bloody melody

✈

Like a taunt wire, twisted and wrapped to its maximum tension, it is inevitable when Melody snaps from the last ounce of pressure. Her tone is raw as she demands he pulls the vehicle over, and despite how close they are to the next extraction point, West cuts his wheel and shifts the gear hard enough that the tires bark against the pavement. It’s about as smooth of a maneuver as West can maneuver when they are travelling well over triple digits in speed down the roadway. His hands smack the unlock panel between them immediately, leaving Mel free to escape the vehicle for a moment. 

Annoyance tugs in West’s gut. Every second they spend on the side of the road is another second he isn’t flying far, far away from the caves. Their agents are out, clear, but the extraction is far from over. West wants to be in the air already, safely escaping any last minute distractions or traps left for them. His compassionate side takes over, cutting through the weird, reactive mode his brain has fallen into over the course of the mission without his permission. He takes a steadying breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. The exhale only shakes slightly, and West calls it a win.

“Boss? Are you okay?”

-

The car screeches into a halt, and Melody wastes no time, immediately jumping out of it and kicking the small rocks like a kid throwing a tantrum. The tremors on her hands start to grow even more violent as she walks further away from the car and from West. The itch to break something or hurt someone follows her like a shadow. Melody can hear the faint sound of the car door closing behind her, which means West is now out in the open as well. These itches happen a lot when she is unbelievably furious, and an average person would've probably chosen to go to therapy to treat it. But Melody knows full well what it is. To some people, what Melody has would be called a problem or a sickness, but to her, it's her power. She just needs to learn to control it better.

She can hear West approaching, but she ignores it. Her lips are shut tight, but her face, her breathing, and her entire body clearly show that she's at war in her mind. The blonde paces back and forth, her right hand shaking violently as her left clutches the other hand, trying to stop it. "Putain d'enculé, arrête, la!" she curses to herself after not being able to stop her hand from shaking. The fact that West is currently seeing her like this makes Mel even more furious. West's question sounds unbelievably close, and she whips her head around to look at him. 

"Yes," she answers, trying to sound as calm as possible, hiding her shivering hand behind her. "Yes, I'm fine."

He had the itinerary memorized already, but it was better to check it once more to make sure. Erik flips open his register, a small book left in one of the corners of the table. The words and numbers used all meaningless to anyone who could ever find it, information all coded so he was the only one that could read it.     “ He has his hands full already. ”     He doesn’t wait for her to ask for someone else, turning a couple of pages until he finds other options.     “ Cthulhu and Flamel’s charons can be redirected to it. I’d personally go with Flamel’s for the bird. ”

He was positive he had heard similar words coming from Agent Hel’s lips before, during the brief time they worked together. It brings a sense of nostalgia to the operation, and although he was weary about how many teams were involved in it, at least there were a few upsides.     “ Yes. ”     He agrees with a small smile.     “ Anything else I can be of use, Agent? ”

-

“Fine,” she answers, waving her hand dismissively. “Just make sure they are up for and will be performing to my standards.” People who've worked with her, especially for quite some time, would know what she means when she mentions her standards. Excellence, poise, perfection. Anything less than those things would be unacceptable, and when your work is unacceptable, you'll definitely be hearing from Mel. If Melody says nothing to you, that could either mean you're doing something right, or you haven't really done anything to stand out.  

Melody studies the map and the plans once again, only looking up when the other agent asks her a question. “Excellence, Agent Echo. Make sure that happens.”

✈

There is a crackling tension that settles in the Corvette as West races towards the closest extraction zone. West knows better than to comment on it. He only catches bare glances out of the corner of his eyes; most of West’s attention has to be on the road with how fast they’re going, and any jerk of the steering wheel would end horribly for both of them, and the car. Melody is a quiet fire, simmering in the luxurious seat next to him with murder in her eyes. In another situation, her disposition would probably send a shiver down his spine. Right now, though, all West can focus on is getting his Hercules to safety as soon as possible to make sure they can all get the hell out of these goddamn caves.

