Archive of Our Own

Winter
-27°04’40”N, 63°18’47”E 
Mission Status: Active
Deployed Agent: Shade
Quartermaster: Blaze

Etho preferred winters in the city.

The usual sea of grey buildings, ashen roads and crumbling concrete were now covered in a thick blanket of snow. High rises and smoke stacks sticking out of the sea of white, billowing out plumes of smoke that chained upwards into the already cloudy sky. In the distance Etho hears cars plowing through slush gathered by the curbside, chatter carried by the wind from crowded marketplaces and the sound of sirens moving up and down streets. 

Cold but not dead. Although that may change for him in a bit.

Etho sighs, a small cloud of white syphoned out of him as he forces himself to shift his arms and legs in an effort to keep blood in his body circulating. He'd been on the rooftop for hours now, in the same prone position with snow clinging to his eyelashes and settling in the dips and crevices of his clothes. He had lost all feeling in his toes a while ago and his fingers were almost frozen; stiff against the trigger of his rifle while the rest of his joints screamed in pain with how long he'd been sedentary. 

Soon.

At least that's what he'd been telling himself. 

Etho takes the opportunity to pop open his rifle. Five bullets loaded inside, just like the last five times he checked, but in practice only one shot. One shot and if he missed then the car would swerve out of the way, path unpredictable and Etho's location compromised within minutes. One shot, right between the eyes and he would be out of search range within minutes. One shot and he could treat himself to a nice warm bowl of soup along with his usual sandwich. 

Soon. And he’ll remind himself until “soon” arrives.

Etho winces as he shakes out the pins and needles from his right arm, rolling his shoulders back in an effort to counteract the soreness from being stationary for so long. The chill was one thing, Etho could handle the cold—in fact it was what he was known for—but the boredom would be the thing to kill him. Etho pulls his glove up to check his watch before letting out a noise of frustration. Hopefully “soon” came within the next half hour because Etho really didn't want to be blindly shooting in the dark.

Static in his ear makes him jump, his frozen fingers fumbling for the response button.

"Come in Shade."

Tango always sounded a bit unsure whenever he called Etho but it sounded worse at the moment, or maybe that was just Etho being pessimistic. 

"Copy. This better be good."

Tango laughs nervously on the other side. "So actually, good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?”

Etho sighs dramatically. “Give me the bad news first.”

“Our scouts told me that there's another group playing interference."

"Another group?" Etho echoes, lips pursing together. "Should I be worried about eliminating more targets?"

"Not sure but as of right now they seem to have similar...goals as us in terms of our current target."

Etho sits up rapidly, almost knocking his rifle over. His muscles sting with pain but he barely notices. "What! That's not fair! I've been sitting here for hours!"

"I know, I know, trust me—"

"If I don’t kill this guy myself I’m going to be furious." Etho interrupts with a mirthless half-laugh, grip tightening around his gun. "Do we at least have an update on the target's coordinates?"

"That’s the good news actually.” Tango hums, Etho can hear his fingers flying across his keyboard. “They’re roughly three minutes south of your current location and rapidly approaching—”

“—You should’ve started with that!”

“Well you asked for the bad news first.” Tango responds almost cheekily, Etho nearly rolls his eyes. “I got intel that the other organization's agent is tailing them on a motorcycle, you'll know them when you see them. Look alive"

"I’ll try."

"Good luck."

Etho drops back behind his rifle, the bitter cold and ache of his muscles all but forgotten at this point. He hastily wipes his goggles and the scope of his gun with his sleeve before shuffling back into the proper positions, shoulders square and head up. He yanks the safety out, finger ready at the trigger as he keeps his eyes narrowed on the road. He should be seeing the target’s car right about…

The car in question blows through a red light, driving a good thirty over the limit and nearly colliding with a number of pedestrians. 

Just like Tango said, the car is closely followed by a motorcycle that has the usual markings of a police bike slapped onto it, the rider dressed almost entirely in leather and a black helmet. There would be a lot of witnesses, possible collateral even, but considering the makeshift street race happening down below Etho didn’t think he had the option to be stealthy about it anymore. Etho follows the car with the end of his gun as it barrels down the street to the sound of screams and honking horns, the target was going fast but Etho had shot at faster in the past and he didn't need the help of some random agent who thought they could just come in and steal his kill. 

Especially someone so blasé about it. 

Etho narrows his eyes, milliseconds away from firing right at the front windshield when suddenly the motorcyclist throws something at the side of the car. Etho doesn’t have enough time to realign the shot before the car takes a sharp right turn into a random alleyway and out of Etho’s eyeline. Etho lets out a groan as he pushes himself off the ground as fast as possible, throwing his rifle over his shoulder by the strap.

Tango is in his ear just as he wrestles his grappling hook out of his belt.

"Okay, so worse news—"

"I know." Etho spits, barely biting back another noise of frustration. "I'm working on it!"

Etho’s legs protest as he takes off into a run, but he ignores it as he takes a leap of faith onto a neighbouring building, feet kicking up a flurry of snow as he sprints towards the sounds of roaring engines and screeching tires. Etho bites down hard on his lip, barely feeling it from the numbness of the cold, but what he does feel is the warmth of a flush of anger at his cheeks. If this other spy took this kill from him he was going to...well he didn't know what he was going to do just yet, but he was going to do something! 

Etho has never been so happy to hear the sound of a crash up ahead as he nearly slips on a ledge, legs only pumping faster towards the location of the noise. He could still get the kill, he just needed to be fast. He follows the sound of a car siren, quickly crouching down on the nearest rooftop as soon as the wreckage comes into view. The target's car had crashed into a dead end, it was hard to tell from the smoke but so far there was no sign of a motorcycle or the other agent.

Please.

Etho peers through his scope, scanning the backseat to see a bodyguard badly bleeding and unconscious but alive, head rolling to the side to expose cuts along their face. He lets himself feel a bit of hope, only to get it crushed into pieces when he zooms in on the passenger's seat window, the target still there but with an obviously twisted neck and a message drawn onto the window with fresh blood.

