Reminder that Quill Kipps Appreciation Weekend is indeed THIS weekend!!! Two days from today, it all begins. I hope you're all ready! You can submit to the collection linked in my pinned post at any time between September 19-22, and use the official tag if you want!!!!
ah yes, the short former gifted kid trying to deal with the loss of his talents and his alienation from the people who were once close to him. i like him for normal reasons.
series in 5 parts (prologue, pt1, pt2, pt3, epilogue/sequel)
pairing: quill kipps x reader
word count: 2.3k
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: i'm so excited to finally put this out in the world! i love this fic i'm super excited about it and even though i'm frustrated with how long it's taking me to write it i just know it'll be worth it. I hope this first glance makes you want to read more and i'll try to have the next part out soon ;)
Prologue
--- Reader ---
The street was deserted. It was hard to see anything, the only light was coming from a malfunctioning ghost lamp at the end of the street. The city hadn’t bothered to fix it, or anything else in this part of town. It wasn’t like it was frequented by the most benevolent people, which made the lack of activity suspicious. It was far past curfew, anyone sound of mind was safely resting within walls secured with iron lining. Y/n wasn’t one of those people. Instead, her day was just starting. Of course, in a world plagued by ghosts and other remnants of all things dead, starting your day at sundown could make you a hero. You could be celebrated and praised by government officials and newspapers alike who loved to thank their precious agents for keeping the nation safe. But she wasn’t one of those either.
Instead of wearing a prestigious grey jacket, she was tracking them down. They made for easy preys and even easier cash. Their obnoxious habits made them very easy to locate and follow. The vans carrying the name of their agency or at the very least a silver unicorn decorating the doors of the vehicle made them very recognizable by day or by night. She wasn’t the kind to target children who got forced into the industry by greedy parents. She preferred by far making the most pretentious agents miserable. She kept a detailed list of names and the more she observed the agency and its workers during the day, the longer the list grew.
Her official job, her front cover at the coffee shop on the Fittes house ground floor, provided the perfect opportunity to gather intel. If you want to keep your business a secret, maybe don’t ask a bunch of teenagers to take care of it. The most arrogant ones were always the chattiest. They bragged loudly about their achievements which meant they detailed the locations of upcoming cases, previous sources and where they were stored, how their job had been so remarkable that they would have an assembly about it before burning it at the furnaces. Fools. She was always there listening and watching. In some cases she was truly petty, she knew it, but rude customers and embarrassing flirters deserved to go on the list.
That night, she had a bone to pick with a particularly arrogant one. He had come into the shop, puffing out his chest like he owned the place, saluting his colleagues and acting like a politician on election day. Of course, the disinterested looks of his peers took some of the effect off. Nonetheless, he approached the counter and ignored the line without a second look.
“One espresso to go babydoll. Extra black and extra… hot.”
She had to stifle a laugh to avoid spilling the order of her current customer. When she turned her head towards the next person in line, he catcalled her again.
“Hey doll face, I don’t have all day.”
“The line is over there,” she indicated without looking at him.
“Don’t I get special treatment for keeping you safe?”
He then pretended to stretch to display his rapier. Or at least that was what she hoped, the other option being much grosser.
“I don’t think a guy who can’t even see a line will save this country from anything.”
She handed the customer in front of her their order. He intercepted it with a self-sufficient grin but she refused to let go. Guys like him needed to be taught some manners. He apparently mistook this as interest.
“Can’t let me go so easily now, can you? How about you meet me over on Chilton Street, I can take you out after this legendary case I’ll be done with quickly.”
She pulled the cup harder, just to let go at the last second. The lid popped off and the pretentious prick spilled the drink all over his uniform. Jackpot. He didn’t bother coming up with anything to say and left, finally. She made her paying customer another cup, but she took a mental note of the address. He’d see her again sooner than he expected.
