Doomed
series in 5 parts (prologue, pt1, pt2, pt3, epilogue/sequel)
pairing: quill kipps x reader
word count: 5.1k
summary: A string of attacks has been troubling the Fittes agency. Agents get assaulted, relics go missing and the attacker remains at large. Quill Kipps is nominated to take down whoever is behind this. Only this job isn't like anything else he's done before, and it leads him down a path of strange alliances and confusing feelings.
comment: here's something more substantial to get into the plot 👀 i hope you enjoy!
taglist: @avdiobliss ; @maraschinomerry ; @neewtmas ; @oblivious-idiot ; @bella-rose29 ; @bobbys-not-that-small ; @demigoddess-of-cheese
Part 1 - A game of cat and mouse
--- Kipps ---
Quill Kipps had always been an exemplary agent. He had learned how to hold a rapier at age six, he had memorized the Fittes manual of psychical interventions from cover to cover by age ten and he kept up with the recent progress in technological discoveries against visitors. He had been both a team member and a team leader, he dedicated his free time to work on extra projects with DEPRAC and he often referred to Inspector Barnes as his mentor. However, in this exact moment, he had no idea what he was doing.
This new mission was probably the biggest opportunity he had been offered so far. It said long about his achievements, and hopefully he wouldn’t have to worry about the future as much as he did now. That was if he didn’t mess it up. He didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t. Too many people relied on him already. He had been offered this job specifically because he was qualified. He had made himself a reputation and he was going to uphold it. He had to keep going, it was too late to turn back, and now was not the time to doubt his abilities. Heaven knew uncertainty had a bad habit of creeping up on him in the worst moments lately.
He sat at his usual table in the Archives, newspapers in hand, and silenced the unwanted voice in his head as best he could. This part should be the easy one, he had practically taught Bobby everything he knew about research. The first step was observing. He needed to get familiar with this attacker’s preys of choice. If he could even start to draw a motive, it would be even better.
The attacks weren’t on the front page, or anywhere to be found in the first five pages. The department of internal affairs might be discreet but it seemed they knew how to pull some strings. It looked like they didn’t want to tarnish the agency’s reputation or give ideas to the wrong people. The details of the different cases were not mentioned. The articles mostly boiled down to a straightforward description of the assault and the state of the affair, whether it was ongoing or if DEPRAC had already caught the assailant. They hadn’t of course, otherwise he wouldn’t be there. He didn’t mind the gaps in the stories, the Fittes database would fill them quickly enough. What worried him was the apparent randomness in the assailant’s choices. He had been at Fittes long enough to recognize some of the names cited in the articles. The victims didn’t seem to have much in common. Some were team leaders, some usually stuck to research, some had always been with Fittes and some transferred from Rotwell a few months back. It started to feel like the assailant had a personal vendetta against Fittes, and the reason why remained unclear.
He got up to make his way back to the headquarters, determined to clear up the motive by looking into the details of the cases. Unfortunately, one more obstacle showed up in his path. At the other end of the corridor stood Lockwood, looking as annoying as ever. The boy rolled his eyes.
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s called research Tony. I wouldn’t expect you to know what that is.”
The boy sighed again and turned around.
“No George or Lucy to keep you in check today?”
“They’re meeting Barnes for a case actually. You know, the one you turned down? It’s probably for the best though, less casualties.” He retorted with that annoying grin of his.
“I’m”-
I’m working on a much bigger case, he wanted to say. A case that would save lives. A case that will, once solved, protect countless agents against dangerous threats. The whole point of said case however was to remain secret for the time being.
Lockwood looked back at him with an arrogant frown.
“You’re what?” he asked, “a terrible team leader? I think we both know that.”
He turned around before he could respond.
Kipps thought about calling after him, but his dignity would take a critical hit. That irrelevant prick wasn’t worth it.
