#ethubs agent au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

otherworldlyhope · 7 months

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Started another project because I literally can't stop myself now. Remember all that time ago when I proposed the idea of a Bdubs secret agent au? Well I wrote it.

It's called The Flowers in Your Eyes and I'm really excited for it! I'll post the first chapter here, and the rest will be on my ao3.

Chapter 1: Hail to the King

CW: death, gun violence Words: 3,843

Hidden deep within Aquatown, far from the prying eyes of the public is a warehouse. Its unassuming looks often turn people away, a simple stone facade with a metal shingle roof. The inside is always dark whether night or day. Maybe at one time it had been used for storage or anything normal, but now it has a completely different purpose.

Just below this warehouse lies a complicated door guarded by snarling dogs and a woman with a stoic expression that never leaves her face. If deemed worthy the door will open, leading to dozens more security measures. Fingerprint scanners, passcodes, and various other tasks lie in wait before any of the other doors can be open. Only after all these tests are passed is the final door opened, and the facade of the warehouse is completely stripped away.

Hermitcraft Environmental Protection, otherwise known as HEP, is both a well known and mysterious agency. To the broad public it’s merely a protection group. Volunteers in orange shirts take to the streets once a week and clean Aquatown of any dangerous substances that may threaten the town. HEP is happily spearheaded by the gracious mayor of the town. With his gleaming smile, and genuine love for his town there is no doubt in the trustworthiness of HEP. After all, how bad can a single company really be?

To the unfortunate few in the city that are aware, HEP is far from an environmental force. The true HEP is still mostly unknown, a select few know surface level details, but no one besides enemies and those on the inside are truly aware of HEP’s activities. Most of those who know about the true intentions of the agency usually don’t last long enough to tell another soul anyways.

Mysterious assassinations of greedy politicians, distribution of various drugs, intelligence gathering and many other shady tasks regarding the city falls on the shoulders of those working at the true HEP. It’s not a glamorous job, but it does pay well, and once you’re in you can never really get out. Well you can, but it usually it's in a coffin.

At the center of HEP is the mysterious agent known as DoubleO. He has been in his position from the very start of the agency, appointed by the mayor himself. While many were skeptical at first, he quickly proved his abilities. With dozens of recorded eliminations and countless unrecorded, there has never been an agent that has come close to his level of proficiency. Despite all attempts of less than savory parties, no one has been able to find a single bit of information on this person, and they never will.

DoubleO stands on a rooftop, his jacket whipping in the wind that funnels through gaps in the nearby buildings. He’s only two stories up, a fall that he can take easily, in fact he intends on taking it soon. Just down the street is a brightly lit bar full of college students. Their loud voices fill the block, and it makes him smile. It’s always good to have some good cover sound. Missions done in absolute silence always have him so much more on edge.

With a sigh he sits down, his entire back popping with the movement. Void, he really needs to go to his chiropractor, it’s been far too long since he got put in place and he could benefit from it now. He slides his gloves on, stretching his fingers to make sure they don't hinder his mobility in any way. The white fabric shines under the moonlight, but it doesn't catch his eye. It never does.

He slides his briefcase across the tiled rooftop towards him, unlocking it with a simple key. There’s a slight click as he flips open the latches and takes in the sight of the weapon before him. His eyes scan the contents for only a moment before he’s grabbing parts. With practiced motions he puts every piece in place, not even needing to double check his work.

Maybe a year ago he would have checked again and made sure that all the pins were done correctly, but now he has no doubt in his skills. It takes barely a minute to have the gun wholly assembled and balanced on the edge of the building. He pulls himself into position, laying across the tile.

The back of the gun is placed firmly against his shoulder as he moves the scope to be perfectly aligned. A voice sounds in his ear, but he doesn’t jump or even twitch despite the loud volume.

“DoubleO, the target is three minutes out, coming from the south. Black sedan, middle seat in the back row. There are three guards with him, others ready to be on site in minutes.”

“Got it X.” He says curtly, not wanting to say any more than he needs to on the rare chance that someone is in the alley below him. It would be unfortunate to add another unofficial name to his little black book, so he tries his best to keep himself inconspicuous.

He doesn’t move at all in the span of two minutes, only flexing his fingers over the trigger to make sure they don't get too tense. He’s learned from his previous mistakes to not hold them tight against the metal. As X gives him the one minute warning he begins his routine.

Breathe in for ten, then out for fifteen.

Relax the shoulders, and let them drop right into place.

Pull the pointer finger to the trigger and simply wait with held breath.

Not once in his three years of doing this has he broken this routine, and it has never failed him in return. Well, once it did. But he doesn't count that circumstance.

