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thats-how-i-role · 5 months

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Secrets And Spies (1)

A/N: Okay so first, I am cheating. This isn't all of it but I still have like 2000 words to go and not a lot of time to do it. Second, this is a combined day for Tuesday and Wednesday so it features a lot of Jem, and a lot of Faye, and of course a lot of side characters

P.S. If you want to be added to the document lmk but I promise I will post the rest of the story before New Year's I'm just running out of time this week.

Word Count: 7,116

Friday September 14th, 20:34

The hunt. For many it’s about a calm before the storm, or the spike in adrenaline when you’re closing in on the prey. But tonight, their focus is on the subtleties of conversation. Finding the best opportunity when to strike without blowing their cover. If they falter the slightest, then law and order will never prevail.

Faint classical music echoes throughout the dining hall of highclass gentlemen. Conversations were being shared over the round tables, with red, floor length tablecloths. The room was bright from the high-priced chandeliers hanging from the ceilings, and the sconces scattered equidistantly across the walls. Many of the words exchanged are similar to the next. Either business arrangements or the latest gossip within their social circles, often interjected by the sound of glasses clinking together.

On the far right side of the room was the bar that stretched across most of the wall. Glasses and pricey alcohol bottles were hung on the wall behind the counter. The bartenders all shared the same black and white vest suit, and bow tie combinations. They talked up their clients as much as possible, praying the idle chit chat could get them a tip.

But there was one person that no one seemed to be able to break for more than a few words. A tall, lean person with a neatly styled, black undercut and fair skin. Underneath the carefully placed makeup were deep scars from the years they have spent in the agency. They dressed in a tailored, three piece suit with a silver tie, and nursed a glass of red wine.

The calmness and grace across their features contrasted to their racing heartbeat. The only reason they haven’t spoken much is because they feared their voice would waver before the mission even started. Every little thing had them on edge.

Maybe I should mingle?

If I leave the bar I may miss the target coming in.

What if I’ve already been made?

A voice coming in through their earpiece startled them out of their thoughts. “Jesus Christ J, you’ve somehow managed to look constipated and like you’ve shit yourself all at once.” Amalthea, the sometimes crass, always blunt, redhead heckled.

Jem took their glass and hovered it in front of their mouth, to block any onlookers from seeing them talk to themselves. “I cannot stress how much I didn’t want to be here. And believe it or not the comms aren’t meant for your cheeky commentary.”

“You love my cheeky commentary.” She giggled, and Jem could almost picture the mischief in her brown eyes. Her tone switched instantly from humorous to supportive, “Stick to the plan. She knows you as Caspian Vanderbelt, you run a successful stock trading company and have been known to dabble in insider trading from time to time.”

“Jem Morale?” The mere mention of their real name sent ice through their veins. Jem’s face remained neutral, but every muscle in their being stilled.

Amalthea took a pause before rushing out, “Don’t respond,” unfortunately she didn’t manage to speak before Jem turned around to find the source of the voice, “Don’t even turn around. Completely igno- me. Ignore me apparently.”

Standing not even three feet away from them was Jem’s mark. Clad in a bright red cocktail dress that hugged her curves and stayed up via two thin straps was Sol. Also known as the Co-Captain of The Crimson Talons. Her long, white hair was done up in a braided bun, a few loose hairs hung stratgeticaly to frame her face. Her neck and fingers were adorned with sparkling, gold jewellery embedded with rubies. And everything was tied together with a striking red lip.

Jem’s first thought at the sight of her, I should’ve never been here.

Thursday September 13th, 16:22

The dings of the bakery’s front door had been chiming continuously throughout the day. Jem, wearing their favourite apron over a blue flannel, the sleeves rolled up. Lillian had been chosen to help Jem in the kitchen that day, preparing for the morning breakfast rush, and the slower yet always interesting four o’clock coffee rush. Elgar manned the front counter, being the friendliest and most patient of the agency.

The kitchen was spacious, all of the appliances and surfaces made of kitchen-safe stainless steel. Four ovens were stacked in the corner, each set to certain temps for certain baked goods. There’s a warmer pressed up right next to them, keeping the products as fresh as possible. The three part sink was across the room, a table for all the dirty dishes that were cleaned and reused throughout the day just to the left of it. Two tables laid in the center of the room making enough space for multiple people in the mornings to roll dough, line trays, etc. And many of the utensils and pans layed on the shelf beneath the tables for easy access.