It’s not what Melody says, it’s what she doesn’t say that sets the mood. Agent Hel is always a picture of Pantheon excellence. She plans everything, covers all angles, anticipates all of their needs. In many ways, she is West’s antithesis at the agency and it is a wonder they work well together at all. Where West is fast and loose with the rules, flying by the seat of his pants, Melody is calculating, cold, and concise. This entire plan going to ruins causes West to turn in place, pivoting into a new role that is not clearly defined, or even necessarily for him. He is flexible enough to make the adjustment without so much as a blink, throwing himself into the chaos without a second thought. Melody, and some of the other agents, need time to reform and regroup. West will get them to safety to do so. That is a job he is literally made for.

“It’s a five minute drive.” West shifts into the next gear, eyes forward as they whip down the road. The Stingray hums under the weight of West’s foot on the pedal, making the first noise above a purr under West’s handling. The engine revs after they take the last blind curve and West has a straightaway to fly down. “We’ll be there in two.”

-

There the two agents are, sitting side by side in their respective lush seats, racing towards safety in silence while not a week ago, things had been very different. Mel was talking to West like they had nothing on their shoulders, giving him pointers on his outfit choice, and he was, as usual, trying to dodge his way out of it. But now, all there is to share is silence and tension. No witty comebacks, no outrageous pieces of clothing, no extra annoyance, which she appreciates. Melody is still very much preoccupied with the thought of revenge. The only sound she can hear right now is the sound those people will make while she has her way with them. The sound of them begging, sobbing, bargaining for their lives, making promises she knows they can't keep cause they'll be dead long before they can fulfill them. The thought causes the corner of her lips to twitch upwards into a sinister-like smile. "They don't know who they're messing with," she unconsciously mutters. “But they’ll see.”

Melody is starting to have the twitch just as they get far enough from the crime scene. Those tickles and shivers she has whenever she feels her alter ego is coming out, like Dr. Banner whenever the green monster is about to make an appearance. Or, in his case, strip into shorts. In her case, the monster looks exactly like her, just ten times more lethal. There were times where she’d been able to subdue it, but she wasn’t always so successful. “Okay. Stop the car,” she orders. She needs to get out, or she can really hurt West. “Stop the car right now.”

His answer didn’t lead to more questions, perhaps she got the hint, perhaps she didn’t care all too much - though the latter Kawi wasn’t so quick to believe. She had her position for a reason, a good reason. She was on top of things like he was, aware of things like he was, she knew information was power, because information meant they could do their jobs well. Similar jobs, even if they might take different routes to get to the same answer. He studied her as she let go of the subject entirely, though he was not done with it yet, he just needed an angle that would not give her any answers to his past. Though he would not mind if she drew conclusions out of it. “Why did you stay in Bali long enough to learn the language?” He asked, not well phrased in that instance, wrapping his mind around the small insecurity that followed the clearly curious tone, surprised for an instance that while he avoided the place, he could not help but to want to know more about it. 

The offer of the cigarette meant she didn’t intent on leaving him to his book, he considered playing hard to get or being charming enough to show some interest in her company. He smiled and nodded. “I wouldn’t mind one, thank you.” A charming smile following the acceptance. He rarely smoked, but he understood its uses when in company.

-

Her suspicion—that Kawi did not want to talk about his past—was confirmed when he spun the focus towards her, changing the subject. It didn't go unnoticed, but it'd been a long day, and despite her pushy and impatient nature, she didn't want to corner him. At least for tonight. If he had been anyone else, an agent with lower rank, she would have pushed. But Mel knew her place. She respected her position, and Kawi deserved the same level of respect. 

