Full Spectrum

<infobox>

 <title source="title1">
   <default>Full Spectrum</default>
 </title>
 <image source="image1">

</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.”

File:Images.png

“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.

File:Images.png

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.

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?”

File:Loden Border.png

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.” 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.