Work Text:
Aim, click, bang.
The bullet sinks into the head of your practice target, making a hole through the wood. It’s not at all similar to the real sensation of taking a life, since usually your victim is moving. But this is just practice.
This is the last of your preparations for your biggest mission yet. The Fatui is your company’s biggest rival — a manufacturing company that is a cover-up for a weapons-technology business. If left unchecked, they’ll become a monopoly and drive your company bankrupt.
This is where you come in — you work in a specific district of your company, Favonia, in the elimination district. Trained to both be a deadly weapon and steal information. The Fatui and Favonia are some of the biggest companies in the city, which means both sides also have secret subsections. Sections that deal with, well, gaining advantages more under-the-table. A coworker might disappear without a trace, a file might get leaked, but neither you nor the Fatui can go to the police because you both are covering up highly illegal things. Think of them both like weapon-peddling mafias.
All the important data that you need for this mission is stored in a USB drive.
The only problem?
The CEO of the Fatui, Pierro, keeps the USB in his personal possession. The only way to nab it would be right under his nose.
You set the still-warm pistol into its holster. The familiar shooting routine helped calm your nerves, but now it’s time to go. Timing is critical, because you only have a small window.
You’re wearing all black, plus a sturdy pair of combat boots. Strapped across half of your torso is a bulletproof vest, with extra ammo and supplies stored inside. It has ample storage for hidden weapons and tools, including chips with malware on them so you can corrupt the Fatui’s security systems. Your hair is tied back with only a few strands falling into your face.
“Y/N!” your boss, Jean, calls out. She strides up to you, her blonde ponytail bouncing, and stops. “I was needing to catch you before you left. Are you completely ready for your mission?”
“Yes. I have everything I need. Is my transportation arranged?”
Kaeya stands at Jean’s side, holding a tablet in one hand. “You’ll be dropped off at the back exit by one of our cars. The exit will be a bit more flashy — a helicopter will pick you up from the roof, since there’s no way that you’ll be able to sneak through security a second time.” His fingers fly across the screen, making notes and plans.
Jean reaches into her pocket, drawing out an earpiece and placing it into your hand. “Albedo programmed you a new communication device. This one is supposedly impossible to hack into… but if it’s Scaramouche we’re talking about, I just hope it can buy us some time against him.”
Okay, you lied. There is a second problem.
Scaramouche.
He’s the Fatui’s behind-screen weapon, the one who manages to foil you most times. Instead of locating you and sending the guards in your direction, he hacks into your ear piece without fail, disconnecting you from any outside information. He plays mind games with you every time, and his favorite thing to do is taunt that he was able to shut down Favonia’s systems. He’s ruined many a mission. Often he makes you paranoid by saying that there are guards just around the corner, forcing you to abort the mission ahead of time.
You don’t know what he looks like, but it still sends a sense of dread through you every time you hear your ear bud fizzle out and then reverb with his whispering, smooth voice.
Supposedly , this new communication device is ‘unhackable’. But Scaramouche is likely to treat that as a personal challenge.
“I hope it’ll work,” is all you say, hooking the ear piece in place.
“This has to work. Favonia can’t afford a failure at this time, not with the business strategies they’ve been pulling lately.” Jean glances between you and Kaeya. “They’re developing newer weapons. Dangerous ones, that can be used against us and everyone in the understreets. The USB holds that data, and soon it’ll be used to mass produce those weapons.”
“I won’t let this fail, Master Jean. This is of my utmost priority.”
She nods solemnly. “If anyone in Favonia’s ranks can do it, it’s you.”
“If worst comes to worst and you can’t bring the USB,” Kaeya puts in, “we would rather the device be destroyed than for the Fatui to retrieve it.”
You’re directed to the car and driven throughout the city. The Fatui building towers high up into the darkening sky, seeming only taller as you get closer. The driver lets you off with a small salute and a muttered “good luck.”
There are no guards out in the back, but there are two cameras panning back and forth over the alleyway. A small magnetic pulse renders them useless, but it will no doubt alert the security system that something is wrong. And that someone monitoring the cameras is most likely Scaramouche.
“Y/N. Y/N, do you copy?” a voice resonates through your ears — Eula, the woman who always guides you through the layouts of your missions.
“Yes, I’m here,” you whisper. “I just got into the doors. Any guards coming up?”
“You should be safe going through the west stairwell this time. And if you go down that hallway, to where the emergency stairs are, there isn’t anyone for the next floors.”
You follow her instructions carefully, weaving through the hallways until you ascend the first stairwell. Several chatting workers pass by, but they’re so busy gossiping about their boss that they don’t notice you slipping around the corner. Luckily, they don’t block your next path. You ascend floors two, three, and four through the fire escape stairs.
“Any updates?” The ceaseless amount of stairs in the building is starting to wind you.
Thankfully, Eula delivers good news. You can hear a sound of shifting as she speaks into her microphone. “That small staff elevator is safe, as long as you’re careful. Ride it until floor… 42. That one is clear.”
