sr-023

[sr-023]

Working at his desk, when he first heard the scrabbling at his window Sova was quite ready to dismiss it as nothing too unusual - perhaps a confused bird that had lost its way. He was just allowing himself time to bring his current sentence to a close when that sound morphed into something quite different. Someone was easing up the pane, and in but a moment they would be there in the room with him.

Almost without thought his hand drifted to the knife at his boot. He drew breath, steeled himself, and turned to find … Viper struggling her way in through the frame?

“Not. A. Word.”

Sova couldn’t hold back his smile. Where someone else might have found themselves trapped by the sheer weight of her glare, he could only focus on Viper’s struggle to avoid catching herself on the windowsill and falling flat on her face. He slipped the knife back onto his desk, disguising the motion by putting his hands behind his back, and waited patiently for her to be done with her private battle.

Finally free, Viper stumbled but just barely kept her feet. She held there for a moment, collecting herself, then her eyes flicked to him with a fresh intensity to their sharpness. He could feel her scanning him for the slightest hint of mockery but all she found was that familiar soft smile. She bristled, then made her way to his bed with heavy steps and sat herself down upon the edge, her arms folded tightly.

Sova could tell she was brooding, angry with herself and the world, but despite her mood he couldn’t help but notice the slight dusting of pink about her cheeks.

He gave Viper a moment to cool off a little then slowly made his way across the room to join her. A quiet look on his part said enough – may I join you? - and she answered with a reluctant nod before turning her eyes downwards. Shoulder-to-shoulder he could feel her warmth, the slight twitches of her frustration, but also how in time she began to slowly lean herself into him. He gently put his arm around her shoulders and she left herself melt into his embrace.

Sova softly kissed the top of her head.

“You forgot your keycard again, didn’t you, Sabine?”

[sr-023]

So I decided to head back to the drawing board and do something positive with my time, and as a result I’ve been running through my big list of one-word prompts and trying to lay out solid foundations for a whole bunch of potential fics in case the inspiration takes me sometime later.

And like:

‘Necro’ and ‘Pandemic’ are both doing mercenary work for New Dawn at some point prior to Reyna joining Valorant. Reyna takes a gut shot and is bleeding out, but without a body to work with she’s circling the drain.

Viper catches up with her and appears more than a little nonchalant about the whole business – it doesn’t seem like she really cares if this unfamiliar radiant dies on her watch. Reyna implores her to go get her a victim to drain, and Viper just leaves her behind … but eventually returns with someone barely alive who, if anything, looks even worse than she feels. Reyna rather messily fixes herself up and is right as rain.

Reyna looks to this stranger who has always seemed so cold and indifferent towards her, and she can’t help but notice that rather than being repulsed by that horrific feast instead Viper finally seems to be looking at her rather than through her. And she smiles to herself.

Looks like their relationship is about to get much more interesting.

I really want to write this sometime when my head’s in a better place.

[sr-023]

Unfortunately I think I might be hitting the point of terminal decline with this stuff.

I have pretty major issues with stress and anxiety, and these last couple of nights I’ve been consistently crossing the threshold of making myself feel physically ill trying to make progress on some of these pieces. I don’t really have some kind of pressure release valve or anyone I can go through to help me work through these things, so while it’s not out of the realm of plausibility that I’ll eventually get somewhere (and I’m even considering starting one of those pieces over from scratch) it’s just as likely that I’ll just be stuck here spinning my wheels indefinitely.

I like writing, I have ideas, and I really want to get these things done ... I just can’t.

[sr-023]

Super happy with how this commission came out.

I’ve had this kinda crack kinda not idea bouncing around for a long time, and while I’d wanted to take a shot at writing it myself my own take on things never really came together into anything of substance. I really enjoyed Kitty’s previous work with Apex Legends and think she did a great job making something of what I gave her to work with, particularly considering that the fandom was totally new to her.

It’s not exactly how I would have written it - probably a good thing honestly - but I like it a lot.

Commission: Surprises

Commission: Surprises

A Valorant commission for @sr-023! Was fun to write. :3

If you’re interested in commissions you can find my prices here: (x)

Tags: fluff, humor, light angst, people cooking together. Platonic Viper/Jett getting to know each other a little bit more in the kitchen.

Word count: 2413

—–

“Oh my God, you cook?”

Viper without her mask gave way to several emotions Jett forgot she was capable of. Like amusement. “Yes. And I eat, too.”

