Full Spectrum

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   <default>Full Spectrum</default>
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</image> <label>Posted On</label> <label>Author</label> <label>Music Theme</label> <group collapse="open"> <header>Order</header> <label>Previous Suggested Manuscript</label> <label>Previous Suggested Story</label> <label>Next Suggested Story</label> <label>Next Suggested Manuscript</label> <label>Chronologically Previous Manuscript</label> <label>Chronologically Previous Story</label> <label>Chronologically Next Story</label> <label>Chronologically Next Manuscript</label> </group> <group collapse="open"> <header>Series</header> <label>Series</label> <label>Previous</label> <label>Next</label> </group> <group collapse="open"> <header>About the Manuscript</header> <label>Type of Story</label> <label>Canon Status</label> </group> <group collapse="open"> <header>About the Story</header> <label>Date</label> <label>Location(s)</label> <label>Characters</label> </group> </infobox> Written by yours truly (Haroldosaur) :P A change of image. A change of persona. How many times had he attempted it in the past? He had been a child, a guard, a lover, a fighter, and a brooder. He had said many goodbyes – some earned and appropriate, such as when he had said goodbye to some guys he had escaped from a prison with – one of his more recent farewells. Parting with battle-brothers in a way that didn’t end in death was always a good sort of ending, so he hadn’t minded all that much. However, some of his farewells had been a little more… bittersweet. Had a little more weight to them. In any case, he had decided to make his most recent session of hugging and waving his last. The past was in the past, after all. And it had worked for a little while. But with his solitude had come pensiveness. And with his pensiveness had come carelessness. And that was how, nought but a couple of months after a very dramatic escape from TheDude’s highest security prison, he found himself right back where he started, sitting behind a desk and listening to some rando wearing black and red rattle off his known history. Known history, as in, he knew it. Quite well. And didn’t really need to hear it all again. Unfortunately, seeing as how the man – Special Agent Lavonne? Sounded about right – wasn’t privy to his internal monologue (a tragedy in and of itself, as he took pride in how funny a guy he could be), he had no qualms with reeling back info that was all too familiar. “Loden Adalwin, personal history unknown. Rumoured to have defeated Special Agent Calhan, also known as Calhan the indestructible-” “A tragic case of false advertising.” “-in one-on-one combat, taking his life in the process. You also acted as an intel gatherer, guard and worker for several disconnected revolutionary groups-” “What can I say? People can’t get enough of me.” “-until being captured after years of causing TheDude trouble. Imprisoned for a time; a sentence all too light, many would agree. So tell me why, after such a show of leniency, you would attempt an escape – seeing as how a second capture would probably result in less pleasant treatment?” Instead of gracing Lavonne with a reply, Loden was content to put his boots up on the table. The brown stuck out against the grey of the furniture – indeed, the entire room was colourless. Even the lights were a sterile, boring sort of silver. The only interesting thing to focus on was his interrogator – and himself, of course. “Do you have an answer for me, Mister Adalwin? Or shall I take your silence as a request for an immediate incarceration?” Lavonne pressed. Loden couldn’t help but let out a small sigh as he leant back, head against hands, the picture of chilled out despite the somewhat pressing circumstances. “Please, call me Loden. The only Mister Adalwin I know s’been six feet under for a while now, and we’re pals, right?” “We are not “pals”, Mister Adalwin.” The man scowled, as though the lack of fear from his prisoner displeased him in some way. Whatever. Loden had no intention of pleasing the guy. Even if he was kinda cute. “Oh, aren’t we? You sure seem a lot about me, then. If we’re not pals, then what are we? Arch-nemeses? Master and student?” He wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive fashion. “Perhaps even lovers?” Lavonne didn’t seem too amused. Not even when Loden tacked on the punny “Or, y’know, Lav-ers?” to the end of his comment. Maybe his time spent as a wanderer-slash-prisoner had been bad for his charm. Or maybe Lav just didn’t swing that way. It was probably the latter, since he was, you know, the devilishly handsome Loden Adalwin. “Just answer my question.” Lav snapped. Oh-oh. No “Mister Adalwin”. Probably best to humour the man, then. “Well, it wasn’t exactly a matter of choice – I mean, did you see what was happening?” Loden waved one arm through the air before returning it to its position behind his head, as if to emphasise the grandeur and scale of his escape. “Seriously. There I am, minding my business in the cell – having a pretty good think, actually, doing a little soul searching – you know how it is. The next second, the door opens and these guys are staring at me. Then, without a word, they up and leave. I mean, come on! You really expect me to just let an opportunity like that pass by? They left the door open!” “You then proceeded to assist with the murder of Grand Warden Malesius-” “Who was a complete – actually, are we being listened in on? I want to call that guy something inappropriate, but I can’t do it if it risks corrupting anyone innocent.” “Rest assured, Mister Adalwin, you have nothing to worry about.” “Right, sorry, I forgot. Everyone here is already corrupted, right?” Lav glared at him. “Says the killer out of us.” “Oh? Have you not killed anyone yet, good sir?” Loden raised an eyebrow. An interesting development, consider how many rogues he’d seen murder people in cold blood over the last few years. He would have humoured the possibility of Special Agents being exceptions, but there had been that Calhan f- “No. I haven’t.” Lav’s words derailed Loden’s train of though. “And I intend to keep it that way, which is why I suggest you co-operate with me.” “Otherwise you won’t be able to save me from capital punishment?” “Otherwise I might just kill you out of frustration.” Loden, as he normally did when unsure of what course of action to take, opted for his classic charming grin. “Fair dos. So… you were reeling of the heinous crimes I’ve committed over the years? Bearing in mind that my hand in Malesius’ death was completely justified.” Lav frowned. “Then, after you escaped through the destruction of a great deal of property, you split up with the escapees and proceeded to spend the next few months on the run, evading our security forces until we caught you again. And that brings us here. So…” Picking up on the hesitation, Loden’s eyebrow raised. “What, you want to know how I managed to keep my good looks throughout all of this?” “I was actually thinking more along the lines of you as a character, Adalwin.” “No “Mister”? Well, I guess that’s progress…” “You’re a hard man to read. So, I’m asking directly. Why have you been fighting against TheDude for so long?” “I see. Do you want me to mention the megalomania and the dictatorship?” It was slightly unbelievable, the lengths some of the rogues and knights Loden had met over the years would go to in order to preserve their mental image of the almighty Dude. What tools. “The unity, Adalwin. The unity.” Lav’s eyes narrowed as he continued to speak, the brown Irises almost misting over as passion entered his voice for the first time. “The seven kingdoms of Militiregneum have been warring amongst one another for hundreds of years. The Morghai. Charles the mad. Matthias and Vladek. So much infighting and chaos. And now, with TheDude, we have a shot at planetary peace for the first time in recorded history. Everybody united under a single ruler, working together in harmony.” “Ugh.” Loden rolled his eyes. “Have you been outside this prison, pal? The world feels more like a morgue than… well, an actual morgue. And I have experience with both. You really call that helping? That… atmosphere of fear that people live in?” Lav sighed. “I’m… not going to pretend that there aren’t some… kinks that need to be worked out. But as such, we are closer to achieving peace than we have been at any other point in the history of this planet. And I will do everything in my power to uphold that peace.” Dropping the grin, Loden frowned for the first time – just a small frown, no need to be mean to the attractive yet misguided interrogator just yet – to show his displeasure. “You know, I remember a friend of mine who’d just fill this room that he had with, like, creatures. Like, he’d pick up an insect or something and bring it back with him. And he could sit there for hours, surrounded by stuff I personally found just gross, not caring about anything. Kinda made me realise that everyone has a different definition of peace.” Lav looked as though he were about to open his mouth, but Loden quickly held up a hand. “Shush, Lav. Tell you what, as an apology for getting off track, I’ll tell you why I took the opportunity to break out – aside from being an opportunist, of course.” Though still disgruntled, the interrogator fell silent, possibly realising to what extent his prisoner had taken control of the situation – and also pondering how slickly he had done it. (He was, if nothing else, a master manipulator by this point.) “Kay, here’s what you need to know.” Loden folded his arms, and took a moment to compose himself. Then, the smile returned, and he found himself back in full charm mode. “I was bored.” The look on Lav’s face turned from irritation to incredulity rather quickly, Loden figured, and he decided to spell it out just a bit further. “You must realise, Lav, I thrive in situations that test my physical capabilities and mental prowess. I live for the adrenaline. I live for the excitement. I live for the love, if you know what I’m saying.” He winked. “But sitting in a barred cell, day in and day out, with nothing to do but fitness to make sure I don’t wither away? Not my scene.” “You took the opportunity to escape prison because you were bored?” “Well, that and it was pretty much a golden opportunity. You’d have to be thick as two short planks to NOT walk out of your conveniently opened cell door and join your new magical friends on the adventure of a lifetime. In short – I thought it would be fun.” “Am I hearing you correctly?” “I’ll let you decide for yourself.” “Don’t waste my time, Adalwin.” Harrumphed Lav. “You’re not the only case I have to handle today.” “That so?” Loden mused. “You know, if they’re anything like mine, I could probably help you…” “They’re not, and you can’t.” Lav declared, before checking the watch wrapped around his wrist and giving a start. “Damn it…” “Seriously. I know how people think, and I’m good in a fight. I also know how these revolutionaries will work, cus, you know, I’m one of them. Gimmie a suit and some sunglasses, and I can, like, go undercover with a suitcase full of diamonds to trade with ‘em – then take them by surprise!” “That offer would be more convincing if you hadn’t just expressed to me your deep personal loathing of TheDude.” Lav stated as he rose. Loden subtly peered at the man as he prepared to leave. Was it just his imagination, or did he see a ghost of a smile on his interrogator’s lips? “Knowing you, you’d make a clean getaway with said diamonds. Probably even send a postcard from the Southern Isles.” Loden raised his hands in mock defeat. “You know me too well. Lovers it is, then.” “An unfortunate side effect of reading through your files during attempts to catch you.” “Did those files mention my devilish good looks?” Lav seemed to ignore him as he walked towards the door. “I’ll be in contact with my colleagues about what to do with you. If you want any chance of surviving longer than a few weeks, I suggest you don’t try anything.” Smiling, Loden wheeled his chair around to face the other wall of his cell. “All quiet on the Loden front.”

