SURVIVALIST

★

Dominic rolled his eyes as he coughed after the shot. Don’t even start. I don’t know how you can stand that stuff, he answered, gesturing at the empty shot glass. He was never a hard liquor guy himself, much less a tequila guy. Beer was easy, uncomplicated, and while there was a time and place for a whiskey or a cocktail (Hurricanes on Mardi Gras, anyone?), he stuck with the tried and true.

Dominic drifted closer as Gus spoke, eyes locked on his hands as they moved quickly between signs. Even with his limited experience, Dominic knew grief wasn’t linear, and no one expected Gus to be fine after what happened. And he wasn’t, Dom understood, but he was… managing, as far as he could tell. Though, he’d probably have a better sense if he hadn’t all but abandoned the man for the year. And the guilt came over him again as he reflected on it, facing him for the first time in far too long. He washed it down with another pull from the beer bottle.

He bowed his head and nodded, smiling. No more apologies, he promised, the tips of his fingers touching and coming together. At least, I’ll try. He amended. It was easy to fall back into old habits with Gus, well-worn paths of connection the two had built over their years of knowing each other. Even after the year they’d had, it took hardly any effort for the two friends to get back to their old ways. Including Gus’ teasing. Dominic rolled his eyes again. It’s like Christmas for anglers. Tuna are an exciting fish.

While Gus might have thought fishing was boring, he just hadn’t been out on the water with Dominic enough. Fishing from land could be seen as boring – it certainly wasn’t a spectator sport – but getting out on the ocean, spending all day on the water, and the high-octane moments when your line catches something and you’re struggling with a fifty pound heavyweight in its element was something Dominic could easily do all day. Even if he hadn’t grown up with it. I’ll just have to take you out again then. Refresh your memory.

He didn’t flush when Gus called him out; he was used to it, after all. He was unabashed, after all, and that hadn’t changed in the year since they’d seen each other. Are you sure it won’t work? He responded, eyebrow raising in challenge, before Gus continued. He paused his teasing as Gus spoke about visiting his and his sister’s old haunts. What others might see as depressing or silly, Dominic could tell meant a lot to Gus. Even if it was sad, it was important. And while he couldn’t bear to sit with those emotions himself, he also hadn’t experienced a loss like that personally – at least, not in the same way. Losing Kraken was… more anger than anything, really. Anger at himself, anger at Kraken, and anger at Pantheon. There was loss there, sure, but it was different. Not nearly equivalent.

At Gus’ final question, he smiled, setting his beer down. He flagged down the bartender and got a drink of water before standing up from the barstool. Do you know me at all? He winked. Come on, I’m docked twenty minutes away. I can drive us.

_______

Hamlet knew Dominic wouldn’t be able to keep the promise of not apologizing, shooting him a grinning defectively look until he altered his words into just trying. Dominic had always been more empathetic between the two with Gus probably being able to count the amount of times he’s apologized to someone. This interaction has been the most he’s communicated with anyone in a while, and for once, Gus wasn’t dreading a conversation.

The water placed in front of Gus had already been halfway empty becuse of how fast he’d been chugging it. When Gus was drunk enough on alcohol he tended to drink out of cups and bottles sloppily, with a lot of the contents dripping down the sides of his lips. They are even better when they are steamed on a plate and I don’t have to do any of the work.  But on the bright side if we were stuck on an uncharted island - you’ld survive way longer than me.  He signed, his mind still thinking back to the first day he’d been fishing with Dominic. Gus caught one thing and it was pure luck. If you insist my memory needs refreshing, then I can’t say no.

Gus shrugged. I don’t know, honestly. Ask me the same question when I’m sober. I’m drunk on 5 tequila shots and 4 beers, Dominic. Can you expect me to go full on Socrates right now? He replied, laughing at his own statement. Gus didn’t know what to believe or trust anymore. When he and his family escaped the border after dealing with unforgettable tragedies he thought life would get better - only for them to get detained for months and deported back. Then his parents were taken from him, and now, his sister’s life was taken from him.  I will say. I don’t know what to expect anymore. 