--- Reader ---
The coffee shop was buzzing with activity. The chattering of agents and the noise of the coffee maker were hammering in her head, using up the energy she had tried to save all afternoon for what she hoped to be a successful evening. The customers kept coming in, all looking annoyingly fresh and energetic. Their day was just starting after all. She served them one after the other, methodically avoiding the nauseating wannabes hoping to get a free drink. She had a few leads for the night; she figured she’d pick the one she wanted on the moment, listening to her instinct.
A few customers away, she noticed a familiar face. The respected and celebrated Quill Kipps was chatting with a colleague. She had seen him several times in the paper, often with a proud, military-like picture next to an impacting quote about Fittes and its latest prowess. He didn’t look like his picture. At least not at the moment. He looked uncomfortable, avoidant, dismissing his colleague’s questions with worry. When his turn came to order he latched onto her with round eyes, turning his whole attention to his order, leaving none for the girl accompanying him.
“What’s going on with you?” the girl asked.
He quickly turned his head back to her. “I’ll tell you more when I can. I promise.”
He winked and focused back on y/n, ordering right away to keep his friend from responding. What was he hiding? She tried to keep herself from staring. She didn’t want to seem too intrigued by his behavior. She poured his order and sealed the cup, trying to ignore his stare she could still feel on her. When she handed him his coffee, her eyes lingered despite her best efforts, but so did his. They stared at each other for a second too long. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the other customers waiting, including a familiar annoying face, and turned back to her job with a strange feeling in her stomach.
The next customer happened to be an old friend of hers; and by friend she meant victim. Well, was he really a victim when he had held the entire line, refusing to move, until she caved and wrote a fake number on his cup? Thankfully that time he kept a low profile and didn’t try to push her again. He mumbled his order and didn’t look her in the eye, probably in an attempt to hide the bruise she had left on his jaw. She was ready to forget about him when she heard Kipps ask the guy if he had a minute. She stepped behind the coffee maker, pretending to meticulously clean its every nook and cranny while casually leaning in.
“It all happened so fast, I’m not sure I’ll be able to help you out…”
“Do you remember anything at all?”
“Well, his face was covered so I couldn’t identify him but he was strong. He did this.”
She assumed he was showing the team leader his bruised skin. She kept her eyes glued to the machine when the voices got further. She turned back to see the both of them standing close to the counter. She ducked, pretending to look between the cartons of milk.
“A friend of mine has a case near the place where I was attacked. You should check it out, it’s on Bastwick Street. You can probably catch him if you leave now.”
The idea was tempting. It was also risky to say the least. She had done no recon, no preparation of any kind, but Quill Kipps was looking into cases that she was involved in. She had to know more, even if it was dangerous.
As it turned out, following Kipps on a whim hadn’t allowed y/n to learn more about what he knew. It did however earn her another income. When she was standing in the dark narrow street near the house where the agents were working their magic, she realized that she hadn’t thought her plan through. She didn’t even have a plan. She had followed him from a safe distance as if she didn’t already know that he would supervise a case and see if a relic man showed up. She thought about leaving. It would have been the smart thing to do. Don’t draw attention to yourself, keep a low profile. She hadn’t listened to the voice in her head. Instead, she recognized his silhouette when he exited the house, silver net in hand, and she did what she did best. She threw him against the wall, not anticipating the strong resistance in his shoulders. She had thought it was simply his uniform that made him look like a square. She pushed him again, this time with her foot, the strength of her leg throwing him against the wall. His left arm took the hit first, knocking the source out of his hands. She grabbed it before it could hit the ground and dodged Kipps’s attempt at grabbing her mask. She ran to the opposite wall and scaled it like she did every time. She didn’t look back until she was several blocks away. Her heart was racing in the best way, adrenaline coursing through her veins, and a smile was plastered on her face.
--- Kipps ---
Staring at his empty coffee cup, Kipps couldn’t focus long enough to read the article in front of him. He hadn’t slept a wink after the case he supervised the previous night. He was supposed to get a lead; all he got was a sprained shoulder. He sat up straight and the movement triggered the pain again. He clenched his fist out of frustration, unsuccessfully trying to shut off the memory. Whoever was behind this would pay. He’d make sure of it.