It may feel easy, but the worst is yet to come. The Fatui’s under-the-table matters are only discussed in the upper floors, where security is heightened. The first 50 floors are the Fatui’s public business matters — your average nine to five workers who have no knowledge of the Fatui’s real business. Until floor 59 is the high-ranking members. And 60 is the floor of Pierro’s office, where the important matters are dealt with.
You step foot into the elevator, disabling the camera there and clicking the 42 button with a gloved hand. The doors close with no difficulty.
“A recap, Agent. The plan is still the same. In approximately twenty five minutes, Pierro will be going to grab his coffee. And in that moment, the USB will be attached to his computer, but unmonitored,” Eula explains.
The floor of the elevator starts to shift under your feet, carrying you upwards. “Remind me why I can’t instead sneak in after hours?”
“ Pierro is a paranoid pain who likes to take his computer with him when he goes home. And believe me, his mansion has just as high security as this building. This is the best window of time where he predictably leaves it unguarded.” Eula’s signal weakens for a moment and returns.
“Hey, hey— Eula, what was that?” you put in, your hand automatically drifting up to the ear piece.
“Signal’s going fuzzy. I’m trying to fix th— lem as we speak bu—“ Her voice gets cut up, and she yells a distorted version of your name.
The audio is replaced with a loud, static noise that echoes through your head.
And it stops entirely.
The only noise other than your own thoughts is the sound of the beeping elevator. 25, 26, 27.
Then a familiar voice invades your com. “Hey… sneaking into the Fatui without telling me? I bet you missed me.”
“Hardly,” you mutter.
“Aw, that hurts,” Scaramouche says. You can practically hear the grin on his face. “But seriously, it’s been a while since your last raid. Did you change your headset?”
“I thought it would finally send the message that I don’t want you hacking into me.” You deliver the line with as much confidence as you can and swallow, hands shaking. This assignment is too important to mess up.
“Must be a big mission, huh.”
Your hand clenches at your side in frustration. It seems he’s always two steps ahead of you, despite the fact that he’s never physically stopped you. You haven’t even seen this man.
“Oopsie.” The lights in the elevator shut off completely, leaving you in darkness.
You step back to lean against the wall of the elevator, needing something to ground you. It’s like the Fatui building is a dollhouse to him, and you’re the doll. But you don’t have time today for Scaramouche’s twisted mind games.
“Let me out of here,” you demand. You’re still ascending, but not visibly. And when it suddenly stops, causing you to stumble, the doors don’t immediately open.
“What’s the magic word?”
“Screw you.”
“That’s not it, darling. Now, I can let you out, but you have to ask me very nicely.” What is wrong with this guy?
You try and pry the metal doors open to no avail. “I swear I will find your office myself and strangle you there. You’re probably a twig, a competitive gamer that the Fatui hired off of Youtube Kids.”
“Such a mouth on you. It’s not convincing me to open the door,” Scaramouche says, and you can tell that his mouth is close to his mic from the way you can hear his breath in your ear.
“ Pretty please open the door and let me destroy your company?”
“Of course, sweetheart.” Within a moment, the lights flick on again and the doors open.
You step into the hallway, then promptly hide in the emergency stairwell. You draw your hands over your face as you lean against the cold, concrete wall. Everything’s going wrong. Communications are cut off from Eula and the rest of Favonia, on the most important mission of your life. And now you’re stuck in the Fatui building, having to make it up the highest twenty floors without being discovered.
It’s doable, but it’s risky to do all of it in the time before Pierro goes on his coffee break.
“I guess there’s no chance that you’ll actually help me sneak into your own company?” you try with a grimace.
“Aw, you’re asking for my help?”
“Forget I said anything.” You sigh, rubbing one of your eyes, and start to trek up the stairs. Albedo programmed the ear piece to be impossible to hack, but here they are again. But judging as you’re still undiscovered, it seems Scaramouche hasn’t given you away. “I can do this with or without your help.”
Taking the stairs is not fun. You have to take a small detour at floor 50 — it requires level two clearance because it’s the offices of the Harbingers. It’s easy enough to put in one of the chips you brought along and bug the system. The screen glitches for a moment, then lets you past.
By the time you get to floor 54, you are huffing from the exertion and very, very annoyed. Scaramouche taunts you the whole way about how he’s lounging in an office room while you’re trekking up stairs.
“Tell me… hah… where your office is, and I’ll— ugh, I’ll…” you gasp.
“You want to pay me a visit, huh?” he asks. “Well, my setup is still above you. You can pass my it.”
That’s perfect. You can take out the biggest threat to your mission before you start.
“It would be nice to finally see your face, when I’ve only seen it through cameras so far.” Scaramouche’s words are true. You have no clue what he looks like, but he’s seen you through low resolution security cameras.
But then you check your watch. Six minutes until Pierro leaves the USB.
“No can do, I’m too busy,” you mutter. You have to tune out his voice if you want this mission to be a success.