Armed with her rapier and her forged license, she had traveled up Chilton Street to locate the potential site of this so-called legendary case. It was late, the streets had already been deserted for a while but she kept up appearances. Two houses looked like they could do the trick. Residential buildings, three floors – maybe four – and the tell-tale silver van parked between them. They weren’t too far apart, so she picked the alleyway across the street to stake out both locations. She dropped her backpack to her feet and pulled out her notebook to review her notes. The work had practically been done for her that day. Shortly after the moron had left the coffee shop, another agent who had witnessed the whole scene dropped everything she needed right into her lap.
“Nice work with the coffee earlier, someone really had to shut this asshole up.”
She had smiled shyly, pretending to be embarrassed, and took the girl’s order.
“You shouldn’t let a jerk like that make you feel bad. He’s overcompensating for his lack of everything else.”
She laughed. “Really?” she had asked cautiously.
“He’s a terrible agent! The only time I had him on my team we just put him on furnaces duty. I think all team leaders have the same trick.”
She handed the girl her coffee with a radiant smile. For once, relic hunting would be fun and easy.
She spotted movement out of the corner of her eye. She ducked and discreetly rose back up, identifying doll face in chief and his team striding towards the second house she had identified. She put her notes back in her bag with a smile and pulled out her balaclava instead. She kept it ready in her pocket and crossed the street to hide next to the house. From outside, she could faintly hear the orders given among the agents and the distant screams of the visitor. She patiently waited for what felt like forever, her mask pressing uncomfortably against her features. Finally came out one then two other agents. Her prey kept her waiting which made her want to punch him more. When he finally trailed after the group, she swooped in behind him with a hand over his mouth and put him in an armlock to drag him in the darkness of the alleyway. The poor guy couldn’t even get his rapier out that she had already knocked him out. She took the source out of his limp hands, scaled the wall and called it a day. She truly hadn’t expected it to be that easy, but she wasn’t going to complain.
--- Kipps ---
The elevator door opened with a ring, bringing Kipps out his reverie. The fifth floor was deserted at this hour. His steps resonated across the hardwood floors, warning those awaiting him of his arrival. He wished he had been granted the same courtesy. All he had was a room number and a time. The rumors spreading among Fittes agents hadn’t helped him to narrow down the topic of this meeting. It could have been about an upcoming case with confidential information. Going to such length to preserve secrecy seemed a bit extreme. Maybe it was about one of his teammates being assigned to a different supervisor. Over the past few days, he had dared to imagine getting promoted when he felt particularly optimistic. On his worst days he thought he could get retired early. Nothing had transpired since the moment this intriguing letter had been left in his mailbox. He gripped the paper tighter and knocked, the chattering happening inside stopping instantly.
“Mr. Kipps!” A tall, white-haired man greeted him at the door. “We were expecting you. Please, come in.”
Kipps scanned the room for familiar faces. He had never met the man at the door, neither did he know the man standing behind the desk in front of him. Before he could ask, the man shook his hand and gestured for him to take a seat in one of the armchairs opposite him.
“Nicolas Richardson, head of internal affairs,” he introduced himself. “And you might have recognized my colleague, Dominic Russell, the department’s spokesman.”
The white-haired man came to stand beside his colleague. Kipps vaguely recalled hearing from Mr. Russell during major Fittes events, but the man standing next to him didn’t look familiar at all from up-close. He remembered hearing supervisors discuss a potential scandal, maybe the topic of this secretive meeting, but he didn’t have time to finish his thought as the man continued.
“You will have to excuse our method of communication that might have seemed a bit unorthodox, we unfortunately need to discuss a sensitive matter and we preferred to keep this as quiet as possible.” A deep frown creased the man’s eyes.
Kipps furrowed his brows. It was hard to tell if this discussion would lead to good news or disastrous ones. Despite his frown, the man had managed to remain stoic without a trace of worry in his eyes. Even he who was usually quite good at reading people couldn’t put his finger on what the man in front of him had in mind.
“I’m sure you’ve heard of the mishaps that have plagued our valiant teams for the past few months.”
