#mica bouchard

[beatrice-babe]

choose your fighter

in one corner, we have Cave Johnson.

Cave Johnson. the man. the myth. the moondust-infested legend. the man who brought a scientific company to the peak of industry (on the back of others' accomplishments?), then managed to fuck it up by reaching too high and delving too deeply and then he was getting sued, and then he was feeding his employee to the mantis men and probably also a woodchipper for science, and then he ate moon rocks and caught the cancer about it and as his last known act as head of Aperture Science, he had his secretary's consciousness shoved into a robot so she could never die and run Aperture forever

parallels to our boy Moc Weepe include: some business man bullshit, reaching too far and delving too deep, truly doomed by his own nature. willing to feed whoever he has to to whatever he has to in order to get ahead and stay ahead. downfall at the hands of hubris. if you've got more, go off in the comments, join me in my brain rot

perpendiculars to our boy Moc Weep: doesn't want to die. would like to live forever in a computer, and Moc Weepe, ah, did not like the mica sarcophagus. no vengeance quest for Portal boy.

AND IN OUR OTHER CORNER

Caroline. my goodest bestest most favorite girl who has done no wrong every, yes i do subscribe to the idea that she was the brains behind Aperture why do you ask. and her counterpart, GLaDOS. robot of my heart, condemner of the companion cube. lives solely for revenge and to Test. scientists took a woman screaming and put her in a (metaphorical) box and in revenge she released the neurotoxin, and probably more neurotoxin, frankly it sounds like she got a couple cracks at it every time they put on a new core (rip to the morality core, you did your best and it would never be enough), she just got better and smarter and they got dead faster.

parallels to our boy Moc Weepe include: revenge. the baddest bitch in Stationery Hill (Lark lives in the desert, she doesn't count) or Aperture Labs, as your media source may go. boxed! sarcophagus of mica or consciousness in a computer, pick your neurotoxin poison, same shit different day.

perpendiculars to our boy Moc Weepe: GLaDOS did what Weepe could not. she let go. Chell got out, but Weepe was begged by the one true person he cared about in this life, on her deathbed (his deathbed, they were both dying) to let it go, and he absolutely did not do that thing

BUT WHAT'S THIS? JONAH MAGNUS WITH A STEEL CHAIR??

look. they're both just a little guy, seeking to do great evil because it furthers their goals, but in their day to day, they do paperwork. they love the paperwork. they love being this fuck-off scary dude sitting in an office and signing off on someone's PTO. of course, Jonah Magnus is out there fucking shit up in the name of Not Dying, and Moc Weepe is out here fucking shit up in the name of Should Have Died, Did Not Want to Come Back, Making That Everyone Else's Problem, but hey, we all go out parallels and our perpendiculars

okay fight.

[0rchidm4ntis]

Elias is such a cunt are you kidding me

[as-the-stars-foretold]

the rise of icarus

In which Icarus decides to take revenge.

TW: talks of death, descriptions of blood, yelling/fighting

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The air was metallic and warm. The smell filled every inch of your sinuses and invaded every receptor. It was damp by the edge of the forest and the metallic smell clung to the humid air. It was like breathing in a furnace full of iron.

“Mica? Mica? This isn’t funny anymore,” she said softly, shaking the man who now lay in a crumpled heap in her arms. “Wake up, please. Your sister is waiting for you and- and Epi was going to help you make your mom’s favorite dinner. You said we could watch a movie after!” He didn’t respond.

“Please! Mica, wake up! This isn’t fair!” Their sobbing echoed through the empty street, a cacophonous chorus of hiccups and pleading. “You were just two months older than me and your birthday was coming up! You were supposed to turn twenty-four! The rest of us were supposed to make a cake for you and you were supposed to hate it because basically none of us can bake!” His body was cooling far too fast and touching him scared her. But not touching him, not giving him this company for the last time scared her more.

She had sat there for hours, cradling his body, begging for him to wake up, calling his name. She begged and prayed and bargained, but the impassive Universe did not heed her wishes. It never did. He was cold now, and the rosy flush to his skin was gone, but he still wore a soft smile on his face. Tears, both his own and his friend’s, stained his cheeks and shirt. Nyx kept brushing them away, even though two more would replace the one removed. She picked his body up, struggling a little at the weight but determined not to drop him. The recorder was in her pocket, a heavy reminder of what the intel had cost. They left the bodies of the mercenaries at the mercy of whoever, whatever, found them.