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“Want something to drink?”

“Coffee.” Jacob Lavonne sighed the word. “Call me a stereotype, but I need the caffeine.”

“Figured you might need it.” His friend and colleague, Special Agent Magnus Delling, shoved a cup his way. “Command really dumped a load on you today.”

“Thanks.” Jacob reached inanely for the cup, eventually clasping the handle with his fingers and sighing into the mug. The sterile white mug blurred slightly, and he hastily took a swig of the liquid. “And, yeah, they did. I met Mikhaila this morning, and it was… ugh, it was a trial. I didn’t think it was possible, but I’m liking her less and less every day.”

Delling’s wide eyes narrowed as he winced in sympathy, the greasy brown hair hanging over his forehead seeming to droop down slightly further to mimic his mood. “That shark of a woman? She’s such a fanatic, honestly…”

“I know.” Taking another sip, Jacob sighed again. “It worries me whenever I meet people like her. How can we hope to improve the state of this planet with blind loyalty like that leading us?”

“By winging it, dude.” Delling spread his gaze up to the sky. “Anyways, enough about her. What else happened?”

“Well, then there was Adalwin to deal with.” Jacob found himself even more drained as his mind wandered back to their newest prisoner.

“Yeesh. How’d you tolerate that guy?”

“I almost didn’t.” Remarked Jacob, before swallowing more of the drink. “He’s got one hell of a silver tongue, I’ll give him that. I’m beginning to figure out why he’s so hard to track down. Slippery as an eel, and I could tell by his posture that he probably could have taken me down without breaking a sweat.”

“You’ll have to let me meet this guy, one of these days.”

“Why?”

“Duh, to see if he actually exists.” Leaning back in his chair, Delling grinned as he continued to drawl. “Not that I don’t believe you – and, I mean, I’m not seeing Calhan anywhere around here – but he sounds like one of those people you have to see to believe.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that.” Warned Jacob.

“Why, could he manipulate me or something?”

“No, but he probably wouldn’t shut up about it for hours.” He shook his head. “That’s the thing about that guy. One minute, he’s such a large and intense presence, and the next thing you know, he’s actually flirting with you.”

“Dude!” Laughed Delling. “For real?”

“Maybe.” Admitted Jacob. “Although, they could have just been attempts to psyche me out. He knows people, Magnus.” He groaned. “What really annoyed me was how he said that he broke out because he had been bored. That he’s stimulated by the excitement of being on the run, or whatever. If that were the case, I probably would have committed a crime long ago. I could do with a little off time.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, dude.” Delling reminded him. “I know that feeling.”

“Yeah, well, this guy seemed adamant about it. But…” Jacob sighed, and trailed off, taking another sip of his drink. “Enough about him. What else is on the agenda?”

“Well, our lead in the aurum eyes case has gone cold.” Declared Delling, no longer looking as chipper about life as he had been beforehand.

Jacob swore. “Is nothing going right?” He stared with a sullen expression into what was left of his drink. “It all just makes that offer of his seem more tempting…”

“What offer?” Delling raised an eyebrow.

“Ugh.” Jacob rolled his eyes. “Basically, at one point, Adalwin tried to convince me to let him work with us to solve cases, because he’s wiry and strong and knows how these revolutionaries work. According to him, anyway. I know it was essentially a joke offer, because he doesn’t hold TheDude in a high regard at all, but it was honestly still kinda interesting to hear.”

To his surprise, Delling’s brow furrowed as the other man began to think. “That’s… actually not a bad idea.”

“Huh?”

“Think about it.” Delling’s wry smile had returned, and he waved the cigarette clenched between his fingers around as he spoke. “We both know the guy can fight. He took down Calhan. That guy was a beast. And all of his person-manipulating and stuff could come in really useful. And – like, I know he might not have meant it, but it would be good to have someone on our side who knows both details about these groups AND how they work.”

“Delling, you can’t be serious.” Scolded Jacob. “You haven’t met this guy. He can’t be trusted! According to our reports, he once fooled a squad of troops into believing that he was TheDude himself, and they followed him around for two days before the ruse was revealed!”

“That just speaks about the maleducation of new recruits…” Muttered Delling as Jacob ranted.

“Give him and inch and he’ll take a mile, and worse – we have no guarantee that he won’t betray us. Scratch that, we have nothing that’ll make him want to work for us in the first place!”

“Dude, dude – just think about it.” Delling cut into Jacob’s speech, waving his arms and attempting to placate his colleague.

“You already said that.”

“We could always, like… force him to co-operate.”

Jacob paused. Raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“We could put an ankle bracelet on him, only give him one chance, and if he puts one toe out of line, he’s back in the slammer.”

“Maybe.” Jacob stroked his chin. “We can’t be sure that command would approve, though.”

“Well, then, uh… could he prove his worth, somehow?” Suggested Delling, trying to not let his idea lose momentum. Jacob nodded, beginning to warm to the concept.

“How about if we give him an old case to study, and see how well he does at it?”

“Nice!”

“Okay. Yeah, okay.” Jacob took a final swig of coffee before setting the mug down and rising to his feet. “I’ll get in contact with command, put this idea forward. While I’m at it, I’ll see if they can’t lend us an old case file.”

“This is gonna be awesome.” Delling fist-pumped as Jacob began to walk to the door.

“Maybe.” Conceded Jacob, before pausing as if something had just occurred to him. “You wanted to see him in action, didn’t you?”

“...Maybe.” Admitted Delling. “But come on! What else happens around here, anyway?”

“Plenty.”

“What else interesting happens around here, anyway?”

“Plenty for me.”

Delling rolled his eyes.

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The internal monologue that Loden took such pride in had,

for the past few days, been nothing but repetitions of the word “bored” in various funny voices. It had been entertaining for a while, but now it was just one more aspect of his captivity that he had come to hate. For starters, there was the fact that there was literally nothing to do. No yard to work out in, no puzzles to solve, no people to chat with. A good chinwag or conundrum was always appreciated – yet here he was, doing nothing day in and day out. He would have thought that a high-priority prisoner such as himself would have been given some sort of special treatment, but that was a negative.

Also, there was the jumpsuit he was wearing. Uncomfortable, awkwardly oversized, and blue. Blue didn’t suit him. It just… didn’t. And then, of course, there was the food. It hardly deserved the title, considering how it was essentially just mush that was eaten for the purpose of not starving to death. It tasted of nothing, save a hint of dirt, the texture was too unpleasant for his tongue to bear for long, and, to be honest, he wasn’t entirely sure whether it was a solid or a liquid.

From behind him, he could hear a muffled droning sound, plus the occasional scream. It was probably something quite nasty, to be expected from a prison run by people working for TheDude, so he distracted himself by pretending that he wasn’t hearing the sounds of someone refusing to give up important information, and instead decided that he could hear construction work done by some very clumsy renovators. He glanced around his cell. A perfect square, grey stonemasonry containing nought but his cot, a table, and two chairs.

If there really had been renovations, he would have been the first to volunteer his cell.

His dismal musing was interrupted by the sound of a small drone echoing throughout the cramped cell, barely a second before the door swung open to reveal Lav, who’s brows were furrowed and who’s arms were folded.

“Adalwin.” He greeted. Loden threw his arms up in the air.

“Lavvy! You came to visit! You know, you are fast becoming my favourite special agent.”

Lav took no apparent notice of his words, instead choosing to sit down in one of the two chairs within the cell as Loden continued to speak. Who knew, maybe he’d manage to convince Lav to let him eat real grub at some point. “You don’t have to worry about ever becoming my least favourite. That honour will always belong to-”

“Adalwin.” Declared Lav again. “How serious were you, when you said that you’d be willing to help us?”

Loden paused, turned to focus on Lav for the first time. Out of all the things Lav could have said, he hadn’t expected that. His first reaction was to consider laughing, but he stopped himself at the last moment – that soul searching had been… enlightening, to say the least. Truth be told, his anger against TheDude had been… well, not misplaced, but he had no real grudge against the guy, himself. He had just needed somewhere to focus his irate energy. And there was the fact that Lav seemed… different, somehow. Like, an actual stand-up guy and not a submissive tool, like most of the other soldiers he had encountered during his years in Morcia. Maybe things could change. Maybe they couldn’t. But despite doing what he had done for such a long time, he hadn’t seen any change. Maybe it was like they said… you could only change the system from inside of it.