A loud burst of laughter erupted in the foyer, chasing away his thoughts.
“They assigned me the Hanbury case! Can you believe it?”
The obnoxious agent bragged about how “easy” and “career boosting” that case would be. The Fittes committee had already discussed it thoroughly in assembly, using said case as an opportunity to train dozens of agents on research methods and source identification training. Solving it wouldn’t boost his career, especially not if he kept shouting confidential information like this.
“And it’s just two blocks away! We’re gonna be done so quick, they even want to keep the source for a while so we don’t have to go to the furnaces!”
Kipps crossed the space separating him from the group in two strides.
“Keep your voice down!”
He looked around him, noticing the DEPRAC agents, the line of applicants, the two janitors exiting in the left corner, the coffee shop a few feet away. So many potential suspects standing within hearing distance of this moron. He started to get an idea of how his suspect could have gotten information on where to get sources.
“Why do you think it’s okay for you to discuss your cases loudly in a public place like this?”
“Chill out man, we’re inside Fittes! Besides, who do you think you are to talk to me like that?”
“I’m your supervisor for the night now, idiot. You better check your tone while we’re on the case.”
“Whatever, mate.” The prick retorted.
He walked away before he let his anger inevitably boil over. What kind of HR mistake had allowed this guy to work here? He hadn’t slept enough to handle this. Now he had another case to prepare on top of the dozens of cases already on his plate for this mission. Just when he thought of giving up to go home, a familiar face approached.
“Hello, Mr. Kipps!”
An idea popped in his head.
“Bobby! Just the person I wanted to see!”
The boy’s face lit up. Kipps explained that he needed detailed files on a list of cases. The names of the agents, the address, the source identified, and any comments he judged relevant to mention.
“Do you think you could deliver those by tomorrow morning?”
“I’ll do my best! What is it for?”
“You’re the best Bobby!”
He left before he could ask any more questions. He hated how he avoided his team lately. First Kat, now Bobby… Asking for his help without explaining why felt wrong. He had always valued honesty among his team. It was a valuable part of bonding with his peers to always be their best on the job. Trust was fundamental for him. All this secrecy was weighing on his integrity. Truly, the reason why he dismissed them was because they would see right through him.
After looking up the details of the case of the idiot he would be supervising, he headed home to get some sleep before heading there. His shoulder was already a disadvantage, he didn’t need to head into a fight with slow reflexes. He assumed the next case would be the same, but his luck could run out. It was fortunate that the first lead he followed ended up being the choice of the assailant too. However, his gut was telling him that his colleague of the night hadn’t bragged about his case just in the foyer.
The rest he got and the two cups of coffee he drank before heading back out did the trick. With renewed confidence, he headed to the Hanbury case, devising his strategy for the night. He thought back on what he did wrong the last time he got ambushed. He needed to watch out for nearby cul-de-sacs and always keep his hands free. The attacker wouldn’t have a chance if he managed to get his rapier out in time. He would be on full alert as soon as he stepped out of the house.
However angry he had been earlier, he was now grateful to have such a conceited colleague. When the familiar shadow emerged from the alleyway, he already had the source tucked safely in the jacket of his uniform, coupled with a secure tie to his belt. His free hands reached for his rapier faster than the night before, and he threw his opponent against the wall before he could get too close. The assailant cried out and Kipps lost his composure for a split second. The cry had sounded feminine. It completely changed the idea he had built in his head of who his adversary could be. He had been a fool from the start, and he realized he hadn’t been paying attention to the right people, losing precious time. It was such an easily avoidable mistake. The masked woman pushed back, bringing him back to what mattered most at the moment. He pressed his blade tighter against her throat, regaining the upper hand.
“Careful, sweetheart. You wouldn’t want my blade to slip.”