When Gus had asked that question he truly didn’t expect to be told yes. Do I have a choice? He replied as he dug into his wallet and pulled out a one hundred dollar bill for the bartender. As Gus finally stood up, he nearly tripped over his own shoes before catching himself on the bar. i know what you’re thinking. And yes, I am that drunk. He walked side by side with Dominic, as once again his mind started to wander into the past. Gus had to snap himself out of his own trance when he realized they were at his vehicle. Don’t worry, I’ll drive. He joked, obviously not being serious while he threw himself into the passenger seat. I pray to God you have beer on this boat. And hey, if I catch something, that’ll be number 2 today. Gus nudged Dominic on the shoulder before he began driving and leaning his seat back right after.

Open To: House of Pollux / Godsend

Location: Brussels, Belgium

It would be a lie to say that Dilara could not feel the weight of the mission on her shoulders. It wasn’t to say that she didn’t take previous endeavours seriously - it was almost something she was known for, at this point, even the smallest of tasks undertaken with solemnity, as though it were the most imperative task in the world. This was something different entirely. 

It was Godsend that set Hebe on edge. The prospect of working with Godsend again was not an attractive one. Things had to go well - for the good of the crew, if not the entirety of Pantheon. They could not afford another mess to clear up, not if they wanted to stay strong.

She’d set up base in the city, a place close to the centre where she could blend in, and make her way around quickly. It was ideal for now, when she was on her way to visit her colleagues, to check in and make sure they had all they needed. They were expecting her, and so when she approached their accommodation, she was expecting them to be waiting for her. 

Once inside, Hebe nodded her greeting. “I brought coffee,” she placed the Styrofoam cups on the nearest surface, popping the lid from her own to add a couple of packets of sugar. “Have you been to Belgium before?” 

______

Hamlet had stayed up practically most of the night in anticipation for there first mission. Though his relationship with his crew was not on the best of terms, he had no intention of screwing up. This would be their first mission without his sister who had also been on his mind every waking second he laid in bed the night before.

Godsend needed this mission to succeed without any fail. They are one of the newest crews but are also one of the most strained. He had every intention of succeeding with this mission - no matter what it would take.

★

Dominic follows along with Gus’ signs, trying to pick up on the emotion behind them. His honesty – whether it’s the alcohol talking or just his honesty with Dominic – makes Dom tilt his head to the side ever so slightly, his eyebrows furrowing. He seems sad. Which, of course, who wouldn’t be? But he seems like he’s running away from it. Dominic can relate, can understand that feeling of wanting to do everything you can to avoid feeling the darkest parts of what hurts. Maybe that’s what he’s doing in Cancún after all.

And Dominic has no right to question or challenge his way of processing grief anyway, not that he would want to, so he accepts the shot and clinks glasses with Gus before downing it. It burns as it goes down, and he winces – God, tequila is not nice to him. He sets the shot glass, empty, down on the bar top, turns back to him. He then looked over to the bartender, who seemed to suspiciously hover around the two of them like they (or more preciously Gus) were some cash cow on the horizon, and waved him down. He pulled out his phone and started typing into Big Note. Una cerveza – Victoria – por favor.

He turned back to Gus, his attention now devoted to the younger man. I’m sorry you thought it’d be awkward. I didn’t want that. He shook his head at himself slightly and readied his apology. I’m sorry. I should’ve been there. He signs. I wasn’t… he pauses his signing and regroups. I wasn’t sure you’d want me around. His beer shows up, in perfect time, and he passes a fifty-peso bill over to the man.

Taking a swig of his beer, he turns to face Gus fully again. He smiles. I’ve been in Cardiff, mostly. Spent time with the crew, did some projects at home. I’ve been traveling lately, doing a lot of fishing. That’s why I’m here. It’s tuna and wahoo season, and I’ve never been. He explains. He pauses for a moment, takes another sip of his drink before setting it back down. You look good. How are you?