Could he change it, though? He stifled a laugh. Definitely maybe probably certainly not. But whatever the case, the cyclic nature of life was beginning to tire him. He was tired of swinging a sword, moving down grunts. The past few months, especially, had just felt so empty to him. What was the point? All the killing, all the violence, all the effort – what was the point, if nothing was changing? Maybe it would do to break up the routine a bit. Try and see things from the other side of the coin.

All of these thoughts, as well as others, swirled around in Loden’s head, eventually emerging in a forced snicker and the words:

“I never joke around, Lav. Especially when it comes to a cool pair of sunglasses.”

“Good.” Lav slammed a manila file on the table, leaving Loden to meander over and take a seat for himself. “Consider this a test, of sorts. How well you perform here will affect whether we decide to take you up on your offer. If you want those sunglasses, you’d better focus.”

“Aye-aye.” Hummed Loden as he began to look through the contents of the file. There were pictures of an emerald on the end of a pendant, a large house, a middle-aged man with one hell of a moustache, and sheet after sheet of notes.

“Mind giving me the abridged version?” He suggested.

Lav shrugged. “The man’s name is Arnold Regis. He’s a noble, and he managed to avoid being shut down the TheDude by cosying up to him and obeying his every whim for years. That pendant there was the one consistent item of clothing he wore, and he was pretty proud of it. Used to boast that it was worth more than the rest of his wardrobe combined. Anyways, he was visiting Lord Vladek, TheDude’s advisor, and showing off as per the usual when Vladek grabbed the pendant and declared it fake. Upon closer inspection, it was revealed that not only was the emerald not real, but there was some sort of bug inside, listening in to the lord’s every conversation. With the gem sworn in as genuine less than three weeks previously, and armed security around the manor, nobody had any idea-”

“-how the gem was swapped without anyone noticing.” Finished Loden. “Alrighty then. Well, first thing’s first, that’s a picture of the fake gem, right?”

“Yes.”

“I figured.” Loden grinned. “Nifty little trick, they used. They ever teach you about gem-dyeing in… well, wherever you learnt how to be a Special Agent?”

“What?”

“Never mind. I don’t know the formal name – maybe it’s jewel forgery, or something – but I know that there’s this technique someone can use which involves, basically, chemically dyeing a cheap sort of stone, like topaz or something worth even less, to look really expensive – say, like an emerald. Inserting a bug wouldn’t be any trouble for someone who knows their stuff technically, and it presumably would have just been a matter of sealing the hole using more dyed stone, and maybe a bit of glue. The way that thing is kinda misted over means that nobody can really see what’s inside, which helps a lot.”

“It was called the “Emerald of the mist”, and it was supposedly one of a kind.” Lav filled in.

“Yeah, well, in this day and age, I would have settled for the normal translucent gemstone.” Remarked Loden. “I wouldn’t trust anything I can’t look into. Anyways, uh… that’s a thing. Did lord whats-his-face leave the manor between the “real” confirmation and the “fake” confirmation?”

“Nope.”

“Right. It’s probably a member of the staff – one lower down in the financial pecking order, because that gem dying thing is a pretty cheap technique. Bugging equipment can be bought on the cheap as well – as any criminal or revolutionary would know, there’s a whole black market for that sort of stuff, and because of the careless way rogues leave their equipment lying around after they die, there’s a whole host of gadgets for people like us to take our pick from.”

“Good to know. But what happened?”

“Patience, grasshopper. I’m gettin’ there. You said that this guy always wore it?”

“As much as he could.”

“Makes sense. Jewellery like that is rarely taken off unless under specific circumstances. Those circumstances being sleeping, washing, and going through metal detectors. Now I’ve… uh… visited a few high-class homes in my time, and though there’s a lot of security I have yet to see a metal detector as part of it – namely because doffing and donning all of the trinkets nobles have a habit of wearing would probably be a huge pain in the butt. And it probably wasn’t taken while sleeping, because most people guard their stuff in some sort of way while they know they’re vulnerable for such a long time. Did lord ‘tache keep his stuff in a safe, or something?”

Lav nodded. “Higson-brand safe with a ten-digit combination.”

“Yikes. Most people wouldn’t want to even try and mess with a Higson. And, seeing as how manor servants aren’t generally trained in safecracking, we can rule that out as an option. And that just leaves…” Loden paused, before shooting Lav a meaningful look. “Lav, this is the part where you’re supposed to say “washing!” in an awestruck sort of voice.”

“Uh…” Lav hesitated. “Washing?”

“Mediocre, but it’ll have to do.” Critiqued Loden, before returning to his analysis. “Righty-ho. Most people clean themselves in the morning, so to say it happened then was a safe assumption. I can presume that Milord liked a good, long soak?”

“He tended to spend at least half an hour in the bath.”

“Just as I thought. Okay, so the question is, which low-in-the-pecking-order servant would have access to the guy’s personal stuff while he’s having a soak? I…” Loden laughed. “This is too easy. When Lords and Ladies wash, they always want complete and total privacy, which means that they probably left their clothes outside to be gathered up and prepared for them – any rando servant could have been given the job of picking up lord Stache’s garments, at which point they could have just slipped the real gem for the fake one, quick as you like. There is, however, one minor issue – there’s every chance that lord Stache would have left his jewellery in the safe until after he had dressed, and if there’s one thing I know about this business, you leave as little to chance as possible. This means that a scenario had to be created in which he had to clean himself unexpectedly. This could be arranged through, maybe, spilling tea on the lord, or something. The lord probably would have liked the servant who soiled him to prepare his clothes as a punishment, which would give the perpetrator even more of an opportunity to replace the fake with the real. So, there you go. Lord gets ready for the day, our culprit brings him a requested beverage only to have an accident, the angry lord orders the shamed servant to prepare him some new clothes as he goes for a hasty bath, and whilst they’re doing that, our culprit switches the pendants in a jiffy, whilst lord Stache is none the wiser until weeks later.”

“Does that conclude your theory for the how?” Lav prompted.

“For the how, yeah. As for the who? Servants generally live within the manor, so it had to have been a servant who made regular trips to the outside world and who had to have kept themselves to themselves a lot of the time in recent weeks, in order to made the bugged fake. They needed to have had a good eye in order to study the exact details of the gem, as well as have the job of preparing his Lord Stache’s clothes. Narrow down those criteria, and you should find your culprit.” His piece being said, Loden leant back in his chair and eyeballed Lav. “How did I do?”

Lav’s face contorted, as if he were unsure exactly what expression to make. “Well, Adalwin, you just solved a case in a few minutes when it took us closer to a few days.”

Loden fist-pumped. “Nailed it!”

Still giving nothing away, Lav gathered up the file, rose, and made for the door, only to stop as Loden called out to him. “Oy, Lav!”

Lav turned around, and gazed at the prisoner quizzically.

“You’ve got me curious. Did you actually catch whoever did it, or what?”

At this, Lav grimaced.

“Afraid not. We suspect it was Aurum Eyes, but we don’t know for sure.”

“Aurum Eyes?”

“That’s who we call this newest big name. Think of him as the new you. Him and The Drummer, that is. Between the two of them, we’ve got our work cut out for us, and new revolutionaries crop up all the time.”

“Well, you’ll have to tell me all the details later.” Loden raised his brow. “Perhaps, say… tomorrow? When I get let out of this cell?”

Lav turned his back to him. “See you around, Adalwin.”

The door clanged shut, and Loden couldn’t help but let a big smile creep onto his face. Maybe this would be fun? One heck of a change of pace, at least. He was working for the bad guy, yeah, but... it was… hmm. He thought a little bit more. Was it really worth it? He came to a decision. It was worth it, yes. Worth getting out of a damn jail cell. Did that make it the right thing to do? Probably not. Could he, one person, change the system from within? Almost definitely not. But it was an improvement.

He would take it and roll with it. He’d done a bunch of batpoop crazy stuff over the years. What was working for TheDude, except the latest in a long line of insane schemes?

He smiled again. Moral crisis solved. (For now.)

The next morning, he awoke to find his door open, and a pair of black sunglasses lying on his desk.

File:Images.png

“Lav, be honest with me.” Loden frowned as her surveyed the

image before him, before suggestively raising his eyebrow and flexing his arms. “Do these sunglasses accentuate these guns, or what?”

“I’ll go with the “or what”.” Lav deadpanned, looking decidedly unimpressed as he watched his new colleague check himself out in the full-length mirror provided. “And it’s “Agent Lavonne” to you, Adalwin.”

“Would you accept the compromise of “Agent Lav”?” Loden offered, as he rolled the sleeves of his fancy new black blazer down. The uniform consisted of it, a white collared shirt, jet black trousers and a tie the colour of blood – as well as the coveted sunglasses. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was suited to black and red, but he wasn’t wearing that blue jumpsuit, so for the time being he wasn’t too fussed. A green tie would be a good goal, though…

“For now. But you need to show me some respect.” Snapped Lav.