There were so many he wasn’t sure what he was referring to specifically. The Problem had gotten worse lately, or at least it looked that way. Many accidents had been reported, most of them injuring and killing agents. Kipps certainly wouldn’t have referred to them as simple “mishaps”. He must have let his expression betray his confusion as Mr. Russell explained further.
“I’m referring to the ill-fated encounters some of our agents have had with nefarious individuals.”
It clarified the situation he described without really narrowing it down.
“What I’m about to tell you cannot leave this room.”
However annoyed he had been at the man for beating around the bush, he had to admit he had managed to pique his interest with a simple phrase. He leaned forward in his seat, resting his arms on his knees.
“It would appear,” he continued in a lowered voice, “that our agents have been specifically targeted by those unfortunate events.”
Kipps’s eyes widened slightly, a response certainly expected by the man in front of him. If he was honest with himself though, the news wasn’t so surprising. After all, the most prestigious agency was bound to attract attention, good and bad. It wasn’t unpredictable that the relic market favored them to fill their stock. Mr. Russell was really pondering on this revelation. The silence stretched. With every passing minute, Kipps realized that something wasn’t right. It really was unfortunate that Fittes was targeted by criminals, and it wasn’t a reassuring thought for all the young members of the agency. Unfortunately, it wasn’t new. Relic men had always plagued London, and they had always preyed around haunted sites to profit off it. So why was this man trying to draw this like it was news of the year?
“We are familiar with your work Mr. Kipps.” Mr. Richardson said, taking over the conversation. “We’ve heard all about your accomplishments. You’ve been trusted by many supervisors in the past, you’ve been an exemplary team leader, you’ve even been working closely with DEPRAC, correct?”
“As Fittes’s special liaison, indeed.”
The two men exchanged a look.
“We have a job for you. If you’re interested.”
Finally, some news worthy of his attention.
“May I ask what kind of job?” he asked back cautiously.
“We would like to offer you a promotion of sort. It would require a high level of discretion. We think maybe you should suspend your missions with DEPRAC while taking on those new responsibilities.” The head of the department explained.
Kipps frowned. He had liked working with DEPRAC so far. He felt like he made a difference, beyond his position of Fittes. A promotion was what he had hoped for, but this wasn’t what he had envisioned.
“You would be in charge of looking into this conspiracy against Fittes agents.” Mr. Russell finally dropped.
This certainly explained the mystery that had shrouded this meeting. The responsibility was enormous, but so was the opportunity to make himself a lasting place at Fittes, something that had troubled him lately. If he pulled this off, he would be recognized as an essential member of the agency, outside of his usual duties. He would also be acknowledged for other, longer-lasting talents. A small part of him wanted to accept on the spot.
“What kind of duties would I be performing?”
“We would like you to discover who the individual in question is, if they are connected to other relic dealers and to build a rock-solid case against them. Working with DEPRAC, I’m sure you’ll be equipped to do so.” The spokesman explained.
“This would require total anonymity, and total discretion from you during the entirety of this mission.” Mr. Richardson added. “You could not tell anyone about your activity and your contacts with Fittes’s organization and DEPRAC would be reduced to its bare minimum. Keep your usual duties with the lowest profile possible. We do not know who could be involved.”
The suspicions that transpired from such precautions were worrying. Who could be stupid enough to betray the oldest and most prestigious agency in the country? Well, he would find out soon enough.
He stroke his chin, deep in thought. He wasn’t thrilled about this mission conflicting with his other existing duties, but if he applied himself to this job he could be back to his routine in no time with a golden reputation and a free ticket to the next level of his career.
He stood up and held his hand out.
“Gentlemen, I am honored that you are trusting me with such a task.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
What killed them: cowardice, or unquestioning loyalty? Pride, regardless.
Five drabbles about Quill Kipps, through his own eyes, versus through others'. For QKAW prompt "defecting is no defect," and also in fulfillment of a drabble promised to @maybenotthatkindofgirl some time ago.