Too late xo

The taunting grated his nerves but what really got to Etho is the fact that the other spy somehow knew that he was there. They didn't even look up at him, not that Etho could tell through their helmet, but if they knew his location then who's to say that they didn't steer the target off course on purpose, who's to say that they didn't know Etho was waiting the entire time? Who was to say that they couldn’t be a potential threat to his own agency? Etho curses under his breath. 

"Etho? Status report?"

Tango's voice is gentle. Etho would bet all he had that Tango already knew. 

"Threat neutralized. Position possibly compromised, mission complete."

"What?!"

"Doesn't matter anymore, they're gone." He scoffs, turning away from the scene. It doesn’t do anything for the anger inside of him. "Tango, could you do me a favour?"

"Yeah?"

"Get me as much information as you can on that spy that was here. As soon as possible."

There’s a lengthy pause on the other end which Etho takes advantage of by calculating the time it’ll take to get to the rendezvous point. 

"...can I know why?"

"Revenge.”

Spring
25°24’53”E, 52°00’33”S 
Mission Status: Unknown
Deployed Agent: Shade
Quartermaster: Blaze

Etho hated working in the rain. 

It reduced visibility, it was impossible to stay dry and warm, it created mud and made roads slippery which made movement difficult and the humidity that would settle in afterwards would crawl under his clothes and cling to his skin. While normally he could handle a heavy downpour without complaint—he wasn't Bdubs—he also wasn't normally sitting in a small dingy, rowing against rough waters in the pitch dark. 

Etho tightens the grip around the slippery wood of the oars, if it was up to him he’d have an engine but the logical part of him remembered the “inconspicuous” part of his job description.

Not that it mattered to someone else he knew.

Rain collides with the surface of the river like shards of glass, pelting at his skin and drowning out the noise from his oars. The blurry lights from the distant city act as his makeshift lighthouse which tried its best to counter his drenched cloak which made it more and more difficult to see what was ahead of him. His forearms strain as agitated waves crash into the side of his boat, forming puddles of water at Etho's feet and seeping into his boots which he would care about if not for the fact that all of Etho's mental space was poured into making sure the boat didn't capsize before he reached his target.

Yes. His target. The target he was about to steal back from the kill thief. 

There might be soil caked into the bottom of his pants, his rifle might be digging into his back and his mask might be suffocating him ever so slightly but if can see the look on the other agent's face before he snipes the kill from right under their nose, Etho would row another ten kilometers if needed.

Well…maybe not ten. 

“Come in Blaze, how far am I from my destination?”

He hears a sigh over the crackle, almost drowned out by the rain.

“Your need to spite this guy is starting to become terminal.”

“I thought you understood!”

“Yeah yeah, he taunted you and stole your glory and since the Empires agency is a powerful agency you can’t get revenge the old fashioned way and blah, blah, blah.” Tango mocks, growing more exacerbated with each word. “Thankfully you’re only another mile out. I do not want to hear more whining from you than I have to.”

The information they managed to gather on the agent was limited, despite their joint effort, which made sense since a known agent was as good as a dead one. They knew that the agent worked for Empires and his code name was “Stratos”, which was surprisingly useful information. While the Hermitcraft agency liked to have their agents stay on the move, meaning Etho would change posts every year or so, the Empires agency on the other hand had their agents relatively stagnant in comparison…meaning that Etho would probably be in the thieving spy’s territory for the next year or so. 

One other piece of information they discovered, much to Etho’s delight, the kill stealer also had a habit of liking the dangerous missions so he hopefully wouldn’t have to do this under his agency's nose next time around. 

“So you get why I'm doing this!” 

“Wha–no!” Tango exclaims, so loud his mic peaks. “You're making us work on our day off just to annoy one guy!”

“It'll be worth it.” Etho promises.

“Sure, and what if you don't get the kill steal then what?” Tango asks, Etho can almost see the frown on his face. “We go to his next mission too?”

Etho had been on the lookout for weeks, using every favour and pulling every string to even catch a whiff of the other agency's plans. While most crime was petty—meaning below his paygrade—or information was privated or straight up unavailable, Doc had gotten a tip from his inner circle which revealed just enough mission details to pin down the other spy’s location to the waterfront at around midnight.

Etho had almost celebrated when he had found out. He wouldn’t let the opportunity go to waste…for the good of the city of course and only a little because he wanted to spite the spy. An irrelevant amount of malice involved he would say. 

“Well if we fail this mission, then we’d probably have to wait until…”

“Who’s ‘we’!?” Tango gasps, a clatter coming through the mic that sounded like something on his desk getting knocked over. “I'm not agreeing to–”

“Uh oh, you're breaking up.” Etho interrupts, fiddling with his ear piece. “I can't hear you. Going through a tunnel.”

“I can see you on the map, I know you're not–”

Etho shuts Tango off before refocusing on his rowing, passing under another of the many bridges spanning across the river; murky water dripping down on him from above. While Doc had gotten him and Tango through the door, that still left them miles of shoreline to row in order to get to the location undetected.

The sound of an argument, louder than even the thunder, gets Etho’s ears to perk up. 

“Hey Blaze?”

“Get out of that tunnel yet?” Tango scoffs sardonically on the other end.

“There's a vehicle, possibly a truck I don't know yet, on the shore.” Etho states, squinting at the black figures moving quickly amongst the trees. 

Tango hums. “Yeah I can see…four, maybe five heat signatures? Can you identify the target?”

“Yeah.” Etho snorts, spinning in his boat so that he faces towards the shore rather than being parallel to it. “He’s the only one who has an umbrella. The rest must be his bodyguards."

“What an upstanding individual.” Tango chuckles followed by a pause and then another heavy sigh. “And the other agent?”

“If they’re there, I can’t see them.” Etho replies, trying not to sound too excited. By the way Tango scoffs; he knows he’s failed. “Looks like I beat him to it. I guess we won’t have to stake out his next mission.”