The journey back home was the worst thing they’d ever had to endure. Nyx walked slowly, careful not to miss a step. A missed step for her meant nothing, but a misstep for his broken body meant dishonour. She couldn’t keep Mica alive, but she’d be damned if she didn’t honor him. But worse than that, they knew, was going to be telling the others. As soon as she realized that, she gasped. “Shit, shit, shit!” Gently setting Mica’s limp body against a tree, Nyx fished out their communicator. Cody immediately picked up.

“Boss! You just- just stormed out. Is everything okay?”

“No. Is Mica’s sister there or did she go home?” She waited as Cody yelled something inaudible to another person. Oh, how she dreaded what the next questions were going to be.

“She went back home. Why? What happened?” They sighed, trying to keep their voice from shaking too much.

“Cody. I need you to promise me something. No matter what I tell you when I get back, you need to keep your calm as much as possible.”

“...Alright? Wait, what did you mean by when I get back—” She disconnected the communicator, shaking once more. Cody was clever. He’d figure out what happened quickly enough, probably before they returned. And they dreaded that. How would they explain to Mica’s childhood friend, to his little sister, to his coworkers… What had happened?

Nyx picked him up again, numbness creeping in where dread had been minutes before. They’d have to tell them one way or another, just like they had to tell their friend’s family that their only daughter died. It wasn’t fair. No person should have to tell loved ones about the deaths of their beloved children, siblings, parents so many times. But this had happened often enough that she had grown numb to it. Except this time was different. It was rawer, just like the first time, but angry too.

Anger, anger, anger… they were rather familiar with that emotion. Not in themself, of course, but in their best friends. Or, as the Universe would have it, ex-best friends. The Torchbearer’s drive came from righteous morality and anger. Delphiniums’s power came from anger at their injustice. She was the only one of the three to not have harnessed that anger, to not have burnt their enemies to the ground. Instead, Nyx… watched. She watched the flames dance around the town, sometimes reveling in their hypnotic movements and other times grieving what once was. She knew better than to let her anger control her. But times were a-changing, and the Flamebringer had a path to light.

Standing at the threshold of the Neutralist Headquarters, they shivered. Panic, desperation, guilt, fear—it pulsed and swirled under their careful mask of numbness. Nyx kicked the door three times, holding tight to Mica’s body. The door swung open seconds later. Cody looked at them, worry slowly turning into shock. He stepped to the side silently, a numb invitation for Nyx. She entered and heard the door shut behind them. It sounded like the safety of a gun. They ignored the stares of their agents, instead moving swiftly to the couch and setting Mica’s body down. Kneeling next to him, she bowed her head. Taking a few calming breaths, she spoke.

“I want everybody to report to the Main Hall immediately. This is urgent.” Cody was at her side as soon as she finished speaking. They didn’t look up at the mechanic, but they knew his hands were shaking. He knelt next to her, softly touching Mica’s cold hand. He moved silently as the other agents filtered in. He fixed Mica’s hair, which had come undone somewhere in the fight, scraping out dried blood with his bare hands. He adjusted the necklace and repositioned his arms. Something to keep his hands moving until Nyx could explain what had happened.

A few minutes later and everyone was there. Reactions ranged from shock to horror, sadness to blankness. Cody had moved back into the crowd by now, leaving Nyx to stand alone by Mica’s body. Taking another breath, she spoke softly. Her voice still echoed.

“3:51 PM. Mica was at site three to gather the intel I had talked about a few weeks prior. He accidentally got the attention of Metaphor Mercenaries. He alerted me to that and I agreed to be stationed halfway away. He finished getting the recording, but the mercenaries met him outside the building.” It wasn’t the time for her to grieve. It was the time for her to be the leader her agents needed.

“He held them off for a few minutes while I got to the site, but by then… it was too late,” she took a shaky breath, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “It was a quick death. One bullet to the heart.”

Silence met her. A few shaky breaths and a couple whimpers were the only things that broke it. She waited for them to say something, anything. And finally, a voice rang out.

“What happened to the mercenaries?”

She smiled at that. A dangerous, vicious smile. “Dead.” That word seemed to alleviate some of the tension in the room. Satisfaction that Mica’s murderers had gotten what they deserved. They knew it wasn’t enough.