The black sedan pulls up to the sidewalk and the only person who steps out is a large man in the passenger seat. He pulls a radio to his mouth, scanning the streets for signs of anyone. Not once do his eyes find DoubleO’s scope. Only when he deems it clear does he knock on the window.

The two guards exit next, standing on both sides of the target as he finally emerges. His head glows in the moonlight, a lack of hair being a very reflective surface. He’s taller than both the guards at his side. At that observation DoubleO’s mouth turns up into a smile. Fantastic.

To the guards’ credit, they do a rather good job at keeping the target well covered. Unfortunately for them DoubleO is better than rather good at his job. He doesn’t let them even take a step, aiming directly where the moon shines on a hairless scalp.

It takes seven and a half pounds of pressure to pull the trigger on this particular rifle and he does it with ease. The back hits his shoulder harshly as a boom rings out across the street. He only takes a second to make sure the target is down before dropping his head and rolling to the side. The guards shout as they try to place where the shot had even come from.

By the time they figure out the building, DoubleO is already at the far edge. He rolls over it without a second thought, angling himself to favorably hit the ground. A slight weightlessness comes over him before rudely being interrupted by concrete. Still he takes it in stride, rolling into his feet with little effort.

The second he’s on the ground he’s pulling off the gloves and all his layers. They are neatly folded in his hands as he walks, his eyes focused on an old beat up Honda parked on the street. By the time he’s stripped of all identifying clothing he’s at the car. Without as much as a misstep in his gait he drops the clothes and his earpiece in the open window, barely nodding at the man inside.

The whir of a window rolling up fills his ears as he tugs his light gray sleeves down. The fabric is itchy on his skin, the seams in all the wrong places. Just as he hears yells echoing on the street, he ducks into the still rowdy bar. The bartender catches his eyes immediately and gives an almost imperceptible nod.

DoubleO picks a seat at the end of the bar and before he’s even down, the bartender has placed a half filled bottle of beer and a laptop before him. The seat is uncomfortable, a velvet lined backless barstool. Still he leans forward, pulling his elbows onto the bar. One hand wraps around the neck of the beer, and the other holds his face up.

The sweatshirt on his back bears the mascot of the nearby college, and on his laptop is a partially finished homework assignment. With almost no effort he blends right into the crowd of partying students. Just as he raises the bottle to his lips does he see the guards from before in his peripheral.

There’s much more than three and he’s almost impressed how quickly they mobilized. Still he focuses his gaze back to the laptop, lazily eyeing the problems in front of him. It’s chemistry, and immediately his face turns in disgust. The bartender smiles at his expression and leans forward on the counter.

“You regretting taking chemistry yet?” He asks casually, tapping his fingers against the bar. His eyes barely dart to the door, but DoubleO’s stay directly where they are. “I’ve been told that professor is an absolute nightmare .”

So there’s two of the guards entering the bar. DoubleO enthusiastically nods before taking another swig of the beer. It hits the bar top hard as he throws his hands out in an annoyed way.

“Every day I wish that I took psychology.” He sighs, then goes for another drink, making a show when he realizes the bottle is empty. An exhausted exhale leaves him as his whole body deflates onto the bar. “While I’m doing this dumb research paper, they’re doing nice little group projects. My dad was right, I shouldn't have gone into the sciences.”

He barely catches the way the seat two away from him settles. One of the guards sits heavily, rubbing his eyes as he waves the bartender over.

“I’ll take whatever he’s having.” The guard sighs, waving his hand towards DoubleO.

“Good choice.” The bartender says, grabbing two bottles from below the bar. One goes to DoubleO and one goes to the guard.

He starts to lay the act on hard, annoyed that the guard is sitting there and not just doing a quick sweep like he should be.

“Hey Ed,” DoubleO pauses, drunkenly waving his hand over his beer. “Wait, that's your name right?” When the bartender starts to correct him he just shakes his head and talks even louder. “Whatever. Did you know that with my gpa I could have gone to any college I wanted? But my dumb parents wanted me to stay close or whatever. I could have gone to like Harvard or somethin’, Harvard Ed.” He emphasizes every syllable, making a complete fool of himself as he slurs over random words.

Ed only rolls his eyes, pulling the beer away from him before he can take another sip.

“I think I might have to cut you off kid, that’s one too many when you’re supposed to be doing homework.”

So the other guard has left, it’s go time.

“Hey, that's unfair.” DoubleO whines, leaning over the bar to try and grab the bottle back. “You can’t do that.”

