a lot of people just call me Thomas.”
“Well, the Canadian Cartel will be here if you’re willing to do business.” The stranger says before adding, “And my name is Microspr!”
Thomas lifts his hand to wave goodbye shortly.
“I’ll keep you in mind.” He turns back to face NewKids. “Come on, let’s get moving.”
To nobody’s fortune, NewKids has a shit-eating grin on his face as he catches up to Thomas. The latter just ignores his demeanor as he asks,
“So hey, what was that about?”
“What was what?”
To Thomas’s dismay, it doesn’t seem like NewKids was letting this go anytime soon (but what does the assassin even mean? Thomas can only make a shot in the dark). They move further into the forest, pushing away some stray foliage in their path before stopping to sit on a fallen log and sketch their progress. Thomas gestures to NewKids for the pens and ink that he had him carry (“Why can’t I just have my kit?” NewKids had asked in dismay, eyes lingering on his chest of swords and fletches of arrows longingly. Thomas just rolls his eyes at that. “Beyond an assassin, you’re a bodyguard. Just do me a favor and hold my stuff.” He hands him the stacks of papers and handful of inks and pens.), but the assassin takes it out just to hold it far away from his reach. Thomas is taller than NewKids, but the latter is faster. He can easily just swipe his materials away from his reach whenever he so chooses to.
“You seriously don’t recognize what you just did?” NewKids deadpans, the look on his face incredulous as he casually holds the ink pot away.
Thomas sighs. Fine, if NewKids is that bored then he’ll indulge him.
Thomas shakes his head, having absolutely no idea what he’s trying to extract.
“Did I do something wrong?” Thomas asks, trying for a new approach, but NewKids just barks a laugh. It starts out raspy like he’s already out of breath before it becomes a loud beat of drums and noise. It sounds irritatingly condescending, exactly as how an assassin who’s been confident in his skills from the moment he taught himself the art of death sounds like. It works in making Thomas’s nerves spike and his annoyance to flare, that’s for sure.
“Here’s your ink.”
The irritation immediately disappears as Thomas swipes it from his hand, not giving him a chance to troll him or do any other stupid tricks. NewKids just keeps watch, taking out his dagger again and flipping it expertly in between his fingers.
“So like…how’s your day been?”
Thomas huffs, rolling his eyes, but then he’s mortified to have jolted his hand on accident and ruining his progress with a distracting blotch of ink.
“Oh shit.” Thomas hisses, instantly wiping away the stray ink and trying to force it to disappear.
Not that it’s working, because Thomas’s map is messed up. Obviously, it was an accident and he might be able to get rid of it with the barest hint of a tint alluding to a mistake, but this map was going to be in Fluixon’s hands and hanging on the walls of his administrative room or sitting on the wide desk where he’ll be having conversations with other high ranking members of Luminara.
A small blemish such as this is unacceptable in Fluixon’s presence.
Thomas rolls it up, unwilling to get rid of his work so casually. He’ll just finish the rest of the map on this sheet and copy the design on another piece of parchment. It’ll have some minor modifications, but at least it’ll be worthy of Fluixon then.
“It’ll be alright.” He mutters to himself. He looks at NewKids, whos not even remotely interested in whatever he’s up to. “Come on, NewKids. We still have ground to cover.”
“Yeah, yeah.” NewKids sighs and then whispers a prayer underneath his breath, not regarding Ish but hoping for something horrible like being jumped by a stray thief on the way so he can finally put his dagger into practice.
Thomas just ignores him.
They scout a little more of the coast before promptly turning back. Fluixon wanted them to be within earshot ten minutes before they were due to show up and Thomas was going to fulfill that wish one way or another. But as they make their way through generally fair terrain, he catches sight of that broken down RV and a few different voices that don’t seem to belong to Microspr.
“Banana, do you know where Panzer is?”
Somebody sighs.
“Neptune, your guess is as good as mine. I haven’t seen a lick of him anywhere.”
“Not even in the mines?”
“Nah.”
“What about Micro?” The first voice, probably Neptune, asked.
“Bro, he went looking for Panzer and now both of them are probably lost.”
Thomas hums, passing through without bringing attention to the two of them. By habit, he catches the way the shadows seem to appear more frequently and harbor the illusion of being deeper and darker than they actually are. He looks up, finds that the blue sky is beginning to darken just enough to signal the approaching dusk.
Monsters will probably spawn soon and prevent them from getting to Luminara early. Fluixon takes no excuses.
Thomas glances back. NewKids catches it.
“What? Did you forget something?”
Thomas pauses, thinks about it for a second, and then says,
“NewKids, stay back and provide the Canadian Cartel some assistance in finding their group members.”`
NewKids immediately frowns in protest.
“Whaaat?” He complains, sounding exasperated. “Just because Fluixon doesn’t give a shit where I go doesn’t mean I can do you personal favors.”
“I’ll give you half of what he pays me.”