Floor 54 requires you to cross through several hallways and take a different stairwell. Other office workers mill about, unaware of the crime happening right under their noses.
At one point, one of the Harbingers, the high ranking Fatui workers who manage each district of the company, passes right by you. You only barely manage to hide behind one of the filing cabinets. She has black hair, a veil covering her eyes, and an expression that seems too naive to notice you.
56, 57, 58. Scaramouche tries to throw you off by saying things like ‘Look! There’s a Harbinger around the corner!’ or ‘You just activated the security system!’ It makes you groan every time. There is no room for needless paranoia; it will only make you mess up.
Scaramouche cuts in on the intercom. “Ooh, you’re passing riiiiight by my setup. You could even say hi.”
“Floor 58?” you murmur, adjusting the ear piece. For a second, you’re tempted to. A couple feet away, there’s a door with the faint purple light of electricity under it. It looks more like a closet than an office. Is that him?
Two minutes. The hand that you had raised to grab his door handle falls to your side and you all but sprint up the remaining stairs.
Floor 60 is luxurious. Large windows span the hallway, so you note that you have to keep your reflection hidden as well. It is no doubt that the door ahead of you is none other than Pierro’s, that scheming menace.
But if he’s one thing, it’s consistent. Pierro remembers to lock every door and security system, but his schedule is also rigid down to the minute.
You find a nearby wall to hide behind, just waiting for him to leave his office unattended. Your watch timer counts down second by second.
“What are we doing?” The whispery voice in your ear breaks your focus. “Hovering outside of the boss’ office, are you now?”
“Archons— I… I’m trying to focus,” you say as quietly and angrily as possible.
The door requires level three clearance. Such permissions are only given to the Harbingers themselves and important business partners. Getting the door at the exact right time is crucial, because you haven’t stolen any keycards.
The tall, gray-haired man known as Pierro leaves his office at the same time as always. As soon as he’s gone, you move out of your hiding place and catch the door before it closes completely. The door almost squishes your fingers in the crack.
You only allow yourself a second before slipping into the office. The far wall is all windows, looking down on the city below. Potted plants that are obviously plastic decorate a few of the corners. Papers are skewed on the desk, and yet all the filing cabinets are alphabetized and clean. Nothing looks amiss. If you didn’t know any better, then you would expect this to be a regular CEO’s office.
But it isn’t, because they’re manufacturing a dangerous weapon.
The laptop is open on the desk. Your eyes scan the room, looking for any obvious security systems. If Eula was still on your intercom, then she could tell you the situation.
Think back to when you were debriefed about the potential dangers. His camera is most likely recording, so you stick a line of electrical tape over it before you go in its line of sight. The USB is sitting right there.
“Huh, you might actually get it this time,” Scaramouche muses.
“Don’t you dare mess this up.”
“I won’t, I just find this funny to watch your little icon move on the map.”
You pause. “You’re tracking me… of course you are. But you haven’t given me away?”
“What can I say? I know you wouldn’t be able to do this mission with me here. So, I’m wanting to see how good of a spy you are if I don’t foil your plans,” he says. “Because I’m the best hacker there is, of course.”
After a deep breath, you wrap your fingers around the USB and pull it from the laptop. Just this tiny item holds the power to bring the Fatui so much extra revenue, to in turn ruin lives. It releases deceptively easy. You tuck it into one of the many pockets of your black vest.
Just then, the handle of the office door clicks. You immediately duck for cover and hide under the desk, barely managing to stay out of view of whoever opened the door.
Pierro is back already?
It’s a struggle to keep your breathing steady. The sound of his footsteps — heavy leather boots — reverberates through the office, only getting louder and louder. You can only freeze under the desk, one of your hands clenching around the vest.
Scaramouche seems to have picked up on it. “Hey, what’s with the loud breathing all of a sudden?” When you don’t say anything, he speaks up again. “Hey. Darling?”
It seems that Pierro is only retrieving a paper that he forgot, but then he notices a shadow moving underneath his desk.
“So you’re the one who has repeatedly snuck into the Fatui headquarters.”
The CEO’s voice is deep and threatening, almost symbolic of the power he holds — that is, to grant mercy or a death order. With the look on his face, it’s most likely the latter.
Your breath catches in your throat. Even with all the missions you’ve done, you’ve never been caught . You’ve been close to it, but you’ve always managed to slip away. And it was never with the CEO himself.
“I have to say, I’m a little bit surprised by your skills,” Pierro compliments. He leans over to watch you, his icy eyes surveying you try to back yourself more into the corner. “You have the evasiveness of a rat . But what will you do now that you’re caught?”
“I’ll escape.” You try to steer your expression into something confident. “Like I always do.”
He just laughs, tapping a button on the cuff of his sleeve. “Not this time. Maybe you’ll flail a bit before you die, at most. Unless you tell us what Favonia is up to.”
“I’d never give you an advantage over them.”
“Very well.” The doors to the office open again, but this time it’s followed by a flurry of footsteps. The Fatui has its own sector for dealing with its illegal matters… and you’re about to meet them. People that can make anyone break.
