— I KNOW THE END.

THE BILLBOARD SAID "THE END IS NEAR". I TURNED AROUND — THERE WAS NOTHING THERE

[agentaltair]

❛ the joke begins with a priest and sniper in the bar and suddenly you have a history of both  ❜

                                     BIOGRAPHY.   MUSINGS TAG.

[agentaltair]

AGENT PANDORA / agentpcndora​.

Pandora decided that it was better to trust him than to keep herself wondering if his words were far from the truth; it had been months that clouded what had happened in May of last year, and yet it was inevitable to notice it loudly within her mind throughout the time spent in this mission, perhaps something that would occur in the following ones until those casualties would dissipate with time. Still, despite what had happened before, there was nothing about Agent Altair that ever gave her the sense she shouldn’t trust him. 

“Okay, better to be safe, right?” It was a thin line between a question and a statement, her tone didn’t express those words clearly. And, she continued: “It’s important that the professor is protect and we’re also safe while returning the artifacts, this is just– another task. Something else that’s part of what we’re used to, right?”

Besides, there was curiosity. Pandora adored the proximity with history, chapters of someone’s life that was, sometimes, buried; finding more about ancient cultures and what was past of their daily routine was far more interesting than focusing on the danger that could along with it. It was worth it.

“Actually… I’m going in. Waiting might be a waste of time, we found this. We might as well explore it before we need to leave.”

.

had he not become accustomed  —  trained —  to masking dead giveaways, like sights of relief or the straightening of the back, he would’ve visibly showed his thankfulness to selin for playing along. instead, he simply nodded, keeping a  neutral expression as though he had heard the most reasonable thing. 

    “we know better than to take chances,” cruz added, forrowing lightly as he diverted his gaze for a minute. it didnt do any harm ( if anything, indulging in whatever to appease their nerves would leave him feeling more reassured ). it was an innocent waste of time, but everything had been set up well enough that it was a waste they could afford. “you said it yourself, better to be safe”. 

    but her reaction surprised him, even if only a little. his frown deepened, and he looked around as if looking to spot whater ( or whomever )’s sight had prompted the change of mind. 

   “are you sure?” he asked, both out of concern and intrigue. he wouldn’t hold it against agent pandora to wait, to step back  — hell, he’d already agreed to do so with her. even if they had no justification for such foolish, useless ‘maneuver’, he’d rather use it as their shield.  they hadn’t taken a double look last time and it had blown up in their face. even if this time there was nothing seemingly off, he didn’t want to become reacquainted with the bitter aftertaste of guilt so soon. it was so easy to be swayed by the ghostly what if’s and should have’s of the delta alexi mission.  was it the best move to put on a brave face and jump back right in? 

   “your call, agent. ‘m just saying it couldn’t hurt to do another sweep, but—” he shrugged, finally, as if to show he was giving into her words. the brunet began breathing out a soft sigh, yet stopped himself abruptly.

   “you’re definitely not thinkin’ of going alone, right?” 

[agentaltair]

AGENT DYNAMO / daringdynamo​.

he was so damnably polite. it was stitched into every word, every action. carefully imbued into every aspect of cruz that others were able to gleam. when evren had first met him, they had assumed that the decorum that was demonstrated would eventually give way to something more interesting, something a little warmer, perhaps even be granted precious insight into the inner mechanisms of his mind and heart. evren can’t help but wonder what events in one’s life would necessitate such caution and armor. maybe it is the ghosts of his life before pantheon that haunts him still, maybe the man was simply born without the demons that reside within each person — but such an assumption left a bitter taste on their tongue. no oracle was ever without demons. most of them were.

the reassurances that he offered fell on ears of stone — or, more accurately, evren heard him but opted not to put any stock in his words. if she thought that she might not frighten him, she would have outright laughed at that the thought of missing rest simply because someone died. in fact, evren thought that sleep came more easily to her whenever they heard that one of their comrades had fallen. was it anyone that she cared for, truly? no? then that necessitated more sleep on her part so that they might be more alert so as to protect them. but whatever answer that was forming on their lips died the moment that his frown became more apparent. her eyes flickered between his, scrutinizing him quietly. they pursed their lips, inclining their chin doubtfully. “not my burden? we’re a crew, altair. whatever burden weighs on you, if left alone, will eventually bleed into the rest of the crew.”

“and don’t you think that we have enough wounds to patch up?”

before her words could dig their barbs in too deep, she shook her head, motioning for him to follow her into the wine cellar. there was no way that they would be able to stomach the conversation without the assistance of quality alcohol. after a handful of seconds of silence, they concede with a sigh. “personally, no it’s not my burden. professionally…” they tuck their hair behind their ears, shoulder lifting in a shrug. “we already lost one crew member —” because kraken was dead to her as far as she was concerned, “— and i would rather not have to bear the burden of being the only oracle of black diamond simply because you didn’t take care of yourself properly.”

they turn on the overhead light, stepping towards the wall of quality wines.

“no psychoanalysis. got it.” they pull a merlot from its little cubby, turning the bottle over to read the label. “is that a promise then?” she looks at him, head canting the slightest bit as they smother a smile. a sure sign of their doubt that he would actually keep his word. there was no reason for her to tell him that not many were invited to queenstown, and even fewer were invited to evren’s manor there.