As Jem had prepared to serve up another apple pie for the front counter, Thorne entered from the laundry room in the basement of the building. He stood well over six feet tall, his shaggy caramel brown hair was just long enough to hang over his crystal blue eyes. His face and arms covered in scars ranging from light to the most severe laying hidden beneath his black t-shirt. He had the strongest muscular build of the agency, tending towards working out instead of socializing more often than not.

He took the nearest apron off the hook, wrapping it around his waist, “Morale, I’ll take over here. You need to head to the library.”

“Last time I checked, I don’t take orders from you.” Despite Jem’s words, their tone was playful as they handed the pie over.

As Thorne took the pie over an oven mitt, he used his other hand to grip Jem’s shoulder firmly. They looked up and saw the serious look on Thorne’s face, sympathy just barely registering over his eyes, “Jem, Alveyn’s gone.”

The feeling that washed over them could only be described as sickening shock. It shook them to the very core and their vision blurred. For a second they thought they were about to collapse if Thorne’s grip didn’t help ground them to reality. They weren't sure how much time passed until they took their next breath, but even the exhale felt like acid seeping through their airways.

They nodded, grabbing Thorne’s hand and squeezing it for some light emotional support before leaving. They didn’t even remove their apron, and despite the normal fifteen minute walk between agencies, Jem hardly registered the fact they had reached the library until the polite, blonde receptionist, Ophelia interrupted their trance.

“Hello there, is there any way I can assist you today?” Her lilted tone, typically so sweet to anyone who could hear it, was grating to Jem.

She sat still behind her desk, her eyes lighting up towards them, and waited patiently for a response. Jem knew she was waiting for the code to let them into The Remnants. But the shock let the phrase escape them. Jem could only blink, dropping eye contact as they tried to fight the haze of their mind to find the code. But the only thing that appeared in their mind’s eye was flashes of the last time Alveyn and them spoke.

“Jem.” A monotone, yet familiar voice interrupted their panic. Mercy, who had been tucked behind Ophelia’s desk with her, rose to her feet. She came around, and put her tanned arm around their shoulders. Her blue-black hair had been finely french braided down, courtesy of her girlfriend.

“I’m here.” Jem replied with a half-hearted smile, their voice a little shaky.

Mercy nodded, leading them back behind the counter. “I’ll be back in a second.”

As soon as the door to the back room closed Jem asked, “What happened to Alveyn?”

She was slightly taken aback by the harshness of their tone, and Jem wanted to kick themselves for being rude to someone who was genuinely trying to help. They took a deep breath, closing their eyes on the inhale. “I mean, how did it happen?”

“That’s what we wanted to know from you.” Mercy replied, pressing the wall to release a hidden compartment from within. She pressed her ring into the curved indent as one of the bookshelves unlatched itself from the wall. Revealing a hidden staircase leading to a second floor hidden from the masses.

Jem’s eyebrows furrowed, “I wasn’t there. If I was, Alveyn wouldn’t be the one lying on a slab in some morgue.”

Mercy turned on her heel, halfway up the stairs. “Jem, Alveyn’s not dead. He left the agency in the middle of the night.”

That significantly lifted the concrete weight from their shoulders, but the haze in their mind was replaced by confusion and barely contained anger. They slipped past Mercy into The Remnants agency, where Romy, Lewellyn, and Quinn stood around a circular table.

The common room was quite devoid of decorations that weren’t useful in one way or another. Hanging above were long rows of fluorescent lights to illuminate the whole room. The room with bare, charcoal grey walls was no bigger than Jem’s kitchen at the bakery. It had a few round tables spread across the room, which fit considering The Remnants had the largest crew in all the agencies. Nearby each table were whiteboards and cork-boards with information and evidence from the latest case. Each board is accompanied with strings connecting certain theories and timelines.

Lewellyn was the first one to look up from the table, her deep blue eyes widened in surprise at Jem’s rushed pace. Although being only a supervising agent, Lewellyn was Romy’s (the captain of the agency) right hand man. She rose to her feet, grabbing Romy’s arm to get his attention towards the situation.

“Alveyn wouldn’t just leave, there has to be something wrong.” Jem exclaimed, reaching the table and leaning forward with their hands splayed on the flat surface.