“Wow! I never would have guessed. I thought you subsisted on like, diluted snake venom and children’s tears.”

Viper rolled her eyes, peeling a potato in one smooth movement, leaving a curl of peel to fall into a bowl. “It was Breach’s turn to cook. I don’t know about you, but snake venom is far more palatable than lutefisk.”

Jett couldn’t tell if she was kidding or not. “You’re just secretly a sweetheart.”

Viper twirled the knife in her hand and pointed it at Jett, mouth a hard line. “Don’t push it.”

Jett shrugged it off smoothly, hoping she didn’t see the stutter of nerves in her shoulders. She looked over the kitchen island-thawed meat, potatoes, green beans that looked like they must have come from a garden, except there weren’t any gardens on the compound that she knew of so…beans-of-mysterious-origin. And all of it in huger quantities than needed to feed the compound. How very American.

And there was Viper in the middle of all of it. Peeling potato after potato in a silent kitchen, a bowl filling with impeccable ribbons. She wondered where she might have learned to peel a potato like that. Like, that totally wasn’t a master poisoner skill, right? It was like a housewife or a hobby cook that was…really into peeling potatoes. Given she was usually taken with annoying Viper, and Viper in turn was taken with threatening her life with any method that violated the Geneva Convention, the fact she hadn’t already kicked her out must have meant she was in an unusually gregarious mood.

And maybe Jett was in her own kind of mood from witnessing the phenomenon of the great mighty Viper being distinctly un-snakelike. She glanced at all the food again, rocking from heel to toe. “Can I help?”

“Yes.”

“Great! How?”

“By leaving until I’m done.”

Keep reading

[sr-023]

Also just because I can:

I don’t even consider this canon within my own personal headcanonverse, but I’m stupidly attached to the idea of Viper owning two sphynx cats called Hemlock and Oleander.

[sr-023]

Constant Valorant’s lore videos can be a real slog to sit through and often contain some mad conspiracy theory level speculation, but occasionally I force myself through them and learn some things that are both completely new to me and that would be impossible for me to come across through any other source.

One example would be that Viper is probably originally from Alaska, not Seattle or New York as the vague hints we had lying around might have suggested. I absolutely never would have had any reason to guess that.

[sr-023]

You know, I think someone has just unintentionally helped me clarify the broad strokes of my personal take on Viper’s backstory. There’s definitely still a bit of a big gaping hole in it that needs to be filled in a way the current canon doesn’t really cover, but I think I’m somewhat more comfortable with the explanation I have in place for how she got where she is. Kinda.

[sr-023]

I am sick of the chase, but I’m hungry for blood (Super Minor Update)

Honestly not happy with how this is progressing. I feel like I’ve got about fifteen different ideas for where this could be headed and they’re all clashing and tripping over each other.

As such it’s just a rework of the very bottom bit for now.

-----

Viper exhales long and low. This is all a lie of course. Every last moment of it.

What they have isn’t delicate, isn’t calm, isn’t clean. It isn’t two bodies nestled together so close that the seam between them disappears – two souls sharing a single shape. It isn’t a partnership between two equals; it’s seldom even a conversation. And therein lies the problem.

Once this was merely a game to her, a curiosity. They all but offered up their neck and she sank her fangs in deep and drank until her appetite was sated.

Again. And again.

They gave her time and misguided sympathy, and she bought that kindness with crocodile tears and scant morsels of humanity. Whatever nagging questions ate at them were easily silenced with teeth and tongue and lies dripped in the ear – sweet poison. It was amusing to see how willingly they bled for her. How eagerly they embraced a thing that was all spite and venom.

It was a comfortable arrangement. It satisfied her sickness.

[sr-023]

I’d just like to throw out a special thanks to the few of you who’ve followed me here. It really means a lot to me.

While I’d love to be putting out more consistent and focused content, sadly my brain only really works in stops and starts when it comes to this sort of thing. Whenever I post something up there’s usually a subsequent couple of days spent turning it over and over in my mind again during which no actual work gets done. I’m always thinking about what I might like to do, but actually deciding on a direction and finding the right words is a hell of a lot more difficult.

Anyway Viper lives in my head rent-free, so I’m sure I’ll eventually manage to take these WIPs somewhere.