.

he smiled, and the warmth of the expression lighting up his features was genuine. strange, how agents like himself or evren seemed so at ease during every mission, with a blade wielded by a clenched hand, or a fingertip throbbing against the trigger of a loaded handgun. away from that, it was different. it didn’t get more bearable to leave it unsaid, just easier to let their words continue dancing around the other’s as if they were walking around the mansion avoiding creaky floorboards. the year away from one another had not been too different: if anything, coming back to get shoved into the old routine hadn’t managed to ease those capgras-like thoughts. those had grown, festered like weeds and watered by the overwhelming silence and lack of missions during that time. had he knowingly kept himself occupied, he wouldn’t have clung onto their loss ( or was it the betrayal? ) with such unnecessary strength. either way, the blow had been two-fold. was it then not forgivable that they, expecting to encounter some ghost or apparition of the partners they’d lost, had be taken aback so easily?

   but he smiled back at evren, and that’s what mattered. if they didn’t already make him feel like he had a target on his back, courtesy of her, he would’ve audibly thanked them ( for what, exactly? no clue ). if he had to make an educated guess, it would be for maintaining this semblance of normalcy ( in what they made normalcy out to be between them ). 

   “no, it won’t,”  — not if he could help it. and that he would. the man shook his head, shifting the weight to the other foot and straightening his back, all whilst offering a small, yet confident smile. “you think it’ll take that little to take me out, evren? the only way you’ll end up by yourself is if i end up retiring early. as attractive as that sounds, i’ve still got a decent amount of years  ahead of me. maybe they’d assign someone else to be your partner, though, but they’d have big shoes to fill. point is... quit thinkin’ ahead of the both of us, ‘kay?” 

   naturally, he followed. a great thought to commemorate this with some wine, though maybe he was biased. “i mean it. ‘ve never walked out of a trip midway, but...” each word was uttered seemingly serious, but he wouldn’t blame evren if they chose to take the piss on him anyway. 

      queenstown. glasses of merlot at golden hour. passing time playing boring people games without anything at stake. sparing evren from cautious, hesitant speech and instead indulging in nonchalant amity as they deserved after all these years. yeah, a holiday like that sounded nice. 

    “it’s a promise. unless you don’t want to go through the trouble of showing me around? i swear i’m the last person to go full embarrassing tourist-mode.” 

[agentaltair]

AGENT PANDORA / agentpcndora​.

— location: pompeii, italy — date and time: july 15th, 2020 | afternoon — availability: open to four hundred and black diamond agents

Pandora didn’t know how long she had been standing there; her mind was far from the present. Instead of focusing solely on the purpose of reaching within the tomb site, the screams and memories from the death of Hathaway were far more present, enervating even. Shivers roamed on her skin; a remembrance that while she still respected the mission and wanted to be part of it, every single moment she would be out there to return another artifact after losing an agent, was just a resembling image of what once had happened. Of what could happen again.

The return of artifacts was usually something that would cause her to celebrate; bright eyes hypnotized by objects carefully taken to where they belonged. Perhaps it’d have been just like that if this was happening somewhere else. If Pompeii wasn’t offering Selin a nightmare. “Should we explore the surrounding areas before getting in there?” The question could be fear taking over, or trying not to make the same mistake. Hoping that the agents in that mission wouldn’t attempt to do the same thing Kraken had done. 

.

cruz was thankful his mind would remain focused on something else, his energy poured onto covering a target and following a series of steps he knew all too well. were it not so — meaning, were his first task to venture into the tomb and enter the familiar lion’s den — he doubted he’d go into the job with the right mindset. in somewhat of a cruel move, he felt a bit of pity for those tasked with coming face to face with the ghosts of the past. this awareness was so palpable that no one needed to say anything, but their hesitant dispositions made it clear how little certain wounds had healed. 

    perhaps it was a tortuous turn of events. it seemed like a backhanded offer extended to them out of sadistic intent, to send them into a tomb while the memory of hathaway was still fresh in their minds. sure enough, a job was a job, and no agent in either crew stood unfit to accomplish what they were asked. 

    it was a selfish desire, that which coursed through him then. for once, he wished the world could wait. wait, and let those who risked their peace to safeguard its past grief as they liked. and then, once they could exhale, they would fall back in place, as they had done for so long. 

    “perimeter’s been checked, we’re in the clear,” cruz said, each word uttered as though it pained him to speak them. he let out a sigh, “— except for the northeast segment.” a lie, an obvious lie. but lies like these could be excused, couldn’t they? if that granted selin some peace of mind, no matter how small, then... 

   “wouldn’t hurt to send a few agents to sweep through it.”

[christophernolan]

FLEABAG | Season 2 | Episode 2

[agentaltair]

AGENT LERMA / agentlerma​.