“I do, don’t worry. You’ve caught me both times, right? I respect that.”

“Good. If that’s the case, you won’t mind if I lay down some ground rules.” Lav turned to face Loden, hands on hips, as Loden fiddled with the cuffs of his suit.

“Fire away.” He smirked.

“Firstly, let’s get one thing straight. You are not, despite appearances, a free man. Put one toe out of line and I won’t hesitate to throw your skinny behind back into a cell.”

“Hey!” Loden reeled back at his words. ““skinny”?”

“To do that, I’m going to have to have you put this on.” Lav tossed something Loden’s way. The latter caught the object, and peered down at it. “A pendant?”

“State-of-the-art tracking equipment, based on yesterday’s test.” Explained Lav, with a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Anything conventional would be too conspicuous. If you do end up meeting with revolutionaries, an ankle bracelet or a collar would be one hell of a tip-off. As such, you should be able to pass this off as an accessory you picked up on your travels.”

“Well, at least it matches the sunglasses.” Loden declared as he slipped the device over his neck – it’s silver gleam was soon hidden behind his shirt. “How long do I have to wear it for?”

“At all times.” Responded Lav. “The sensors built in mean that if you take it off, we’ll receive an alert and come pick you up. Same thing if you move more than a mile away from HQ without another member of the team accompanying you and authorising your movements.”

“Duly noted.” Loden let his hand drop to his side. “Any other somewhat dismaying news you’d like to give me?”

“Well, we have yet to set up living quarters for you. It’s quite likely that this is only temporary-”

“Hey!”

“-so, for now, you can camp out in our break room. There’s a coffee machine, and we can order meals whenever we want, so you shouldn’t end up any more malnourished than you already are.”

“Man, you can be savage when you want to.”

“There’s also the issue of clothing – we should have some casual stuff lying around, and if you’re not happy with that, I can get a stipend-”

“If you could, that’d be great. I have my fashions, you know.”

“Noted. And, finally, there’s this.” Lav reached into his pocket and tossed something else to Loden, who caught it, observed it, and began to grin. “A badge?”

“Again, it’s temporary. But you need it to walk around this place without being arrested, and-”

“Man, I’m looking good!” Loden shoved the badge in Lav’s direction in order for the other agent to view the mugshot used as a profile image – he had possessed the gall to wink as the photo was being taken. “You see this, right? This handsome mug? Oh, wow, this is so cool! I feel like a secret agent!”

“Oh, put a sock in it.” Snapped Lav. “How many times am I going to have to remind you that you’re on prohibition?”

“As many times as it takes, Agent Lav. I can’t help but enjoy this a little bit.”

“Well, playtime is over.” Declared Lav, folding his arms and settling firmly into his default role of “stern agent person”. Loden had to admit, the character seemed to suit him, though his musings were interrupted by Lav’s voice again. “We’ve got a job for you.”

“Ooh, already?” Loden tilted his head forwards, looking down upon Lav – whom, he realised for the first time, was not quite as tall as he was when both parties were wearing proper shoes. The thought made him grin.

“We’re busy people, Adalwin.”

“Yeah, about that.” Loden impatiently tapped two of his fingers together. “How about letting me meet some of these “busy people”, yeah? I mean, I’ve only ever seen you around, and you’re great, but I’ve got to have someone else to rebound off of, you know? I do my best work with a bit more of an audience.”

“You conceited…” Lav snarled. “Not yet. Job first, and then you can hold your little meet and greet.”

“Alrighty then. I’ll just have to settle for annoying you some more.” Loden raised an eyebrow. “Where is the job?”

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The job, as it turned out, was in the actual boonies. Several hours’ worth of a drive later, and even Loden’s new windswept hairstyle – courtesy of sticking his head out the car window several times – couldn’t distract him from his boredom. Lav seemed similarly tired, which was slightly concerning, because he was the one at the wheel. He was wearing his glasses, so Loden couldn’t actually see his eyes, but he could still detect the other agent’s fatigue.

The sun was beating down on them through the windows, soaking into the matte-coloured car interior. The men’s jet-black blazers and trousers were now reminiscent of an ancient curse, sucking up the heat like extremely specialised vacuum cleaners. The temperature was intolerable – Loden had long ago thrown his blazer into the back of the car, and had rolled the sleeves of his shirt up past his to his elbows. (Everyone knew that forearms were some of a man’s greatest seductive assets. (And you never knew when you needed to seduce someone.))

In short – it sucked. He had given up vocalising the fact long ago (as it turned out, Lav had no qualms with threatening him at gunpoint if he ever took something too far), but it did really suck.

“We’re here.” Lav finally grunted. Oh, sweet mercy. Loden was out the door before even observing his surroundings, turning away from the sun so the fronts of his thighs could cool down. As he savoured the feeling, he took a chance to look around. Lav had parked the car in what appeared to be the middle of a forest, the ground beige with discarded twigs and fern leaves. An annoying amount of sunlight had been able to slip through the fir trees that surrounded them (they must have only entered the forest recently – Loden hadn’t been paying a WHOLE load of attention), with streams of gold cast all around the car and creating a picturesque appearance.

What Loden couldn’t really understand, however, was why they were here. He resolved to ask Lav.

“Why are we here?” He asked Lav.

“Because here,” remarked Lav, “is Aurum Eyes’ last known location.”

Aurum Eyes. The name rang familiar, and it didn’t take long for Loden to remember why.

“That revolutionary? Like, the new me?” He pressed, wanting to make sure that he remembered correctly. It probably would have been quite embarrassing if he had goofed it up, but fortunately his memory had been on point as Lav nodded.

“We received a report on his being here yesterday. We’re here to… confirm, you could say, said report.”

Loden furrowed his brow. There would be no real need for confirmation if another agent had sent the reports through, right? Either people working under TheDude weren’t the most trustworthy and reliable individuals, or the report had come from a third party. Both were possibilities. He decided to clarify.

“Who sent the report?” He asked out loud, not vocalising his thought process whilst still positing the ultimate question he had come to. That was what his methodology had basically come down to.

“A civilian.” Lav stated, walking round to the back of the car and clicking open the boot. “We’ve put up wanted posters for the guy all over the kingdom, and someone actually got back to us yesterday.”

Well, who’d have thought it.

“I’m, ah, gonna be honest here for a second Lav.” Loden made a show of looking quickly around, as if making sure that they weren’t being watched, before stuffing his hands into his pockets and ambling towards the other man. “I didn’t figure that anyone in this kingdom was actually loyal enough to TheDude to give info like that. Thought they would have just hidden or helped them, or at least ignored them. S’what happened to me a lot, anyway.”

To his surprise, Lav didn’t immediately turn around and rag on him for doubting the loyalty of TheDude’s subjects. Instead, he nodded sombrely as he rummaged around in the boot. There were a large array of black bags and suitcases stuffed in the storage compartment, and Loden was both trepidatious and curious as to what might have been inside. Lav must have picked up on his surprise, because he turned to him with weighted shoulders and a heavy look in his eyes.

“I’m aware that a lot of people in this country don’t appreciate TheDude as a ruler.” He paused, as if considering the weight of his words. “And I can understand why.”

Loden raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. If this was really some kind of big reveal for Lav, the last thing he wanted to do was make an underappreciated joke.

“That being said,” Lav rose higher again, bolstered and drawing strength from some internal force, “I’ve seen what he’s capable of. And even if he hasn’t brought peace, he has great potential. And he has taken important steps towards that goal.” He halted, thinking hard about how to formulate his feelings into a spoken form. “Progress… takes time. A long time. But I genuinely believe that we’re on the right path. It’ll take a while – we might not even be around to see it – but one day, this will mean something.” He faced Loden directly in the eyes. “I know this probably sounds idiotic to you.”

“No, I… I get it.” Loden sighed. Things had gotten pretty heavy, pretty fast. There must have been a reason for Lav believing in TheDude, a tyrannical dictator. And though he didn’t really get it himself, people and motivations were both real complicated. Who was he to judge, when he had known this guy for… like, days? “I mean, I don’t get it, perse, but it’s… you know. It’s what you believe.”

Lav’s expression softened for the first time. “Thanks.”

Loden hummed to himself. “You got a cigarette?”

Lav wordlessly threw him a pack. A smoker as well? Probably, if he had them so close to hand. Ah well. Loden didn’t intend to complain. He pulled a ciggy out of the pack before throwing it back to Lav, who responded by holding up a lit lighter. Smiling in gratitude, he held the ciggy over the light until it was light, before taking a deep drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Lav said. Loden shrugged.

“You think they’d actually give any to a prisoner?” He laughed a little, like it was some kind of inside joke. “Besides, I don’t have them much. Once every now and then. Preferably if I’m feeling contemplative.”

“Is that so?” Lav folded his arms, and looked to the horizon. “Well, be sure to focus.”

Loden blew smoke out of his nostrils.

“You got it.”

Lav nodded in acknowledgement. He then tossed something to Loden, who caught it more on reflex than anything else. It was a handgun. Small, dark, sleek. There was a silencer on the barrel, and a laser sight on top. All it was missing was some kind of magnifying glass.