Etho bends down as low as he can go in the boat, releasing the oars so the boat comes to a stand still. His limbs move automatically, muscle memory kicking in, as he takes the opportunity to set up his rifle as quickly and quietly as possible. He wasn't as far from the target as he would like to be, probably still within eyeline if they had really good vision, but with this visibility it was as far away as he was getting.

“I hope he shows up last minute and takes it away from you.” Tango mutters quickly under his breath, although it’s still loud enough that it's obvious he wanted Etho to hear. Etho rolls his eyes, rifle between his legs and one hand on the edge of the boat to keep it from tipping over.

“What was that?”

“You’re in the clear to fire!”

Etho scoffs. “Who’s side are you on?”

“Yours! I promise!” Tango insists, a smile very clear in his tone. “Just saying it would be funny if you rowed all the way here, got drenched in the rain and then got the kill stolen from you again.”

“You’re not even the one outside.” Etho huffs, fixing the silencer onto the rifle; careful to not let it slip from his wet hands. “And you said I complained a lot, who’s the one whining now?”

Tango scoffs. “Just get it over with.”

Etho leans over the edge of the boat, finding a precarious balance as aims the end of it at the target; still holding their colourful umbrella. He narrows his eyes, exhaling a small breath as his finger readies on the trigger; the target lined up in his scope. Everything always seemed to get quieter when he was in position.

Unless it was thunder. 

Lightning follows close by, splinting and lighting up the night sky and so close to his position he can smell in the air. He doesn't mean to but Etho flinches, whole body shaking as his finger slips on the trigger, gun going off and hitting the target in the back instead of the head.

Fuck.

A scream rings out, loud enough that even the rain doesn’t mask it, the target dropping down onto their knees. Whatever the guards were arguing about earlier is forgotten as they are immediately at the alert, shouting into walkie talkies and heads whipping around in all directions as the target is all but dragged back into their truck. If the bodyguards are even slightly good at their jobs Etho only has a few minutes to get out of range, which means he’s dropping the gun into the boat and rowing as fast as his arms can carry him.

That probably could’ve gone better.

“Etho? What's going on?” Tango asks when Etho turns his communication back on. 

“I might have messed up a little bit.” He responds sheepishly, mouth twisting into a grimace. “I shot them but let’s just hope they don't get to the hospital in time.”

“I can stall.” Tango offers with a bit of panic underlining his tone. Etho can already hear him start typing. “It shouldn't be too hard to mess with the traffic lights.”

“Did I ever tell you how cool–”

“Yeah yeah. Just get out of there.”

Thankfully the navigation to shore isn’t as difficult on the way back, the boat no longer struggling against the current and instead flowing with it, although the storm doesn’t do him any favours. Etho picks a patch of rocks as his docking point, far enough that the guards won’t be able to run to get to him in time and also rough enough that no one will bother to check. Cutting through lily pads and just barely weaving around pointed stones, he gives up when he gets close enough to the shore and decides to just hop out of the boat instead, wading through a shallow end of the river and pulling the boat behind him. 

Then there's a shadow at the corner of his eye.
He freezes in place instantly, though it doesn’t matter when the shadow turns out to be a man emerging from the tree line with a thermal umbrella, which explains why he was undetected by Tango’s radar. Brown hair and slight stubble, red staining his gloves and wearing a suit that looks to be somehow just as drenched as Etho’s cloak. Etho grits his teeth together, he’d gotten sloppy.

This day couldn't get worse. 

Etho's eyes widen as the man approaches the edge of the rocks in a fast stride with enough rage radiating off his body that all the water could evaporate off of him, shutting his umbrella with a snap. Etho releases the rope for his boat but doesn't have time to pull his gun off his back before he's being shoved back into the murky river with the harsh kick of a boot to his shoulder; getting a mouthful of dirty water before he manages to surface once more. He just about opens his mouth to speak, arms flailing in the water in an effort to fumble for one of his concealed knives when all of a sudden he's spat on.

“I should leave you to drown asshole.” The man hisses, although he doesn’t draw his weapon. “That was my target!”

Etho stood corrected. This day might have a silver lining after all.

“Oops, I wasn't aware.” He responds, biting back a smirk as he wipes the saliva off with the back of his hand. He doesn’t even notice that he’s shivering standing knee deep in frigid water. “Should’ve been faster I guess.”

The spy, or Stratos’ as their data had named him, expression darkens before he’s practically yanking Etho out of the river with impressive strength, pulling Etho so close by the collar Etho can smell the mint on his breath.

“You were a sitting duck out there, you know?” He spits, clenching the fabric of Etho’s shirt so tight that it might rip. “ You’re lucky those guys are stupid or you would’ve been shot and killed on the spot.” With that he releases Etho and practically throws him to the side; Etho barely catches himself on a nearby tree.

“But I wasn’t.” Etho corrects, turning back around and surprised by how fast the other spy had approached him; already nearly face to face. “The kill was clean.”

Stratos scowls. “I wasn't aware that shots to the back were considered “clean” now. They didn't teach the snipers from Hermitcraft to shoot straight nowadays?”

Etho shouldn't be surprised the other spy has done his research, although Etho doubts he knows much. Probably the only reason that he didn’t shoot Etho himself or why they weren't actively fighting each other right now was because the other spy was at least smart enough to know what the consequences of killing Etho would be. He doubted either of them wanted to deal with an agency war. 

“What was your plan then? Punch everyone out of the way?” Etho teases, tilting his chin up. “I didn't know that taking on four other people at the same time was considered a good plan in Empires nowadays.”

“I was going to gas the truck.” Stratos hisses out, barely audible through his barred teeth.

“No guarantee.”

Etho shoves him back as hard as he can, only getting what feels like a centimeter of space before he's slammed into the tree with a growl; bark scraping at his back and head. For someone a good five inches shorter than him, Stratos had him beat in terms of strength.

“Better guarantee than a lousy bullet to the back.” He fumes, hands now at Etho’s shoulders. “Do you know how long I was in disguise, listening to those idiots talk!?”

“Now you know how it feels.” The other spy opens his mouth, eyebrows furrowed in anger. 