He held his head high and she looked back at him with fury. Her eyes lit up, like she wanted to retort something clever. She refrained, probably scared of what would happen if she opened her mouth. First smart thing she did that night. They stared at each other for a few more seconds, her struggle useless against his grip. She stopped resisting when she realized that pushing back pressed on her lungs. Despite his hold, she wasn’t panicked. She deliberately held his gaze in a cold, calculating manner. He couldn’t look away. There was something hypnotic about the deepness of her eyes, even in the barely lit corner where they were standing.
“You had to know it wouldn’t last forever, right?” he asked in a low voice. “Hunting Fittes agents could only end badly for you. We’re the best after all.”
He smiled, but it was bittersweet. Something was creeping up his neck, like his hair was standing up. Cold sweat. Shivers. Fear. A visitor was nearby. His eyes darted to the entrance of the alley, where a ghost lamp shone dimly. That was all he could see. He looked back at his adversary who was looking in the same direction. Did she have talent? He frowned, but before he could think, her heel collided with his foot. He lowered his rapier, the bolt of pain throwing him off. She threw a well-placed punch that triggered the injury in his shoulder before he could stand straight again. He toppled over, the air knocked out of his lungs. He fell to the floor, holding onto his hurting arm. When he looked over, she was already gone.
--- Kipps ---
Even though he had brought back the source safely and handled the case without too much trouble, Kipps’s night had been short. First because his opponent was strong. He didn’t know who she was, but he knew she could throw a punch. His night was also cut short by his alarm set as early as possible, to make sure he would be at the headquarters first thing in the morning. Even though he didn’t have a name yet, he had made significant progress regarding the identity of the assailant and most importantly how the agents were getting targeted. The department of internal affairs would certainly instate new discretion policies and the sooner the better. They didn’t need any more attacks targeting their agents.
Before heading to the fifth floor, he grabbed a much-needed cup of coffee. It was early and the place was deserted at this hour. Aside from the two supervisors seating by the window, the only other face was a familiar one. The barista who had served him the other day was standing behind the counter, a tired look on her face.
“Good morning,” he started with a thin smile.
“Double espresso?”
Despite the crowd when he was there last, she had somehow remembered his order. That or he looked more tired than he thought. She handed him the cup and, just like he did last time, he felt a bolt of electricity run through him at the brief contact of their fingers. He looked up at her and stared into her eyes, captivated. This felt familiar, and not just because he had been there less than twenty-four hours ago. There was something about the way she looked at him. A brick fell on his head as the realization sunk in. All sleep vanished from his eyes. He tried his best to remain casual. A polite smile. A nod. He then ran for the door. He had done it. Three days to solve a high responsibility mission. He could practically feel his future career securing as he climbed the steps two at a time. He didn’t even need the coffee in his hand anymore, he’d never been more energized.
He walked up to the door and knocked loud enough for the whole floor to hear. Mr. Richardson opened immediately, like he had been waiting for him, and pulled him in before hurriedly closing the door behind him.
“There’s been another attack,” the man said.
Kipps couldn’t help the smug smile tugging at his lips.
“I think you mean attempted attack.”
The man didn’t seem to hear, the worried look not leaving his features.
“An agent died. Another one is in the hospital,” he said in a grave tone.
Kipps dropped into his seat. How was this possible?
“How did… Where did…”
He couldn’t think straight.
He knew it was her. He had seen it with his own eyes. He had stopped her, he knew who she was. It was over. Did she somehow flee to another case and kill an agent after failing to steal a source from him? Questions flooded his mind.
“The case handled by Miss Grunewald and her team on James’s Street went awry at 8:42pm according to the remaining members of the team,” Mr. Richardson explained. “A masked relic man attacked them and let nothing stand in the way of getting to the relic.”
“You need to find the person responsible, and quick.” The man pressed.
“But I-”
“We have no time to lose. Find the culprit and enough to put them behind bars for good. You have two weeks.”