"An expedition," she answered, then fell silent. Bali was where Melody experienced love for the first time. She'd dated before then, but nothing came close to what she'd experienced in Bali. Yes, the trip started off as an expedition, a chance to explore Bali's mystical traditions and relics. But she also ended up exploring herself and finding out that it would only take one person with the right skillset to put her life in shambles. She thought he was the one who would be able to break into the ice that surrounds her heart and take good care of it. She took the chance, started a life there with him, and pretended she was someone who was cut out for a life like that. That was until he asked her to stay, to spend the rest of her life with him, and she freaked out, immediately wanting out. 

Melody loved him, but she had signed off heart and soul to death the moment she wiped those men off the earth when she was 17. And there was no coming back.  So she left him there, in the night, sleeping in the house they'd built together without so much of a note because she chose to be Bloody Melody, to live a life that he would never understand and accept, a life she'd kept secret from him. 

"It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever laid eyes on. In a way, it was home," she continued, unsure whether she meant Bali or the man she once loved—still loves. Melody felt a sharp pang in her heart, but she quickly pulled herself back together to cover it up. Do not let him see you weak, Mel's subconscious told her, and the sharp twinge immediately disappeared. "And I ended up staying longer than I probably should've."

✈

West is almost disappointed that Mel doesn’t critique is bad driving. Her nitpicking his performance has become a comfort of sorts, and the lack of commentary just proves how fucked the entire situation is. She climbs into the vehicle with an angry kind of fluidity - graceful in its movement but full of a deadly kind of coil built up in his muscles. Like she’s ready for attack and just waiting for the next catastrophe. West prays for a small reprieve for both of them.

There are no other agents that appear to be in need of a ride. The other Charons, and some agents who are only ones healthy enough to drive, seem to pick up the last minute stragglers. The ‘all clear’ comes across the comm links and West feels a little tension leave his body. He shifts the car into gear with lightning fast movements, the tires barking and squealing as they take off. West ignores the noises as they race forward, proving just how fast you can go from zero to sixty in a high end, luxury sports car. West has the paths and evacuation zones memorized. He may be happy go lucky and fun, but he knows his responsibilities and his duty. West never slacks on a job when peoples lives are at stake.

“I’m not sure.” West’s normally jovial face is set in tight lines as his lips press together. If he didn’t have two hands on the wheel, he’d be rubbing at the back of his neck right now. The adrenaline is still thrumming in his veins and he hasn’t even had a chance to check on his own wounds. He knows that his stitches are popped, that his jacket is torn, shirt intentionally ripped, and his entire being is covered in blood from rescue missions he has no obligation to be a part of. That there is a thick blue bruise smarting on jaw already from where someone tried to pistol whip him with a goddamn Barretta. That there are a dozen more minor injuries he has not even started taking stock of just yet. 

“Most of the people I’ve transported seemed non-critical.” God, there’s been so much blood. He remembers the way Monet wobbles out of the cave, the way one of his favorite Nemesis is going to have a nasty scar and potential hearing loss, how the people without militant combat training look so scared with gun shots echoing across the caves, how everything happens so quickly that West has no idea what has actually happened. “They’re all with Irises right now. I haven’t had time to check on anyone.” The backseats of the Corvette should be stained deep red, but the black matte finish on them covers it all up.

-

Without realizing it, Mel’s heart has been beating quite furiously in her chest, almost as furious as she is. The fact that all those planning has failed to prevent this catastrophe infuriates the hell out of her. Sure, these sorts of things are always bound to happen despite meticulous and careful planning, but Mel hates it when things don't go as planned. Mel grew up and still goes to church like a devoted catholic, but times like these make her want to go up to wherever God is and show Him a piece of her mind. 

Another confirmation rings loud and clear in the car, followed by West's relieved sigh. She should be doing the same and feel somewhat grateful, but she's not. Her blood still boils like a witch's brew, but her anger has turned into something dangerous. Something everyone should wish to avoid: motivation to destruct. A purpose to see this whole thing through and find whoever is behind this.  A drive to show them what she'd do to people who date to stand against her—a reason to wake Bloody Melody from her nap. Whoever they are, they should be afraid. Because she is coming to get them and make them pay. She will make sure that Bloody Melody will be the only thing they can remember before succumbing to their fate. 