Romy’s face tried to remain firm, as he put his hands up in surrender, “Which is why we called you first. To see if he had left you any sign or note of his motives.”

“No, nothing.” Jem shot back, with very little thought. “How do you know he left? What if he’s been taken?”

Romy rose to his full height, around six feet. If he wasn’t so lean in stature he might be seen as more intimidating to others. But from what Jem has seen, it wouldn’t be too smart to underestimate him. “He put both his badge and ring in my mailbox last night. No note, nothing to indicate if he was being forced to do this, or if it was of his own free will. Please, think carefully, has he ever said anything about leaving.”

They let out a frustrated sigh, dropping themselves into the nearest seat. Jem dug the palms of their hands into their eyes before sincerely answering, “Yeah, but he was never serious. Him and I joked about it all the time. How we’d run away, change our names to something ridiculous like Augustus or Benedict and live out our lives in the mountains.” The longer Jem went on, the more their voice relaxed, reaching an almost dreamy state.

They were able to snap out of it before they went on for too long, “But most of those were when we were drunk, and joking around. Even if Alveyn was serious for a second, he would’ve asked me to come with. Those fantasies always involved the two of us, together. But they were just fantasies.”

Lewellyn had been listening intently the entire time, chewing on her inner cheek whenever she wanted to interject but thought better of it, “When did you see him last?”

Leaning back in their seat, Jem’s gaze remained pinned on the table in front of them, “Two nights ago, he invited me out for a drink. And naturally a drink turned into three, and then we lost count.”

“And he didn’t tell you goodbye, not once throughout the night?” Lewellyn questioned again.

Digging through the foggy memories of that night, Jem did in fact recall some words that were out of the ordinary for the two. That night, Alveyn didn’t have as much to drink as Jem did. Therefore he had to drag Jem back home, and pass them over to Amalthea to be taken care of. But as Alveyn laid them across the couch, he spoke under his breath.

“Even though we often drink to forget Bandit, these are the nights I pray I remember the fondest.”

That was the last thing Jem remembered from that night. And anyone who heard it would say it was part of a goodbye, perhaps the whole night out was. But Jem refused to believe this was still of Alveyn’s own accord. If he was tired of this life everyone chose for themselves then they believe he would’ve said something. Alveyn didn’t, not once.

So Jem, taking the moment to truly ponder their own selfish motives, they answered, “No, he didn’t. I promise, there’s something wrong here.”

Both Romy and Lewellyn shared a look, seemingly satisfied with their answer. The captain nodded before he spoke, “Then we will search for him. We’ll spread word throughout our partners and see if anything pops up. Thank you for your help.”

“Do you think it was the Talons?” Lewellyn asked with frustration bleeding through her tone and actions as she began taking down pins from the cork board behind her.

“The Crimson Talons?” Jem questioned, slightly taken aback by the mention of one of deadliest agencies in the state.

Romy gave Lewellyn a sharp look which went unnoticed by her as he came up with a soft spoken answer, “Yes, we’ve been setting up a mission over the past few weeks to try and shed some light on them. Alveyn was supposed to be our way in, but now that’s scratched.” He turned his attention towards Lewellyn’s question as he continued, “We haven’t made enough progress on the mission to tip them off yet. There wouldn’t be any reason for them to target Jones.”

“They could’ve tracked the emails exchanged, it's just suspicious is all.” She deadpanned, dropping the documents of evidence on the table, and resting her hands on her hips. “The date was set for tomorrow night, and now Alveyn’s gone.”

Quinn, the tall, tan woman with long brown hair had been sitting the entire exchange, boring into Jem with her eyes. Her head tilted ever so slightly in intrigue, and it had gone unnoticed by Jem until now since they had calmed down. They stared right back at her, confusion slowly forming across their features.

As Lewellyn went to take down what looked like a timeline of events, Quinn grabbed her wrist and stopped her. “I never noticed until now, but Jem and Alveyn have similar eyes. Don’t you think so?”

Lewellyn stared back at Jem, shrugging it off, “Kind of?”

“And black hair.” Quinn added, rising from the table to stand behind Jem. They went to stand up, kind of uncomfortable with the sudden attention on their looks. That was until Quinn ran her hands through their hair. “Think about it, with just trimming the sides a bit and style down their curls, they could almost be like brothers.”