Hands wrap around each of your upper arms, hauling you from the office. You scrabble to get away, but you’re dragged, dragged, until you’re in a much smaller, much more muffled room. There are no windows, and it doesn’t seem like there’s anyone in the vicinity who can hear you scream. Scaramouche isn’t speaking up on your ear piece, either. Is he gone?
“Check it out,” one of the guards says to the other. His hair is a dirty blond; you don’t recognize him as any of the Harbingers or higher-ups in the Fatui. “We’ve finally caught the spy that has caused us so much trouble.”
The guard beside him, a dark-haired man with a crazed look, grins. “Well. We either get some interesting details about Favonia, or we’ll have a corpse.”
The blond one goes over to a tray on the counter, his hand hovering over a series of tools lined up, while the one with dark brown hair binds your hands to the chair. He ties it tight enough that the rope digs into your hands.
“I’m not speaking up,” you say. They haven’t searched you; they’re probably too eager to begin the torture. The USB is still safe. But you aren’t able to destroy it with your hands bound.
“We’ll start light, then.” The one who tied your hands circles around the chair, his hand clenching into a fist.
A hand strikes your face, making you gasp in pain. Your eyes water because of the punch. “ Archons —“
“Tell us. What was your goal in trying to sneak here? What is Favonia hoping to achieve?” the blond asks, his hands threading into your hair so he can yank it back.
“You’re not learning jack . I’ll- I’ll take this to my grave.”
Another punch to the face. This time it hurts more, because it hit in the same place as the other one, but you refuse to show that it hurts. The grip only tightens on your hair, and his hand pulls your head back so that it strains your neck. You couldn’t even speak up if you wanted to.
The dark-haired man, while your head is bent back, punches you in the gut. All the breath is knocked out of you, and you can’t seem to get it back like this. The thought crosses your mind that you might die like this.
It was always a possibility, in this line of work. But you’ve always evaded capture. Is this worth it?
You believe it is. The USB is in your possession. Like Kaeya said, the next best option is to destroy it. Even if you die, then you will prevent the Fatui from getting a monopoly, and you will save so many lives…
The hand in your hair lets go, and you struggle upright in your seat. Your breaths come in so fast that you cough.
You don’t get much time to recover, because the blond one grabs your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye. They both look so smug. But how cowardly is it, to be laughing at someone with their hands already bound? They’d be easy targets if you weren’t already tied like you are now.
That’s the irony in it. It makes you all the more bitter, because in any normal situation, these men could be a spill of blood beneath your feet. But you’re reduced to this .
“Wonder how much force it would take to break their nose,” one says to the other with a laugh.
No time for consideration. You only feel blinding pain in your face, pulsing outwards. It’s so strong that you can’t see for a moment, but at least there was no snap of bone.
Something warm trickles down your face, passing the dip of your lips. It’s coppery.
“Not hard enough, apparently.” The other appraises you with a vaguely amused expression, as if mentally calculating what it will take for you to break.
“I—“ You take in a wheezing breath, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes because of the blows. “I thought I made it clear. I’m not… spilling any of Favonia’s secrets.”
///
Scaramouche is sitting in the darkness of his office. There are dozens of cameras in front of him, spanning the entire building, but his hands are frozen. His attention is fixed on the sound from his headphones.
The sounds of your cries and gasps of pain.
They never confiscated your ear piece, and now he’s being forced to listen to the sound of your torture. He’s been through a lot, working in the ‘underground’ part of the Fatui, but this… this is something else entirely. No matter how much he tried to bother you, it was all In good fun. A game of cat and mouse.
He likes talking with you, Scaramouche realizes. He likes competing against you, he likes the banter that passes between the two of you. It was always a game, there weren’t any hard feelings from him if you ended up succeeding in a mission. Because you are a worthy ‘opponent’, and that’s what catches his attention. Acting as rivals is what makes his boring behind-the-computer job fun.
Not to mention, seeing you on the cameras, messing with you, always gives him a thrill.
You’ve spat so many insults and tried to be so confident, but Scaramouche can hear the waver, the growing weariness. The pain is overwhelming. He knows what the Fatui can do; he’s seen how it can break any person’s spirit.
Only the light of his various monitors lights his face, the furrow of his brow casting shadows over it. Through his headphones, he can hear the sound of a blow, followed by a stifled gasp. It’s the same voice he had been teasing earlier. He can’t speak into your ear piece. It’s like he’s paralyzed.
One of the your captors speaks up with a threat. “If you don’t talk, you’re not allowed to breathe.”
His heart sinks in his chest when you don’t say a word.
“Let me g— agh, stop, stop !” Your voice breaks off into a series of gasps, that dreaded noise where a person tries for any sliver of air that they can get, but fails, only making their desperation stronger. “Hhhah, plea-!” It sounds like you’re dying.
After a couple thumps that signal a struggle, Scaramouche hears a sharp intake of breath, so rapid that it’s shaky. He can’t leave you like this.