Melody stays quiet and listens to the fellow agent, knowing that if she opens her mouth, she'd be spitting venom. In a more normal setting, she'd probably cut him off, say something mean to goad him, and then tell him to shut up, but at this point in time, all that means absolutely nothing. She looks out the window while trying to put the puzzle together. Who did this, why, and how did this happen? Questions no one but the perpetrators know the answer to at the moment. West mentions something about people being treated, to which Mel gives him a nod.

"How much longer to safety?" she finally asks West. "I need to let out some tension—well, anger. Being confined in the car is not gonna do anyone any good."

Kawi showed a tiny bit of a smile, a ghost of one, a genuine one. Hearing just one word, he wasn’t sure why that played with his heart strings. He didn’t know the language, he didn’t know it as a language, it was home. A home without a place. Bali didn’t generate any memories of time long forgotten, but he nodded regardless, at times he wondered if he truly was from there. Or if the language had been part of the refugee camp. Meaning the question was a difficult one to answer. He took a moment to chuckle at her comment however, like recognised like. He figured she might’ve looked into his file too. “I didn’t include it in mine either,” he admitted. “It’s my mother tongue,” he added. It was as vague as he could be. As vague as he could be without admitting that he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure if he had ever been, but when he realised what the language was that came most natural to him, he’d always avoided it.

-

Melody took another drag of her cigarette while listening to his response, which seemed quite vague. She came to the conclusion that talking about the past wasn’t really his cup of tea. That, or something else was going on. Despite having known him for a bit, she realized that there wasn’t much Melody knew about Kawi. She considered herself good at reading people, but Mel is as lost as a goose in a snowstorm when it comes to the fellow Hercules. To her, Kawi has always been a big mystery she couldn’t solve, even if Melody herself is an enigma wrapped in a riddle.

"Right," she answered after puffing out yet another cloud of smoke out of her mouth. She decided she wasn't going to push the other agent to open up more. Whatever was in his past was his secret to keep, but that didn't mean she would leave it alone and not dig into it. However, his vagueness made her wonder that maybe Kawi was an unsolvable riddle even to himself. 

“How rude of me,” she said half-heartedly, not really caring whether she was being rude or not. “Would you like a cigarette?”

He focuses back on the roads and intersections of the map, nodding along with her words as he reaches for a pen. He marks two spots that look good for her plan, far enough that even if the helicopter was to fly at the time of the event, it wouldn’t bring attention to it. Making sure to add an additional car close to another exit for the Iris.     “ Yes, ma’am. ”     He chuckles quietly. Although he wouldn’t admit it, he had missed the Hercules’ way of running things.

“ Twenty minutes. Most Charons can probably do fifteen in a rush. ”     Erik was sure a couple of them could even drop it to less than ten if they were inspired.     “ Chopper… five minutes. Max. ”     He adds with a shrug, turning to her.     “ Surely everything will go perfectly and we won’t need any of this, yeah? ”

-

When going on missions, you can never be too careful or too prepared. Setting up several meticulous and costly escape plans is imperative, so none should be spared. “Perfect,” Mel states her approval after seeing the marks Echo drew on the map. In her head, Melody starts to go through the list of agents and pre-select some who she deems capable of filling the spots—one Charon for the chopper, one Iris, and one Charon for the extra car. Pantheon is filled with highly skilled agents, but certain agents stand out thanks to their experiences, both in and out of Pantheon. “Can we get Agent Icarus for the chopper or is he stationed elsewhere already?”

The timing seems reasonable enough, and Mel is happy with the optics. She is quite optimistic that everything will go as planned, but too much optimism can kill you. “Hope for the best,” she replies, arms still crossed. “But don’t forget to expect the worst. Optimism must always be combined with realism. Otherwise you’re just delusional, non?” 