[sr-023]

Honestly I’ve been able to work myself up into the mindset of being comfortable with posting these WIPs purely by embracing the thought that there’s more chance of someone appreciating a piece of work 60-80% done than there is of something they never get to see.

Even if I ultimately don’t finish these things it still feels good to be getting more stuff into the Valorant tag and giving those poor starving people at least a sliver more content.

[sr-023]

I am sick of the chase, but I’m hungry for blood (WIP)

Yup, yet more WIPs because I’m incapable of focusing on a single project and keep going back to my unfinished things and nudging them about.

[Viper/Non-Specific Partner]

-------------------

It’s late, late enough that ‘early’ might be more appropriate, and a dull pink glow is tugging at the hem of the curtains. Somewhere out there in the half-dark she can hear the sound of birds as they begin to rise and ring in the new day. It’s quiet. Still.

She hasn’t slept.

It was a chill night and the cool air feels pleasant against her bare skin where she’s eased the blankets back. She isn’t cold, but then how could she be with a warm body there beside her. She lies and listens to the soft and steady sound of their breathing and marvels at such close and unguarded intimacy.

Is she so peaceful when she finds her own rest?

She tries to imagine their positions reversed and finds herself struggling with the image. Without the familiar tension clinging to its bones her body hardly seems her own. It’s not so much like seeing a stranger in her skin as it is remembering for a moment someone forgotten but perhaps not wholly lost. All that spite and sharpness melts away, and in it’s place there’s only her: Sabine.

It’s a difficult thought.

Sabine is gone. Dead. She has to be.

And yet she lives, if only in dreaming.

-------------------

Viper exhales long and low. This is all a lie of course. Every last moment of it.

Their every kiss has something bitter to it, every touch more half-starved lust than love. There’s a horrible clawing need to this infatuation. It’s as though she can see that one fleeting spark of something more within them, something good, and has to hold herself back from ripping straight down to it with needle teeth and fingers sharp like scalpels. Not a hot and vital body but another corpse on a slab to be dissected, documented, understood. Locked away for sake keeping.

Hers.

[sr-023]

The Shedding of Skin WIP

Working on a new piece. Any feedback would be very much appreciated.

---

It’s not long after dawn and as the chill wind whips past it pulls the dying embers of Viper’s cigarette skyward like fading flecks of gold.

They’ve been stationed in Venice for the better part of two weeks and that time has done little to enamour her with the place. While it’s not impossible to make out something of what drew so many tourists to the floating city, the incident has stripped it of that romantic veneer and in turn much of its soul. With Kingdom keeping the perimeter on lockdown and access to the Ascent barred off to all but with those with friends in suitably high places, those districts not already skybound have been carved up and reduced to scarcely more than ghost towns. The world below is silent, dead; the world above is a crumbling ruin that should have collapsed under its own weight long ago.

She feels some sympathy for the latter.

Sleep hasn’t been easy coming since the transfer. That isn’t something new per se but she’s been wearing it poorly of late. Without the old man to keep the younger agents – Jett, Phoenix, Raze – under some semblance of control things have been bordering on intolerable. None of them handle boredom well, and it only took a matter of days to exhaust whatever amusement they found in having the island to themselves. In lieu of other entertainment it feels as though they’ve turned to bother Viper for a distraction from the nothing while they await new orders. She needs that unwanted attention like she needs a hole in the head.

By now she’s sick of endless sniping matches with Jett, with Raze’s ‘hilarious’ pranks and futile efforts to force a smile to her face, and Phoenix … honestly Phoenix seems to have had the good sense to stay out of her way for the most part. That doesn’t mean she hasn’t been giving serious thought to shoving him off the island given chance. He’d walk it off, death-proof as he is, and she’d get to enjoy a few blissful moments of catharsis. The looks on their faces would be more than worth the trouble.

Viper takes one last drag then flicks her cigarette away, sending it tumbling end over end into the abyss. She cranes her neck to watch it go.

It’s not a bad view really. The early sunlight turns the cloud banks rosy and casts bold halos where it crests the floating debris ringing the horizon. It’s the sort of thing Viper can imagine Kingdom’s marketing people plastering across their tacky commercials, all the while talking around who made that phenomenon possible and how. That’s not to say it isn’t peaceful out here – it is. Maybe she’s standing on the lip of a thousand foot drop beneath a broken sky, but it’s still and quiet, and that’s more than enough for her right now.

She breathes in the cool air, checks her watch, sighs bitterly.