But what can he do? His loyalties are tied up with the Fatui. He’s always been in opposition of you, but—
Hearing you whimper in pain, Scaramouche yanks the headset off. His face is pale. He drags a hand through his indigo hair and shakes his head. This shouldn’t affect him as much as it is now; he’s seen these kinds of things happen before… just not to you.
What has the Fatui done for him, really? The only thing keeping him here is the fear of what will happen if he leaves. But, he figures, this is as good of a time as any to go behind their backs. The room where the interrogations are done isn’t far from here. He can make it there before you sustain any serious danger.
Scaramouche stands up abruptly. He’s in his normal all black outfit, perfect for sneaking around, but he grabs a pistol from the desk and attaches it to his belt.
He’s not planning on hurting any of them. But… just to be safe, he reassures himself. The Fatui don’t take kindly to traitors.
Luckily, the other people working in the office don’t pay him much mind. He strides right to the secluded room you're in, the one that’s padded so that the sound of screams doesn’t escape.
One hand goes to the door knob, and the other goes to the gun at his belt. He flings the door open, seeing two of the guards tasked with breaking you. Your head is hung low, with bruises already beginning to develop on your face, and your hands are bound to the chair to prevent your getaway.
He holds up the firearm, pointing it back and forth between the two Fatui. “Stop this, right now. Let them go.”
///
Your eyes are clenched shut when you hear the door to the room open up, followed by a familiar voice. In any normal situation, that voice means that your mission is ruined.
But now, there Scaramouche is, holding a gun to your captors. The people who are his coworkers.
The two men step back from your chair, and one of them drops the tools that he had previously been using. Scaramouche is… saving you? You can barely process it as he restrains them with rope, using his pistol as intimidation. They cower in the corner at the sight of the gun. Oh, how the tables turn.
This is your first time seeing him. He has indigo hair that looks particularly soft, and an all-black outfit similar to your own. His black compression shirt faintly outlines his chest, further accentuated by his chest harness. The buckle of it glimmers in the light, which draws your eye. He has dark baggy cargo pants with an array of pockets and a gun holster on his hip.
Wow, he’s… pretty. His face isn’t what you expected — instead, you’re met with pale, unblemished skin and a button nose, with fluffy dark bangs that fall in front of his features.
You finally attempt to speak. Your voice is weak from all the pained noises you’ve previously made. “Is… that you? Scaramouche?”
“It’s me,” he confirms, moving behind you to untie the rope. “Just believe me in saying that I’ve had a change in heart. I’m not working for the Fatui anymore.”
The rope falls to the floor, leaving a red mark on your wrists where it used to be.
“Why?” A sliver of suspicion still remains.
“What I’m saying is that you can trust me.”
Scaramouche moves in front of you again, resting a hand on your shoulder. His thumb rubs you reassuringly.
“I’m your enemy,” you breathe. “There’s no reason for you to… to betray the Fatui, just for me.”
He brushes off your question, his indigo eyes boring into yours. “Can you walk?”
You start to stand, so his hand slides down from your shoulder and wraps around your arm to help you up. It’s weird seeing him so interested in your well-being.
Well, that feeling goes away quickly. “What were you thinking, sneaking into Pierro’s office? That’s a death trap.”
“I was trying to finish my mission. I can’t say Favonia is much better, since we both manufacture weapons, but the Fatui are getting out of hand.” You move past him, patting your vest to make sure the USB is still there.
“Hold up now. It’s dangerous out there. Anyone can see you, idiot.”
“What happened to ‘darling’? Or ‘sweetheart’?” you scoff.
“You’re not deserving of that right now. I’m annoyed at you. We have to get out of here, before anyone notices that you’ve been let free.”
And of course, at the worst possible moment, the alarms start blaring. You whip your head around to see the dark-haired guard — his hands are bound, but he’s managed to flip the emergency lever.
Scaramouche lets out a curse under his breath, and he raises his pistol. Bang.
The guard is now a spatter of blood on the wall.
But the damage is already done. Everyone, including Pierro, is alerted that you have escaped. Your life is in danger, because now the top priority is to catch and/or kill you.
He pulls you out of the room by the wrist, taking an abrupt turn to the right. You have no choice but to follow him. The sound of footsteps is picking up, which only makes your adrenaline level higher.
Scaramouche drags you into one of the rooms, shoving you towards a vent on the wall. “Get in.”
Would this even work? Is this a trap? You stand there, dumbfounded.
“Yes, there’s a comprehensive vent system. And I know it all, because I’m the tech guy,” he insists. He then shoves your head in the vent, which forces you into a crawl. He follows a moment after and reseals the vent just as the footsteps behind you come to a crescendo.
Metal walls all around you. The air circulating through them is cool, which is a blessing. It’s a little odd, though, with your enemy helping you out like this. He’s always been the one to foil your missions. And now he’s had a change of heart? You can’t say you’re not grateful, because you would have been dead if not for him… plus he seems a lot cooler than you expected him to be.