The sound of sirens cuts off whatever he's about to say, both of their heads twisting towards the source of the noise. Stratos releases him immediately, both of them ducking behind some bushes as cop cars whizz past them; flashing lights reflecting off of the puddles. Cops meant crime scene and a crime scene only a matter of time before there was a search party too. While Etho knew he wouldn't be arrested for his involvement due to his status, the paperwork and earful from home base he would get was not worth it.

Etho can only pray that Tango managed to slow them down enough that the target bled out.

“Let's get out of here before both of us are caught, hm?” He whispers with a grin, turning to the other spy curled up in the bush next to him who’s also now covered in mud and grass. “We can call it even between us now.”

The spy looked like he wanted to rip Etho's vocal cords out of his throat. Etho has never felt so proud of himself in his life.

“Even?!” He shouts despite the risk, voice shrill at the end. “Oh, I'll show you even. You don't know who you just messed with.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“You'll see.” He grins, sharp enough that his canines are showing. “I'm going to make your life hell.”

Summer
48°13’10”S, 75°01’57”W 
Mission Status: Active
Deployed Agent: Shade
Quartermaster: None [solo mission]

Etho didn't deal with the heat very well.

Hot air and dust choking his lungs, sweat acting as an adhesive for his clothes and the heat radiating off the pavement high enough to cook a man alive. What’s worse was the crowds of people, the influx due to tourism or summer break and concrete everywhere turning the temperature and noise up that much more. No amount of layers shed or air conditioning could counter the sweltering heat of other bodies, which is why Etho for once in his life was happy to be at the train station at the crack of dawn.

No need to deal with the work rush, people shoving or being crammed into a carriage like a sardine. Instead it was quiet, the early rays of the sun grazing the polished tiles and the smell of morning dew in the cool air. There were only a few people around, heads down into newspapers or half asleep on a bench somewhere with a coffee in hand; the click of shoes or arrival announcements only occasionally breaking the silence. Etho stares at the departure board with a hood pulled tight over his head, one hand gently swinging the suitcase he’d brought to conceal his weapon and the other rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes.

While he hated waking up early, what would be worse was letting the constant thorn at his side by the name of Stratos—or ‘Beans’ as Etho had heard his own quartermaster call him a few times—get another win over him.

Now that they had noticed each other, Etho saw him everywhere. 

Not literally, at least not all the time, but there would be times when Etho would start setting up for a kill and Beans would already be there, knife at the target's throat. Etho would track a target through the woods for miles just to find Beans cooking lunch next to the target's lifeless body. Sometimes Etho would manage a win, sniping a target through a window just as Beans would bust through the door, and other times all he had left of a target was a pool of blood and a little smiley face on a sticky note.

There was no need for names or other calling cards anymore Etho knew who it was the minute he got to a mission and it was already complete. And it was frustrating to say the least.

“I think we need to stage an intervention for you.” Tango states suddenly in his ear, the sleepiness in his voice still loud through the earpiece. 

“I thought you wanted to sleep in.” Etho yawns, hoping he's far enough from the janitor that just passed by so no one can hear him talk to himself. “Made me do this mission all by myself.”

“Dude, you’re obsessed with him.” Tango deadpans, brushing over Etho’s words. “You keep a collection of his notes in your desk drawer for motivation.”

“How did this obsession thing get turned around on me?” Etho frowns, rocking a bit on his heels. “He’s the one coming into my missions all the time, you know I’m starting to think we have a mole in our ranks telling Empires all the missions I go on.”

“Etho—”

“And I’m not stopping until I get one more over him!” Etho exclaims. “We're thirteen to fourteen right now and there are a lot of things I'd rather deal with than that guy bragging about winning.”

“He probably isn’t even keeping track…”

“You don’t know this guy Tango.” Etho interrupts as a brief image of the previous mission comes to mind; Beans staying up until 3 am just to make sure he’d complete the mission before Etho. “He definitely is, you don’t see the cocky grin on that egotistical man’s face when he gets somewhere before me.”

Finally the departure board flickers, a little green number flashing on screen after what felt like years of waiting. Train arriving in eight minutes on platform eleven. 

“Whatever man.” Tango concedes with a sigh. “I should be in bed right now…you sure you’re good on your own?”

“Go get your beauty sleep.”

“Yeah and I hope I don't wake up.”

The line cuts just as Etho snorts, and Tango kept saying that he was being dramatic.

Considering the lengths some of his previous missions put him through: bad weather, blistering cold, long hikes or some idiot spy turning on the lights as he entered the room, this was by far the simplest. A particular train carrying passengers was going to be hijacked somewhere between this stop and the next, with some “cargo” being placed on board, meaning it was crucial he got on now to stop the exchange.

And if he was lucky, the other spy would sleep in and the train would leave without them.

There weren't many people waiting on the platform at this time of day to begin with but everything about a certain man standing there already screamed ‘spy’ before Etho could even get a good second look at him. He was wearing a flat cap and a heavy coat but Etho would recognize those brown eyes from a mile away, always observing; fingers at the ready at all times. 

Luck unfortunately wasn't on his side this time. 

Etho adjusts the grip on his suitcase, pulling his mask up higher as he goes to stand next to Beans. Beans doesn't say a word when Etho pulls up only a step away from him on his right, only a side glance and a small scowl serving as acknowledgement.

“What a coincidence, you’re here too?” Etho starts in fake awe. 

Beans frown deepens, disgust embedded deep within his eyes. “Get out of here Sniper, you're out of your depth.”

That was new. Normally Beans would be jumping to beat Etho at something and then gloat to his face when he won. At least, that's what happened last time Etho interrupted his mission.

“What? An important target to you or something?” Etho pries, swinging his suitcase as nonchalantly as possible. He was carrying a pistol this time, not as comfortable in comparison to his rifle but if there were multiple targets and in the close quarters of a train carriage a rifle would be a…bad idea to put it simply. “Killed your grandma and now you have a personal vendetta against them? 

“God, I hope your next mission kills you." Beans hisses under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers before he's looking forwards again. “Screw me for trying to protect you for once.”