There were no questions after that. Nyx dismissed everyone, giving them three weeks off with full pay. Some people left quickly, glancing just once at the body. Others took their time, whispering to him or holding his hand before leaving. Soon enough, the only people left in the building were Nyx, Epimetheus, and Cody. Epimetheus was in their office, likely running through various programs to see which one would help them handle the news the best. This left Cody and Nyx.

They were on the roof, sitting on the edge. Neither of them said a word. Nyx stayed quiet, knowing that Cody had something to say. But when he said nothing, she decided to start the painful conversation.

“I need to tell his sister about him. Should she stay with us or would sending her to her parents be the better option?”

Cody didn’t say anything for a moment. As the silence stretched on, Nyx grew anxious. I need to tell him the context, at least. He needs to know what I have planned for the organization. I need to give him closure. Finally, he responded.

“Send her back. It’s not fair to keep her in the city where her brother died.” Nyx nodded, looking at the horizon. The city’s golden glow, which used to comfort her, now just made her angry. This wasn’t her city, their city anymore. It was a tyrant’s city. It was a ghost town.

They fell back into ruthless silence. Nyx resisted the urge to tackle Cody in a hug, to apologize to him until the sun came up. It wouldn’t do either of them any good. Cody wasn’t that type of person. When he wanted to speak about what was bothering him, he would do so.

“Nyx, I need to ask you something.”

Dread.

“Yes?”

“Why… Why did you let him go on the field mission? Why did you even announce that to us? You never used to before.” She sighed, turning to look at Cody.

“I let him go because it’s what he wanted. He told me he was bored, that he felt useless with nothing to do. I didn’t think… I didn’t think tha—”

“You don’t ever think, do you?” She flinched at this, meeting his eyes for the first time in hours. His eyes blazed with a fury so violent it almost made her want to cry. “You don’t think! Prometheus, it’s always the extremes with you. Either you don’t let any of us on field missions or you get someone killed on one!”

“I didn’t want him to go!” She yelled, standing up on the ledge. “I was telling him he was underprepared, that he should have me come with him! He wanted to feel useful? Fine! But it would have done him no harm to let me go with hi—”

“THEN WHY DIDN’T YOU?!” She paused. He was right. Why didn’t she? “I’LL TELL YOU WHY! BECAUSE YOU’RE A GOD DAMNED PUSHOVER!”

“Cody—”

“No, don’t you dare interrupt me! You don’t stand up to anyone, Nyx! Not even your own agent, your own friend. If you felt that going with him would have been the better option, why didn’t you force him to take you?! You were his boss, and more than that, the man would have done anything for you!” Cody paused, breathing heavily. Tears were building in his eyes and Nyx wanted nothing more than to apologize a thousand times.

“In fact, he did do anything for you! When Epimetheus disappeared, he shouldered on twice the responsibility so that you wouldn’t have to! So that you could focus on being the leader the rest of us needed.” He scoffed, glaring at her. “You didn’t even do that. And not to mention him changing his code after that… that night with Torchbearer.”

He had noticed. He had noticed her spiraling. That shook Nyx. She had tried to hide it from everyone, especially Mica. And he had still noticed and cared enough to signal to her that he noticed.

“I’m…” she sighed, shoving down the apology for later, “I know. I wasn’t, and haven’t been, the leader you all need. I regret that so, so much. You’re right, I should have forced him to take me with. Hell, I shouldn’t have announced the mission in the first place! I should’ve just found another way to keep him busy, happy. You’re right.” Cody stared at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue. She looked back towards the horizon.

“I’m sorry. I was pretending to be strong enough to lead you all and that illusion failed. I wanted to protect you all but I couldn’t fight for us. I’m sorry. I was just… lost. Confused, scared. I didn’t know what I was doing, and honestly? I still don’t. But, Cody,” she said, meeting his eyes, “I do know one thing. And that is that I will die for you all if- when the time comes.”

He stared at her. Then he laughed. Loudly, heartily. He bent over, clutching his sides. They stared incredulously at him, anger and fear merging into one. “Oh, Prometheus,” he cooed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Valiant speech, boss. But you haven’t acknowledged the elephant in the room yet.” He met her eyes again, and she was taken aback by the near hatred in his warm brown eyes. “You were the cause of his death. It’s your fault.” Nyx blinked. Then she scoffed.