Jem slipped out of her grasp, escaping via sliding under the table and away from her touch. They rolled outwards and rose to their feet, “Wh-what’re you doing?”

“Are you any good at espionage, Jem?” Quinn responded, eyeing them up.

“That’s not an answer.” They awkwardly chuckled as panic began to show behind their eyes.

Lewellyn turned on her heel towards Quinn, “Seriously, what are you doing?”

She only sighed in response, “Listen, we’ve spent five weeks worth of resources and time to take down the Talons. I’m sorry but I don’t want to let that go without a fight.” She explained, her face softening before speaking towards Jem. “If the Talons did manage to get their hands on Alveyn, then if we continue down this path with Jem instead then we may be able to find him faster.”

Lewellyn shook her head in defiance, “If the Talons do have Alveyn, then there’s no way they’ll come to the meet up tomorrow. There’d be no point.”

Quinn nodded, as if they were on the same page, “Exactly. If they don’t show up, we know exactly who has Alveyn. If they do, then we haven’t been made and we can continue with the plan anyways. It’s a win - win scenario.”

“Except,” Jem interjected, sounding exasperated but a part of their mind was beginning to agree with her, “I don’t do undercover. The Last Stand specializes in operating within the shadows. We deal with break ins, hacking, and other back door tactics to close cases. This is new.”

“We’ll be there every step of the way,” Quinn offered, “and if it helps you relax, we can bring our teams together on this. So you have your people on your back.”

“Quinn, pause. You aren’t a high enough rank to make that call.” Romy finally spoke up, raising a patient hand. The room fell silent as Romy’s eyes flitted back and forth in thought. He eventually rounded on Jem with the gentle facade he typically puts up when he’s extending an olive branch. “Though she does make a very good point. If you’re comfortable with it, it’ll not only help us but it inevitably helps Jones to come home.”

Jem shook their head, anger boiling under their skin but they remained calm. “Stop using Alveyn as some sort of bargaining chip. He deserves more than that.” Despite their own protests, they had to admit it was working quite well. With one last breath of defiance, Jem ran their fingers through their locks, “Do I have to get a haircut?”

Lewellyn gave them a stiff pat on the back, “It’ll help sell the ruse.”

“Cool, cool.” They quipped, approaching the board with the case details pinned to it. They helped Lewellyn and Romy set up the evidence once again, noticing a photo with a large red circle around it. It was a woman, fair skin and white haired, walking down the street.

They nodded towards it, “Who’s that?”

Lewellyn unpinned the photo and handed it over to Jem. “Our target, that’s Sol. Her brother, Umbra, isn’t pictured anywhere as far as we could tell. That’s who the real goal is. If we put Sol behind bars, then that’ll bring Umbra out of the woodwork. He’ll get sloppy, make mistakes.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Jem replied. “Umbra’s the lead assassin, it sounds like we’re counting on collateral damage.”

Romy snatched the photo from Jem, putting it back where it belonged with oddly steeled nerves. His face was not giving any emotion one way or another. Which matched his next, bleak words, “What you call damage is a means to an end.”

Friday September 14th, 20:36

The spy and assassin stared at each other, blinking for a moment. The woman known as Sol had her mouth agape as she held her phone to her ear. She seemed to be mid-conversation as she looked equally surprised at their appearance.

Trying desperately to recover, Jem finally spoke up, “I’m so sorry, do I know you?”

“One second,” Sol put up her finger before speaking into the phone, “I’m gonna have to let you go. I’m at the restaurant.” She nodded before hanging up.

With a regretful expression she turned her attention solely on Jem. “I’m so sorry for the intrusion, I just recognized you from the shop on main street. You own ‘That’s How I Roll’, right? Your photo hangs in the restaurant.”

Over the comms Lewellyn, who was partnered in the van with Amalthea, spoke up with agitation in her words, “Your photo is hanging in the bakery?”

Amalthea replied with an equal amount of fire, “You’ve never been to our bakery?”

Jem tried their best to think past the panic and the voices in their ear. “I do, I just didn’t know anybody paid that much attention.”

“Well not to freak you out or anything, but I go there every morning.” Sol replied, her tone growing softer in the middle of the statement. “Your croissants are the fluffiest I’ve ever had. Paired with your lattes, I couldn’t imagine going anywhere else.”

Jem tried to hide their smile behind their hand, whether it was from pride in their work or the humour of this entire situation they weren’t sure of. “Well thank you. We don’t get too many in person reviews, so this means a lot.”