************* The younger agent did his best to not laugh at the face Dominic made when the tequila hit his throat - not making an efforts to contain his laughter. Tequila had been his true best friend over the year, his overall tolerance of the alcohol reduced the taste to the feeling of water going down his throat. Don’t tell me you’ve become a lightweight over the past year. I’m a proud lightweight and even I don’t make that face. Gus hadn’t laughed in that manner in a longtime, and he’d never admit that. If Gus got paid every time someone told him ‘sorry’ the past year, he’d have enough money to solve many of the world’s problems three times over. He battled trying to figure out if people were saying the word out of obligation or pure sympathy. Gus pushed practically everyone out of his life the past year and struggled to discover if he wanted to build back those relationships. His sister teased him for always clinging to the past, but now he felt as if it was his only choice to not go insane.

Though he struggled trusting others’ intentions, there was no doubt that Dominic had good intentions. The smile on Gus’ face subsided, his eyebrows narrowing, and for a moment he paused before signing. If i’m being honest with you. One day I’ll say I would have picked up the phone or replied. And tomorrow my answer could be different.”  An intense rush of heat could be felt on his forehead and chest, prompting Gus to unbutton another one of his buttons and use a napkin to wipe off his forehead. The tequila had really began to set in, but Gus had no intention of stopping. He turned to Dominic, forcing a smile on his own face. But promise me this, no more apologies.” Gus paused momentarily before signing once more. I know you mean it. No need to keep saying it. He took a giant drink of his beer, immediately rubbing his forehead once more after. I think time will hopefully fix everything and not keep kicking my ass. And with all things considered. Running into you was a surprise. A good surprise. The alcohol had been making Gus more comfortable and content, which meant usually oversharing with certain people. Grief and resentment tended to fade with him - even more so when tequila + beer were in the fray.

Gus had forgotten about the other agent’s love of fishing, though Gus could never understand how someone could enjoy sitting in one spot for hours with no known chance of rapid success. Dom’s smile was admittedly contagious, and very promptly, a similar smile had been on Gus’ face. I forgot just how much you love fishing. And I can’t say I’ve ever heard someone say tuna and wahoo season but if it makes you happy. I think the last time I went fishing was actually with you. The memory played through his head, and Gus could remember pestering Dominic the entire time because of how bored he’d been, but it’d still be a fun day. Come on now, player. My face is already red. Trying to make me blush won’t work. I know just how much of a flirt you are, it won’t work. Gus teased. He quickly ordered one last shot along with a water, knowing he’d need a break before his next. Well, just like you, I’ve been traveling. Spent half of last year in Mexico City held up in one of my apartments. After that I’ve been all over visiting my sister and I’s favorite places. But its been mostly just me, alcohol, and my thoughts. Gus’ stated bluntly. His teeth were showing as he smiled telling the story, but it had been clear the level of grief he’d truly gone through. Please tell me you have a boat ready near here.

★

Dominic didn’t know what he was doing in this bar. It wasn’t that he was a stranger to these places – no, he was a well-known patron of the bars around Cardiff – but he didn’t consider himself much of a day drinker, and the booze was hardly ever good enough to warrant the tab he’d rack up drinking from that early on. The only thing that brought him inside was the familiar profile leaning against the bar top.

What Gus was doing in Cancún, Dom didn’t know. Maybe enjoying the escape, like most people there. Dominic was there for the fishing, for the chance to get out on the open ocean and see what Mother Nature had in store for him. He felt at peace out there, more so than he’d felt in any of the months since that fateful mission, no matter the circumstances. As extroverted as he was, being on a boat was just a different way of being for him, an easier way.