“I know that, Cody. Obviously it’s my fault. I was the one who sent him on the mission, I was the one who didn’t get there fast enough to save him. But you’re not talking about an important piece of the puzzle,” she leaned down to look at him face to face. “The Mafia is the man behind the murder. Sure, it was my mission that killed him, but the reason for that mission? The Revolution. The reason for the Revolution? The Metaphor Mafia.” She stopped at that, considering her next words. Cody, and for that matter, the rest of the Neutralists, didn’t know of her… rather personal connection to the Mafia.

“And the reason for the Mafia, Cody? Delphiniums.”

He looked at her, frowning. He knew all that, so why was she telling him? They sighed.

“Let me give you some context.”

♠♠♠

“When I was younger, maybe not even an adult, I began my work with the Mafia. My two best friends worked for the Mafia as well. One of them was Wolfsbane. The other? Delphiniums themself. Now, believe it or not, I was rather mouthy back then. I talked back to Delphiniums and they did not like that. They told me I’d be given a punishment for that. I didn’t believe them but… well…

A few days later, I was getting lunch with a friend. She was the sweetest, kindest soul ever. We were sitting outside the restaurant, catching up when suddenly, she keeled over. Understandably, everyone was freaked out. Before people started crowding around our table, though, I grabbed the dart that was on her. It had a little note attached to it. ‘Rule #3: Don’t talk back.’ I knew what had happened, then. I’d been dealt my punishment.” She paused, looking at Cody for permission to continue. When he nodded, she spoke again.

“That was the first death I experienced caused by the Mafia. After that, it sent me into a sort of… paranoia spiral and I pushed everyone away. And then, after Wolfsbane defected with a bang, I started working with the Rev and the Mafia. Around that time, Hephaestus, is when I formed the Neutralists. I will confess, the Neutralists were originally a way for me to play three sides of the game at once, but then you all morphed into… my own, I guess. My friends, my allies, something I needed to protect. Failed a bit at that but…” Cody nodded, leaning back. She glanced down at him, but the man was unreadable. She felt a flicker of pride at that. He was an open book before joining, but now he could mask his thoughts better than she could.

He was silent for a long time, before finally looking up at her, understanding drawn on his face. “So what you’re saying is that technically… the entire thing is the Mafia’s fault?”

“Not technically. Explicitly.”

“Right. But it’s also your fault in that you were forced into this ‘game,’ as you called it, and the game wrapped you up in strings too tight.”

“Precisely. I was forced into this, into… being a pushover, as you said, by Delphiniums.”

“But why didn’t you fight back?” That’s what she liked about Cody. He was always asking why? Why couldn’t they take direct action? Why didn’t Nyx fight back? Why?

“I was in a bit of a precarious situation,” she explained. “Delphiniums had a lot to hold over my head, so I pretended I just… didn’t have any attachments. And that act seeped into me, and became a bit of my reality. Plus, I had Torchbearer’s secrets to keep.” Cody nodded, finally seeming to have calmed down a bit.

“And, one last thing—” he looked at her as she sat down next to him, “—none of what I said was to absolve me from guilt or blame. Mica’s death was still hugely my fault, but I wanted you to know that there’s more at play here than you think.” He frowned a little, confusing her.

“By the way, boss, I just wanted to say sorry.”

“You were right, though.”

“I may be right, but you’re grieving too. It wasn’t fair of me to say all of that when you literally saw your friend die.”

She smiled kindly at him. “You needed to say it. I’m glad you did, regardless of the questionable timing. I needed to hear it from one of my own anyway.” Cody smiled back.

He looked exhausted, but Nyx had one more thing to bring up. He beat her to it.

“We’re working with the Revolution again, sorta, right?”

“Yeah…?”

He turned to her, fury in his eyes again. Only this time, the fury was directed at someone else.

“So why don’t we… pay the Mafia back, if you will?”

A grin spread over her face, venomous and eager. “Do you remember the protocol we had set in place for a death or serious injury?” Cody nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes.

“Protocol N3M.” She stood up again, looking like a proper leader for the first time in years. Pulling out her communicator, she paged everyone. They all picked up.

“Protocol N3M is in action,” Cody said, before nodding at Nyx. She smiled.

“We are Nemesis.”

[miicachii]

Mica… The evil eyeball guy? My good friend what in the name of the stars makes Elias Bouchard attractive to you

i like nice voices and money and suits

[0rchidm4ntis]

YOU'RE TELLING ME MELANIE WAS JUST READY TO POISON ELIAS AND KILL HIM JUST LIKE THAT???? GIRLBOSS SHIT

[as-the-stars-foretold]

the fall of daedalus

In which Daedalus falls before Icarus.