Sol tilted her head sideways with a joking aura behind it, “Does it mean enough to you for me to get a coupon?” The two shared a laugh, while Jem tried to hide the genuine blush appearing on their cheeks. After the moment passed Sol peered around the room saying, “Am I keeping you? Are you waiting for someone?”

Jem shook their head, “No, I just finished having a couple drinks with some advertisers. Trying to get the word out so people will shop local. You?”

She peered around the room, “I am looking for someone. Doesn’t look like they’ve shown up yet.” Her eyelashes fluttered back towards them. “I could keep you company for a little bit, if you’d like.”

They contemplated it for a second. As far as they could tell she was genuine, and hadn’t clued in to who they were. And as long as she believed their intentions were true, then Jem would be able to continue with this ruse. Which is the same identity they wear every single day.

Jem nodded to the seat next to them, leaning against the bar countertop as they did. “As long as it doesn’t hold you up.”

Sol climbed onto the tall bar stool, placing her bag on the floor next to her feet. “I’m Faye, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Jem- you knew that, sorry.” They chuckled, taking a drink from their wine glass. Faye - or Sol - giggled as well, her softened eyes focussing on them. After letting out a relaxed sigh Jem asked, “What’re you drinking tonight?”

She gestured her head to the wine glass in their hand, “Whatever you’re having.” Jem ordered her a glass of red (specifically a higher priced merlot than what Jem got for themselves) and slid it towards her with a sharp sound against the countertop. Thanking them first, Faye continued, “I have a question for you that’s been bugging me for the longest time.”

Jem put their finger up in contest, “Afraid not, darlin’. You know way too much about me already. It’s your turn. What do you do for a living?”

This was the first time she paused, tucking her bottom lip into her teeth before answering. Jem wasn’t sure if it was out of habit or to draw their gaze to her mouth. If it was the latter, she would’ve noticed how their gaze lingered.

Her eyes dropped to the rings on her finger as she toyed with them before finally speaking, “This is a test. If you’re a dick this will help me figure it out.” Jem didn’t waver, trying to catch her eyes with theirs again. When she peered upwards from beneath her lashes, she visibly relaxed at their curiosity about her life. “I own a club on the west side of the city. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it but the lower level is a nightclub called, ‘Ruin.’ My brother runs that solo, while I run the upper level called, ‘Eurydice.’”

Jem’s eyes did glow in recognition, but they didn’t lose face. Mostly because the Remnants could fact check it, and maybe their agencies would be able to figure out if this was their front. “You run the strip club?”

“You’ve been?” She shot back, a mischevious grin spreading across her face.

Jem shook their head, “My roommate keeps asking me to go with him. I keep finding excuses not to go.”

“Why’s that?” Her tone shifted, slightly accusatory.

Jem could tell she took pride in her work. Whether or not it was a front, it seemingly made no difference to her. And honestly Jem knew the feeling, as her earlier compliments about their passion for their bakery did warm their heart.

Jem did think about their words carefully, speaking slowly so as to not let it come across the wrong way, “intimacy is different for me than it is for a lot of people. The feeling of comfort and trust I need is not something that can be bought.” A slight flush appeared across her cheeks before they continued, “So since I’ve heard of your club, you must be doing incredibly well for yourself. Do you perform as well or just run the place?”

Her shoulders straightened out, her smile growing twice as wide, “I dance sometimes, but only for select clientele. Typically only those who sweet-talk me in a lovely accent.” Faye’s right hand fell from the table and was subtly placed on Jem’s knee, her fingers gently caressing against their skin.

Jem had to suppress the shiver down their spine, their eyes falling to their glass which they decided to quickly finish off to remove some of their nerves. They made eye contact with the bartender and waved her over. When she arrived Jem simply asked, “Can I get a whiskey? Make it a double, please and thank you.”

The bartender nodded, looking over to Faye if she needed anything as well. Her eyes stayed fixed on Jem’s face as she agreed, “Whiskey, make it a double.” Jem finally turned back to her with surprise written across their faces. She only shrugged, completely carefree, “I did say, whatever you’re having. Right?”