Maybe this was Gus’ easier way – at least for now. Dominic had avoided him ever since Hathaway was killed; it hurt him to see Gus hurting, and it hurt him to know he didn’t see the signs. He didn’t know how to reconcile the man he knew and cared for with the man who had done this to Hathaway. Who had betrayed them all. He wasn’t sure what to do with that. And not wanting to burden Gus under all the weight of his own confusion and self-doubt, he stayed away. He didn’t talk to him at the funeral, didn’t reach out over their year in hiatus, didn’t even wish him a happy birthday at the start of the month. He felt like a shitty friend. But he didn’t know what other options he had.

He had other options now. He had processed as much of the events of last year as he could, made as much peace as possible with the part he’d played in it, and tried to move on. More days than others, that process involved early mornings on the ocean and nights spent with the members of his crew that were home. It meant rebuilding trust with all of them and trust in himself. Trust enough that he could approach Augustus without the bile burning the back of his throat, the adrenaline forcing him to stop in his tracks before he got too close. He was better now – not perfect, but better.

So he approached the bar and sidled up next to the man. Now, he wasn’t a very good lip reader – the lower end of average, in fact – but he’d spent enough time staring at Gus’ lips to pick up on his dialect. And he could pick up just enough to discern ‘boyfriend will be out soon’ and ‘bartender.’ His eyebrows raised at that.

Boyfriend? He signed, his hand coming down from its position near his forehead, his index fingers crossing. You’ve had an interesting year then. He smiled. His body was turned towards Gus, open, but his hands rested clasped, his elbow leaning against the bar. Part of him was still worried Gus would see him and try to throttle him for his friendship with Kraken, for what his friend had done to his sister. And the other part of Dominic wouldn’t blame him.

______________

Gus’ eyes widened at the familiar face approaching him, unable to hide the shock at seeing Dominic in front of him. The overall environment of the bar had been slightly overwhelming, but everything around the both of them became irrelevant. This is the first time they’ve encountered one another since the funeral, and even with their close past, Gus couldn’t mentally block out the elephant in the room. Many people had reached out to the agent, and even with his vague replies, he remembered everyone who’d reach out. Dom hadn’t reached out, but to be honest, he might have been one of few people Gus may have accepted to reach  Even with all things considered, Gus was conflicted. This was a person who helped him come out, who has seen a multitude of sides Gus never acknowledged - and that made it hard to fully be his usual smart-ass self. They’d all been betrayed and there wasn’t 100% blame to place on anyone, but he did expect more (which was a big issue he had with a majority of the agency). He put his hand on Dom’s shoulder, and even with the smile on his face there was a distant look in his eyes.

Dom had that confident look that Gus often lacked. He was a lot more resilient than Gus, and he couldn’t help but admire how open and communicative he was. He’d been the person that worked with Gus through his trauma regarding his sexuality and someone he knew in the past he could confide in.  I can already tell you see through my lies. I doubt I’m on anyone’s radar with all things considered. Gus signed, his already flushed face giving away his playful teasing. He’d already signaled the bartender for another round, this time doubling his order to share. There had already been another tequila shot poured for him, he’s assuming he either forgot about it or the bartender was wanting a bigger tip. As you can tell, I’m already pretty drunk. But our first encounter is a lot less awkward than I thought it would be. So I’m happy.”  He ended with a wink. Now, do this shot with me. Then tell me what you’ve been up to because it’ll be a lot less depressing than mine. Feels a little weird though as we haven’t talked since last year.. ” Gus wasn’t being mean or hostile, at least not trying to be. Deep down he could never stop caring about Dom, but right now, he was attempting to not stir the pot (at least not before they started working with one another).  

—

“don’t apologize to me, please.” zaid is quick to say, quick to laugh as he wraps his fingers slowly around the bottle that’s offered to him by the bartender. he won’t drink it–he’s never been able to shake the voice of his trainer in his mind, telling him all of the ways in which alcohol prevents mental and physical efficiency–but he’s played the game enough times, stood silent sentinel while vestas with more charisma than he could ever hope to possess charmed information out of loose lipped, all-too-willing victims, that he knows the rituals. he keeps one hand on the brown glass, drags the pad of his thumb across the label, picks at it intermittently. “my feelings aren’t hurt because you did what you had to–it’s survival, and it’s never going to be nice to look at or live through.” he feels the muscles in his face start to relax, feels a smile rise from the corner of his mouth, rather than being pulled as if on a string. “i’m just–i’m really glad to see you. even if you are well on your way to shitfaced.” 