MISSION: 3224PERU*1  TIMEFRAME: evacuation time ! PAGING: Agent Hel @melodyjaures​

West’s hands still have the blood of his fellow agents on them, and he really isn’t sure of how that makes him feel. The viscous liquid has started to dry on his skin, leaving a tacky, itchy feeling against the back of his palms and in between the webs of his fingers. He hopes to God that everyone is going to be okay, that they will all make it home safe and sound. But lord, there is so much blood that should be inside of human bodies painting a fucked up trail to their getaway cars.

No man left behind. Those words might as well be tattooed on the inside of West’s ribcage, because they are so close to his heart that it hurts. He makes countless trips, back and forth. Into the fray and out of it. West throws himself purposefully in harm’s way if it means getting a fellow agent out quickly. His stitches in his arm pop early on and he can feel the pull of his wound with every flex of his arm. He burns the rubber of the wheels of sleek sports cars, peeling out so fast that the clutch almost pops. Almost. West is a goddamn professional after all.

He spots one of his favorite Hercules without a ride, and spins the car in a quick one-eighty to offer her the passenger seat. The window is already down on the passenger side, and West peaks out from the window of the black Corvette Stingray.

“Hey Boss,” West says with a wag of his fingers. He ignores the blood drying on them. “Didya need a ride?”

-

Every part of the mission had been somewhat smooth-sailing—the gala in Denmark and the two days in Budapest, which is why Melody was skeptical that this leg of the mission would be as easy and smooth-sailing as the previous two. Of course, she’d hoped for the best, but Melody has always been the kind of person who expects the worse. Call it being realistic. Her heart has been pounding loudly ever since they all left for Peru. A million possibilities swarmed in her mind like tadpoles in a pond. Something is going to happen, she told herself and look where they are now. They are under attack. This is why things had been so easy and peaceful—because whoever was behind this must’ve planned to eliminate them all at once. They want Pantheon out for good. As a Hercules agent, her number one job is to make sure her crew are out and safe, even if that means putting her own safety and life last. This is a consequence she’s accepted the day they promoted her. 

“Come on, let’s go!” she yells at the top of her lungs to every agent she sees. She looks around, trying to do a headcount as fast as time would allow her. Some of the agents even stop to pull her away from the scene, but she refuses. Not when there are still agents climbing out. Mel proceeds to call every single agent’s name into her earpiece, trying to make sure every one of them made it. “Goddamnit!” she yells again when no one answers. 

‘Agents out of cave, evacuation confirmed’ the confirmation finally rings in her ear, and she unconsciously sighs in relief. “Proceed to safety. NOW,” she orders. Melody turns to leave the site, gun in hand and decides that she’ll figure out how to get out of there. The most important thing is that the agents are out and on their way to safety. Then a black Corvette Stingray spins into view like a scene out of Fast and Furious and literally every other car-related movie. A move highly expected of Agent Icarus. In all honesty, Melody’s never been as glad to see West as she is right now. Without another word, the blonde ran towards the passenger seat of the car and jumped in. 

“Casualties?” she asks immediately while fastening her seatbelt. 

He tilts his head while taking in her question, raising his gaze from the papers to look at her.     “ Two, maybe three vehicles. ”     Logically, if they were pushed to that exit anyways, it would mean most agents had been split, anything more than that would only cause more problems instead of solutions.     “ I can gather some people and drop those off tomorrow morning. ”     Erik adds with a nod.

“ It’s always doable. ”     There’s a hint of humor in his tone, there because on the expanse of his six years working with Pantheon, time and time again surprised about everything they could achieve. With almost unlimited budget, and a vast group of capable agents, nothing felt impossible anymore.     “ It would draw a lot of attention though. Especially with an event as big as this. ”     He continues, flipping through a couple of blueprints to reach the cartography of the city’s surroundings. Calculating how far said helicopter would have to be for perfect cover, how many Charons were proficient with aircrafts, time required to reach the spot, police involvement.     “ I’ll be honest, motorcycles would probably be a better idea here for that case. We wouldn’t have the vision, but the mobility would be just as good and there would be far less risks than a chopper. ”

-

Melody nods her head, a sign of approval. Two to three vehicles ready by tomorrow morning. She is pleased with the plan, but despite being optimistic that everything will go as planned, Melody still has to be realistic and prepare for the worse.