The night continued like that. Hours of ordering the same drinks and chit chat among the two. Jem made sure to slow down, careful to not get messy because this was a mission. But they did forget about the two women over the wire a number of times. Somewhere between them explaining that the name of their bakery isn’t that bad when you compare it to Thorne’s suggestion of “Command-dough”, and her detailing her encounter of how she got the necklace she was wearing. Although ambiguous, she seems to have a lot of things in her possession she obtained in less than legal ways.

The little inbetween conversations were what made Jem forget they were having drinks with a murderer. Someone whose name Jem might not even know for sure; and if she knew who they really were Jem doubts she would even flinch before slicing a blade across their throat. She’s a criminal. A mastermind.

Their empathy was their downfall, even when it came to their marks. Which is why Jem chooses to operate from a distance. Personalizing themselves with a target never benefits their line of work. It actually makes it harder to look at themselves in the mirror.

The only thing convincing Jem that building a case against her is the right thing is Jem doubts this is really her. These aren’t her stories, or her personality. It’s all a facade that she set up for Alveyn prior to tonight. And yet the way her red eyes lit up at every joke and interest made Jem second guess anything they knew.

Eventually, the bartender let the two know it was their last call. Jem paid their building tab with the agency’s card and walked Faye out with her on their arm. The wind stirred in the late night, rushing between the fine strands of Faye’s hair as the two approached the sidewalk of the steadily trafficked street.

“Thank you for tonight, I’m sorry your friend didn’t make it.” Jem lied, but from the way their grin stretched from ear to ear, Faye thought they lied for a different reason.

Faye shrugged, turning towards them and pulling Jem closer by the lapel of their coat. Hey eyes bored into theirs, her smile matching, “Can’t say I share the sentiment.” Leaning forward on her toes, her scarlet lips relaxing as she closed the distance between them.

Jem tried their best to remain calm as the pair kissed under the glowing street light. Their hands slid up her sides and stilled against the backside of her ribs. They pulled her closer, focussing on the subtle movements of their lips and nearly got lost in the softness of her skin.

Faye was the one to pull away, placing a gentle kiss on their cheek and beneath their ear before whispering, “You seem tense, Jem. Wanna come back to my place to relax a little? A hot tub, another glass of wine, whatever you like.”

The tension in their shoulders screamed at them to agree, and the haze from the alcohol and the smell of her perfume convinced them even more. Yet they still managed to mutter out “I’m- I’m sorry. I can’t.” Pulling back just enough to get back some control over themselves, Jem continued, “I got to be up early for work, and I think you being next to me will be the best kind of wrench in my plans.”

Faye stepped back, but didn’t drop her hands from their suit. She took a minute to think as Jem waved down a cab for her. With their head turned, Faye grabbed a pen from the chest pocket of their coat and began writing on the exposed flesh of their neck.

Jem flinched, but her grip on them was surprisingly strong. “Hold still, nerd.”

“It’s ticklish,” Jem breathed out a laugh, but let her finish in spite of it. She pressed the pen into their hand as they quipped, “Done marking me up, darlin’?”

“It’s my number.” She stepped forward once more, not to make a move yet it still made Jem’s breath hitch. “Call me so we can set up a night where you don’t work the next morning, yeah?”

Jem’s eyes widened, a dopey smile growing on their face. They opened the cab door for her and replied when she tucked herself into her seat. “I’ll reach out when I can. Have a great night, Faye.”

She closed the door, blowing them a tantalizing kiss as the cab took off. Jem watched the car until it turned out of sight. Maybe they lingered under the night’s sky for a bit longer, still kind of amazed all of that happened. Until reality set in, and the transparency of the moment fell onto their shoulders.

Faye was a killer. And they were going to arrest her, come hell or high water.

That was the mantra they said to themselves as they walked a block down to a shadowed parking lot. A couple stray cars remained in the dead of night. The black van with two side windows was what Jem had been looking for. They knocked on the back door in a practiced code. A moment afterwards, the door swung open with a very unamused Lewellyn on the other side.

Inside the back of the van was a small three screen computer set up on a wall shelf with two chairs pulled up to it. Acting as a sort of desk, that would be inconspicuous enough in the city. Amalthea was sitting right up next to it, a lined paper notebook in her lap. In contrast to Lewellyn, she was having trouble hiding her smug grin.

And Amalthea inevitably failed as she asked, “How was your date?”

Jem shook their head in aggravation, “It wasn’t a date.”