The peace won’t last much longer.

With a certain reluctance Viper turns her back on the empty expanse and begins the journey back to their billet … or would were it not for the figure standing there under the archway.

Sova.

Typically she doesn’t mind the archer. He isn’t loud or crude like some of her other cohorts and his nomadic lifestyle means they often go long stretches without seeing one another. She might have even forgotten he was assigned to the away team were it not for his presence at meals. He’s inoffensive enough. Tolerable.

And yet seeing him here makes her blood boil.

He’s been watching her. This whole time he’s been watching her with a soft expression like she’s one of those birds he admires so goddamn much. He doesn’t even have the good sense to look apologetic when her face breaks into a scowl. He waves warmly.

“Viper! Hello! You are enjoying the view?”

“What the hell are you doing here, Sova?” she half-snarls, earning herself a quizzical look.

“I spend a while here each morning. It is your presence that is unexpected.”

Viper bristles at the suggestion – that this is his territory and she the intruder. She sets her arms stiffly across her chest, yet no words come.

He draws a little closer. “I did not think you were an early riser, or that you cared for much outside of your laboratory.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“True,” Sova cedes, “But something I would like to change.” The weight of her gaze pushes to clarify the point. “I am always glad to know my comrades better. We help one another, and we grow stronger for that bond.”

She scoffs. “And you think I need your help?”

“Perhaps.”

tbc

[sr-023]

ugh. spiraling a bit right now.

I realise that I’m already taking things in a canon divergent direction, but Constant Valorant’s latest video confirmed that Atlas is not a thing in the canon version of Valorant (it’s what became Kingdom) and that kinda really messes with my sense that what I’m doing feels even vaguely canon-adjacent.

Atlas and New/Black Dawn gave me some semblance of antagonistic forces to work with beyond just falling into “Kingdom are the baddies” - which doesn’t really feel like it’s the case given the number of agents who still wear Kingdom gear - and played no small part in my vague take on Viper’s start of darkness. Obviously there’s nothing stopping me from just carrying on this route (and I’m sure some people would be energized by this to just push the canon divergence even further) but for me this really falls into feels bad territory.

[sr-023]

On Inspiration, Intentions and ... Stuff

Valorant is a universe without a whole lot of established canon lore. We have some solid information, some environmental storytelling and more than a few things floating around from datamining (much of it potentially outdated) but ultimately we’re left with a lot of speculation, wild guessing and just generally applying headcanons to fill the gaps. For some people that makes for a good foundation to write from – it’s very liberating when you’ve got so much freedom – but I’ve never been the best at working that way. I like my facts, my continuity nods and the sense that what I’m doing isn’t straying too far from canon.

I’m trying to do things at least a little bit differently here.

---

Viper is my favourite character in Valorant. Always has been.

It might sound a little odd, but one of the big inspirations behind my personal take on the character is actually her official spotify playlist. Some of these playlists are a bit on the nose or feel a bit off the mark to me – Breach’s is way too obvious while Raze’s feels weirdly chill – but Viper’s in particular really stands out to me. I’m not holding any delusions that these playlists were carefully curated by someone on the lore team to sneakily convey narrative beats and such, but like … when you look a little closer it’s hard to not question why some of these tracks were chosen.

Take Rina Sawayama’s Dynasty for example. It’s a track that the artist has explicitly stated is about “intergenerational pain,” messy family relationships and her own personal struggles. I’m not trying to argue that such has to be transferred one-to-one onto Viper, but at the same time I’m really struggling to see what would lead someone to choose that track in particular if they weren’t interested in the primary message behind it.

Similarly I don’t understand why you’d pick a song like Phoebe Bridgers’ Killer (let alone two tracks from her) if she wasn’t saying something that felt relevant to the character. To me it’s basically impossible to listen to something like that and not come away thinking it was chosen for a reason. It absolutely doesn’t play to Viper’s obvious surface personality, and at the end of the day it’s all about the pain that comes with harbouring those controlling and toxic feelings towards others. It feels too deliberate to be an accident.

So yeah…

My original plan had been to write one standalone fic for each track in that playlist, more attempting to play to the general themes and use them as inspiration than in the vein of the classic songfic. Indeed I wasn’t even planning on announcing that inspiration at all.