𝙳𝙾𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙴𝚁 𝚁𝙴𝚅𝙸𝙴𝚆… 𝙿𝙴𝙽𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙰𝚁𝙶𝙴𝚃: 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙾𝙳𝙾𝚁𝙴 𝙼𝙲𝙲𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙺 [𝙲𝚁𝙸𝙼𝙴𝚂 𝙰𝙶𝙰𝙸𝙽𝚂𝚃 𝙷𝚄𝙼𝙰𝙽𝙸𝚃𝚈] 𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝙴𝙳: 𝙰𝙶𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝙻𝙴𝚁𝙼𝙰, 𝙰𝙶𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝙰𝙻𝚃𝙰𝙸𝚁 @agentaltair 𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽: 𝙷𝙾𝙽𝙸𝙰𝚁𝙰, 𝙶𝚄𝙰𝙳𝙰𝙻𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙰𝙻, 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙾𝙻𝙾𝙼𝙾𝙽 𝙸𝚂𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙳𝚂 𝙳𝙰𝚃𝙴: 𝙼𝙰𝚈 𝟸𝟾𝚃𝙷, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟶

The funeral was upon her quicker than she had anticipated, and as it turned out, Araceli wasn’t ready to bury another good that had died young. In the days following the blast and leading up to the ceremony, the weight of what was about to unfold only grew heavier and heavier upon her shoulders. It was a wound too fresh to be mourned, still trickling blood and staining all those closer to Agent Hathaway than just coworkers, and Araceli wasn’t different.

Her vacation bid was put through immediately, the Pantheon eager to send agents anywhere they’d like if it meant ‘saving their mental health.’ Maybe they knew why she put in for travel accommodations to the Solomon Islands, the infamous ex-cardinal of the Vatican having fled there just days before, but maybe her higher ups were too wrapped up in the mystery of the explosion to truly care about what Araceli was chasing.

Redemption. A mercurial word in the palm of someone with the moral compass of a directionless wanderer. She couldn’t trade a life for a life like she so desperately craved in times of mourning, but this would have to do; if a saint was to be sent to Heaven before her time, than the least Araceli could do was to cancel out the debt left behind by sending a sinner to Hell beside her. The world would walk away with no net gain and no net loss, and the thunderstorm of melancholy churning behind her ribcage would maybe settle for a night.

If the New York courts didn’t want to bring this man to justice, than Araceli would simply bring it to him. That’s the only thought worth settling on as she paced along stucco rooftops, one of the only vantage points in the island city worth scaling. He was smart, coming here; if he knew where to look, it’d be easy to spot a tail or a marksmen preparing to take a shot. But like all men who once held authority, McCarrick sees himself as invincible, having bested the law and found “freedom,” drifting around his hotel pool on his back without a care in the world. It would make Ara sick if she didn’t know his bliss would soon be over.

She’s sitting now, legs dangling over the edge of gutters, feet restlessly kicking at nothing as she simply watches, laser sharp but unfocused as Ara silently, repeatedly kicked down whatever sting of grief kept trying to rise in her throat. She wouldn’t allow it, not today, not yet. Swallowing its bitter taste, her ears pricked with a change in sound, her shoulder blades tense as she waited to be joined by whomever took her bid. She figured if Pantheon had a sniper to spare, this was a worthy enough cause; and she’d done all the hard work, keeping McCarrick tracked for the day until her sharpshooter caught up.

“Nice of you to join us,” Araceli greeted her unknown compatriot, glancing over her shoulder and recognizing Agent Altair in the next moment. She chucked her chin toward the target, eyes back on McCarrick, “Capullo here is taking his afternoon swim. Not to be confused with his morning or evening swim, all of which he chooses to do naked.” Araceli grimaced right as the target started floating on his back, disgust folded into the wrinkle of her nose as she continued, “Probably best to wait for nightfall, but I wouldn’t complain if you took the shot now and put us all out of our misery.”

cruz had waken up that morning with a groan still half-stuck down his throat. the light that peered through haphazardly drawn blinds went to fixate on the suit hanging by the handle of the closet door. he’d ironed the night before, hands that were still flowered by dry patches of mud and blood eager to be put to use doing something else. he couldn’t remember when he’d managed to fall asleep, if at all. perhaps time had simply slipped as he lay there in a haze, scenes from the delta alexi mission replaying on the back of his eyelids and making him feel desperate to spot the signs they had missed throughout it all. he looked at the suit, and it seemed to stare back at him pathetically. 

    he had never liked funerals. he’d attended many as a child, mostly for deceased elderly members of their small community. the recollection of them all had blended into a chaotic, yet monotone watercolor work he put little effort intro retrieving from amidst old memories best left behind. he didn’t miss them, even if the ticked a name off a list multiple times a week. if he had to thank the oracle title for anything, it’d be from the resulting numbness it had gifted him with. except now, of course. except now, when he wished he could resort to it to carry him in autopilot mode through the itinerary of today. 

    he thought of agent hathaway, and of the notion of her memory, and of the cowardice that it’d be for him not to attend her funeral. ‘ they stumble over one another, as if to escape a sword, though none pursues ' —  he made a phone call upon getting out of bed, feeling the aftertaste of guilt as he was hanging up.  i’m sorry, he uttered, under his breath despite the room being inhabited by him alone. i’m sorry, i’m sorry. he avoided the suit, rummaging through the pile of other clothes and that of gear and feeling his hands grip onto the latter for dear life. 

    unlike araceli, he hadn’t agreed to the mission seeking to uphold some divine balance. no, for someone known for having a moral compass, cruz was a shockingly selfish man  — and seemingly, after the choices made in the morning, a coward one too. the habit of gaping for air as soon as walls began closing in was a hard one to kick. it endured despite promise after promise made to himself to see it subdued. naturally he’d leech onto the satisfaction of taking out another unscrupulous target, but he trailed after araceli hungry to obtain some peace of mind above all else. 

   the call to the pantheon, answered after a single ring on the line, came as though it were heaven-sent. ‘ put my name at the top of the list, i’m headed over already ’. it was no question, no polite request  — cruz had claimed a mission like this one since he’d renounced what had been gained at ordainment, and joined the black diamond crew. 