“Well that didn’t seem like a mission either.” Lewellyn commented, falling back into her chair. Taking a deep breath she reasoned, “If you offered to take her back to your place, then we could’ve taken her in.”

“And leave you guys here? Or were you guys planning on tailing us in the shadiest vehicle of the century?” Jem countered, leaning both of their arms against the entrance to the van. “We can set up another meeting, I got her number.”

“Which wasn’t even your idea. You almost walked away empty handed.” She flipped through the notebook on her lap, chewing her lip. “Okay, not completely. We ran a quick background check on the clubs she mentioned. They are run by a Faye and Malakai Perish. It appears to be the Crimson Talons front. Which means we can put some agents out there to find any other agents connected to Talons. We could get names for everyone involved, and take them all down at once.” For the first time she made eye contact with them, giving Jem a half-hearted smile, “Good job.”

She turned to Amalthea, “What notes do you have?”

Amalthea shrugged, “Only one.” Flipping the notebook around, in big bold letters was a message, Welcome back, slut.

Jem caught their laugh with their hand as Lewellyn tore the notebook from Amalthea and smacked her arms with them playfully. The excuses Amalthea attempted to make were muffled as Jem shut the door and went around to climb into the passenger seat of the van.

Thorne sat in the driver’s seat, his eyes lifting from his copy of, “The Song Of Achilles.” He placed it down gently, using a receipt as a bookmark and started up the engine. He was seemingly uninterested in how the night went down until he pulled out of the parking lot, speaking into the silence, “So, how was your date?”

This exact conversation was brought up continuously through the rest of the night.

Saturday September 15th, 00:14

Faye waited until the taxi had turned out of sight before pulling out her phone. Her shoulders finally relaxed and she slumped into her seat as the dial tone echoed in her ear. It only took one ring for her brother to pick up on the other end, “Faye?” His tone was panicked, anger resonating behind his words. She only rolled her eyes in response.

Malakai had always been protective of her since they realized just how broken of a home they were raised in. Working as assassins had only made his shroud more difficult to shake. Mal was always looking out for the enemies that lie in wait for them to make a simple mistake, and rip out everything the twins built from underneath them.

But Faye wasn’t stupid, nor was she reckless when it came to her work. She hoped he would’ve learned that by now, and yet she was still questioned everytime she walked out the door.

“The one and only.” Was her response as she examined her nails.

“What happened? You ran into Morale?” He asked as he shuffled around some papers on the other side of the line.

They knew very little about Jem in comparison to the real target tonight. The twins discovered that Jem was close with Alveyn Jones, current Remnants member and former agent for The Hangmen. His old gang had been named in connection to the youngest Perish sibling’s disappearance. So the twins needed to get Alveyn tonight, if only for more information.

And yet Jones never showed.

Instead, his best friend and closest confidant stood in his place. Which shocked Faye to the core at the sight of them. But she had to keep up the facade. Nothing had gone to plan which ended with Faye revealing too much about herself during her ruse. But Jem didn’t seem to mind, it actually seemed to draw them in to her more.

Like Icarus to the sun.

“It’s fine, they didn’t notice any red flags. Jones never showed, though.” She explained. “I think maybe they were looking for him too, or possibly were covering for him.”

Mal was silent for a moment in thought. “Are they with you now?”

Faye shook her head despite Malakai not being able to see her, “I tried to bring Jem home so we could discuss some things,” Faye chose her words very carefully so as to not alarm the taxi driver, “but they refused. I did give them my number though so we could try again another day.”

“You think something happened to Jones?” He continued to question her, trying to get the full picture before she arrived so they could focus on planning when she got there in person.

“I’m not sure, I think the best we can do for now is wait for Jem’s call. They have to know more than they’re saying.” As Faye noticed the clubs’ lights coming into view, she reached into her bag and counted out the change needed for her fare. She was incredibly careful not to tip over ten percent.

“What angle are you playing?”

Faye bit her smile, “Charming city girl, who saw a handsome person at a bar and just had to approach them. I wore a pretty dress and ordered pricey drinks. What I really learned about them tonight is that they’re not against an expensive date.”

“Something that’s clearly going to be relevant, I’m sure.” He quipped.

She handed the money to the driver, climbed out of the car, and closed the door gently. The line of people was half a block long, waiting to descend into Ruin. As some people were arguing with the bouncer to be let in, the tall muscular man stepped aside for Faye without a word.