TW: death, blood, guns, ment. of daggers

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Are you sure about this?” Nyx asked, brows furrowed. Mica had been preparing for this mission for a few weeks now and this wasn’t the first time Nyx had asked if he was sure, if he wanted her to do it instead, if he wanted her to come along. Each time his answers had been the same.

“It’s fine, boss. I’m just going out to gather some information, listen in on some dealings, stuff like that. Nothing like what you used to do,” he reminded her gently, but it was clear that he was annoyed by Nyx’s lack of confidence. Nyx’s frown deepened as she handed him a mask and an ammo belt.

“Right, but you know that they’ve got it out for me. It’s… it’s too obvious that you’re not a Revolution member. And no regular civilian would be dressed like that and hanging around shady spots,” she said hurriedly. “If they spot you, if they even have an idea of what you’re doing… Mica, I’m not kidding when I say they’ll murder you.” He just sighed, nodding. Finally turning to face Nyx, he smiled kindly. “And that’s a risk I’m willing to take. The Rev needs intel and you need to be here to manage the Neutralists and relations. If something happened to you…” Mica trailed off, “well, I don’t want to think about that. It’ll be fine. I’m careful!”

Nyx bit the inside of their cheek, fighting the urge to pull out the leader's voice and order him to stay back. Mica was rather good at gathering intel and he’d been setting up for this mission for weeks. It’d be unfair to hold him back.

“Fine.”

Just a few minutes later, the two were at the doors of the Main Headquarters. Nyx held two small earpieces in her hands. To contact her, she explained. In case anything bad was about to happen. She would be there in two minutes flat. Mica laughed at that. “You're more like a mom than a boss!”

“Oh, hush you,” she grumbled, lightly punching his arm. “Someone’s gotta be the mom.”

“Well then, mother, I graciously accept your gift!” Mica teased, plucking the earpiece from her hands and putting it on. “Double tap to connect, double tap again to disconnect, yeah?” She nodded, putting on her own and double tapping it. Static suddenly filled her ears and they flinched as a feedback loop was created, the high-pitched screeching assuring them of functioning earpieces. Turning the comm off, Nyx fixed him with a piercing stare again.

“You call for help at the first sign of trouble, got it?”

“Yes, mom—” Nyx slugged him on the arm again, “—Yes, ma’am.”

She grinned, rubbing the place where she hit him. “Atta boy.”

“Don’t push it, boss.”

“Right, right. Good luck, Mica. Return to me safely.” Mica swung the door open, the golden light of dawn covering them both. He turned back to her, smiling that kind, gentle smile.

“I will, Nyx. For fools and foresight.”

“For fools and foresight.”

And with a final salute, Mica was off.

Mica stayed on the edge of the streets, nearly walking in the forest. To any untrained eye, he would have just looked like a reclusive teenager taking a morning walk. But, he reminded himself, it was never clear who was an untrained eye and who had their eyes fixed on him. Regardless of that, Mica kept a swift pace, heading to the first set of coordinates.

Why does the Mafia have to be so spread out, he whined internally, almost regretting having taken up this mission. But lately, the Neutralists had been at a sort of standstill. With Epimetheus back, Mica’s load was lightened. He knew he should have felt grateful for that, but boredom swept him away quickly. Having just half the workload, he would usually spend the rest of the day doing menial tasks around the city and making sure his bosses took adequate breaks. He wanted excitement, a sense of purpose. So when Prometheus announced the upcoming field mission, he nearly lept out of his seat to volunteer. Prometheus had chuckled, sharing a knowing look with Epimetheus. “Daedalus, you may be in charge of this field mission.”

He was overjoyed at having been given the assignment, but one look at Prometheus’s face as she pulled him aside was enough to create a nagging sense of apprehension that still hadn’t left. “Mica,” their voice was low, urgent, “I don’t want you to take this lightly. You don’t know what is in store for you if you get found out. If you want to back out, even in the middle of the mission, you have my full permission to do so.” He hadn’t understood her concern then, but as he approached the first site and the bustling of the city faded out, he did. It was dangerous, far more dangerous than Prometheus had ever let on when they were a field agent.