    “buenas tardes,” he greeted, walking over to the ledge and putting the case with his gear down. he was glad to see chelly, another poor devil having opted out of the unavoidable unbearable. moreover, he was genuinely thankful to be carrying out the mission by her side. “couldn’t miss it for the world,” he recognized, though there was some lingering sadness and remorse over the missed funeral that colored his words. 

  “can’t imagine what it must’ve been like trying to track him down. i would’ve taken the shot at first sight,” he shrugged as he sat down, unzipping the case before his hands got into the routine they knew best. “we’ll wait. unless you want to be back in time for the last part of the service we weren’t supposed to miss.” then, the man asked, looking over to araceli as he screwed the thread adapters and attached the suppressor - “how long have you been waiting here for?”

[agentaltair]

AGENT COSMOS / agentcosmos​

          is this how every interaction will go from now on ? tiptoeing amongst metaphorical egg shells and hoping nothing breaks. dark hues are cast down to the small patch of green amongst the concrete, jaw tight. this isn’t the first crew member lost. but it is the first in which choices were made out of cesco’s hands and choices he would not have made himself. hathaway should have been brought out before him, cesco should have been left. the thought is like a vine wrapping around his mind, the thorns digging in and mocking him.

   the titan rubs at his temples with his free hand, a heavy sigh escaping through his nose at the question. the hand to the temple drops and takes the lighter, placing a cigarette between chapped lips and lighting it. it’s a terrible habit, one that will damage him over time. but cesco has been reaching for this vice since his teen years and doesn’t show signs of quitting quite yet. or at all.

   “ only when sick and injured ? sounds painfully boring, altair. “  a deep drag is taken, held in the lungs for a moment before slowly released between slightly parted lips. he finally looks at the other, expression he hopes is schooled into something unbothered.  “  thought our agreement was to ignore what happened over the last week- that includes health. “ eyes narrow a moment, another drag is taken before this time it’s sighed back out.  “ i’m not dying and i’m no longer bleeding. picture of health. “

he didn’t smile in response to cesco’s words. perhaps he should’ve, even when no impulse at all encouraged him too. it felt wrong, still. francesco would have to endure through cruz’s inability to allow nonchalance into his demeanor at this time. he couldn’t blame other agents for seeking solace in distractions and indifference. even if it had been days since the incident, he didn’t want to be left with the taste of cynicism in his mouth. 

   “you get used to it, or just learn to hack the system for as long as it lasts. but you can only fake being sick as a kid for so long,” letting the cigarette rest to his lips as he inhaled, cruz gestured lightly with his head. though he felt the weight of cesco’s gaze on him after that, like the teary eyes of a wood-caved saint, he didn’t turn back to face him right away,. perhaps it was out of fear of finding something behind them that sparked any sort of pity inside him; that was the last thing the titan needed then. he exhaled. even after, it still felt as though he was holding his breath – a year later, some of that feeling would remain.  

   at last, cruz stared back; he clicked his tongue and shook his head, flicking off the ash from the end of the cigarette to the side after a while. “cheeky fucker,” he joked, though deadpan. the answer wasn’t satisfactory. if anything, the walls cesco seemed to have raised concerned cruz even more. but he’d indulge –  they both needed that in the end. 

  “you sure?” he took a drag, but didn’t really wait for francesco to respond ( in fact, he didn’t need to, not if he didn’t want to ). “fine. but the only thing i’ll say is that the hospital food looked rank. can’t imagine how it’s meant to get your tract back in shape.”

[agentaltair]

AGENT DYNAMO / daringdynamo​.

Emotions were perhaps the most devastating weapon within Evren’s arsenal. When she hated, it was with enough fire to rival the everlasting flames of hell. When she despaired, she ensured that all others felt it, all others drowned and choked on her tears. They couldn’t help but laugh when others assumed there was a disconnect between Evren and their emotions, when really there was none at all. They were simply tucked away and acknowledged when they were useful, disregarded when they were not. And then, there were the poor souls like Altair, who seemed shackled to the whims of his heart, to wrestling with them — a prisoner in need of liberation.Yet he clung to them still. Had anyone ever thought to aid him in uncurling his fingers from his vice-like grip of them? 

Crossing their arms over their chest, they allowed their gaze to flicker over him, lips pressing together subtly. How much time had they spent together? And still, the awkwardness of formality and decorum saturated the space between them. Would it make him more uncomfortable to openly acknowledge it, or to let him stew while they made a show of their discomfort? Perhaps mercy would be the better option. 