for a moment, it’s easy to pretend that nothing went south that day–that instead of walking into this bar after a year’s worth of silence, zaid just came back from scrubbing flakes of blood off of his hands, that they’re celebrating making the world a better place, instead of drinking to forget. the skin on his shoulder feels the phantom sensation of an arm around his shoulder, his bones seem to tilt underneath his skin in anticipation of being pulled into hamlet’s orbit, right up until the moment he opens his mouth and asks the question zaid has been carefully avoiding having to answer, for nearly 365 days now.

how have you been? 

he tears a piece of beer label off, rolls it between his fingers. if he were a better friend he would turn the question back, as if there were an easy answer that his friend could give, as if zaid could offer anything of value other than turning it into something sharp, something that capable of hurting the ones who gave it to you in the first place. so he doesn’t–instead, he exhales a long breath and does what he thinks is the far kinder thing. he does not acknowledge it–he takes the focus and turns it somewhere else. 

“i took a lot of contracts–i had–” he exhales a breath and drags his hands over his face. “a thing–with someone, before. it–ended, sort of–” he laughs at himself, at the way the words slowly fall from his tongue as if they’re being lead towards slaughter. “i thought work would be the best way to keep my mind off of it.” it hadn’t–it couldn’t, when there was a chance of answering the phone and hearing soft breathing on the other end, not after he made the deliberate choice of setting the axis of his world where there was a chance of turning around and seeing francesco standing there, hands in his absurd designer coat pockets, grinning like the devil. “i think maybe i would have had more success if i had chosen the hamlet approach, to be honest. or if i’d just packed you along with me in the first place.” 

**** “ since when am i ever a great listener?” gus had still not gotten used to his crew and colleagues feeling so distant. he’d never been the most open in regards to himself other than zaid & his sister - and even then there were limits. his mind was floating between the euphoric feeling from the alcohol and the grief and anger he’d been supressing all along. “ just so you know, i already feel pretty shitfaced.” there had been pauses between certain words, his mind being held back from the tequila and beer. “and i know that..but  just know what I said. survival or not. thank you for not being angry at me.” believe it or not, he did care about what zaid thought about him - which isn’t very common with anyone.

gus had no intentions of coming to the bar to black out, but it always ended up happening. he’d only gotten himself into trouble a few times though it had always been due to his inability of keeping his mouth shut when he felt disrespected or was in a terrible mood. his pupils moved from the bottle in his hand to the eyes of zaid, the guilt he felt for ignoring his best friend creeping up on him. even with his only family member not incarcerated gone, zaid was also part of his family.  gus had finally realized the other agent had been fidgeting with the label, immediately snapping him from his momentary trance. “ hermano. many trees went into making that bottle look somewhat appealing and you’ve prevented it from doing it’s job.” gus nudged at zaid teasingly. 

he listened as zaid recounted the events of their off-year from the pantheon, not at all surprised he spent much of it working. gus longed for the ability to have the motivation to get his mind off his sister for at least a little while but he knew it would only push him more towards thinking about his sister. “ so you’re currently having some complicated lovers’ thing? who is it? and do they know what you do?” he often compared this job to that of a superhero. they’d always been working, they were always on call, and many secrets had to be kept along with the possibility of death looming over them. 

the bartender already had another shot going for hamlet, this time, gus noticied there had been a little less in the glass. “muchacho, i hope that you don’t charge me for a full shot. no need to be passive aggressive.” gus rolled his eyes, and oddly enough, the bartender smiled rather than side-eyeing him. “ - and you think my approach had been the best, but there are so many pieces i have to pick up with this crew. we both hate dealing with emotions. would you really want that.” he asked, downing the shot immediately after. “ the way people have been looking at me is only a bigger reminder. wouldn’t it kill some of us to smile a little more?” he was on the line of joking but being real. “cheers though, am i right?”