Another brick. ‘Enough to put them behind bars’. All he had was a look and a hunch. He had worked with inspector Barnes long enough to know that relic men cases didn’t lead anywhere unless the investigator could prove means, identity and undeniable proof of wrongdoing. He wouldn’t lose face in front of his superiors. He nodded and swore to bring them to justice before exiting the room.
He drank the double espresso tightly clutched in his hand in three gulps. His exhaustion was back tenfold. How had she done it? He was with her. At the time of the attack he was on his way back to Fittes. He wondered if she could have had the time to escape and make her way to the other case. Had she grown desperate after she failed to steal the source he had on him, enough to kill an agent? If he’d given up, would his colleague still be alive?
He went back to the coffee shop. That girl would not leave his sight. Enough people had gotten hurt already.
“You’re back so soon?” she sent him a puzzled look.
“Looks like I’ll be here all day.”
“You might want to ease up on the double espressos then.” She grabbed the largest cup available, poured one espresso and filled the rest up with caramel syrup and milk. A comfort drink.
“On the house,” she winked as she handed him the cup.
He didn’t let the gesture fool him. He took the seat next to the window but made sure she was still in his sight. When he wasn’t watching her, he kept an eye on the door to the building. Bobby would be there soon with the research he had asked him.
The boy was at the door earlier than Kipps had thought. His arms were filled with papers and files. Enough reading to keep him busy while he waited for his target’s shift to end.
“Hello, Mr. Kipps, here are the documents on the cases you asked.”
Kipps had always liked how reliable and helpful Bobby had been every time he worked with him. He thanked him with a smile.
“Will we see you tonight on our case? Ned has had some issues with our supervisor lately,” he said, but Kipps was only half listening.
“Bobby, would you do me one last favour?”
A tinge of guilt pierced through him as he ignored the boy’s comments.
Bobby nodded, eager to help.
“Can you ask me the same question but louder, and mention this street.” He slid a paper across the table.
The boy sent him a puzzled look but obliged. His acting skills weren’t perfect and his voice was exaggeratingly loud. It worked though. A few heads turned and the barista’s attention was caught.
“I’ll gladly assist you, Bobby!” he replied, just as loud.
The girl’s eyes lingered a minute longer before returning to her work. He felt confident the first part of his plan was accomplished.
He spent the rest of the day reading through a dozen of casefiles, taking notes on chronology and notable points for each attack. The earliest attack he found dated back a year. At the time, the only cases where he could find a clear intention to target Fittes were spaced out, only two or three per months. Until three months ago when the attacks became more regular. Once a week then several times a week, jumping at an alarming rate. The past month was the worst, with a peak of one attack per day. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t been informed sooner. Truly, he was disappointed that he hadn’t paid close enough attention to realise what was happening on his own.
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed movement behind the bar. A face he hadn’t seen before was serving a customer, and the familiar silhouette disappeared in the back. He gathered his research, quickly storing everything in his bag, and made his way out to look for the back exit. He reached it just in time to see her crossing the street. The chase was on.
--- Reader ---
At first, she thought she was imagining the footsteps resonating behind her in every street she took. She checked the reflections in the windows of the cars parked there and saw him keeping his distance but watching her closely. She took the next turn left and heard the footsteps that had followed her hurry behind her. Good, she had picked the right street. She spotted the narrow alleyway ahead. He was so predictable. She stationed herself right around the corner, her back against the wall, waiting for him to turn in three, two, one… When he inevitably turned into the alley to trap her, she had already grabbed the knife strapped to her ankle. She threw him against the opposite wall, blade on his skin, relishing the terrified look on his face. That was for last night, you asshole.
“Why are you following me?” She knew why. The recognition in his eyes had been too clear this morning.
“We both know why I’m here, sweetheart.” The surprise faded from his features and was replaced by arrogance. She jammed her elbow between his ribs, knocking the air out of him. If not scared, at least he looked uncomfortable.