“Protect me?” Etho repeats, almost rolling his eyes. “You couldn't care less whether I lived or died, you’d use me as a meat shield if you could–”

“–don’t flatter yourself, you’re too thin for that.”

“–besides, you just want to have more eliminations than me.”

Beans actually does roll his eyes. “Not that I'm keeping count or anything but I'm pretty sure I'm not that far ahead of you. Like two or something? Not keeping track though.”

Etho couldn't wait to rub this into Tango's face.

“Changes today.”

“Wrong mission to choose for it.” Beans warns once more before he turns back towards Etho. He has freckles, Etho's never noticed those before. “Listen I know you hate my agency but I mean it, it's dangerous–”

Etho narrows his eyes. “When did I say I hated your agency?”

Beans face scrunches up. “Why else would you keep showing up at all my missions? Just to spite me?”

“I thought that was obvious?”

“You’re actually such a child.” He scoffs, shaking his head ever so slightly in disbelief. “I took one kill from you and now you're hell bent on taking every single kill from me.”

“It’s a lot more than that.” Etho responds, Beans raises a challenging eyebrow at him. “You're terrible at your job.”

“Excuse me?”

“I can’t name one mission that didn't end with you leaving a mess behind that I had to clean up for you.” Etho explains, matching Beans; stare. “You can't be stealthy to save your life and you charge in without thinking. You're a walking target whenever you go and you've almost revealed your location—our location—several times.”

“At least I can do something about it when that happens.” Beans counters, voice rising in pitch. “Some people don't know when they’re washed and need to throw in the towel.”

“I’m in my prime.”

“You're a coward, Sniper.” Beans spits, Etho can feel his eyes on him. “The minute shit hits the fan you'd save your own bloody skin before even thinking about your teammates. You can hit a target eight hundred meters away but if someone gets in your face you're useless.”

The sound of wheels against metal pull both their attention away from their argument. The train is a lot more old fashioned than Etho expected, it's not a modern sleek metal or double decker with simple colours but instead it's weathered black complete with a coal cart and red carriages all lined up behind it. There's a chimney for smoke—grey steaming out the top—blinding headlines and the wheels churn rapidly to the steady chug of the engine. The wind from it pulling into the station nearly blows Etho's hood off as families with energetic kids and wide eyed tourists alike begin to funnel onto the platform; the vehicle screeching to a halt in front of them. 

“Intresting train to pick for hijack.” Etho notes, mainly to himself until he hears a scoff next to him.

“Is it really?” Beans questions with a knowing look. “Vintage carts don't have as much security and they drive through scenic areas of low population.”

Etho turns to his left to see a stewardess gently nudging an excited kid on board, a tired smile on both the parents' faces. “Still…lots of witnesses.” 

“You think they care?” Beans asks, as close to genuine as Etho’s heard him get. “Last chance to do the right thing and go home, Sniper.”

“I’m already here.” Etho sighs dramatically, not even pretending to think things through. “Unfortunately you'll have to deal with the ‘useless guy’ for a bit longer.”

“Your funeral.” Beans states, walking towards the nearest carriage without warning; Etho follows only a step behind. “Where's your seat?”

Etho glances at his ticket. “Near the back.”

“Perfect, I'm near the front. Don't make me come back to save your ass.”

“Don’t trip on your way inside.”

His only response is a middle finger.

The inside of the train is pretty nice as far as public transit goes. Its velvet seats and spacious leg room, plenty of space for luggage in the compartments at the top and buttons to call for service. Honestly he’s just happy that the agency paid for the ticket for him because if the trip comes with food and air conditioning—which was the best part in his opinion—that ticket cannot have been cheap. 

Etho asks for a cup of coffee as soon as the train leaves the station, taking a picture of the fancy cup it came in. It’s not long into the trip that Etho sees that Beans was, annoyingly might be he add, correct. He’s nearly alone in his carriage and from what Etho sees out his window is that they’re going to be travelling through a densely forested area for miles, all tall pines and evergreens. No towns, no other transit, just miles and miles of trees and lakes. 

As beautiful as it is secluded.

Etho brings the cup back to his lips, blowing gently on the steam and listening to the rhythmic sound of wheels rolling steadily against the rails. It'd been a long time since he'd had a luxury coffee, not that he couldn't afford it but because it didn't seem worth it, but since the agency was covering the bill for this ticket; just one couldn't hurt. Etho takes a sip, already relaxing at the hit of caffeine.

There’s a loud thud. 

It’s closely followed by a lurch forward as the train speeds up noticeably. Etho rolls his eyes, they couldn't have waited just a little bit longer.

Etho manages to pop open his briefcase just as the door to the carriage crashes open, a group of men wearing black and purple outfits complete with ski masks and assault rifles storm inside; firing aimlessly amongst the train cart. Etho manages to duck, his cup shattering to the floor after he bumps into the seating tray. A scream rings out from someone sitting in a chair near in the back, blood seeping into the carpet of the alley.

He doesn't let them make any demands.

“Everyone get down!” He shouts before he's peaking out from the top of his seat with his gun, nailing the armed men in the chest and legs.

There are more screams, although it's harder to tell from who, before the bodies are dropping to the ground. Etho shuffles out from his seat, heart hammering in his chest, as slowly approaches the limp bodies on the ground. Past the heavy fabric Etho finds a whole lot of ammunition but also a lot of suspicious white packages that he'll leave for the cops or the clean up crew if they make it here first.

All this for drugs, it doesn't sit right in Etho's head.

Etho pockets the ammo before he's stepping over the bodies to get to the carriage in front of him. As he slides the door open, he's just in time to see Beans bodycheck a man into a window as well as more terrified passengers braced behind or under their seats. The carriage is a complete mess, bodies draped over seats, blood smeared against windows and tables and the sound of more gunfire in the distance. 

Etho only manages a single step forward before Beans swings towards with the gun pointed at his head. Etho's hands go up reflexively.

“Woah!”