Feeling the Big Decay is my take on Allie X’s June Gloom, and to that end is meant to play into those themes of isolation, feeling trapped, and having to sit on the sidelines and watch everyone else enjoying themselves and living out a life you can’t have. To me that fits very well because I regard Viper as a character who likes her privacy and naturally stands apart from the sunnier members of Valorant, but also I think of her as someone who deliberately chooses to maintain that distance because her own agenda doesn’t mix well with that of the group as a whole.

Before Reyna was introduced Viper was the only character who felt even vaguely villainous in nature, and when I go through her dialogue I can’t help but think of her as someone who chose her current path in response to both personal loss and an external push – whether justified or not. I’m not looking to give her some kind of redemption arc or anything like that. She’s someone driven by spite who has no qualms about hurting others … and in my particular headcanon that comes with the obvious problem that an organisation like Valorant doesn’t exactly want someone like that on their side. They’re not here to be a vehicle for someone’s revenge fantasy or war crimes world tour.

So my take on what happened in Venice is partially (indirectly) Viper’s fault. She put her own priorities ahead of the team’s and it had major consequences.

Feeling the Big Decay is meant to be about the lingering aftermath of that – the fragile normalcy, lack of real closure, and the question of whether Viper can really fit in with a group like this. She absolutely can do the job – the fic takes place after she’s led a team through a high-stakes mission – but she not only has her own issues with the other agents of Valorant and the way that they operate but also just how she feels about trying to fly straight and by the book. Viper has sadistic tendencies and is pursuing the gratification of a very personal revenge, so there’s the question of whether forcing herself to conform with Brimstone’s playbook is actually killing off any enthusiasm she has for doing all of this. Is she willing to stomach an unfulfilling existence if it’s what potentially lets her get closer to everyone else (and maybe find a different kind of fulfillment)?

That’s what I really need help sorting out. Dialogue isn’t something I consider one of my strong suits, and the exchange between Viper and Brimstone that covers talking around Venice, him chewing her out for her hypocrisy (as she’s more than a little guilty of everything she complains about in the other agents) and how we get from there to to my current epilogue plans is still pretty up in the air. I’ll probably go into more on it tomorrow.

Sorry this has ended up as a lot of words. It’s just how I express myself when I do this sort of thing.

[sr-023]

Would anyone be willing to help me finish up a WIP Valorant fic?

I’m not asking for anything too major (just a quick scan and whether you think it reads well enough and in character as-is) but would be incredibly grateful if someone could spare the time to let me bounce a few ideas off them. I started the first version of this almost two months ago, so needless to say I’d welcome any help I can get in finally pushing this piece over the finish line.

[sr-023]

Feeling the Big Decay  v 0.6

Despite her position of seniority within Valorant it’s rare that Viper leads operations in the field.

Command naturally falls to Brimstone, and in his absence they’re seldom without one of Sage’s calm and steady judgement, Cypher’s peerless intelligence or Breach’s hard-hitting tactics and bullish confidence to pick up the slack. There’s enough accumulated experience and competence between them to allow Valorant’s co-founder to consolidate her stranglehold on R&D, and Viper all too gladly leaves them to divvy out the grunt work. Why should she waste her efforts on trivial matters that someone else can handle?

It takes something more exceptional to draw her onto the battlefield: a desire to document and further refine her latest toxins; close-quarters engagements that demand her ability to clear a room at minimal personal risk, third-parties more receptive to those like herself and Reyna than their more clean-cut peers. Atlas.

Today it is Atlas, and so, with Brimstone offering support from reserve, she leads.

---

Smoke rising from the blacksite is still high on the horizon even though they’ve left it long behind. Raze’s work is messy in its artistry but undeniably effective, and any rebuilding effort is bound to be costly, slow. That enough of their records survived the fireworks to give Cypher something worth poring over is just the cherry on top. It’s about as ‘clean’ an operation as one can hope for with the Brazilian on the team, and that’s notable enough to be a thing worth celebrating. Small wonder then that Brimstone caved and let her choose the in-flight soundtrack for the journey home.

Her music thunders through the hold - Se o papo é racista, dedo médio, fuck you – almost loud enough to have Viper gritting her teeth behind her mask. There’s no escape from the noise even far back by the cargo doors, and were she not well acquainted with working under extreme duress it would be all but insufferable. If anything it’s worse than the chaos of the battlefield. At least there she’d have objectives, a gun in her hand, and licence to give someone else a short sharp splitting headache.