“boyfriend?” zaid drawls, an eyebrow raised. he doesn’t take the empty seat right away–he leaves room for hamlet to push past him, to turn around and hurl an empty shot glass or a right hook in his general direction, because comfort is a language that zaid has all but forgotten how to speak during this year spent in movement, and the kindest thing he can think to do is provide space where the grief can rage and crash like sea waves. he waits, for a long moment, before he exhales the breath he had been quietly holding, before he feels one corner of his mouth pull upwards–just slightly, unsure it will be welcomed even by an old friend. “no offense mate, but i think you’re more into don julio than he’s into you. not to mention i’ve heard he’s a real asshole the morning after.” 

he worries his bottom lip between his teeth, taps the bartop idly with a finger. here’s how you cross the no-man’s land of loss, he should say. here’s where you build your home, here’s where you dig your defenses. do not let them take your pain from you under any circumstances, when they start coming across, guns in hand. he should sling an arm across his friend’s shoulders, apologize for failing that day–but he can’t force the words out of his throat, and he doesn’t think hamlet would want to hear them. zaid’s grief is his own, his rage is his own, and it’s geography that must be transversed and mapped alone. 

“as for why i’m here–i was debating pulling on a string, following a lead on something–” he says after clearing his throat, with a shrug of one shoulder. he keeps his face placid, resolutely does not think of how long his fingers had hovered over keys of his laptop, how many times he had locked and unlocked his phone just to stare at the list of numbers–the distinct taste of something acrid in his mouth after he’d finally closed the lid and stormed out of the apartment feeling a heady mixture of heartsick and furious. “but i decided against it. decided it was more important and useful for me to make sure you’re–” he pauses, drags his tongue over his teeth in an effort to shape the right words. “not doing something stupid without me, i suppose.” 

gus drank his beer while he watched as zaid stood there for a long moment, almost as if he was legitimately frozen in place. normally gus would try and figure out what zaid was attempting to do, but his current drunken state left him absolutely dumbfounded. when the man had finally sat down, gus took one last sip before wiping the contents of the bottle away from his lips. “ just so you know, I managed to finish this  full bottle in the time you took playin’ freeze tag.” gus teased. “ now that you mention don julio. he’s been in the bathroom for a long time.” he shrugged “guess this means i’m back on the market.”  he extended his hand once more to get the bartender’s attention. “can i get whatever he wants, the beer i’ve been getting, and two tequila shots.” gus’ therapist had been lecturing him on the dangers of alcohol in his current state - but his apathetic nature triumphed the professional’s opinion. he rubbed at his temples for a moment as the effects of the alcohol he’d been quickly downing began to set in. his sister would murder him if she saw him drinking like this, but that didn’t matter anymore.

zaid was his closest and best friend, and even with the strained relationship with the majority of his team he’d still be his best friend. he listened to zaid’s words, easily picking up how careful he was with what he’d been saying. “zaid. choosing me over a lead. i’m guessing i might be really special.” gus downed the shot with ease, his body relaxing even more than before. the tequila outside of mexico was always subpar but did usually get the job done. “ and me? do anything stupid? never.” gus sighed. “look, i should definitely apologize for ignoring everyone for a majority of the year we were off..but-” he quickly interrupted himself, wanting to avoid the topic of his sister as much as possible right now. “ - so how have you been?” his beer had already made its way to his mouth after quickly changing the subject. “ have you been working the entire year or did you do the hamlet approach of isolating yourself for as long as possible?” 

he wished the two weren’t speaking to avoid a much larger topic. hamlet missed the days when the two would crack jokes on missions, ruffle one another’s feathers, going for drinks and acting like complete fools, and whatever else they did around one another. his sister’s really affected his relationship with the team to where they speak to and with hamlet like he’s a completely different person. he could avoid saying what his mind was thinking, but the hurtful look in hamlet’s eyes would be hard to hide from someone he considered his best friend. 