“Don't sneak up on me like that!” Beans scolds with wide eyes before lowering the gun. Etho notices that the hat he was wearing earlier has been lost somewhere.

“Speak for yourself, I thought you were taking the carts up front?”

“I was but I…” he cuts himself off, chewing on his lip, “doesn't matter, you okay?”

“Worried about me?”

“Not anymore, I—hello yes, I copy.” Beans mumbles in his own ear piece, likely to his own quartermaster. Etho regrets telling Tango to go back to bed now. “Got it. Thanks.” Then he's fumbling for another concealed weapon; another similar looking pistol and Etho thinks he can see a series of knives. “They’re probably trying to get a hold of the controls.”

Etho can't choke back the chuckle that makes its way out his throat. “Thats usually how you hijack something…”

“Just shut up and cover me you idiot.”

“Need my help now? How—”

“Move!”

Beans yanks Etho into a small nook with a service cart as the door to their carriage slams back open. Both of them pressing against the wall as the sound of bullets follows them; embedding themselves into the walls and floor around them.

“You're welcome.” Beans scowls, barely audible over the spray of bullets and cries of the passengers.

Etho takes the pause for reload to duck out of their hiding spot, unloading his magazine on the standing targets. Clean, proficient and fast; just like all his training taught him. The first one doesn't get the time to scream before they fall. Neither does the second one. Some run but they only get bullets in the back of their head. 

“Not bad for you.”

“Really trying to draw attention here.” Etho huffs instead of a proper reply, reloading his gun as fast as he can. “Think it might be a trap?”

“If it is, they won't expect two of us.” Beans states, waving Etho out of the little alcove. “Let's clean up and get out of here.”

As much as it pains Etho to admit it…they work surprisingly well as a team. He shouldn't have been as shocked as he was considering that–despite everything he said–Beans was a mostly competent spy. He calmed hysterical passengers down with a smile, had the stewardess and stewards running first aid and he laughed like a maniac when he gunned down whatever stray man they could find roaming between the carriages. It made Etho's job a lot easier, knowing all he had to do was look behind them to make sure that they didn't have to—

“Duck!”

Beans barely manages to crouch down before Etho vaults over him, using the tops of the seats to swing over him and kick an attacker, who rushed out from behind a random seat behind them—in the chest. Their body hits the ground and Beans only watches as Etho wrestles the gun out of the attacker's hand before putting a bullet into their forehead. 

“Oh my goodness.” Etho gasps. “I almost even hear them.”

“Out of ammunition it looks like.” Beans replies, wiping some excess blood onto his coat. “Too busy spraying it into the carriages so they're going for sneak attacks now.”

“That might've been bad.”

“Yeah…thanks, I guess.” Beans mutters reluctantly, staring at the man on the floor.

Etho smirks. “Now we've even.”

“Not even close.” Beans chuckles, before nodding to the coat cart in front of them. “Last stop.”

The door in front of them, unlike all the previous ones, has been locked. Etho volunteers to pick it, which turns out to be a mistake as the second he gets it open—sliding open the door—he’s met face to face with one last hijacker; tying up the train conductor to a chair. But what really draws Etho’s attention is the beeping device strapped to the control panel of the train; a homemade bomb.

Etho was right. The drugs were just a decoy, they were going to take this entire train down. The hijacker whips around, gun drawn but towards the bomb rather than them. 

The message is clear and with that their hands are up.

“Stratos, funny seeing you here.” They taunt, gun still trained towards the bomb but never taking their eyes off of them both. 

Etho’s head whips from the hijacker to Beans, although he seems to be just as confused as Etho is. 

“Do I know you?”

Their eyes betray a tinge of sadness before morphing into rage, a bitter laugh let out of their mouth. “How fitting. You take down my entire clan and you don’t even know my name.”

“If I took down your clan you clearly deserved it.”

“Watch your mouth, unless you want more people to die.” They warn with a cock of their gun, no fear in their voice. “Drop your gun if you know what’s good for you.”

Beans hesitates for a second before he slowly crouches to the ground, placing his gun down on the floor in front of him. He gives Etho a look which prompts him to follow in his footsteps, pushing it further away with his foot when the hijacker gives him a look. 

“What do you want?”

“Glad you asked. All stops are cancelled from here on out and we go where I want to go, no questions asked.” The hijacker lists, something sickenly joyful in their voice as they speak. “Unfortunately, both of you will have to die somewhere in between stops since you killed so many of my men but if you’re good—”

Etho doesn’t even see it happen.

Time almost slows down as Beans reaches into his jacket for a knife, throwing it at the hijacker in front of them. Etho doesn’t react fast enough to the hijacker slumping back from impact, firing blindly at the two of them before crumpling to the floor. Muzzle fire. Smoke. The bullet is coming straight towards him. He doesn’t have time to move. The bullet is going to hit him. He doesn’t have time to scream. The bullet—Etho is shoved to the ground, not even realizing until his knees hit the floor hard. It hurts but he’s uninjured…Beans on the other hand.

“Shit!” Etho curses, heart dropping to his stomach as he crawls up to Beans. “Are you–”

“Get the bomb." Beans demands, pressing a hand against the wound. Face only contorting in anger when Etho hesitates. “Now!”

That gets Etho off the ground, time finally running at normal speed in his mind; he’d argue it was running too fast now. He barely remembers what happens next, body on autopilot as stumbles away from Beans. The hijacker is still squirming on the ground, the knife from Beans buried in his stomach, Etho puts him out of his misery, colder than he's ever done it before. The bomb is next, no timer or any fancy technology on it, it's poorly crafted now that he’s looking at it closely; so badly made in fact that he doubts that it could even go off. Without another thought he tears the bomb from the control panel and chucks it out of the nearest window. 

He’d deal with consequences later.

The second the train conductor is free from their restraints and has instructions to stop the train, Etho is running back to Beans side.

“I’m fine.” He coughs as Etho drops to his knees, blood is almost completely soaked through his shirt. “Nothing I can't handle.”