But Daedalus was no coward when he took flight on waxen wings and neither was Mica Bouchard. Slowing his pace, Mica slipped into the forest, taking refuge in the shade of towering oaks and birches. He clicked on his audio recorder and crept closer, careful to not make a sound at all. Voices floated out from the shadowed stairwell, haunted mutterings of deals struck at midnight and devices leaking ink. Mica listened intently, pointing his recorder at the source of the voices. The things he was hearing… It was rare that Mica ever interacted with Speechless who were conscious. He patched up unconscious ones and had his fellows take care of the conscious ones. But hearing the jeering voices of the Metaphor Men talking about all the words they had stolen and all the poor innocents they’d left stumbling around in the streets sent shivers down his spine.

Once the conversation faded and two veiled figures stepped into daylight, he clicked off the recorder. Shuffling further back into the forest, he watched them unveil and walk down the street as if they hadn’t just had the most haunting conversation he had ever heard. Once he was sure that they were gone, he stepped back to the edge of the forest, leaning against the trunk of a towering oak. Tapping twice on his earpiece, he thought about what he’d say. A joke, maybe, about how unpoised the Metaphor Men were. Or even a quick condolence to Prometheus for what they had to deal with while working with the Mafia.

Instead, what came out were two simple, professional sentences. “Site one complete. I’m sending over the recording.” Static buzzed in his ear for a few seconds, before Prometheus’s voice crackled over the comm.

“Copy that. Is there a transcript generated or do we need to generate one?”

“No transcript generated, I’m afraid.”

“Got it. You have the coords for sites two and three?”

“Yessir. Starting towards site two in just a minute.”

“Roger. You remember the rules, right?”

There it was. Mica had been waiting for the check-in. He smiled slightly at that. She always managed to be concerned, even when it was clear that her agents were doing fine. “Of course, boss.”

“Alright. Head over to site two at your earliest convenience, then. Over.”

The comm clicked out and Mica was left to listen to the rustling of leaves and chirping of birds.

The journey to site two was much quicker, only being a 3 minute walk rather than a 10 minute one. Heading into Town Square, Mica was suddenly much more acutely aware of all the people looking at him. That is, just a few glances thrown his way, most likely judging his mostly black outfit. He glared at the lookers, who quickly turned their gaze away. Usually, he wasn’t this cautious or this snippy. But he had told his friend he’d come back safe and he intended to follow through. Besides, he had a little sister to spend time with. A part of him did understand where the crowd was coming from. He was a 23 year old man dressed like an emo teenager at 7:45 AM. It had to have been a bit of an odd sight.

He wasn’t able to sympathize with the onlookers for very long, though, as site two came into view. He turned back towards Town Square, weaving in and out of people until he was able to slip into a small alley. Using the alley (and a couple feet of rope to scale a wall), he found his way into the forest. But as he neared the site, his feeling of accomplishment faded and a grimace crept onto his face. It seemed that he couldn’t stay hidden in the forest to gather the information this time.

He stopped behind another oak tree, thinking about a solution to the conundrum. After a few more seconds, he pursed his lips, dropping the backpack into the soft dirt. He grabbed a branch and swung himself up. Climbing to the highest possible part of the tree, he surveyed the area. Nope. Definitely can’t use the forest to hide this time. He focused on the coordinates of site two specifically. It was an old, crumbling brick building. It was impossible to discern what it may have been, but that didn’t matter. He saw a strange cluster of shadows and color on the collapsed overhand and grinned. There they were.

Taking a few seconds to climb down the tree, he landed deftly next to his bag. Swinging it onto his back, he crept closer to the collapsed building, still hidden in the forest. Voices, loud and boisterous, floated over. He still couldn’t make out what they were saying, but even hearing as much as he could was a good sign. Arriving at the back of the building, he got out a long rope with hooks attached to the end. “Let’s see just how well I do in IRL rock climbing,” he muttered, grimacing at the words he used. A result from too much time spent around Cody, to be sure. Flinging the hooked side as high as he could, he waited to hear a definitive clunk. The clunk did come, but with it came silence as the chattering voices stopped suddenly. Mica held his breath, ready to book it from the place. Just as it seemed that the group had gotten up to search for the source of the sound, an exasperated man’s voice rang out.

“Y’all, this building is literally crumbling in front of our eyes. It’s nothing to worry about. Prolly just another brick that took a tumble.”

Mica exhaled slowly. False alarm. He started his climb.