“You never know.” Lav said, before Loden could even question him. Personally, Loden had been more concerned with the fact that the guy had actually trusted him with a weapon. But… whatever. Call it sentiment, but Loden didn’t really feel up to gunning anyone down. Especially someone who had opened up to him in some way. Besides, he seemed to have some kind of thing going…

“Don’t forget,” Lav’s voice interrupted his thoughts, “there are outposts everywhere throughout the country. If you run, you will be caught.”

Right. That probably had something to do with it, too.

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Loden’s first thought was that the village (Kelna, if that was what the sign had said) was way too quiet for any sort of revolutionary or rebellious activity. His second thought was that a rebel would probably hope something similar.

The village was decently-sized, and showed a lot of signs of age. Many of the houses didn’t have any indication of electrical power, and it was obvious that the plumbing and waterworks systems were still under construction. (They could also have been damaged, but there were too many men sitting around and drinking from thermoses for that to be the case.) Before long, the two agents passed by an old stone church, the cobbles teetering on top of one another. The dying sun’s golden rays illuminated one side, creating a brilliant-looking image as the light and shadow met. A more poetic person may well have had a lot to say about such imagery, but Loden was not such a person, and so walked on, giving the old building little more than a second glance.

Loden’s blazer was slung over his shoulder, because it was still quite warm. It wasn’t the most professional image, but it was for the sake of practicality (which was probably why Lav hadn’t commented on it). It also made him look… well, blazer on/off was cool either way, but the blazer-on-shoulder look was something more casually attractive. Always a positive. He couldn’t help but notice, however, a distinct lack of something rather important in this village.

People. It was people.

Not that the streets were completely empty, but Loden would have normally expected the place to be more… bustling with activity. Late afternoon was often when people left for home after working at their jobs for the day, and yet there were very few people in the streets. The few who were out blanched, back away, and otherwise revealed healthy amounts of fear (with dashes of disdain here and there) at the sight of the two. It wasn’t too hard to guess why, however.

“I’m guessing that people know we’re working for TheDude.” Loden muttered to Lav, taking another drag of cigarette. It left something of a smoky taste in his mouth, but whatever. Lav nodded once, curtly, not turning around to look at his companion as he talked.

“Representatives of TheDude aren’t normally welcome in areas such as this.” He acknowledged. “This village – Kelna – has particular reason to be… unforthcoming, however.”

Loden raised an eyebrow, and motioned for Lav to continue.

“Earlier this year, there was an… incident in this village. A group of rebels were found to be camping out here, just under the nose of the local garrison. We struggled to apprehend them, they struggled to get away, and these villagers were caught in the crossfire.”

“I see.” Loden nodded, hit with a sobering sort of feeling. It was one thing to hear people had died – or even to take their lives – but it was quite another to see the repercussions of death, especially sudden death. Everyone reacted differently, but once they had seen death, their eyes always looked a little haunted to Loden.

He saw that haunted expression everywhere these days. Whether he was talking to a stranger, or looking into a mirror.

“How many, uh, deaths?” He found himself saying. Lav paused, briefly, before schooling his expression into one of indifference and beginning to walk again.

“Eleven rebels. Six soldiers of TheDude’s army.” He paused again. “Three villagers.”

Loden nodded, acknowledging Lav’s words. Yes, he had definitely heard of larger incidents – incidents with a higher kill count – but that didn’t nullify what had happened here. It never would, probably, to whomever had been in the village at the time. Those memories had a habit of staying with people.

The gold of the setting sun was slowly turning to orange as the star sank lower in the sky, and Loden began to look around quizzically. There was every chance that they would end up staying the night, at this rate. It would definitely be best to at least have some kind of backup plan in mind, unless Lav was comfortable with sleeping in the car. Loden certainly wasn’t – he may have slept in rough places before, but getting used to something was entirely different from actually wanting to do it. Before Loden could actually bring this up to Lav, however, the agent smartly tapped him on the shoulder.

“We’re here.” He muttered, and Loden realised that the two were standing in front of a relatively sizable house. Of course, Loden had seen much better, but compared to the practical huts to be found elsewhere in the village, it was very generously sized. At least two stories tall. Dried and decaying paint was stripping off the walls, shining an electric blue in the sun’s dying embers.

“So, whoever reported seeing Aurum Eyes lives here?” Loden asked. For clarification. Because Lav wasn’t particularly wordy, which meant he wasn’t particularly explanatory, Loden figured that it’d be best to take up the inquisitive role when around him. Because it was important to actually know things.

“Yes.” Lav nodded, before striding up the driveway. Coming to a halt in front of the unpainted door, he made a fist and smartly rapped on the door thrice. A moment passed – then Loden began to hear footsteps. The door was unlocked, and then opened, to reveal the house’s inhabitant.

The woman who had answered the door possessed olive/slightly dark skin and much darker hair, and an average-ish height. (Maybe an inch or two above average.) Her hair, as well as being basically black, was fairly messy, tied into a casual braid and slung over her shoulder – she cared about appearances to a certain extent, but not so much as to rigorously style it. Or maybe she was just having a lazy day. She was wearing a bell-sleeved shirt, with a line of stitching in one of the sleeves. Possibly clumsy or accident-prone, given the size of the rip – though it might not have been her fault. There was a sewing needle embedded in the hanging sleeve, though, so she had almost definitely repaired it herself…

Loden mentally slapped himself before he could go into any further analysis, and forced himself to listen to the conversation she was having with Lav.

“…the one who reported the sighting of the criminal known as Aurum Eyes?” His colleague was saying, arms folded and staring the woman down, obviously insuring that she answered truthfully – just in case. The woman, for her part, seemed to be unwilling to give an inch, and straightened her stance as she looked up and into Lav’s eyes.

“That was me, yeah.” She said, voice surprisingly casual given her intense body language.

“We’re representatives of TheDude, here to apprehend the rebel.” Lav explained – though their attire probably made something similar obvious. “If you don’t mind, we’d like to come in and talk about what you saw. We’ll need all the details if we want a good chance of arresting this criminal.”

The woman nodded.

“Ok, sure. Just wipe your feet.”

With that, she broke eye contact with Lav, turning on her heel and heading back inside the house. Looking down, Loden eyed the bristling doormat, which was emblazoned with the words “the neighbours have better stuff”.

“You heard the lady.” He told Lav, failing to keep the humour out of his voice as he stubbed the cigarette on his trouser leg. (Smoking indoors wasn't exactly the most social thing to do.) “Wipe your feet off.”

Maybe this wouldn’t turn out so bad.

File:Images.png

“So.” Lav declared out loud, placing himself in a rickety wooden seat as he stared the woman down – debunking the theory Loden had heard, about how no-one in real life started a sentence with “so”. “Where did you see him?”

The woman’s irises rose high in her eyes as she began to recollect the details. Loden focused on them. They were a light brown, with what looked to be strips of amber – but more importantly, they were angled to her right. Left was creating a story, right was remembering information. Everyone worth their salt knew that. Not to say that she was definitely telling the truth, but she probably was. Unless it was that other system of eye movement, in which case he had no idea what looking upwards and right meant. Reading people could be a very tricksy business sometimes.

“I saw him when I was in the pub.” She said.

“Which pub?” Lav furrowed his brow. Loden, who was sitting to the left of him (with the two of them opposite the woman, sitting on the other side of a table), leaned back and contented himself with listening closely. He had a feeling that neither would appreciate his input, no matter how insightful or hilarious it might have been.

“There’s only one pub in this town.” The woman informed them, folding her arms. “It’s called the “Silver Hind”.”

Lav nodded, reaching into his jacket. For a moment, Loden thought he was reaching for a gun, but instead, he pulled out a pen and a pad of paper, immediately uncapping the former and beginning to write information down. The woman watched this for a moment, her expression slowly morphing into something more quizzical. Then she spoke once again.

“You aren’t going to ask me what I was doing there, or anything?”

Lav cracked what Loden figured was as close as he could contractually get to a smile, halting his writing to focus on the woman.

“This isn’t a murder investigation, ma’am.” He explained. “You don’t need to justify yourself to us. All we care about where and when you saw Aurum Eyes, and what he was doing.”

“And where exactly that pub is.” Loden added. “I could kill for a drink.”

Lav frowned. The woman smirked. Know thine audience.

Lav looked as though he was about to remind Loden that where the pub specifically was would probably fall under the jurisdiction of where exactly Aurum Eyes had been sighted, but made a visible attempt to restrain himself. Which was more than Loden had been able to do, admittedly. Though he was probably only trying to make a good impression on the witness, or something formal like that.

“Well.” The woman spoke first, thankfully, leaning forward and onto the table with her elbows. Her hands meshed together to form a bridge, on which rested her chin. “When I looked at the clock after being sure it was him I had seen, it was about ten minutes past ten. Maybe one or two more.”

Lav nodded, brows so furrowed they looked like a unibrow, as he continued to scribble notes down onto his pad. The ballpoint pen made a dull, slightly irritating scratching noise as it travelled across the yellow notepad.