“Yes I can and I am. Now go home.” The bartender turns, setting the bottle on the second to right coaster. DoubleO notes it with pursed lips and then dramatically flops onto the bar. After a few seconds he props his head up, glancing up at the guard through half lidded eyes.

“Hey man.” He pokes the guard, giggling at the harsh glance he gets back. “Do you have any cigarettes? I promise I’ll like pay for your beer or somethin’, but I ran out and I am way too drunk to get some more . ” He sings that last part, internally cringing.

The guard sighs before nodding, casting a look at Ed who points to the no smoking sign. “Let’s head outside, kid.”

DoubleO stands quickly, then almost falls directly on his face. The guard reaches out and grabs his arm, pulling him to his feet.

“Thanks mister, you’re nicer than my own parents ya know?” He mumbles as they exit the bar. DoubleO leads them into the alley beside it, greedily reaching out. “They hate smokin’, said it’ll give me cancer or somethin’. So I told them I’ll become a chemist and cure cancer so I can smoke all I want.”

He laughs heartily at his own words. The guard finally drops his wall a bit, giving him a placating smile and reassuring words.

“Hey did you see someone come in that bar in the last few minutes?” The guard says as he pulls a cigarette from the box. DoubleO all but rips it from his hands, and holds it to the lighter the guard produces. He makes a show of thinking as he pulls the cigarette to his lips.

“Uhhhhhh.” He leans against the wall, blowing the smoke right into the guard’s face with a laugh. “There was this one guy, all shady lookin’. He went to the bathroom after almost makin’ me spill my beer on myself. I was so mad.”

Gotcha.

The second the guard turns to look back at the alley entrance, DoubleO is moving. He drops the cigarette and reaches out, wrapping his forearm around the guard’s neck. His other hand comes up to stabilize the chokehold.

“Shhhh.” He hushes the gurgling man, slowly dragging him back towards a now opening door. His smile is wide as he rolls his eyes. “You’re gonna blow my cover.”

The bartender has opened the back door, holding it open as DoubleO drags the almost unconscious guard into the break room. He only tightens his grip when they’re out of the open space, and waits until the man goes limp against him. The second he does, he drops him, letting him fall into a heap of limp limbs and cigarette smoke.

“X is gonna be happy about this one.” The bartender looks down at the guard with an uncomfortable smile. “He was just complaining about how they were getting no info from Mr. Bright, but this should make his day.”

DoubleO rubs his eyes as he searches for something to tie the guy’s hands with. “I’m so glad he’s gonna be happy.” He says dryly, drawing out the so. “But tell him I hate the freaking bar jobs. Acting drunk is the absolute worst.”

“You’re so good at it though.”

“Oh shut up Mumbo.”

Mumbo only rolls his eyes, pulling the edge of his mustache with his fingers. “It’s not like we had much of a choice in the matter. He wasn’t supposed to sit down. He saw your face for far too long.”

“I know, I know.” DoubleO gripes, finally finding a length of rope that he fastens around the man’s wrists. “I have a dinner to get to tonight and this was supposed to be a quick in and out.”

“I’m sure Scar will understand.” Mumbo says. There’s a beat of silence and then the two erupt in laughter. Mumbo has to wipe his eyes afterwards, curling over his stomach.

“Sometimes you’re the funniest guy I know, Mumbo.” DoubleO chuckles, lightly punching the other man’s shoulder. “Do you think you can handle this guy until they pick him up?”

“Yeah.” Mumbo sighs, lightly kicking the man over. “I already called X so the team should be on their way soon.”

“Alright then I’m gonna dip. I gotta hurry if I want to get to dinner at a reasonable time.” DoubleO crosses the room, pulling the handle of the door. “I’m so screwed.”

“Alright I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

There’s a motorcycle waiting just around the back of the bar when DoubleO turns the corner. He pulls the helmet on and curses X under his breath.

“You couldn’t have gotten me a car or something?” He mutters. “I’m gonna have to fix my hair and I’m already running late…”

He continues to complain to himself as he gets on the bike and kicks it on. The purr of the engine does settle him down a bit, and he quite enjoys speeding through the back alleys until he can merge onto a main road.

He checks his watch and sighs, pulling off onto a side street. He definitely doesn’t have time to go back to his apartment, so one of his safehouses will have to do. A lack of a shower doesn’t sit well with him, but he’s already far too late.

He basically runs through the parking garage, pulling the helmet off as he rushes through the seemingly abandoned building. The keypad has dust gathering on its keys as he punches in the code, and he hastily wipes his finger on his shirt. There’s no way he’s wearing this to dinner with the freaking mayor.