Liar

Etho tears a strip of fabric from his sleeve with shaking hands. He doesn't feel the train slow to a crawl, doesn't hear the conductor sending out a call for help. He can't focus on anything else right now but the man bleeding out in front of him. The man who probably has all to gain from his death and saved him anyways.

“Move your hand.”

“I’m fine–”

“No you're not.” Etho insists before he's pulling his hand away, Beans’ hissing in pain as Etho ties the fabric around the wound. “They might've hit an artery.”

“Dont be dramatic, if they—” He cuts himself off with another cough, this one reverberating through his entire body and causing more blood to spurt out. “If they hit an artery I would've been dead by now.”

Etho remembers his belt, hastily tugging it off. “I’m going to tie a tourniquet now.”

“Just leave it–”

“No! I'm not going to just leave it.” Etho shouts, shooting a glare at the brunet. “I don't want to be responsible for your death, you were right…I was useless once shit hit the fan.”

The pity in Beans’ face almost feels like a slap to the face. “Nah. It's my fault anyway, they were probably aiming for me anyways.”

“I—”

“You didn't force me to take the bullet for you.” He states firmly, grabbing onto Etho’s arm while he gets the belt around him. Like he needs to make sure he has his attention, like he needs him to understand. “It's like you said, I’m careless. Not your fault.” 

Etho pulls his arm back. “I'm going to carry you.”

“Mate.” The spy starts, half cut off from a wince as Etho elevates his injury. “We’re nowhere near help, you'll collapse before you even get halfway to your homebase.” Etho only hums, fingers shaking as he deftly tightens the tourniquet around the wounded leg. “Go. Before you get your identity revealed stupid.”

“I have to try.”

“Bro–”

“Just shut up for once in your life!” Etho shouts, Beans looking genuinely shocked at his tone. “I'm not leaving you here to die, I couldn't live with myself.”

“When did you get so attached to me?” Beans asks, it's meant to be sarcastic but Etho can hear the hint of surprise in his voice. 

“Dont get carried away. I can't owe anyone a debt.” Etho responds, hoisting the spy onto his shoulder even as he grunts in pain. “You can send me a gift basket later to thank me.”

“I'll send you a pipe bomb. How about that?”

“As long as you're alive to send me something.”

Autumn 
47°90’00”W, 61°60’03”N
Mission Status: Active
Deployed Agent: Shade
Quartermaster: None [scouting]

Etho hated fog the most. 

He liked fall, probably one of the best times of the year, but the weather was the most unpredictable during it. One day it would be beautiful, leaves of different shades scattered on the ground, a cool breeze and a clear sky. The next day would be a downpour followed by a cloud of fog that would settle over the city; making his life just that much harder. If he was lucky he wouldn't have to shoot anything today but being lookout wasn't exactly a great job either.

The crackle in his ear scares him, making him jump up from his position.

“Blaze?”

“Take another guess.” The voice giggles, Etho relaxing. He'd almost forgotten he'd given Beans his radio channel…just for emergencies of course. “I see you.”

Etho peers through his spyglass, barely able to see the sidewalk through the fog. There are people milling around everywhere below him, all covered in different variants of scarfs, mitts or hats. Shopkeepers are hanging up Halloween decor on store fronts, vendors are selling produce and the smell of pumpkin flavoured foods and drinks are strong in the air. And yet he doesn't see Beans anywhere in the crowd, one of the few people he'd recognize from a mile away despite the weather conditions.

“No you don't.”

A chuckle. “Do you need me to tell you the address of the apartment complex you're sitting in for you to believe me?”

“If you see me, you should come up.” He challenges, still peering through the spyglass. 

“I already have.” Etho nearly drops the glasswear, whipping around at the double voice. He sees Beans climbing up onto the fire escape behind him, windswept hair, pistol tucked to the side, his usual leather outfit and a healthy amount of colour on his cheeks. 

“Hey.”

“Hi.” He greets, before Etho can get out a ‘how are you’, Beans is tossing a small item towards him. “Catch.”

Etho catches the item, feeling the familiar grooves of something metallic, but doesn't open his palms just yet. “What's this?”

“Your fruit basket.” Beans smirks, continuing to walk towards him. It's only then does Etho open his hands, eyes widening as he sees a small iron scope sitting in his palms. “For someone with the best gun on planet earth, you sure don't take into account the glare from your scope.”

Etho almost laughs. He'd always wondered how Beans saw him the first time he'd met, it'd been pushed to the back of his mind after…everything that'd happened but it had never fully left. Whether it was the sun or the snow, something had reflected off his scope and exposed his location. He felt a bit stupid for not realizing earlier, but to be fair to him most of his targets weren't attuned to watching the sky for a small glint. 

Beans wasn't most people however. Etho has never been more glad about that fact in his life.

“Don't worry, it's a special iron sight.” Beans reassures as Etho analyzes it, flipping it over a couple of times in his hand before looking through it. “Empires technology.”

Somehow it's able to zoom, coordinates and all. Beans always preferred just bringing an old fashioned pistol to missions, or just his bare hands when he was confident enough, so much so that Etho forgot he had access to state of the art technology as well.

“How did you…”

“Don't ask me how it works.” Beans snorts. Etho would definitely be taking it apart to study the parts when he got back to home base. “It's one of the first prototypes, and I had to pull a couple of strings to get it.”

“You didn't have to.”

“It's like you said.” Beans smiles, awkwardly bumping Etho's shoulder with his fist. “No debt.”

“How's your injury?”

Etho noticed he didn't clutch his side when he walked up the stairs, which is a bigger relief to Etho than he originally thought it'd be. 

“Fine.” He shrugs, leaning on the railing. “Did you miss me coming on your missions?”

“Only a little bit.” He hums, joining Beans by the railing.

Beans seems shocked by the genuine response, turning away from Etho with a scoff. Etho still catches a bit of pink on his cheeks.

“Never properly thanked you for carrying me.” He states, looking at his hands more than Etho. “I think that makes us actually even now, Sniper.”

The words slip before he can stop them. “Etho.”

“What?”