“He was…” The woman pursed her lips as, presumably, she focused on recollecting the specifics. “Well, he wasn’t drinking. Probably because he wanted to stay alert, or something. I mean, he wouldn’t have been able to evade capture for as long as you guys have been saying without staying on his toes the whole time.”

She’d be surprised, reckoned Loden, though he didn’t voice this opinion. He’d been able to cut loose plenty of times as a rebel. Forgotten about his problems, and enjoyed some find food, drink, and company. Wasn’t like it had been impossible, though it helped that no-one had actually known what he looked like for years. Admittedly, he had been captured twice, but he had been drunk precisely neither of those times.

“What was he doing?” Pressed Lav, who was clearly desperate for details. Not that Loden hadn’t already twigged, but it was obvious that the guy really cared about his job.

“Reading, I think.” The woman said, which startled Loden a bit. After all, reading wasn’t what someone would typically do in a pub. There were plenty of places to read. Why in a pub, of all places? Unless… the guy must have hand some other motive, some other reason to be there. But what could it have been? Considering he was apparently a rebel and wanted man, it couldn’t have been anything… well, couldn’t have been anything objectively good. Maybe he had just been, like, stalling for time, or something.

“Anything else?” Pressed Lav, looking very thoughtful. The woman thought about the question for a brief moment, and then shook her head apologetically.

“No, ‘fraid not. He was just reading.”

Lav sighed. Loden peered at his companion quizzically.

“Well, at least that’s something.” He reasoned. “It’s always good to have, like, something to work off of.”

“I guess.” Muttered Lav, though he didn’t look too happy about the whole situation. Seeing the man begin to enter a train of thought, Loden hurriedly turned to the woman.

“So, how ‘bout that pub?” He kept his voice cool. Super cool. Uber cool. “You know where it is?”

The woman smiled again.

“It’s a couple of streets away. I can, uh, walk you guys there if you want.” Her face looked a cross between apologetic and eager. “You’re not the only one who needs a drink.”

“Sounds positively delightful.” Loden purred, pulling Lav to his feet without breaking eye contact. Lav, however, was still in thought – at least, he was until he turned to the woman with an outright startled expression on his face.

“I know you.” He stated, simply. Loden raised an eyebrow, curious by this strange development. The woman blanched. Then narrowed her eyes. Then swore.

“Look, I’m not involved with this guy, if that’s what you’re saying.” She held her hands up, defensively. “I only got released last month. I’m not looking for any trouble.”

Hold up. Released? Who was this woman? Loden gave Lav – who was now glowering back – a sideways gaze.

“I’m lost.” He hissed. Lav seemed to ignore him for a moment, before sighing a sigh that Loden was fast becoming familiar with, and turning around to face him.

“Amelia Browne.” He stated, filling Loden in. “Arrested early this year – around the same time as your breakout, actually – for rebellious activities. Released approximately four weeks ago-”

“A month, just say a month.” Amelia rolled her eyes. “It’s simpler.”

“Released after serving a six-month sentence.”

“Six-month?” Loden raised an eyebrow. “I expected harsher.”

Lav sighed through his teeth, and faced Loden with a dour expression.

“It was the aftermath of that incident I was telling you about earlier.” He explained. “Things were a mess here. Besides, there wasn’t any physical evidence that she was involved in it – just eyewitness accounts.”

“And those are enough to land someone in custody for six months?” Loden asked, folding his arms. Man, that sounded crap. Now he was glad he had taken up Lav’s job offer – without it, he probably would have been either executed, or imprisoned for, like, three lifetimes.

“Better safe than sorry.” Muttered Lav, though Loden noticed that he didn’t seem too happy at the idea himself.

Amelia, for her part, sighed. She shot Loden a sympathetic glance, presumably to make up for the fact that he didn’t know what was going on. Which was nice of her.

“Look. Believe me when I say that I don’t want any part in any sort of rebellion any more. People died back there. That was something I never wanted.” She turned to face Lav, looking sorrowful. “I don’t know if you knew this, but my brother was one of the people killed. And he was a civilian.” She turned away. “He was just… caught in the crossfire. Caught up in our fight.” She breathed in, heavily, then turned back to the two men. “So, no. I don’t… I don’t want to fight any more. I won’t let myself cross that line again.”

“Well, if this ain’t getting heavy…” Loden muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing toward the ceiling (over actually looking anyone in the eyes). He felt bad for this Amelia, definitely, but it wasn’t exactly anything he hadn’t seen before by this point. It was depressing, yeah, but… that was just the state of the world. That was how things were. Tragedy was everywhere, and you only really escape it through naiveté, blind optimism, cutting yourself off from current events, or non-sobriety. Not to say that you couldn’t try to do good, but you had to at least accept the fact that things were pretty garbage as they were.

But enough depressing thoughts. Speaking of non-sobriety…

“So, um. Yeah.” He turned his attention back to Lav and Amelia. “If it’s alright with you, I’m, uh… I’m definitely up for a drink.”

Amelia gave him a half-smile. “Sure.”

File:Loden Border.png

The night had fully settled. Instead of any remnants of sunlight, the moon’s soft grey glow glinted through the bar windows. The silver hind was a moderately sized joint, which was a pleasant surprise – especially considering the small nature of the village. A few hours had passed, and darkness had fallen. Rather than go back and sleep in the car, Lav had insisted on a stakeout in the bar.

“If Aurum Eyes appears again,” he had said, “I want to be able to apprehend him straight away”.

Loden, eager to avoid both annoying the man and actually finishing the job sooner – he’d rather relax in a tavern than spend his time in a Dude base – neglected to mention the fact that two tired agents would probably have trouble taking down one alert rebel by themselves, especially if this guy was as good as they said.

Hence, for the past evening, Loden had been sitting on the other side of the bar from Lav, eying all of his fellow agent’s blind spots whilst subtly ordering a drink every time he figured that the man wouldn’t notice. Damned if he was going to do nothing but sit on his ass the entire night and get nothing out of it. The woman, Amelia, was with him. Sharing a drink with him in secret every hour or two. She had turned out to be quite good company, all things considered. A straight talker, someone who didn’t mince her words. But, at the same time, she had quite the engaging sense of humour. He had almost definitely laughed more times in the past evening than he had in the past… year, maybe. Some time to slow down and catch his breath – not imprisoned and not on the run. He almost forgot about the whole stakeout thing until he caught sight of Lav glaring at him from the other side of the room, at which point he reluctantly forced himself to stop laughing, eyes flashing downwards to make sure that his drink was out of sight.

“You alright?” On top of everything else, he had to admit that this Amelia was a sharp as a tack. He sighed.

“Supposed to be on a stakeout.” He waved his hand idly, giving the bar a once-over. Suddenly, he realised something. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…!” He chuckled, and slowly upgraded to laughing again. He couldn’t help it. Him and Lav both – what a cock-up!

“What is it?” Amelia asked him, sounding almost concerned as he descended into hysterics.

“I – don’t know – what this guy looks like!” He wheezed. It was true. Lav had never actually showed him a picture or poster of Aurum Eyes, and he had never asked. Of course, it was possible that people didn’t know what this guy actually looked like, but how would have a sighting been reported if Aurum Eyes’ face wasn’t common knowledge.

“You’re kidding me.” Amelia sounded a mixture of surprised, annoyed, and stricken with mirth as she snorted out the words. “You’re kidding me.”

“Nope!” Loden was still busy cackling like a hyena.

“Okay, okay, okay.” Amelia raised her hands, coughing as she laughed. “How about I help you in this whole stakeout thing? If I see Aurum Eyes, I can point him out to you- oh, shoot!”

The tone in her voice suddenly change. Loden snapped into alertness – though his laughter was still wearing off, he felt adrenaline pulse through his body as his hand automatically twitched towards his blazer. For a second, he wasn’t sure who he was looking for. He eyed Amelia, who indicated with an eye twitch of her own. His gaze followed hers, and – was that Aurum Eyes? He looked familiar.

Oh.

Oh.

Loden turned to Amelia. He was trying to be discreet, yes, but at the same time – holy moly.

“That’s him?” He hissed. She nodded. Loden anxiously turned back to Lav, who had (of course) noticed the man as well, and was trying to signal to Loden as subtly as possible. Loden nodded, to show that he had understood. He stood up, ignoring Amelia’s “speak of the devil” remark, and donned his sunglasses as quickly as possible. Hopefully they would combine with the pub’s bad lighting and age to render him unrecognisable. If nothing else, arresting a friend as old and out-of-contact as that would be pretty awkward.

What else could he lose? Tie. The brilliant red was, if nothing else, a sign that he was probably associated with TheDude in some fashion. The fabric crumpled to the floor like a puppet with cut strings as he sauntered over to the table at which “Aurum Eyes” had taken a seat. He was reading, like Amelia had said – Loden could see that it was some kind of leather-bound book, labelled as “mythical creatures and their quirks”. As if his identity hadn’t been clear enough to Loden already. He rolled his eyes, in spite of himself.

Classic Blaine.

“Mind if I sit here?” He kept his voice and head low, not wanting to be recognised (in any way).

Blaine raised his head, a reply on his lips. His eyes widened. His breath hitched.

“Loden.” He breathed.

Well, the sunglasses had been a long shot.