“Why the creepy guy followed the girl walking alone into an alley? Yeah, I get the picture. No regrets then.” She pressed the blade harder against his throat. His eyes widened slightly at the threat.
“I know you’re the one attacking Fittes agents,” he claimed while holding her stare. Even with a knife to the throat he still thought he had the upper hand. She rolled her eyes.
“Wow, a creep and a snitch. Don’t mind if I do.” She let her blade draw blood, the drop rolling down his neck to stain his precious spotless uniform.
“I just want to talk!” he cowered, his hands raised as best he could in surrender.
“Talk about what?”
“Did you kill an agent last night?”
The blade slipped slightly between her fingers. She might have preyed on Fittes agents, beat them up, but humiliating them was much more fun than killing them. She held his questioning eyes without a word.
“If not you, then who did?”
It would be easy to think him reasonable in that moment, like you might have a reasonable conversation with him. He almost looked ready to hear her side of the story, but she was reluctant to give him the benefit of the doubt. She weighed her options. He knew about her, more than that he had recognized her. She might have been wearing a mask and he might not have any concrete proof, but he had followed his hunch and tracked her down. He wouldn’t back off easily. That made him her biggest target yet, and she had every reason to get rid of him. Permanently.
She stared at the knife to his throat and thought of pressing it deeper, get it over with, but she knew too well that it was only to scare him more than anything else. She would never kill anyone, she’d promised herself that. What did that leave her? She needed time to think, see if there was any way around the mess she was in. His eyes were still set on her, intently watching every twitch of eyebrow like he was trying to read her mind. From what he said, she wasn’t the only one he was after. Maybe she could use that, turn it to her advantage.
Reluctantly, she withdrew the knife from his throat. He took a deep breath. She really had scared him. She grinned at his disheveled appearance. It was a good look for him, it took some of the smugness off. He tried his best to regain his composure.
“Come on,” he said with a tilt of the head, “I know a place where we can talk.”
She had noticed when walking here that it was a very residential neighbourhood. Streets lined with identical houses, very few shops, and even fewer people at this hour. It was safe to assume he was referring to his own flat, unless he was working with someone else.
“I’m not going anywhere with you. We can talk here.”
He looked around with a perplexed look. “We can’t discuss this in public.”
“There’s no one around, it’s almost curfew.”
“Only agents and accredited people can walk around past curfew. How didn’t you get caught?”
“I’m not telling you anything until I know what’s in it for me.”
“Talk or I call DEPRAC.”
“To tell them what?”
“I’ll tell them all about what you’re really doing at the Fittes coffee shop.”
“Serving coffee?”
He scowled. She had to admit, it was fun to get on his nerves.
“Stop playing dumb,” he raised his voice. “I recognized you this morning. You’re the one who attacked me. Twice!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She feigned ignorance. He really didn’t have any proof, maybe she would be okay. She started to turn back to leave him stranded in the alley.
“I won’t let this go. I know how you pick your cases, I know how you operate. And you can be sure that I won’t let you out of my sight until I make sure DEPRAC sends you to jail.”
She stopped in her tracks. Was he bluffing or was he really able to make her life hell?
“Oh, and I’ll make sure that you can’t work anywhere near the Fittes headquarters. You know, just to be safe.”
Her grip tightened around her pocketknife. She wanted to cut the complacent smile off his face.
“What do you want?” she asked through gritted teeth.
“A deal. I need information on another relic man. Help me and I’ll let you keep your job.”
“Just to rat me out the second you don’t need me anymore? Pass.”
“Fine. Help me and I won’t go to DEPRAC. On one condition: you stop robbing Fittes agents.”
She would have stopped anyway, now that he was onto her. The offer seemed reasonable enough, though at the moment she didn’t have much choice. At least with that kind of arrangement she would have some time to figure something out, or flee before DEPRAC got too close. She sighed and held her hand out. He firmly shook it. “Deal.”