She purses her lips, knowing that what Agent Echo just said about drawing unwanted attention makes sense. “But we just cannot risk it. If the injury is grave, they’ll need medical assistance immediately.” The blonde stops and listens to Agent Echo’s suggestion about motorcycles while pressing the bed of her right-hand fingers against her lip, thinking. “Motorcycles mean more risk of contact.”

“Okay, let’s add in an extra emergency car standing by with one Iris in it. I still want a chopper standing by a few miles away, somewhere in the open but not too close to the venue. If the injury is fatal, the injured agents will be taken away in that separate car and driven to wherever the bird is parked. If not, that car will take them to the warehouse right away and the chopper flies back empty, as if it’s not ours. No harm,” she orders, not wanting to risk even one casualty. “Make it happen.”

“What is the approximate ETA from the venue to the warehouse? By car and chopper.”

Honestly at this point Briana isn’t even upset about the food anymore. Instead she is all out smirk in the bathroom at how easily Mel seems to get annoyed with her. She shouldn’t be this proud at annoying her fellow agent. But in moments like this it makes her less stressed out by what all could go down in a matter of minutes.

A chuckle escapes her lips at the image forming in her brain of Mel force feeding her canapes in the middle of the fancy event going on. The looks she can easily picture of the guest having to witness such an event makes the chuckle turn into an all out laugh.

The bathroom door opens and Briana stops mid laugh before pretending like she is washing her hands and makes a quick exit back to the first floor. She wishes Mel was in the same area of her, just to walk by and stick her tongue out at the fellow agent and nothing less. Instead she opens the mic and lets a dramatic sigh out over the comms.

“Can we at least order a pizza to the warehouse when this is over please?”

It is taking her a lot to not show signs of frustration—and the fact she’s wearing an earpiece—to other the guests in the room. Instead of doing that, she clears her throat and then flashes her best and most sincere smile at an older lady who raises her glass of champagne at her. Someone once recited a horrendous song to her that said you’re never fully dressed without a smile, but honestly, that song was a load of bollocks. Melody never felt even a tiny bit naked without a smile.

Briana chuckles into her ear, and the sound is like a sharp needle that pierces her eardrum, making Melody rolls her eyes. This girl has a lot of nerves to be bothering her during a mission, and doing it just to get a rise out of her is even more annoying. The blonde chooses to ignore it. It'll stop if you don't pay attention to it. For a few moments, Briana seems quiet, and Melody silently thanks the Lord for her crew member's decision to give up on her pointless quest.

Can we at least order a pizza to the warehouse when this is over, please?

"No," Melody growls through gritted teeth. "Stop whining and do your job or you're not coming back to the warehouse at all."

-

Kawi placed a finger on the word he had read last, and greeted the other Hercules. He might not have spoken to all of them before, but he certainly kept tabs. There wasn’t an agent Kawi didn’t know enough about around the Pantheon. Very few files were hidden from him, and he was good at research, getting the information he desired. “You speak it?” He asked, switching to English seamlessly. He’d always had a bit of an accent, but it was barely recognisable. He spoke enough languages during a regular week to pick up their finer details. If he didn’t think before he spoke, he was certain to use words at random; mixing English with Mandarin, with Vietnamese, which used a lot of words from French. If he didn’t watch his words, he might speak a jumble of languages only few could follow. 

He gestured at the spot beside him, closing the book just slightly, his thumb keeping it from falling shut all the way.

-

Melody took the spot beside Agent Cosmos, an agent who more or less shared the same responsibilities as her. “Sedikit,” she answered in the language in question. Before being a Hercules agent, Melody spent some time in Indonesia—Bali, mainly. The country itself screams diversity, with around 6000 inhabited islands and over a thousand ethnic groups, but Bali is one of the regions widely known to still follow their ancestors’ habits and rituals. “I lived in Bali for a little bit. I learned Bahasa Indonesia and Balinese here and there.”