“Keep crawling, okay?” The voice you had been so used to hearing through your ear piece is now right behind you.
“I know, I know.” It’s really, really cramped in here, but you at least have the space to keep going on. You probably couldn’t turn around.
As you crawl, you can hear the people running around the building trying to find you. But Scaramouche directs you each time, telling you which way to turn. At one point, the vent widens enough for the two of you to be next to each other.
His hair falls into his face as he looks at you. “Up ahead, the vent goes down about ten floors, okay?”
“ What ?”
“Don’t you have rope? Or if not, you can brace your arms on each side of the vent and slowly work your way down,” he says, like it’s obvious.
You sigh, looking out over the vertical drop. The bottom is far below. It’s able to be climbed down, since it’s narrow, but only if you don’t look down. “Yes. I have a rope. And what will you do after that?”
“I can climb down. I’ve been through here; that’s why I know the layout so well.” Scaramouche’s hands automatically drift to your vest. He leans over you, starting to dig into the pockets of it. It’s dark in here, but you can see his gaze fixed on your chest.
You try to swat his hands away, hurriedly saying, “Hey! Get your hands off of my stuff!”
His hand loops around the rope and pulls it out of your vest, even as you’re backing away from him. He looks unbothered.
“Do you trust me?”
“Absolutely not.”
Even at your protest, he gives you the end of the rope. “I’ll hold it up. You lower yourself, and whatever you do, don’t- “
“I know how gravity works,” you say bitingly. “I’m not gonna let go. Are you sure you can hold my weight?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” he huffs. Brute force doesn’t seem to be his strong suit. Neither does height.
You loop the rope around your hand for good measure. It’s different from the scratchy, weathered rope that the guards used on you. The thought enters your mind that maybe you shouldn’t trust him — but he did kill that guard so you could get away. The Fatui will be just as much after him as they are you.
Slowly, you lower yourself off of the edge. Scaramouche keeps a firm hold, letting you down in a measured manner.
The metal panels pass by, marking each level that you’ve descended. You just have to hang onto the rope. When you look up, you can see him, using all his weight so that he doesn’t fall… but in his defense, he doesn’t drop you. One of his feet acts as an anchor and his position is awkward.
Your feet touch the ground safely, and Scaramouche tosses the rope down to you so you can wrap it up while he makes his descent. It’s a little bit funny to watch him scrabble down the vents. He makes it down within a couple minutes, huffing from the effort. He drags one of his hands through his sweaty bangs to cool off.
“All good?” he asks, out of breath.
“Yeah. You?”
He nods and moves on, crouching down into the vent so that he can lead this time. “After we pass this area, I can get us to one of the lesser known elevators.”
“Won’t they see us on the cameras when we get out of the vents?” you wonder. The Fatui should be on high alert now that you’ve escaped.
“I’m the one who manages them, so we’re safe.”
The two of you crawl in silence for a couple minutes, navigating turns on the cold metal. Finally, you break the silence. “Why did you choose to help me? You could have just let the interrogation happen, and then win against Favonia like you’ve always tried to do.”
“I’m not a bother to Favonia because I want to be.” He doesn’t turn his head back to look at you, so you can’t see his expression. “I do it because I find it fun foiling your plans.”
You blink, taking on a partially offended, partially joking look. “Seriously? You’re so annoying when you to that.”
“I like getting on your nerves. It’s like we’re enemies, but we also banter. And I have no ties to the Fatui. They just would kill me if I tried to rebel or something; I’ve never had a good enough reason to.” Scaramouche laughs. Like, truly laughs. He does enjoy talking with you, then.
“So you’ve… just been messing with me this whole time?”
“Uh huh. And it’s pretty cute, too,” he quips, glancing over his shoulder.
Your face reddens. In retaliation, you grab his ankle and make him fall flat, and crawl over him. The cramped vent only makes it seem like you’re closer. Your arms box in his head. “Yeah? You’ve caused me a lot of trouble during missions.”
He grins, unintimidated. “You’re a good spy, I have to admit that. I’m just better.”
“What will you do now that you’re not hiding behind your computer screen?” You tilt your head to the side with your eyes fixed on him. Your hair cascades over your shoulders, tickling his face.
Scaramouche stiffens just slightly, his face dusting pink. But he tries to keep up his cocky persona. “I called you cute and now you’re all over me. If I knew, I would’ve said it a lot sooner, darling.”
You roll your eyes, still with a smile on your face. “Get a move on. This is enemy territory for you now, too.”
“Can’t if you’re on top of me.”
With a small chuckle, you back up and give him a bit of room to get up again. He’s flustered, no doubt, even if he doesn’t show it much. When he starts to crawl again, you give him a slight pat on his butt to send him on his way.
He lets out a yelp. “That wasn’t an invitation…!”
“You’re right, it was a reminder. Keep moving.” You laugh, glad to finally have the upper hand.