Viper slips her bag out from beneath her chair, takes out her toolkit and sets to tinkering with her emitters. She knows well enough that they’re in no need of maintenance but it isn’t necessity guiding her hand. It’s a simple rote activity, calming in its familiarity, and between it and the steady rattle of breath through her respirator she slowly lets the world fall away.

Perhaps it’s no surprise then that she doesn’t even notice Brimstone’s approach until his steel-toed boots enter her vision.

“Viper. This a good time?”

Warm as ever, but it doesn’t take a genius to recognise that he expects to be heard out. She’s about the last person anyone would turn to for small talk.

Viper leaves him hanging. Her work is delicate and she can hardly down tools a moment’s notice. She makes sure that everything is properly secured before looking up, considering, and finally directing him to the seat adjacent with a slight flick of her head.

Though he sits himself down heavily, Brimstone keeps his arm tucked in to offer her a wider berth. He glances to the front of the plane, to where Phoenix, Raze and Jett have set themselves up with a deck of cards, a crate for a makeshift table, and a few cans of ungodly cheap soda, and in that instant he wears all his years and more. He sinks further back into his seat with a sigh. It’s more a sound of satisfaction than exhaustion.

“Young blood did good today,” he declares, leaning a little Viper’s way. “Sometimes I wonder whether they’re even listening in the briefings, but then they go and find a way to surprise me. Maybe it comes with being Radiants; give someone an arsenal like that and they’ll always be one step ahead even if they don’t take the time to look before they leap. Not much normies like us can do against that kind of firepower. Not when they don’t even see them coming.”

Brimstone huffs a dry little laugh. “Wouldn’t think they used to be civvies, or that Raze was home taught. Would’ve been glad to have her in...”

The words die on his lips as he turns to find acid-green eyes boring through him. At some point during his little spiel Viper has slipped her respirator free and now it hangs loose and dead around her collarbone. Even now he still can’t help but let his eyes flit down to her sharp jawline, almost as if it’s still a surprise to him that there’s but mortal flesh and blood behind that mask. Her lips are tight and thin and anything but amused by his rambling.

“Spare me the sentimentality, old man. We both know you’re not here to play proud parent.”

Guilty as charged, Brimstone can only offer her a tired smile. As long as he’s known her Sabine has never had never had much patience for anything that cuts into her valuable brooding time.

“If that’s how you want it” he cedes. A click of the tongue. “Today was your op: your plan, your command. You’ve heard enough of what I think of the newbies, so give me your review. I want to hear it from someone I know won’t go soft on them just for putting on a good show.”

There’s a clear scepticism in the look Viper gives him, like she’s still searching for some ulterior motive behind the question. And then there isn’t. The tension doesn’t fully leave her – it never seems to – but she scoffs and lets her arms hang a little looser at her side. “Where to start?”

“As one they’re arrogant. Jett thinks she’s fast enough to always take the first shot, and one day she’s going to be dead wrong. We need her on a leash. Phoenix believes his own hype. He considers his abilities an excuse to show off because no one mistake will keep him down. They’ll both take any foolish chance you let them, and when they come out alive they’ll laugh off any lessons they should have learned. Idiots with the power of gods.”

“As for Raze, calling her a liability would be too kind. She was more of a threat than anything Atlas could bring against us - no subtlety or sense of self-preservation.” She leans forward to look past him at the three down the other end of the dropship, and while her expression doesn’t exactly sour Viper hardly looks pleased with what she sees. Something like scorn finds her tone. “You should be glad my toxins scare them more than bullets. The same walls that screen their flanks keep them from taking stupid risks. None of them understand the value of patience and care.”

She leans back and can’t help but bristle just a little at how closely Brimstone is watching her. If anything she’s said has left any real impression then it doesn’t seem to have reached his face, but Viper knows him more than well enough to sense the wheels turning. After a moment he shrugs her words off.

“That may be so, but you made it back without a scratch. Shows what a firm hand can do with that raw talent. Give them time and you’ll-”

“Save it,” she cuts in coldly. “This mission was nothing. I could have handled it myself if you had only authorised it.”

He levels her with his gaze. “You know that was never on the table. Not after Venice.”

It’s enough to immediately get her back up.