“A few extra hours of sleep?” They repeated slowly, dissecting all that he says so as to piece together what lays beneath the words. Even the most straightforward and forthright of people have hidden implications in every word, ever breath, and every blink that they offer during a conversation. “You mean to tell me that you actually find sleep restful and not a nightmarish hellscape that replays everything over and over and over?”

Evren steps ever-closer, peering up at him, their spine straightening to its fullest extent. “You know, Altair, if things have been difficult for you to bear, you ought to talk to someone about it. Not me, of course, we’re as different as Chanel and Nike, and you already have difficulty enough figuring me out as is. I doubt you’d find anything I have to say reassuring.”

They cup his face in their hands, sighing as they look at him — regardless of their differences, he was her teammate. Her comrade-in-arms. The man who she turns to when blood spills and bullets rein like fire and brimstone. And that, in it of itself, demanded that they find a place for him to sit at their table. 

“Next time, come to Queenstown with me. I think you might find it enjoyable.” Their fingers slipped away from his face, tongue tsking as they adjusted the weight of the bag upon their shoulder. “Although enjoying something for once in your life might cause you to break out in a cold sweat.”

cruz could feel evren’s eyes on him, like those of the idolatry inside the church. scanning every slip and twitch. one would guess that so many years carrying a title that entitled such extents of precision and dissimulation would have granted his words more conviction, and his act more credibility. but as diligent of an agent as he considered himself to be, he was not a good performer. especially not there, in front of the fellow oracle, when the scrutiny (as much delight as it gave her) was reminiscent of times spent kneeling before altars, accompanied by the candlelight alone. 

    “i find any amount of sleep i can get restful, but a good night’s like a luxury by now,” he replied, in that reassuring kind of way that was hard to shake off after al these years. he admired their curiosity, their aspiration to decode him and get through him in the safe way they would crack a safebox. but he always found it wisest not to outright hand them the key to it. “yeah-” he sighed, “especially now. why the cynicism? you really think that it’s worth it to miss out on some rest instead? or how else are we supposed to stay in good shape for the jobs?”

    his eyes widened slightly; he offered them a smile, and his posture stayed the same even as they approached. “evren, i assure you that-” the man stopped, ever so puzzled as he found his face cupped. this was evident, with his frown deepening as he spoke. “i appreciate your advice, but it’s just not your burden to carry, okay?” maybe evren would’ve made for a better cleric, given the ease with which she seemed to read the worry on people’s faces. he wondered whether the sheer distance between them were to exist had they had the option to devote themselves to more mundane lives. it was odd, then, how intransparency prevailed between them even when they’d known each other at their most vulnerable selves, through moments where the grips of death and injury brushed past them. sometimes he wished it was not like that, that it instead became second nature to unravel the act keep up before them without hesitating, that they didn’t need a mission for him to place his trust on her hands. but wishing and complying were two different things.

   “i’ll come to queenstown, alright,” the brunet nodded, “and you’ll find i can actually enjoy myself... just not when i’m placed on the hot seat without warning like that. if i join you in your hometown, it’s purely for R&R and not any psychoanalysis purposes, got it?”  

[1995lahaine]

hello knife nation

[agentaltair]

   .  DATE:  november 11th, 2013; day three out of ten      .  LOCATION: kharkiv, ukraine    .  FT: agent saxon, @kingofsaints

the job had come unexpectedly. the couple of missions prior to it, fresh in his mind and playing on the back of his eyelids like images of a zoetrope, had carried on without a single issue — a corrupt politician in cologne, an arms dealer in managua, and a decoy container ship in fortaleza. there was no chaos, and relatively little mess. their success and subsequent reassurance had lulled him into a brazen haze just as the next mission was extended. admittedly, there was little room to run off, had he considered to  – these were the kinds of commissions one couldn’t refuse upon their expedition. indeed, it’d arrived unexpectedly and at a relatively busy time for the crews — that much he noted, but there was no such time as an off season. as odd as it was, his hands were half-tied already by the time he agreed. 

    a politician, an arms dealer, a decoy container  — then, a titan.

  if he were a cynical man, he would’ve chuckled at the notion of having to cover saxon, out of them all. sure, shadowing over someone who wasn’t ghost unequivocally felt like a levelling move on behalf of the pantheon, but the times when he’d interacted with the godsend’s titan were rare. by profession, cruz was not a judgmental man, and yet he carried as many scruples as bullets in a handgun chamber. now, however, his reservations about the mission ( and the man ) had begun easing, prompting the following question:

“no regrets over getting stuck with me yet?” as numbed as he was to, say, the aftermaths created by his hand, the question sounded like it came from a man with an almost-childlike curiosity and apprehension over the answer.  

[agentaltair]

AGENT AUGAR / augar​.

LOCATION: ANYWHERE YOU’D LIKE IT TO BE

Still hands, that had trembled for the better part of a year, stirred milk and sugar into a mug of tea. The spoon clinked gently against the porcelain as she shook off the excess, before she took a slow sip, paying little mind to the heat of the liquid. It was sweeter than how she used to take it, but Sofia had learned that sometimes the sweetness of life needed to be savored and relished. It still wasn’t her preferred way to drink it, but it was different, and different was good. A singular finger tapped against the rim, once, twice, thrice. It was a habit that she had, one that she hadn’t been able to shake.