It only takes another minute before you reach the vent opening. He opens it with steady, practiced hands. “Once we’re out, follow me closely. Security’s gonna be way up.”
Deciding against making a comment, you follow him back into the main room. He lends you a hand to stand up.
He never lets go. He uses it to lead you through the hallways, navigating in a way that none of Favonia’s team members would be able to. Maybe it’s good having someone with you who works on the inside. The elevator gets you down to the very first floor of the building.
The mechanical door opens, and he pulls you along behind him.
One of his coworkers notices him. “Oh, Scaramouche—“ When the man doesn’t stop, it makes him notice you trailing behind. “Hey… hey! You, stop there!”
The yelling, of course, alerts all the other Fatui workers in the room. Interest builds up, and soon Scaramouche yanks you along in a sprint.
Voices pick up behind you, but your attention is fixed ahead. Not too long before you can leave this building for good. Does that mean this mission will be a success, even with that terrifying detour?
Scaramouche slams into the back entrance of the building with no hesitation. The door gives way, and he leads you to a sleek black motorcycle.
“Get on,” he says as he hikes a leg over it.
Considering the chase behind you, you don’t hesitate on sitting behind him on the bike and wrapping your arms around his waist.
He presses on the gas a little too hard, propelling you a good distance forward. The tires drift on the ground uselessly and he lets out a curse.
“Archons- do you even know how to drive this thing ?!”
“Of course I know,” he spits. “Give me a second to do this-“
You shake your head. “We don’t have a second, tech guy. Let me drive.”
Switching between the two of you as drivers is a time-consuming but necessary task. Just as the Fatui on foot reach you, you clench your hand around the gas. Scaramouche lets out an undignified noise and wraps his arms around your waist tightly.
The motorcycle speeds out of the alleyway, and you veer to the right to make it onto the city streets, cutting off a car in the process. You couldn’t care less for its honking at you.
“Oh no no nonono- do you even know how to drive this thing?” he screams, almost into your ear.
“Only a little, but I’d rather die trying to escape than get caught by them!” You have to yell your response so that it’s not lost to the wind. Your admittance makes him tighten his arms around you.
His chest harness digs into your back, only making you recognize how close he is. The buckle of it pokes you. There’s not an inch of space between your back and his front. He’s like a little heater, hiking his knees around your hips to keep a better hold.
“So we’ll end up dead either way, is what you’re saying,” he comments.
“Yes, it doesn’t matter how tightly you hold me.” You grin smugly, feeling the way his thighs clench around you.
He shakes his head. “That’s an instinctual thing…! Of course I’ll hang on if I’m at risk of dying!”
“Oh? So that’s why—“
“That’s only adrenaline,” Scaramouche mutters, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His breath fans over the exposed skin. You’re sure that if you could see his face, it would be burning red. But it’s a comfortable weight on your shoulder, something almost familiar.
You take another sharp turn, disregarding the stoplight. His arms loosen again when he realizes you (probably) won’t immediately crash.
Scaramouche turns his head when he hears the sound of the Fatui giving chase. Sure enough, a fleet of black cars are gaining on you. “I’ve got this!” He pulls the pistol from his hip and aims it with care. His finger tenses on the trigger, firing one, two, three times on them.
The first bullet hits a tire of one of the bulky vehicles. The second misses, but the third strikes the windshield of the car in front. The driver is thrown off his guard, and swerves into one of the other cars. Only one pursuer left.
“I only have one bullet left!” Scaramouche calls.
“Then you can’t miss. One second.” With that warning, you turn suddenly in an attempt to throw the driver off. It doesn’t work, because he’s still on your tail. Rapidly gaining, at that.
A bullet whizzes by your ear. You’re not the only ones who are armed.
“Watch out, they have ammo!”
Scaramouche grips your arm when one of the bullets almost hits him. “Yeesh, why so unfriendly??”
The car is about to run you both over when he closes one eye, pauses, and fires. The bullet hits right on the tire. The car is taken off balance and swerves into a fire hydrant. Water sprays high in the air, while the two of you are able to slip away in the commotion. Scaramouche faces forwards again, securing his arms around you.
The blocks of the city fly by on the motorcycle. You glance over your shoulder to look at Scaramouche. The passing lights illuminate his hair, constantly shifting. Now that you’re not being chased, you can properly appreciate the night atmosphere.
“Where are we stopping?” He leans in close to speak in your ear so that he can be heard. “Favonia, or somewhere else?”
“I’ll have to give them the USB I snatched, so yeah.”
His eyes light up with interest. “All that, and you still managed to steal the Fatui’s data? I won’t lie, I’m impressed. Is it in your vest?”
When you nod, his hand snakes up from your waist and over your shoulder. He hooks his head over your shoulder so he can fish through the pockets of your vest, purposefully feeling around.
“Hey, get your hand out! I’m trying to drive; stop sticking your hand into my vest all the time!” This time, it flusters you more than anything. His hands continue to pat around.
Scaramouche opens the zipper to one of the pockets teasingly slowly and pulls out the USB. “Huh.”
