Full Spectrum

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.

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.

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

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