“It’s been a long time.” Loden acknowledged, taking a seat before Blaine said it was okay. Doubtless Lav was wondering what the heck he was doing – he wasn’t sure himself. Aurum Eyes’ identity had thrown him through a loop. Despite whatever differences they may have had, he and Blaine had been close companions once. Two members of the crew of the Origin. Could he turn him in, with that kind of history?

Well, technically…? Maybe.

Hmm.

“And how have you been?” Blaine was saying. “You seem to be doing alright for yourself.”

“You’d be surprised.” Loden muttered darkly, before making a decision. Sighing, he turned to face Blaine. As much as he really didn’t want to make the situation any messier than he already was, one thing he had learnt over the years was the importance of confronting problems head-on. And not keeping things from people. “Listen, Blaine.”

Blaine raised an eyebrow, his book lowering. That was Blaine-talk for “you have my attention”.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush.” Said Loden. “In return, you have to promise to not make like a hockey player before I finish speaking.”

““Make like a hockey player”?” Blaine repeated, quizzical. His book lowered and his eyebrow raised in tandem. It was a little unsettling.

“Just hear me out.” Loden pleaded, not bothering to explain the joke (make like a hockey player and get the puck out of there. It was a good joke. He had heard it from an Aquilone fellow some years ago).

Blaine hesitated, then nodded. “Fine.”

Loden took a deep breath. “You are a revolutionary, known as Aurum Eyes. And I am… at the moment… and it’s actually quite a recent development… working for TheDude. To hunt down revolutionaries.” He saw Blaine’s eyes – golden eyes, of course, how had he not guessed the connection sooner – widen, but pressed on. “I’ve thought over, and I can’t actually not try to catch you, because they’ve got me on a leash and if I let you go I’m probably going to be thrown into a jail cell for the rest of my sad little life. That being said…” he sighed again, but pressed on, sure to look Blaine in the eyes as he talked. Let him know that he was being genuine. “You’re a good guy, Blaine. A good man. Hell, you’re a better man than me, at any rate. And it… it wouldn’t be right to not tell you what was going on. To not give you a fighting chance.”

Blaine remained speechless for a moment, and Loden genuinely couldn’t tell what he would do next. Was he going to attack? Was he going to run? Then, his head lowered, and he smiled.

“Thanks.” He said. “For letting me know.”

“Are you-” Loden was cut off as Blaine spoke again.

“Don’t worry. I understand.” He said, voice smooth and calm in spite of the circumstances. “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you torn, you know.”

Loden frowned.

“So, what happens now?” Blaine continued, to which Loden stroked his chin. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lav eying the two of them. Did he suspect something? He was a smart man, so he almost definitely suspected something. Shoot.

“I can count down from five, attack you, and you push me back.” He said. “From then on, though, I’m going to have to try to get you in earnest. Nothing personal.”

“And I don’t intend to go down without a fight.” Blaine retorted, smiling. “But are you sure telling me was a good idea, if you really are going to try and bring me in?”

“Come on, now.” Loden shrugged, almost feeling himself slip back in time and persona. “I play all my best game with a handicap.”

The two men laughed.

“I do have one question, though. Before we begin.” Loden admitted. “Why are you… why are you fighting? It doesn’t seem like you.”

The smile faded from Blaine’s face. He leant back against the bench he was sitting on, eyes raised to the ceiling in contemplation. His fingers idly flicked through the pages of his book – probably an unconscious tic.

“To put it frankly, I can’t actually get back home.” He explained. “Even though TheDude technically controls most of the planet, border control is still super tight between nations. And it’s not like we arrived documented or anything, you know? It’s not like I can sign any forms – I’m not a citizen here.”

“And you figure trying to bring down TheDude is the most efficient way to actually leave?” Loden raised an eyebrow. There had to be better ways of doing it. Like smuggling!

“Well, not exactly.” Blaine sighed. “But, also, the whole reason I left was to see the world, remember?” He looked down at his book. “Not much of a world left to see, at this point. If I can’t view all of those wonders for myself, all I can do is fight to preserve them, and work so that whoever comes after me might just be able to fulfil that dream.” Sighing again, he turned back to Loden. “Melodramatic, right?”

“A little.” Loden admitted. “But I get you.”

“Thanks.” Blaine smiled. Loden would have made a move to shake the man’s hand, or something, but Lav was still watching them like a hawk. He was probably one move away from having them BOTH locked up – and, Loden figured, with the tracking pendant or whatever, it wouldn’t be hard. Amelia had her eyes on them, too, but Loden was less bothered with whatever she might have thought. She was, at the end of the day, a civilian, and not relevant to his job.

“Okay.” Loden muttered. “Countdown?”

“Countdown.” Blaine agreed, turning his palm upwards. Loden winced, knowing what was coming.

“Five.” He muttered through gritted teeth. “Four. Three. Two. One-!”

He quickly tried to lean forward, jump, and rise over the table all at the same time. The result, as he had predicted, was that he was left wide open for Blaine’s attack. It felt like being hit by a hammer in the guts as he was blasted across the room. Wood splinters flew in and out of his gaze as his back hit the floor with such force that his legs fell upwards, and he rolled onto his front with a thud. Through blurred vision, he could see Blaine tear apart a window before leaping out and sprinting into the night. Footsteps thudded around his ears as the few people still in the bar began to sprint for safety in a panic. He heard Lav yell:

“Damn it, Adalwin!”

He saw the uniformed man dive through the window after Blaine, which he found kind of funny. Lav hadn’t struck him as a man of action. Heh.

A worried face appeared in his vision. It was Amelia.

“What the hell was that?” She was saying, as everything began to become less distorted in his vision and brain. He pulled himself into a sitting position, and winced as he inspected his injuries. His shirt had been torn clean through, and the skin underneath was red and raw. His back was also stinging from how it had slammed into the floor. He sighed.

“Explain later.” He muttered, before rising and striding to the door. If he didn’t want Lav to cart him away after this whole scenario was said and done, he had to put in a proper effort to catch Blaine now. Was his gun still there? It was. That was good.

He knew that Blaine wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

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There was a brief moment where Loden found himself literally running blind – the darkness was a sharp contrast to the well-lit bar interior, his eyes needed time to adjust, and he had no idea which direction Blaine and Lav had run in. Where was he supposed to go?

A gunshot rang out. Then another. They were muted (presumably because of a silencer), but they were still enough for Loden to pick out in the night.

Well, that was something of a clue.

Loden sprinted in the direction of the shots, and turned a corner just in time to be buffeted with a harsh gust of wind, which blew back his hair and clothes. He lowered his arms, and saw Lav get knocked back towards him. There was nothing he could do – their bodies collided, and both men fell to the floor.

“He can use magic!” Lav yelled, rolling off Loden and scrabbling for his gun.

Loden, for his part, was busy spitting out a mouthful of grass. “I would never have guessed.” He managed, surveying the scene. To the left, there was a trail of houses. To a right, there was what looked to be a shallow stream. Human and natural barriers were keeping the fight streamlined. Blaine was standing in front of the two of them. In his hand, a fresh attack was already being prepared – magical energy swirled around in his palm, an orange sphere with pale white blades spinning around it. Without wasting any time, Blaine reached for the sphere and made a tugging motion with his hand, before throwing it directly at the two men.

“Spades.” Loden muttered before diving out of the way as the projectile exploded in a wave of fire. Swearing as hot material hit his back, he quickly rolled around on the dewy grass before ripping what was left of his shirt off, making sure to put out the fires that had caught there. One of his trouser legs was aflame. He fell on his side, smothering it. Once he was certain that the fire was gone, he slipped his arms through his shirtsleeves again. It remained undone, most of the buttons torn off anyway, but it was still wearable, at least.

Blaine had said that he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

How was Lav? Loden looked over. Oh. Not doing so well. Looking tired. Looking on fire, though the man was currently working hard to sort that out. Hmm. How was Blaine? Looking quite bad himself. Panting heavily because of the exertion – and there was a bloody wound in his side. One of Lav’s shots must have hit him.

A final dilemma – what to do? He had said that he was going to not hold back and attack Blaine, but could he bring himself to do it? After almost a decade of wandering around, killing more people than he could count, all for the sake of a supposed greater good (i.e. freeing everyone from TheDude), could he really fight Blaine? Bring him in, and doom him to life in a jail cell – or no life at all? Especially considering he wasn’t even fighting for anything that could be considered a noble cause. It was a choice between him or Blaine. Two lives. What did it matter?

On the other hand, if he ran, he would almost certainly be found. There was that tracking pendant, and there was what Lav had said – how there were outposts surrounding the area. He could stay in a village, but they would still be able to track him down before long. And then what? Then, there was Lav. Loden could feel his brow furrow. Despite appearances, a good man. He wanted to do the right thing. He had trusted Loden. And he was hot, yes, but it was mostly the trust thing – could Loden outright betray someone, even if they were technically working for the bad guy?

Well.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t turned his back on anyone before.

“Lav.” He said, suddenly very weary. “How are you doing?”

Lav tore off his blazer, which was beyond saving, and dived backwards into the grass to sort out the flames.

“Not so well.” He grunted from the ground.