Hamlet’s mind tended to wander as his thoughts pulled him from reality. This was his 4th beer and going on his second shot of tequila. He paid with one of his visa cards that he deposited money on and would toss after exiting the country. The bartender would occasionally try to make small talk with him, but Hamlet would respond with one-liners in hopes of being left alone. The bar wasn’t crowded, just as he wanted, and he’d been able to drown out the sounds of others around him with whatever shitty bar music was blaring over the loudspeaker. After he finished his beer, he quickly ordered another round for himself along with another shit of tequila. Hamlet swallowed the tequila like it was nothing, as the ‘nasty taste’ people often described was no longer a problem for him. He could finally feel the familiar head buzz coming on, taking a deep breath at the soothing feeling beginning to rush over his body and ease at his mind. That’s when Hamlet noticed the familiar face standing next to him, an immediate chuckle following the realization. “Sorry, my boyfriend is in the bathroom but he’ll be out soon. If you’re looking for someone, the bartender has been trying to talk my ear off. I’m sure you’ll get along quite nicely.” Hamlet teased before taking a giant swig of his beer. “What brings you here? Kinda random, don’t ya think?”

LOCATION: ANYWHERE YOU’D LIKE IT TO BE

Still hands, that had trembled for the better part of a year, stirred milk and sugar into a mug of tea. The spoon clinked gently against the porcelain as she shook off the excess, before she took a slow sip, paying little mind to the heat of the liquid. It was sweeter than how she used to take it, but Sofia had learned that sometimes the sweetness of life needed to be savored and relished. It still wasn’t her preferred way to drink it, but it was different, and different was good. A singular finger tapped against the rim, once, twice, thrice. It was a habit that she had, one that she hadn’t been able to shake.

There would be another mission soon, and she couldn’t help but wonder if they were all truly ready for it. Agent Hathaway— she stopped herself. It was too easy to let herself sink into that day, into the darkness and the chaos and the sudden realization that there was nothing they could do. Her abuela would have said it was in God’s hands— even now, Sofia couldn’t help but want to rage at the thought. Helplessness was not something anyone enjoyed, and she didn’t like to remember the mounting panic in everyone, even if they had showed it or not. Kraken’s erraticness— if they had listened— it would not have changed their loyalties, but at least Hathaway would still be alive.

Some would say she has a bad case of survivor’s guilt. They would find that she would not be able to refute such a claim. The stillness of Hathaway’s body does not leave her mind so easily, although the darkness of tombs is one she had relearned to enjoy. At the sound of approaching footsteps, she glances up, before a warm smile spreads across her face. In this manner, she has not changed. “Hey, it’s been awhile.” She swiftly moves her coat off of the seat opposite her. “Here, take a seat.”

Augustus had only returned to Mexico City a few times during the year long vacation. His brain flooded with memories of his now dead sister, prompting extreme sadness that couldn’t be eased by even his favorite activities and indulgences. Memories in a place you lived for a majority of your life are normally supposed to bring joy, but even the joyful memories bring eventual grief because you can no longer experience them. He always struggled living in the moment. When he was poor he dreamed of a life of luxury, but now that his sister had died, he’d do everything to go back to being poor and still having her around. Gus knew that with his job resuming he would have less time to make these trips back home, and it would be disrespectful to his sister’s memory in his opinion to not visit their home one last time while he had it. In his hand he’d been munching away at a burrito and drinking a Jarritos Strawberry purchased from a street vendor that would gift Gus free food as a child back when his family had been dirt poor. The vendor asked about his sister, the agent didn’t have the heart to alert him of her death. Gus had finished his food quickly, and realized he’d still been hungry. Over the past year he’d been eating less and drinking alcohol more, only recently has his appetite has been regaining itself. He walked into the closet cafe, hoping they’d offer some type of pastries that would settle his stomach. Thankfully it wasn’t busy, and as he looked around he took note of the smiling faces and gleeful chatter. Gus rarely had a sense of normalcy, and though he wouldn’t admit it, it always eased his nerves when he was able to let his guard down and listen to the sounds of people living normal lives. Gus walked up to the counter, ordering a large  Horchata Latte and two different sandwiches. As Gus turned around to get another look at the crowd, he spotted a very familiar face. Normally he wasn’t the one to directly approach people when he wasn’t working and required - but he knew he’d be grilled if he didn’t say hello.  He alerted the worker where he’d be sitting before approaching Augar. “Yeah...it has..” Gus immediately sat down, forcing a half-assed smile on his face for the sake of greeting. “I didn’t expect to see you here. But if I’m being honest, I’ve been avoiding many agents the past year so I never expect to see anyone.” He actively tried to avoid many of his fellow agents out of grief, but somehow managed to run into many of them the previous year. “ That...came out wrong. How have you been? And sorry for that. My social meter has been non-existent the past year so I’m having to realize I can’t talk to people like I’ve been talking to myself.”