That operation is a still-raw wound, one that has been slow to heal even with their tacit agreement to leave it well alone. Certainly it marked Valorant’s first true high profile failure, a city ‘saved’ in only the loosest of terms, but beyond that it forced those long-buried faults to the surface and exposed the cracks in their show of unified purpose. That the true fault for that particular catastrophe lies elsewhere hardly matters. Brimstone hasn’t forgiven her and Viper has yet to show even a sliver of remorse.

[sr-023]

Feeling the Big Decay V 0.4

A lot has changed since the protocol’s enactment. Where once she drifted between assignments, employers, nations, now there is some semblance of constancy and clear purpose. Perhaps it is not her purpose but on occasion they align. Atlas has a long reach after all, and what is Valorant for if not to give players such as them a bloody nose whenever they dare to overreach. Those rare morsels of revenge are fleeting but so very sweet.

A shame then about the ashen aftertaste.

---

Smoke rising from the Atlas blacksite is still high on the horizon even though they’ve left it long behind. Raze’s work is messy in its artistry but undeniably effective, and any rebuilding effort is bound to be costly, slow. That enough of their records survived the fireworks to give Cypher something worth poring over is just the cherry on top. It’s about as ‘clean’ an op as one can hope for with the Brazilian on the team, and that’s notable enough to be a thing worth celebrating. Small wonder then that Brimstone caved and let her choose the in-flight soundtrack for the journey home.

Her music thunders through the hold - Se o papo é racista, dedo médio, fuck you – almost loud enough to have Viper gritting her teeth behind her mask. There’s no escape from the noise even far back by the cargo doors, and were she not well acquainted with working under extreme duress it would be all but insufferable. If anything it’s worse than the chaos of the battlefield. At least there she’d have objectives, a gun in her hand, and licence to give someone else a short sharp splitting headache.

Viper slips her bag out from beneath her chair, takes out her toolkit and sets to tinkering with her emitters. She knows well enough that they’re in no need of maintenance but it isn’t necessity guiding her hand. It’s a simple rote activity, calming in its familiarity, and between it and the steady rattle of breath through her respirator she slowly lets the world fall away.

Perhaps it’s no surprise then that she doesn’t even notice Brimstone’s approach until his steel-toed boots enter her vision.

“Viper. This a good time?”

Warm as ever, but it doesn’t take a genius to recognise that he expects to be heard out. She’s about the last person anyone would turn to for small talk.

Viper leaves him hanging. Her work is delicate and she can hardly down tools a moment’s notice. She makes sure that everything is properly secured before finally looking up, considering, and finally directing him to the seat adjacent with a slight flick of her head.

Though he sits himself down heavily, Brimstone keeps his arm tucked in to offer her a wider berth. He glances to the front of the plane, to where Phoenix, Raze and Jett have set themselves up with a deck of cards, a crate for a makeshift table, and a few cans of ungodly cheap soda, and in that instant he wears all his years and more. He sinks further back into his seat with a sigh. It’s more a sound of satisfaction than exhaustion.

“Young blood did good today,” he declares, leaning a little Viper’s way. “Sometimes I wonder whether they’re even listening in the briefings, but then they go and find a way to surprise me. Maybe it comes with being Radiants; give someone an arsenal like that and they’ll always be one step ahead, even if they don’t take the time to look before they leap. Not much normies like us can do against that kind of firepower. Not when they don’t even see them coming.”

Brimstone huffs a dry little laugh. “Wouldn’t think they used to be civvies, or that Raze was home taught. Would’ve been glad to have her in...”

The words die on his lips as he turns to find acid-green eyes boring through him. At some point during his little spiel Viper has slipped her respirator free and now it hangs loose and dead around her collarbone. Even now he still can’t help but let his eyes flit down to her sharp jawline, almost as if it’s still a surprise to him that there’s but mortal flesh and blood behind that mask. Her lips are tight and thin and anything but amused by his rambling.

“Spare me the sentimentality. We both know you’re not here just to play proud parent.”

Guilty as charged, Brimstone can only offer her a tired smile. As long as he’s known her Sabine has never had never had much patience for anything that cuts into her valuable brooding time.

“Alright then,” he cedes. And then, “I just wanted to thank you. For today.”

The furrowing of her brows speaks volumes. He cuts her off before she can press further.

“You remember our talk after Venice: ‘cobblestones slick with Atlas viscera?’” Without malice behind them the words sound more ridiculous than threatening. “It’s been on my mind a lot since then.” A beat. “You’ve been on my mind a lot since then.”