It's Etho's turn to look away. He's mad that he didn't think to bring his mask with him this time.

“You can call me Etho if you want…or keep calling me Sniper, I don't care.” He rambles, wringing his hands. “But I thought that maybe you'd–”

There's a half-laugh from Beans. “Don’t tell me your real name is Etho, that's so–”

“—what's wrong with that? It's a nice name!”

“I have never met someone with a name as weird as—”

“Oh yeah, what's yours?”

Etho tries his hardest to keep eye contact despite the nerves. He knows that Beans isn’t stupid enough to not see what Etho is trying to do and there's a long enough hesitation from Beans that Etho knows that he might be thinking about a way to get out of the situation. A long enough hesitation that it’s equally likely that Beans might actually play along. 

“Joel.” He finally replies with a small smirk. “A very normal name that you can also call me if you want.”

Joel. It suited him. Cocky asshole did too but Etho’s too high off the ground to say that out loud to his face.

“Did you just come here to give me the scope or are you just here to distract me…” He pauses, rolling the word in his mouth for a split second before deciding to let it out. “Joel.”

“Well Etho.” Joel responds, the ‘th’ sound in his name not as pronounced as it's supposed to be; not that he minds. “I've been assigned here too–”

“Sure you have.”

“—it’s my last mission in the area before I'm reassigned.”

Etho feels like he just swallowed a mouth full of wasps, a dropping feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was too soon. Joel's smile doesn't drop from his face as he says this but there's a tinge of sadness in his eyes that Etho just about catches.

“Oh…where are you going next?” He manages, clearing his throat at the end.

“Not close, that's for sure.” Joel chuckles, although he doesn't sound very happy when he does. “But we're tied right now in terms of missions completed, which means this has to be the decider.”

Etho hadn’t seen Joel in person in a bit but there had been a strange swoop in his stomach when Etho had arrived to a mission a couple of weeks after Joel's surgery to find his target already eliminated. Joel had still found a way to intrude on his missions while he was—or at least he was supposed to be—recovering…and Etho couldn’t have been happier. 

“I don't even have clearance for elimination right now.” Etho sighs with a shake of his head. “I'm just here to scout for a target.”

“Who?”

Etho pulls out the photo from his front pocket, handing it over to Joel. Joel eyebrows raise as he squints at the picture, eyes taking in all the details, before he lets out a laugh.

“Looking for them as well actually.” Joel states while handing the photo back, Etho isn't surprised. “Let's say…whoever reports them first wins then?”

One last competition until Etho was on his own again. No more waking up early, no more rushing, no more worries about bumping into a nosy brunet halfway through a stakeout. He didn't expect to feel so hollow about it all.

“Well you’re welcome to sit with me here but I have the advantage right now.”

Etho’s eyes were nearly perfect, a requirement for his role, and just because Joel saved his life didn’t mean Etho was going to just hand him the win, and he knew that Joel wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Sure.” Joel agrees like it's the easiest thing in the world, Etho letting out a small breath. “Might as well while I’m already here.”

“Good for me too since I do better when I have someone to beat.”

“Someone else will be coming into the area to take my place, you know?” Joel snickers as he’s pulling out his own spyglass. “You'll have someone new stealing your missions.”

“It's not the same.”

“How?”

Etho swallows, debating internally for a minute. “They're not you.”

Joel turns to face him so fast that Etho’s shocked he didn't hurt himself doing so. Etho manages to make eye contact with him, a weak smile on his face to match the growing one on Joel's. Being genuine felt like being stabbed in the chest twenty times but the growing look of fondness on Joel’s face made him wonder if he should try it more often.

“Gosh, you really are obsessed with me.”

Etho shakes his head. “Should've left you to bleed out.”

“But you didn't.” 

“No, I didn't.”

Joel slides closer to Etho's side with another giggle. Both of them are still staring off the edge, hands comfortably resting on the railing, but Etho knows neither of them are one hundred percent focused on what's happening below them. 

“When will you be back?”

“Don't know.” Joel sighs. Etho doesn't like how those words make him feel. “You know how it is, they just move me where they please. Annoying but it comes with the job.”

“Yeah.”

“But I'll tell them I like it here…just to make you feel better.” The last part added hastily to his sentence. 

“Me feel better?” Etho parrots, going through several replies in his head before he settles on one with the click of his tongue. “Whatever you need to tell yourself Joel, I know you'll miss me too.”

“Barely.” Joel insists, moving even closer. “I'm not obsessed like you—”

Etho grabs Joel by the arm, the other hand turning his face just enough to press a kiss to the corner of his lip before releasing him just as fast. Joel gawks at Etho like he's a completely different person, face turning several shades of bright red and hand flying up to the spot where Etho's lips had connected. 

“Wha–”

Etho's hand goes to his earpiece. “Copy this is Shade. I have an update.” Etho enjoys the look on Joel's face as he follows Etho's eyes to the plaza down below. “Target spotted walking past the flower shop on Mains, now heading towards the dock.”

“Hey!”

Etho snickers, ending the transmission with another push of a button. “Too slow.”

“You distracted me.” Joel gasps, but there's no real anger to it. “You did that to distract me!”

Etho can’t really rationalize in his head why he kissed the man he considered his main rival for all the time they’d known each other. Maybe it was because he doesn’t consider Joel that anymore, hasn’t really had all that much malice in his heart towards Joel as he originally thought he did. Maybe he considered Joel more of a friend now or some other label outside or in between that, something more complex that explained the feeling bubbling inside of his chest. 

Or maybe not. Maybe he really thought it’d be the best way to distract him and nothing more but that depended entirely on Joel’s next move.

“Yeah, I did.” Etho confirms, tilting his head down towards him. “What are you going to do about it?”

Joel barks out a laugh, taking a step forward to pull him in by his neck; lips not quite touching but close. Etho raises an eyebrow at him before Joel's closing the gap, kissing him this time. He kisses just like his personality; sudden, unpredictable, bold and brazen. Every moment like a surprise, a shock to the system as Joel's lips move against his.

And Etho wouldn't have it any other way.