“Alrighty.” Loden sighed. There wasn’t looking to be an easy way out. What else could he do? Die?

Wait.

Wait.

Loden began to run towards Blaine whilst holding up his hands, trying to show that he wasn’t attacking whilst also keeping up the pretence of attacking. A dangerous game, especially as Blaine began to prepare another blast.

“BlaineBlaineBlaine-” He hissed, before pausing. Of friggin’ course. He put down his hands and began to ran like he meant it, hoping, praying (lack of piety suddenly very unimportant) that Blaine’s throw would suit him-

Blaine lobbed this fresh projectile – a whirring blade of what looked to be air – right at his chest.

Loden gritted his teeth. “Perfect.”

All he had to do was angle his chest slightly, and the projectile cut into his chest. Specifically, the pendant he was wearing, now hanging freely across it. Maybe it was fanciful of him, but he thought he could hear shattering metal amidst the sound of his chest being cut by the attack. Regardless, he soon wasn’t paying much attention as he felt himself fly through the air once again, this time towards the stream. He hit the edge of the grass, rolled over a small ledge, and fell into the water with a splash. He heard someone yell. Probably Lav?

No time to think about it. Wincing at the movement, he scrabbled for a sizable rock. His fingers closed around one. Perfect. He clutched it under his arm, whilst also slowing his breathing. He had picked up a lot of tricks, but hiding a pulse was definitely one of the more interesting ones. His head dipped into the water, which annoyingly swept into his ears. He had to resist the urge to yawn or tilt his head to the side. He had to play the part – and dead bodies didn’t do a lot of head-shaking.

He wasn’t sure quite how much time passed, but eventually, he felt someone pull him from the stream, and check his pulse. The rock, pressed against his armpit (the arm closest to the river’s edge, he had made sure of that) seemed to block the flow of blood through his arm suitably enough. Hooray.

He couldn’t hear anything because of the stream, but after (presumably) finding nothing, whoever was checking the pulse dropped his arm. He waited several agonising seconds before daring to open his eyes a tad. No-one was there. He opened them fully. No-one was there. He shook his damn head, clearing it of water – and oh, that was a mistake. Pain. Lots of pain. He looked down at his chest. There was a huge gash over it, as though he had been clawed by a wild animal. There was even less left of his shirt now, which was lovely.

He tried to stand up. No good. Uh-oh. He tried to raise his torso, the rock falling out of its position clenched in his armpit. Also no good – it was too painful. Spades. Was he actually going to die? No. No, he couldn’t. Could he? Not like this, surely…! He looked up at the stars, which were twinkling viciously in his general direction. The sky… he frowned. What colour even was it? Black, or midnight blue? Was that really his last question? Or was that?

Question-ception. He frowned and closed his eyes, reaching up to massage his head. He wasn’t really going to die, was he? He looked at himself. Bruised and bleeding stomach from Blaine’s initial attack. Sitting in a river in the dead of night was starting to get cold, and he had no real protection from that cold. Plus, there was the gaping open wound on his chest. Oh, shoot, was that bone? It was a toss-up – though he would be lying if he were to say that he’d survived worse. He leant back again, letting the water him. He tilted his head, though. He didn’t want to feel water in his ears as he died.

If he really was dying, Blaine would technically be his killer. He tried to muster up anger, any strong emotion to keep him grounded, but there was nothing. He was the one, after all, who had thrown himself into that attack. Hoping that it would destroy the tracking pendant. Had it? He tried to reach for his chest, but his fingers quivered and his hand was weak and his arm wouldn’t move properly. He found that he didn’t particularly care, anyway, seeing as he probably was dying. Maybe if they did find his body, they’d at least give him a proper burial. Ironically enough, he felt bad for Blaine. If he was dying, Blaine would have to live with his death. Loden knew that feeling, and it wasn’t a good one. Why… why was he thinking like this, anyway? He wasn’t dead yet! He tried to raise his torso. Pain shot through his entire body, and he gasped in agony. How about his legs? Could his legs move? They seemed to be fine (albeit numb from the cold), but he couldn’t rely on them alone to stand up.

The water washed over his wounds. He was very cold.

Well, this seemed to be it. Did he have any good last words? Loden racked his brains, even as everything became rather blurry again (which was probably the blood loss). Any experiences he could draw on? No living relatives, a repeatedly-broken heart, years of wandering alone and murdering people, imprisonment, a slow death in a river bed. Lovely. To be honest, when he reflected, his life had honestly been… miserable. Yeah. Just miserable. Especially considering that he could probably find medical help if he could just get over that… little ledge, and let someone know he was alive. But his body didn’t have that much left to give.

He closed his eyes.

File:Loden Border.png

Coming to was a surprise. He hadn’t anticipated that. Wasn’t he dead?

To be fair, he still felt kind of dead.

“Am I dead?” He managed to say. Well, “say” was generous. It sounded more like the croak of a frog that had just been punched in the throat. He heard a gasp. A swear word. Footsteps.

“Oh my God.” Someone said. He squinted. Who…

A face came into view. No-one he recognised. No, wait. There were two faces. Three. What the heck…?

He blinked, several times. Forcefully. Were there actually a lot of people in the room, or was his vision just blurring? Man, this had to be the first time he had played this game sober. Unless he was drunk. But why would he be…

Headache.

He leant back on the pillow – his head was on a pillow! – and sighed. He opened his mouth, tried to say something, but the words wouldn’t quite come out. Ah, well. Throat was hurting, anyway. Maybe, for once, he could just shut up.

“Am… I dead?” He persisted. Nope. Impossible for him to keep quiet, circumstances be damned.

“It was touch and go for a while, I’m not going to lie.” Said a voice. “It’s been, like, two weeks since you were fished out of the river.”

“The river…” Loden groaned. Wait, the river! He was going to die in there! But if he had been pulled out, then…

“I’m… not dead?” He grunted the question. He could sense the eye-rolling being aimed at him.

“Do you feel dead?” Someone replied.

Honestly, yes. Loden felt extremely dead. His breathing was still coming in rasps. He had remembered seeing terrible wounds on him, which should have felt painful. But he just felt sort of numb. And years of running around fighting and being imprisoned had left him so (comparatively) weak that a blow like that should have finished him off. That, of course, was what he would have conveyed had his throat been in any reasonable mood to co-operate. Instead, all he could manage was a grating:

“Yes.”

“You know, some people would call that dramatic.”

The faces were clearing up now. It was… it was odds on that at least one of them was familiar. Anastasia? Amy? Amelia? Amelia!

“Oh, I know you.” He muttered.

A brief silence. Then:

“I should hope so.” She – Amelia – muttered. Loden blinked just a few more times, and he could almost see her clearly by this point. He tried to say something else, but she glared at him.

“You took a… well, you took a few nasty hits, but the one that mattered was that one across your chest.” She explained, indicating with a lazy wave to his chest – which Loden now realised was heavily bandaged. He tried to move, but she glared again. Was there anything he could do, then?

“You’ll damage your stitches if you move too much.” She scolded. “On the plus side, you’re probably going to have some kind of uber-manly scar.”

His brain was still too blurry (why would his head be blurry? That made no sense) to fully comprehend everything that was happening around him, but something seemed to be getting more and more clear. He groped wildly with his hand until it clenched around Amelia’s.

“You… saved me…” He breathed. Amelia seemed to freeze for a moment, before shrugging. It was forced. Even now, he could tell. She was trying to brush it off like it was no big deal, but she had totally saved his life. Wow.

“I had some help.” She said. “Some town doctors. Friends. Anyone who care enough, I guess.” She laughed softly. “I’m just the one unlucky enough to have to house you.”

“…Why?” Loden persisted with his original question. Why did she save him? It wasn’t like they were particularly close, or anything. And he had been badly hurt. If their positions were switched – not that Loden wouldn’t have been loathe to do it, but he probably would have… would have…

“Well, you seem like a decent guy.” She admitted. “But… but even beyond that, I just…” She trailed off again, staring off into the space to Loden’s right. To his left was a wall, but he wasn’t sure what was to his right. He’d check later. “I just didn’t want to see anyone else die, you know?” She smiled. “Even if you do work for TheDude.”

“Don’t think I do any more.” He muttered. “Plus side of all this, I was left for dead. Pretty sure they figure that I was done away with.”

“Oh.” Amelia said. A brief pause. Then – “What are you going to do now, then?”

“…Dunno.” Loden shrugged. “Maybe take a load off?”

“I have a suggestion.” Said Amelia. “Since you’ve been sleeping off a wound that would have otherwise killed you in my house, fancy helping me out with it? I’ve been thinking of doing some renovations, and it’d be nice to get some help with, like housework and general.”

Loden tried to say something, but she was on a roll now. “And also, Doctor Sandelo and Doctor Claudius both worked to save your live, and Henry kept getting fresh water when you needed it, and Jean-”

“I get it.” Loden said, suddenly finding that he really did. “I’ve got a lot of debts to pay off.”

Amelia smiled. “Only once you get better.”

“I’ll be ready.” Loden assured her, leaning back down and staring at the ceiling with vision still blurred.

A place to stay, hospitable people, and some honest work to do?

Not such a bad deal, all things considered.

END