“Be careful with that; I almost died for it,” you remark. It’s too valuable for him to be handling, on a moving motorcycle, no less.
Luckily, he tucks it into the pocket again. He gives you an extra pat on the chest for good measure. It must be a form of retaliation from earlier.
Five minutes later, you pull into Favonia’s parking lot with no further complications. You step off the bike, and Scaramouche follows suit. But then he gives you one look and pushes you over to the curb of the lot.
“Hey- What are you doing?” You’re forced to sit down on the curb.
Scaramouche kneels in front of you, looking into your face which is illuminated in the sickly yellow gleam from the streetlight. “Hush. Let me fix this.” His hand raises, brushing the drying blood under your nose. It’s from when the guards hit you earlier.
“It’s not broken or anything, so it’s not—“
“I said hush.” His thumb wipes at the blood. His eyes are fixed on it, stern and yet at the same time gentle. He cleans it with such care. “Ugh, the dried blood is all over your face.”
You turn your face away in disgust. “Ew, don’t touch it! That’s my nose blood!”
“You think I care?” He grabs your face once again, more harshly this time. It’s like he has only one goal — that being, cleaning your face of all traces of a fight.
It’s probably the most gentle debasement you have ever experienced.
He doesn’t seem to care about the source of the blood, just wipes it away with his finger with a calculated expression. “There. You should be more careful next time.” His hand wafts to your lips.
You sit there on the curb, eyes tracing his features, just waiting to see what he’ll do. Over the past hour, you went from rivals to partners in crime. So what does that mean for you? He has no where to go to, so he may join Favonia. Does that mean you’ll work together as a duo? Surely you’d do good work, as the best spy and hacker around, respectively.
Maybe he could remain the voice in the ear, helping you complete missions instead. You don’t doubt that he would still tease you.
Scaramouche’s thumb runs over the seam of your lips. The sensation dances over your face, seeming to resonate in your reddening cheeks.
“You’re all over the place,” he says with a shake of his head, and yet still the sweetest expression. “You’ll get yourself killed one of these days.”
“But you proved to me that you’ll save me.” You smirk. Now that you know he’s been messing with you this whole time, he’s predictable.
Favonia’s parking lot, save for the two of you, is silent. It’s just you and the hum of the cars on the streets. Scaramouche leans forward on his knees, just enough for you to doubt his intentions.
“I’ll save you from the Fatui, but are you sure you’ll be able to save yourself from me?”
The sentence hangs in the air for a moment before you burst out laughing, bringing your faces closer together. “You’re like, the least threatening person I know. Your only advantage that you have over me is when we’re talking technology.”
“Shut up,” he huffs, “I’m trying to be sexy!”
“I bet you’d let me call you ‘Scara’ instead of Scaramouche.” You take his wrist, so that his fingers are hovering over your lips instead of touching them.
He clenches his hand into a fist when you grab it. “You’re not getting permissions tomorrow call me Scara , idiot.”
The words are lost on you. While he’s kneeling there, you pull him onto your lap, facing you, so that his legs wrap around you. “You’re not so strong when you’re not behind a computer screen, huh?” you tease. Both of your arms go around his waist, and his hand stays on your jawline.
“I can still win against you.” His other hand goes to push your shoulder away.
Instead, you bring him closer to you so that he scrabbles against you. Your lips press together in a mesh of want and desire. Scaramouche doesn’t resist, he just meets it with the same amount of fervor. When your hands laces through his hair, the strands are soft.
“Mmph…” You can feel his knees pressing into your sides in an attempt to anchor himself. “Please…”
Is this even okay, kissing on the parking lot of Favonia, where, as of now, Scaramouche is the rank one enemy? But it’s so perfect. He betrayed his allegiance just so that he could save you from the interrogation. His lips are delicate, his hands shifting around on your face to pull you closer. This can’t be wrong, not when it feels so good.
At this point, his squirming is from how worked up he is. Scaramouche’s face is flushed red when you finally part. His breath comes in small puffs against your face, which you have to tilt down to look at him.
With your hands on his waist, you can feel every dip and curve of his torso because of the tightness of the compression shirt. He’s arching towards you in desperation, the earlier facade clearly forgotten.
You rest your forehead against his. “I’m glad that there’s no hard feelings between us. We can still be rivals, though…”
“And how would we do that, if the Fatui hate my guts now, darling? I won’t be able to be on the opposite team as you,” he murmurs with a faint smile.
“Rivaling for who’s the more assertive one. Although I think I already know who is, since you’re the one sitting in my lap.”
Scaramouche shoves your shoulder in embarrassment, but he doesn’t move from his spot sitting on your thighs. Now that the moment is passed, the two of you are left panting while you sit on the curb.
“Or we can really become partners in crime,” you suggest. “Come with me. Join Favonia, and you can work as my guide. You can still talk in my ear piece, just as my ally this time.”
His eyes twinkle in the low lighting, flashing indigo. “Why not?”