Her heels clicked against the stairs leading into the dimly lit club. The music bounced off the walls, overbearing to the point where you couldn’t hear the person next to you no matter how hard you tried. Although with the amount of people grinding to music, the vibe of the club wasn’t about conversation.

Faye ducked into the back room behind one of the bars, and the music became muffled when the door shut behind her. Jim and Janette were sitting amongst some of the storage, counting cash and filling out forms.

Janette looked up in surprise, a smile beaming across her face, “Umbra was looking for you, you should go see him right away.”

Faye smiled tightly and squinted, she pointed at her phone trying to communicate that she’s been in contact with him, “Thanks Janette.”

On a pivoting floor board, Faye pushed a stack of boxes out of the way, and pushed in. The door ejected from its spot and she entered, using the handle on the inside to pull it shut again. Their communal room was finely decorated, the center of the room having the floor sunken in with seats and a small table in the center. There were stairs on either side to descend into the seating area, and ascend towards the large screen hung on the wall. The furniture -down to the wood of the table- stayed within the colour palette of reds and golds.

The table in the center had a touchscreen that connected to the large one on the wall. Whatever you move, click, or write will appear on the large screen. It made debriefs and planning much simpler in a group.

How the twins got the money to pay for everything, nobody needed to know.

Umbra was leaning forward, elbow on his knee as he leaned forwards to reach the table. He looked up at Faye’s entrance, hanging up the phone and said, “Fucking Janette.”

“Fucking Janette.” Faye murmured in agreement. She tucked her phone into her back pocket before taking a seat next to her brother.

Umbra reached out towards the table and pulled up the most recent photos of their target: Alveyn Jones. They were a series of candid photos expanded as multiple angles were shown. Leaving the library, entering the bar. Leaving the bar with their surprise guest of the evening, Jemon Morale, under his arm.

And the last photo taken on the thirteenth, two days prior. The last known sighting of Caspian Vanderbelt.

He was entering a black car in the dead of night with one bag hanging off his shoulder. The only identifying mark being the rims on the car being engraved to match the look of a pirate ship’s wheel. Everyone had a symbol of their status in their respective agencies. This one was for the Hangmen crew.

Umbra began the debrief, “Jones had spent his final day seemingly running errands. Visiting his bank, his property manager. If anyone looked at it, as Jim had, Alveyn was simply paying rent. Upon further investigation since you were interrupted tonight, Alveyn drained his accounts and ended his lease. No notice.”

“Hence why Jim’s on stock duty, I get it.” Faye replied.

Umbra gave a short chuckle before continuing, “He’s completely off the grid. But I believe he’s still in the city since we haven’t found any plane, train, or bus tickets under any known aliases from the Hangmen.”

“The Last Stand and The Remnants must know that he’s missing. It’s the only reason Jem would’ve been there.” She added. “But how much do they know?”

“What are our options?”

After a brief moment of staring at the screens, Faye began, “They could’ve sent Alveyn in as a double agent but his wire has gone dead.”

Umbra countered, “Maybe Alveyn mentioned something to Morale about the dinner and they went on their own to try and find them. I mean the only person who doesn’t know about Jones’s commitment issues is Jemon.”

She hummed in agreement, “Or it’s a complete coincidence they were there tonight and he and Jem are still writing love letters to each other.”

Umbra was taken aback, letting out a sound of approval. “To keep a cover, not alert any spy agencies to his shifting loyalty.”

The twins shared a look like they cracked something. Or at least came up with the most entertaining narrative like how they gossiped in their youth. It was the most expressive Umbra had ever gotten in their later years. Even in the hardest of times the sun knew how to brighten the moon.

“It does however,” Umbra continued, “mean we’re back to square one. No lead on Tobias, or Jones, or mother.”

Faye let out a deep breath, trying to come up with a game plan. But even after minutes of flipping through notes she could only come up with one solution. “Oddities?”

Umbra groaned, throwing his feet up on the table, “We can’t go back there. I swear, Reward’s out to get me.”

Faye shoved Umbra’s feet off the surface, “It’s our best chance of getting information. Trivia knows everything, you’ll barely have to engage with the guy. It’s not for us, you know that.”

Another sigh left through his lips as a resolute, “For Serena,” followed.

#jem #campaign 1 #au week #friend ocs #au week 2023 #faye #my writing

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