The climb was quicker than he’d expected, given the height of the wall. He landed quietly on the shadowed remainders of the second floor. From here, the voices were as clear as the sky above him. Chattering about nonsense filled his ears and he sighed, sitting in the darkest corner to wait until they let slip important information. It took longer than he’d like (this group of Metaphor Men, he decided, were morons), but eventually the chatter calmed down into discussions about work. Mica clicked on his recorder and waited. This conversation, thankfully, wasn’t as gruesome as the last. This discussion was mainly about field work and their… strange encounters. Mica frowned at that one. Strange encounters only meant two things. Either the Neutralists doing field missions were losing their touch or… the Revolution wasn’t being as careful as they ought to be.

The conversation ended quickly. He should have expected that, he conceded to himself as he slid down the rope and unlatched it from its position on the wall. This group of Metaphor Men was more concerned with talking about types of bananas than they were with work. And to an extent, Mica could understand. It was a bit boring to talk about just work, but it wasn’t this boring. Slipping back into the forest, he sent the recording to Prometheus and connected the comm. “Boss?”

“Daedalus. Everything alright? I see that you’ve sent the recording for site two.”

“Yes, everything’s fine. Say, were the people you worked with in the Mafia all ridiculously murderous or ridiculously incompetent?” A pause on the other side, then a little laugh.

“You could say that. Right, site three. I’ll warn you now, that one's gonna be the hardest yet and I want you to be the most cautious there. You have coords?”

“Copy that. I do have coords.”

“Fantastic. Be safe, Daedalus. Also, your sister says hi.”

Mica laughed a little at the thought of his boss playing with his seven year old sister. “I’ll be safe. Tell her I say ‘hi’ back.”

“Will do.” And the line disconnected.

The last site was the furthest away, near downtown. It was midday by then and Mica was exhausted. He almost hoped that the next set of Metaphor Men would be idiots like the last so that his job could be done quicker. But he quickly quashed that hope, reminding himself why he was even spending time on this mission. He could prove to Prometheus that he could do field missions successfully and, hopefully, get more assigned to him. That would be a very nice change of pace, if he was being honest. The crowd was thin, just the occasional couple walking by or a group of rambunctious looking teenagers. Mica fit right in.

He skirted around site three, heart drumming in his chest. The building wasn’t as run down as the last, meaning his stunt there with the rock climbing wouldn’t work here. He knew his targets were inside the building, discussing who knows what. Maybe gory details like the first report or a near useless report like the second. Finally, Mica decided that his best bet would be to slip his recorder onto the ledge of a shattered window and hope that it could pick up the conversation well enough.

He crept closer to one of the shattered windows, holding his breath with every step. But as fate would have it, he stepped on a stray branch. The crack echoed through the empty lot and Mica dashed to the back of the building, where there were no windows. He tried not to lose control of his breathing, tried to keep it as calm as possible. It would do no good for the Metaphor Men to catch him. Two elongated shadows appeared in his field of vision. He shuffled silently in the opposite direction, creating as much distance between himself and the shadows. Slipping into the forest, he waited with bated breath for the footsteps to leave and the shadows to disappear.

It seemed to take an eternity, but finally the shadows rounded back around the building. Mica exhaled slowly. Double tapping on his comm, he waited for Prometheus to say something.

“Daedalus. Everything alright?”

“Hate to say it, boss, but I don’t think so. I’m at site three,” he explained in a hurried whisper, “and there was a stray branch that I didn’t see. Stepped on it and got the attention of whoever is inside the building. Currently hiding in the forest. I don’t know if they saw me.”

The static on the line only served to make him more anxious and he felt his breathing speed up again.

“Copy that. Daedalus, I’ll need you to calm down,” Nyx murmured, voice gentle but firm. “Do you want me to meet you at site three? Two minutes, flat.”

He thought about it for a moment. One the one hand, it’d help to make him feel safe, secured. If anything happened to him, at least Nyx would be the witness. On the other hand, though, if Prometheus were to be here and they both got found out… it’d be an execution fit for the French Revolution.

“No.”

“...Are you certain?”

“Yes. I’d like you to stay on the line, maybe come halfway to site three, but don’t be here.”

He could almost sense Nyx’s hesitation. And then, finally: “Copy that. I’ll be halfway there in a minute, tops.”

“Thank you. And, uh, Nyx?” Referring to his boss by name in such a vulnerable manner felt strange, but it seemed to fit perfectly for the occasion.

“Mica.”

“If… If anything happens, I want you to tell my sister to be strong. To take up my torch, to carry on. I want you to tell her I love her.”

Silence. A desperate, pleading silence. Then an answer.

“Of course.”