Luckily he’s prepared for these circumstances and finds much nicer clothes in the safe house. White button up and black slacks go on quickly, his shoes are still trainers, but he’ll have to make do. He musses his hair in the mirror and groans at the way the helmet pressed strands of it down it stupid ways. Whatever, he’s got to go anyway.

The bike is nice enough to calm his mood and by the time he pulls up to the building he’s feeling much better. The woman in the lobby waves at him as he passes like she always does, and he nods like every other time. When he enters the elevator there’s no buttons, but it starts to rise all the same.

This is really the only time he gets nervous honestly. Scar has always made him feel that way, and it wasn’t even really his fault. Just how things have played out up until this point still has the agent taking calming breaths before their meetings. He does a once over of his clothes in the reflective surface of the elevator and fusses over his collar before the ding of the door brings him back to where he is.

He clears his throat once before stepping out, marveling at the view just beyond him. The mayor was quite good at pulling strings, and so they would meet in this random skyscraper that DoubleO doesn’t think actually belongs to a company. They dine at the top floor with tinted windows and sound canceling walls. This is where the business is done.

His eyes flit over the Aquatown and then finally settle on the man sitting at the table just by the window. His hands are crossed over his chest, an obviously fake smile on his face. Once he meets DoubleO’s eyes he pointedly looks down at his own watch.

“Sorry Scar.” He apologizes, sitting across the table with him as quickly as he can. The white napkin in front of him goes on his lap as he actively avoids looking at the mayor. “Mr. Bright’s guards ended up being more of a nuisance than we thought. We did manage to get one for interrogation though, so overall I think it worked out.”

The mayor simply hums as he sips a red wine from his glass. The scar on his cheek pulls and DoubleO looks away quickly.

“I guess I can excuse it.” There’s a joking tone to his voice, but DoubleO knows Scar well enough that he can tell he’s not amused. “Is all that business going to be wrapped up then?”

DoubleO nods quickly, grabbing his own glass with slightly shaky hands. Weirdly enough these meetings always feel like having dinner with guardians after getting in trouble. He tries not to dwell on that though.

“After the interrogation we should be good, I was going to follow up on the Glasby family as their ties with Bright are too large to ignore. I-”

“That’s actually why I called you here today.” He falls silent as Scar speaks. “I’m assigning you to a long term undercover mission starting next week. All the information you need is in these files here.”

He pushes a rather large stack of papers towards DoubleO, who can only stare at Scar in shock. His mouth is wide open as he blinks, sure he’s heard it wrong.

“Me? Undercover?” His voice is slightly hoarse so he clears his throat. “You know that I don't really do that sort of thing. I’m sure Mumbo would be really happy to do it. That’s like his whole thing.”

“Mumbo is working on the new MooPop factory with Cub and Tango. Believe me, I’ve thought through all the options and I am confident that you can pull this off.” Scar puts his hand out, his tone softening just a bit as the agent grabs it. “You used to love undercover work, just remember that you’re the best for a reason. I didn’t take you off the streets just for you to doubt yourself like this.”

“What if I mess up again?”

Scar’s eyes darken for just a moment, his fingers squeezing tightly against DoubleO’s. Then just as quickly as it came, it disappears. “You won’t. I believe in you.”

DoubleO’s entire frame relaxes against the chair as he nods. “Alright, give me a rundown.”

Scar beams at his words and grabs some papers of his own.

“It’s much more detailed in the files, but this here is your target.” He scans the picture, seeing a pretty regular looking guy. The only really weird things are his white hair and the rather large scar over his left eye and spanning down his cheek. “His name is Etho Slab, at least that’s what he says it is. We are confident he’s a Mycelium Resistance member, and a quite high level one at that.”

DoubleO sucks in a breath, suddenly seeing the man with new eyes. There’s a slight feeling of familiarity, like he’s seen those eyes before.

“We’re dropping you in as a store owner that’s attached to a cafe he regularly goes to. Your apartment will also be relatively close as well. The goal is to become friends with him, get him convinced you want to join the resistance when he eventually spills, then get all the information you can.”

“Why don't I just nab him at the cafe and we get the information ourselves? I bet X could get it out of him.” DoubleO asks, leaning against the table with an elbow.

“With his status it’s highly unlikely we’ll get anything from him. That group is stubbornly loyal, so you just need to find a way to join in, get the information, and get out.”

“Sounds easy enough.” DoubleO says dryly.

“Exactly!” Scar exclaims.

“I was kidding. This is going to be awful.”

#ethubs agent au #hermitcraft fic #hopewrites #y'all it's gonna get so good

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