There would be another mission soon, and she couldn’t help but wonder if they were all truly ready for it. Agent Hathaway— she stopped herself. It was too easy to let herself sink into that day, into the darkness and the chaos and the sudden realization that there was nothing they could do. Her abuela would have said it was in God’s hands— even now, Sofia couldn’t help but want to rage at the thought. Helplessness was not something anyone enjoyed, and she didn’t like to remember the mounting panic in everyone, even if they had showed it or not. Kraken’s erraticness— if they had listened— it would not have changed their loyalties, but at least Hathaway would still be alive.

Some would say she has a bad case of survivor’s guilt. They would find that she would not be able to refute such a claim. The stillness of Hathaway’s body does not leave her mind so easily, although the darkness of tombs is one she had relearned to enjoy. At the sound of approaching footsteps, she glances up, before a warm smile spreads across her face. In this manner, she has not changed. “Hey, it’s been awhile.” She swiftly moves her coat off of the seat opposite her. “Here, take a seat.”

.

the words near the end of every service were, by now, engraved in his subconscious, though they had long ceased to occupy much of his focus until the crew had to bury one of their own: ‘ and for our brothers and sisters, who’ve laid down to sleep in the hopes of — ’

    it was one of the parts of the mass he didn’t go through in a haze. the words always stuck, as did the names and the absence of their faces from amidst the sea of pews. he had a hard time believing and adhering to most of the things he taught, except for that. it was strange timing, how thoughts about the living and the dead among their own had seemed to retreat to the back of his mind, mere afterthoughts the moment he stepped into this line of work. he always counted the losses, but those befell the other side, not them. not those brothers and sisters they named. the bold confidence with which he carried himself through each mission seemed to be a common trait across crews, to the point where even so much as considering such scenario had not occurred to him until it had dealt them all a collective blow, then crystallized as a truth.

   he’d always hated how easy it was for one’s thoughts to veer into a morbid territory in the least fitting moments. he couldn’t recall how long he had stood there, until the sound of sofia’s coat brushing against the chair surface to make space for him snapped him out of it. ah, yes — tea.

   “feels like a decade, doesn’t it?” cruz smiled, half-genuinely, half-having long mastered to put on expressions like these for both’s sake. “thanks, sof,” he nodded, claiming the spot. he was thankful for the familiarity of her cheerful expression, though deep down, he wondered whether she was coping with it better than him.

   “what’re you having? is that café con leche or just tea?” 

[agentaltair]

AGENT PERSEPHONE / agentpersephone​.

AGENT ALTAIR …  (  @agentaltair  |  the mansion, cardiff  /   51.4816° N, 3.1791° W )

well this was pathetic  —  her first day back at the mansion and she spent her time in the cold room. as she organized through the various expired cans and pantry content she had managed to feel productive. she couldn’t face him. she didn’t even know what he thought of her at this point. ‘I didn’t know’ she thought when they dragged her from the cave. ‘you’ve got to fucking believe me! I didn’t fucking know!’ yet, she couldn’t manage a peep the moment they placed her on the stretcher. did he look into her eyes? did he really know? 

she feels the swelling in her chest as if she was a guilty child. guilt? no that couldn’t be right. sitting on a stool she allows her audiobook to play in the background. at least she wasn’t truly alone  —  the narrator’s smooth voice made the difficult task ( she assigned stupidly to herself ) to pass in quick time. until she hears the door creak open slowly. 

she knows it’s none of the others because of the softness ; it was respectful while firm. her head gently moves to the side as frail fingers hold around the aluminum can tightly. “I was just taking stock of things to bring on the boat” she speaks to fill the gap of silence in that moment  — she wouldn’t let the pain get to her. 

.

had he not been one the very same people who vacated the mansion, cruz wouldn’t have believed it had only been a year since the crew was last together. though familiar, the semblance of the mansion had morphed into something distant, some ever so unrecognizable  — like the face of an old friend, coated in dust as it emerges from the wreckage, supplanted by that of a traitor. 

    perhaps the mansion had only ever been as lively as the people it housed, and now, it would remain plagued by the ghosts, by the guilt of a failed mission and the healed bruises until the crew members themselves fell back into their usual rhythm. cruz was always the kind to focus on this, to think of the tomorrow and the prospect it’d bring along. it was easier said than done, especially now, especially since the blow had had struck multiple of them at once. it’d take time  — wounds would heal in their due time. that didn’t mean it wouldn’t leave behind any traces of sensitivity. 

   it didn’t feel normal to tread so carefully, but nowadays, that seemed like the only way. even if it annoyed the others, like evren, cruz hesitated about entering any room too forcefully. he knew thea would be at the other side of the door even without looking. the floorboards under his step didn’t creak, but the old door hinges didn’t take to silence often. 

     though his demeanor remained calm at first, he offered the brunette an understanding, reassuring smile. then a nod. all throughout, he pretended not to notice how her knuckles turned pale under the firm grip around the can. 