In a blink of an eye, NewKids’ spine simply straightens and he gives a mock salute.
“You got it! I’ll be back before midnight!”
He sheathes his dagger away and makes his way back. Now that the pressure in Thomas’s mind finally eases away, he quickly traverses through the terrain until Luminara’s golden lanterns spill light like scattered stars. He smiles at the few people still working hard at their homes or simply for their community before finally making his way to a large house solely assigned for Fluixon’s use.
Thomas knocks twice, lowers his hands at his side, and waits for Fluixon to be generous enough to open the door. It takes a minute or two, but there are soft footsteps approaching the door. There’s two clicks as the door opens and Thomas’s breath is slightly taken away at the sight of Fluxion’s usually combed hair being rustled and his violet eyes collecting scraps of golden light from the lanterns and torches in his house.
Although his collar may be a little skewed, his hair sticking up in awkward places with the space just under his eyelids getting deeper, his voice holds no less authority.
“Thomas, report to me.”
Thomas takes out his map, his heart jumping slightly at the reminder of his mistake, but he pushes that fear away and opts to simply not unravel the parchment just yet, if not ever.
“I scouted the coast of Luminara to the west. There are some notable settlements, namely five relatively small and distinct groups; however, I did hear rumors that they were going to combine forces and call themselves the Commonwealth. Apparently the Cass Coalition has an alliance with the Pirate Republic, collectively called HarbourBloom.” Thomas pauses, recalling Microspr and how he had bribed NewKids to help him and his friend back before it got too dark.
“That is all.” He concludes, feeling the lie burn on his tongue as Fluixon’s eyes pierce through his soul.
His intense gaze lingers for only a moment longer before turning away. It feels like a heavy pressure on Thomas’s shoulder was lifted the moment it happened.
“Very well.” He grabs the map, which was inevitable really, and unfurls it. It’s inked without a sketch to suggest perfection, but from the way Fluixon’s hand seems to still, it seems he’s noticed the mistake that proved the map was very much not made with perfection at all.
“Are you planning to make a new map?” He asks lightly, his gaze barely flickering back to him before fixating on that smudge of ink that looks like it was desperately trying to disappear.
Thomas relaxes his tensing muscles. When had he even done that, he’s not sure.
“Yes.”
Fluixon sets the map back down, not even bothering to roll it back up.
“Where’s NewKids? Why is he not with you?”
Thomas sighs, only half feigning his annoyance. “He ran off after being bored. I tried chasing after him, but it’s futile.”
Fluxion scoffs and that’s how Thomas knows NewKids is getting decked half a stack of diamonds worth of pay (take that, NewKids!).
“Very well. You’re dismissed.”
Thomas nods, taking the map with him as he swallows something bitter down his throat. He pauses at the door, looks over his shoulder to Fluixon’s turned back. He never does that to just anyone, allowing his most vulnerable places to be unguarded. It takes Thomas a moment to realize that he’s not even wearing his coat, which could’ve provided more protection or at least make him appear more leader-like. And yet, Fluixon was simply…Flux in this moment.
“Goodnight Flux.” He says, waiting just a moment longer to see if his friend will reply.
Flux’s voice seems to soften a little as he replies back without looking,
“Sleep well, Thomas.”
Thomas closes the door politely, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He’s unsure of whether the heat is from his own body or from the humid air.
A ring sounds from his communicator.
Thomas takes it out, walking down the steps that lead to Flux’s door and reading the message on the screen.
NewKids whispers to you: Hey, I found them and they’re safe. U owe me half a stack of diamonds.
Thomas rolls his eyes, recalling the whole situation like the sudden crash of salty, cold waves. What a greedy bastard. The fact that he had to bribe him to help some people is actually ridiculous, but whatever. That’s what happens when you work with assassins, he supposes. Besides, he got his payback. It’s just that NewKids doesn’t yet know it.
You whisper to NewKids: Thx. I’ll break into ur house and drop it off there.
NewKids whispers to you: I’ll steal their product if u do that.
Thomas scoffs, opening his door and closing it without a drop of grace as it slams close.
You whisper to NewKids: You won’t.
There’s a dreadful pause before Newkids replies,
NewKids whispers to you: Just watch me. ;)
Well, at least Thomas knows who he’s crashing out on the moment he returns (NewKids will probably retaliate…or he won’t, considering how callous his relationship is with Flux).
He closes his communicator and tosses it on his bed. There’s a lot of things in his inventory that he needs to organize, but when his eyes linger on the map his fingers pinch over the corners tightly.
What an embarrassing failure he had to reveal to Fluxion.
He tosses the map into the back of his chest, expecting it to rot or collect dust until his eyes catch the sight of gold and he’s reminded of a man with white hair and grey eyes.
Oh. Thomas takes a pen to some paper. Maybe he doesn’t need to waste his work after all.
He sets the written reminder onto his desk. On its clean white surface in pretty writing it says,
Finish map, give to Microspr.