date: April 25th 2021 location: Marrakesh, Morocco open for everyone guns tw, death mention tw, violence tw

She couldn’t possibly forget about what had happened. With agent Hathaway gone much had to be investigated and documented, none of which Hades really approved of. To have ones mission fail feels humiliating to say the least – and Hades didn’t approve of being seen more than usual.  To be questioned and asked about any involvements - not to mention the possibility of being next or have her son be next. Which is why she barely had any time to relax. Her mind, running with possibilities and wrath, practically demanded her to pull the trigger every day of every week just to get her mind off things. With one of Pantheon’s shooting ranges located in the beautiful Marrakesh, Hades escaped those eager to find out more. With herself struggling to keep her wrath in check not much could be done with her and finding out more. Being reminded was just another stab, another reminder of failure and a possibility of death having to face death herself. A tragedy, really.

The paper targets were already thoroughly damaged by the time Hades felt something move behind her. Intuition, perhaps, maybe it was due to the way her right heel witnessed the tiniest bit of vibration. Not moving at first, the Oracle kept on shooting, until…

Removing her ear protection Hades turned around in one swift movement, pinning the intruder against the nearest wall. With a grunt she pressed herself against her next target, clearly on edge and ready to fight.  With the gun pressed against the other person’s neck Hades scanned them. Shit, it’s you. “I wouldn’t sneak up on an Oracle like that, you should know better.” She let go then, clearly apologetic but unsure about what to do next. “Long time no see, huh?”

Hamlet clutched at the golden chain around his neck that had been gifted by his sister when they were both in their teens. The thoughts and memories of her would bring moments of bliss followed by extreme feelings of sadness and guilt. Even though a year had been and he’d spent months in complete isolation to cope with his grief, he couldn’t do anything or go anywhere without thinking of her. Hamlet had to also mentally prepare for his crew and colleagues inevitable mentions of his sister paired with eyes looking at him with pity. Talking about his sister to others was clearly still hard for him, but he was willing to deal with it in order to accomplish he and Hathaway’s dream of taking down the wealthy assholes that required agents of the Pantheon to do their job in the first place. Morocco was a beautiful country, one where he and his sister often visited because they loved the continent and culture within Africa. The continent was one of the most beautiful in the world and contained a rich and expensive history that should be taught globally. He’d spent a majority of his time visiting different museums throughout the city of Marrakesh. One couldn’t help but admire the architecture of the city which was originally inhibited by farmers. Hamlet’s mind started to drift towards thoughts of his sister once more because he spotted a mosque that he and his sister had visited. “I really can’t fucking blame anyone but myself for thinking about you right now Maggie considering I came to a place we visited several times a year.” The man said to himself, sighing deeply while running his fingers through his hair.

AGENT HAMILTON //  AGUSTUS ‘GUS’ ALVAREZ

“It is a rare person who can cut himself off from mediate and immediate relations with others for long spaces of time without undergoing a deterioration in personality.”