Mica waited until Prometheus told him they were halfway to site three to try and finish his mission. He crept out of his hiding spot, eyes constantly flitting between ahead and down in fear of stepping on another branch. The recorder clicked on when he was less than ten feet away. He hesitated for a second, then disconnected the comm and brought the recorder to his lips.

“Nyx. Whoever is listening to this. My name was Mica Bouchard. I was a Neutralist agent and I’m honored to be one, even if I die today. My codename was Daedalus. And, for my Icarus, I hope you know that you aren’t alone in this fall. We’re by your side, young Icarus, and we will be forevermore. Note to self: if you live, erase this section before sending the recording to bossman.”

Finishing the message, Mica reconnected his comm and was immediately met with frantic whispering from Prometheus. He ignored them, instead just creeping forward.

Reaching the window ledge, he silently placed the recorder on it, making sure it was hidden as well as it could be. And he waited. Prometheus’s voice had died down by now, and she’d only say something to check in with him. He responded in hums. It seemed enough for her, assurance that he was alive. He hoped that he’d have to do the long, arduous task of erasing a piece of the recording. He didn’t want the people inside to stop talking. It just meant that he would be alive longer.

But Fate, cruel mistress that she is, wrapped up their conversation quicker than Mica would have liked. The voices inside hushed and he heard the shuffling of bags and feet. Quickly, he grabbed the recorder and turned it off. He didn’t know what was on the tape, aside from his message, but he had a bad, bad feeling about the people inside. “Boss, the recording is done. I’m retreating to the forest no—”

Bang.

The gunshot brought him to a halt. Slowly, Mica turned around. Three Metaphor Men, dressed in all black and veiled from eyes to forearms, greeted him. The center one was holding a gun. Discreetly, Mica dropped the recorder and kicked it back, out of their vision. He backed up, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. Pulling his mask down, he flashed them a bright, shaky smile. “Heya fellas! Whatcha need the guns for?”

“Mica, I’m heading to your location. Hold them off for just a minute, please.”

He hummed in acknowledgement. Static filled the line once more. The Metaphor Men, mercenaries, if he had to guess, were not amused. The one with the gun spoke first.

“Who are you?”

Mica shrugged, keeping up the friendly attitude as best as he could. “Just a guy. Mike’s the name.”

“What were you doing, Mike?”

“Oh, ya know. Messin’ around, looking for cool old buildings. Love showin’ off my finds, ya know?”

The mercenaries did not seem convinced in the slightest. In fact… it seemed as if they knew he was bluffing. And they seemed more than willing to call his bluff. Mica’s breathing picked up again, and he heard Nyx telling him to control his breathing, that he was almost there, but his voice seemed so distant. The one with the gun tutted in mock sympathy.

“No innocent man would be that worried about being caught in an act, blondie.”

“Well… uh, you are sorta holding me at gunpoint. In point blank range.”

“Ah, ah, ah. That’s where you messed up again. Your worry is different. Your worry is that of someone who knows what he’s done. Your worry, blondie, is your tell.”

Mica felt the ruse slip away, and a sneer replaced the amicable grin on his face. “Clever bastards. Bet that cowardly boss of yours taught you those little tricks, eh?”

“MICA, WHAT IN GOD’S NAME ARE YOU DOING?!” Nyx’s voice rang out in his ears.

“What we should have done a long, long time ago. I’m sorry, boss.”

The mercenaries closed distance, the one with the gun in the center and the other two holding daggers. “Talking to your boss,” one of the men with the daggers spat. “A coward who can’t even save their own agent.” Mica’s anger flared.

“Try calling my boss a coward when yours comes out of their hiding hole.”

Nyx was yelling something desperate on the line, but Mica couldn’t hear it over the ringing in his head. The static was gone. She had disconnected. For the better, Mica knew, considering what was about to happen to him. Looking with disdain at the mercenaries one last time, Mica levelled his eyes with the horizon.

Bang.

As he fell, the Universe decided to spite him one more time. The last thing he heard before darkness flooded his vision was a familiar voice’s gut wrenching scream.

⬪⬪⬪

Blood filled the stress of downtown that day. The blood of a man who gave his life for his cause and for his friend. The blood of the false dealers of justice, the wretched people who played executioner. At dusk, the only evidence that was left of the day’s events was the blood splattered on the walls of the old building. A mourner was hunched over the dead body of her friend, of her agent, of her Daedalus.

A promise of safety, left unfulfilled.