   “sounds like a nice book,” his head gestured at her device gently. “d’you need help with that?”

[agentaltair]

AGENT COSMOS / agentcosmos​.

         there’s a deep ache within the agent, whether that be from injuries sustained or another ghost added to the weight upon his shoulders. it could quite possibly be both but for now… for now he wishes to drown either option in smoke. it seems almost ironic that mere days ago cesco doubted he would breath fresh air again and now he sits, ruining such freshness with the stale hit of hot nicotine.

thoughts twist, turn, darken behind brown hues. there’s an oncoming headache forming in his temples, it sounds like the rumbling of the rocks that fell. how could he rest underneath phosphorescent as his heartbeat mocks him with each beep it makes on the monitor. it’s almost as if every heartbeat is mocking hathaway also. he needs to get away, get away from the beeping, the rumbling of rock, the way that explosion rattles him awake from what little sleep he gets.

cesco’s head snaps up quickly, gaze turning to the other and almost grateful that it’s altair. he’s not entirely ready to look his crew in the eye quite yet. before answering, a bandaged hand offers the cigarette pack it holds and a brow is raised.   “ i could answer that or- we could smoke and pretend the last handful of days did not happen. i like my suggestion better. “ 

cruz couldn’t look at francesco in the eye either. the one certainty that prevailed in the aftermath was that, even if he claimed otherwise, the titan bore none of the blame in the eyes of the ex-priest. passing judgement onto him meant condemning himself. but something was there, nonetheless, something bore amidst the crumbling structures, the smithereens and the dust sticking to the lining of their lungs — the impulse for each of them to reach out and tear off a fraction of the blame to keep for themselves, out of guilt, out of duty. 

     he didn’t want to think of hathaway, nor of hamlet, least of all, of kraken. cruz wasn’t a man often prone to this kind of anger, mostly because he accepted the shelter provided by the belief that false witnesses would not go unpunished. he’d been forced to forgive, and even now he felt that the urge to resort to old habits would nag at him after they were done counting their losses. but it felt strange, to somewhat feel inclined to grieve the loss of his friendship with kraken and at the same time feel something feral and unfamiliar brewing deep down. 

   enabling the other to indulge in the vice whilst still in a weakened state didn’t strike him as ethical. but then, on the other hand— “fine. but just ‘cause, where i’m from, it’s common courtesy to let people have their whims when they get sick or injured,” he didn’t smile, instead just offering a grateful head motion as he took a cigarette. out of the pocket of his jacket, he produced a lighter, shielding the flame with his free hand as he sparked his before before offering it to cesco. “how are you doin'? health-wise, i mean. i didn’t come to pry out of anything you don’t want to share.”

[agentaltair]

AGENT DYNAMO / daringdynamo​.

As she looked at him, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was Atlas reincarnated that stood before her. Not the great seekers that populated Pantheon’s ranks, no, as she looked at him all she could think of was the god that had carried the weight of the world upon his shoulders. Altair was no god, so why did he do it, still? It unnerved her. It set her ill at ease, an unfamiliar ache within her chest blooming the longer that she looked at him and noted the tell-tale signs of weariness that clung to him. But instead of allowing their curiosity to get the better of them, they chose to simply glance away, regardless of the odd twinge that seemed to resound within them. 

“You sure you don’t hate me?” They pouted, eyes wide and round. Still, they stepped into his embrace, wrapping their arms around him. Was this the first time the two had hugged one another? “We all need to let our guard down at some point, don’t we? If I can’t feel safe enough to do so here, then where?” 

It was an honest question, just as she had given an honest answer. This was her home, her place of respite and peace — the one sliver of sanity that they afforded themselves. Here, they allowed themself to be caught unawares, to be snuck up on, to lower the gilded walls around their heart. Did Altair feel as though he could not do the same? 

“If I wanted to call you old, I would have done so to your face,” they retort, “there’s no reason for me to double-speak — I simply say what I mean. But I’ve been doing quite well, actually. Do I look as if I’ve been doing too well? Perhaps I should have darker circles around my eyes…”

.

 growing up, he’d been shaped and raised so that nothing in any way reminiscent of hatred had the grounds to fester around in his insides; weeds can’t grow on ground made barren. so cruz didn’t hate evren, and he never would —  he was reminded of this upon their insistence. still, his words always seemed a slight degree of careful, as they were all those years ago when he’d be seated at the other end of a confessional. no, cruz knew he didn’t have what it took to hurt evren — that wasn’t his concern. what exactly it was, he didn’t dare think of it. but evren knew of it. the answer laid within their reach, and in a sense, it was as though cruz had offered her a loaded gun with a single bullet in its chamber, and his own name attached to it. year after year, he wondered if ( or when ) she’d chose to take the shot.

   “i surely don’t,” the brunet reassured, the ghost of the smile tugging slightly at his cheeks as they pulled away. how much his word was worth after such rocky beginning was now debatable. “well, now that everything is returning to how it used to, then you won’t have to worry about me startling you. sneaking up on you in the tranquility of our home would be nothing if not rude.” 

   it was unfair, of course, for them to bear the burden of his distrust. he knew he could count on her to pull the trigger at whichever target he asked, and that this contract extended both ways. but now more than ever, as it happened with other agents, he feared looking at evren in the eye and seeing anything that reminded him of kraken. he was too tired — especially with evren, he wouldn’t be able to stand seeing history repeating itself. 

   “you wouldn’t have you, i wouldn’t ask of you to be so candid. but, whether you’d choose to be sincere or, uhh, more diplomatic about it, ‘s fine by me,” he commented lightheartedly, half joking, and offered a gentle raise of his shoulders. “but don’t worry ‘bout it; i just gotta get a few extra hours of sleep tonight then, that’s all.” 

    “dark circles to match the gear?” that got a chuckle out of him. still, he nodded, as if approvingly. “yeah, you look well. that’s a big compliment especially now, since – well, you know. i assume queenstown treated you well, then?” 

[agentaltair]

AGENT DYNAMO / daringdynamo​.

♦

There are too many places in the great wide world that Evren would be justified in calling her home. But there was truly only one place that Evren ever thought of whenever she said she wanted to go home  — she was looking at it. The ostentatious building loomed before her, shuttered and rousing to wakefulness now that the Black Diamonds were milling about in their full capacity once more. Shouldering their bag, they blew their hair away from their eyes before stepping through the threshold, the smell of old books and dust welcoming her home. Home. The word echoed in their mind, resounding and almost woeful in its relief. Home, home, home. 

The tranquility was short-lived  — for a voice beside her shattered the precious silence. 

Good flight?, he asked, as though they had not bled and fought and killed together. Their pulse stuttered, eyes flying to meet Agent Altair’s as they turned about, lips twisting into a frown. “Altair,” they whine, eyes narrowing reproachfully. “Not only do you act as if we’re distant cousins, but you also sneak up on me? Do you really hate me that much?” Their words are said playfully, their accent lilting, but that does not stop them from noticing the small details of his countenance. The smell that lingers about him, the warmth of his skin, the circles beneath his eyes. The small details are what make a far better portrait, are they not? “Are you…”

Her eyes flickered away. “You don’t look well-rested.”

.

cruz laughed, shaking his head and feeling a burden leave him at once. at the same time, the relief was bittersweet. he was the same man who’d fled from cardiff a year ago, so what did it say about him that he couldn’t address one of his closest allies upon returning? he knew evren, and what’s more, evren knew him. he’d come into the room, into the mansion that he now considered a home, the same way he went into every mission  -- weapons loaded, drawn, and leaving distance between himself to keep himself from getting grazed. but he’d made the mistake of expecting an enemy where there was none.

   evren was right ( which he begrudgingly accepted, though never aloud ). it was easier now to read one another, especially after they’d seen the other in their most bruised and battered states. the fact he had so much as considered he’d succeed in their presence now made him a self-fulfilled idiot. 

   “i don’t hate you, evren, i’m sorry. i would’ve thought you were the least likely to get snuck up on,” the man shrugged gently. but the smile on his disposition lingered. evidently apologetic, he extended his arms for a hug. 

  his head titled, his intrigue slightly piqued. “that sounds like code word for old,” he joked. “you look like you’ve been doing well. have you?”

[agentaltair]

  .  DATE:  april 2nd, 2020, delta alexi mission aftermath ( flashback )    .  LOCATION: undisclosed location    .  FT: agent cosmos, @agentcosmos​

outside of the times when he was needed at briefings, training, and other planning, cruz had gotten out of the way of everyone else. in his eyes, this was justified -- ‘ put my tears in your bottle ’, that was always more honorable than intruding where he wasn’t meant to. but, in reality, it was mostly a selfish response. he didn’t want to face the crew, not when the blast had come from a hand of their own. and especially not when it had been kraken, out of everyone else.

    cosmos’ case made him uneasy. sure, he’d been pulled out of the rubble with a pulse, but his injuries could’ve been avoided and that was the point. cruz didn’t want to ask or pry, to twist the knife senselessly. avoiding cosmos made him feel like a coward, but maybe -- just maybe -- letting the dust settle was best for the crew. 

    “shouldn’t you be in the hospital still?” there was some concern in his voice, and his brow remained forrowed. 

[agentaltair]

  .  DATE:  april 23rd, 2021   .  LOCATION: black diamond base, cardiff   .  FT: agent dynamo, @daringdynamo​

the familiar sight greeted him like an old friend. the walls remained upright and its halls warmed up by the light seeping through half-drawn curtains, as if the welsh mansion had been unbothered by their absence. but cruz couldn’t say he didn’t feel nostalgia washing over him then. he had retreated off to somewhere quiet, somewhere where the memory of a half-successful mission didn’t snarl at him for the time being. funny how the quiet halls seemed more friendly now, proving the point that he would miss them - and he had, indeed.

   but the sight of victorian furniture and wooden bannisters was nothing in comparison to the sight of an actual familiar face. he hadn’t prepared what to say come time to meet up again with the others. he wished he could’ve mustered something more eloquent upon seeing agent dynamo again, in the flesh. 

   “had a good flight?” hopefully it was easier to go back to setting up and taking out targets than it was to return to small talk. “how much are you willing to bet the month before we’re back out will go by flying?”