“I’m not fluent in it, so I didn’t include it in my file,” she chuckled, knowing that he'd have access to it, just like she's had access to his. “Have you ever been? To Indonesia?” 

𝟸 𝙳𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝙸𝙽 𝙱𝚄𝙳𝙰𝙿𝙴𝚂𝚃, 𝙷𝚄𝙽𝙶𝙰𝚁𝚈

Day 1: 

Dsquared2 oversized knit wool cardigan

Dsquared2 shorts & bermuda in Sand

Dior Diordier calfskin leather thigh boots

Hermès Birkin 35 in Étoupe Clemence Leather, PHW

Prada Saffiano leather belt in Caramel

Custom De Beers Platinum & Diamonds Cross Necklace

Day 2:

Saint Laurent double-breasted tuxedo jacket in Gris de Poudre

The Row Luka silk crepe shirt in Seashell

The Row Gala cady wide-leg pants in Beige

Hermès Mini Kelly II in Noir 89 Epsom Leather, GHW

ᴅᴀᴛᴇ: ꜱᴇᴘᴛ 26ᴛʜ, ʜᴏᴜʀꜱ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴘʟᴀɴꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀɴɴᴏᴜɴᴄᴇᴅ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ: ᴡᴀʀᴇʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ ɪɴ ꜱᴏʀᴏ

@melodyjaures​

“ If we can get to this exit it’d be ideal. ”   His eyes scan through the floorplans for the nth time that night, not even bothering giving a second thought to the exits that would lead straight into what he knew would be dead-end streets and tight corners. He had already wasted hours going through maps of the city, he didn’t need cry over spilt milk even if he was bothered by the sudden change on how tomorrow would roll out.

Erik looks up at Agent Hel almost expectantly, doing his very best to shrug off the uncomfortable feeling of talking to his brief, previous Hercules.   “ I don’t know what the odds are of this being clean, hopefully good. But if we’re pushed into going out through here— ” He points the spot out on the paper.   “ Well, then we’re fucked.   ”   To put it lightly.   “ I know it’s tight on schedule, but we should have a couple of emergency cars there, just in case. Should I be worried it won’t be a smooth sail or do you think we’re good here? ”

-

Melody leans forward and sifts through the floorplan, not wanting to miss any details and opportunities. Everything looks exactly as she likes it—neat, precise, and easy to understand. Perfection is something she requires from everyone, and this floorplan looks it thanks to Agent Echo, who, as far as Melody’s concerned, is reliable. For now, at least. After studying the plans from up close, Melody leans back and crosses her arms across her chest, still intently watching the floorplan, her eyes following the movement of his fingers.

“How many would we need and how long will it take to prepare?” she asks. Every mission is a gamble, but the safety of her agents needs to be a priority. “I’d like to have a helicopter on standby in close proximity. In the event of wounded agents I want them to be taken to the warehouse right away. And, if there’s a car chase, I want eyes up above. Is that doable?”

MISSION 𝟺𝟸𝟹*𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙴𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚄𝚂 TIME: SEPTEMBER 27TH, 2AM @melodyjaures​

Kawi was never one to settle down and rest, to let all his worries fall off of him in order to get a good night’s rest. He had grown up believing he needed to work three times faster to get the same results as others. He needed to be fast, smart, intelligent, and most important cunning enough to be able to keep up with the most valuable assets of the Pantheon. If he kept going, he would make sure they would never be capable of replacing him. 

He sat on a chair outside, a mug of tea beside him, and a book in his hand, reading up on the history of a country he knew the language of, but had never seen too much of. The words were familiar, he raced through them as if they were his mother’s tongue, though he was unsure if he had ever set foot on Indonesia, on any of the islands floating in the great seas. He just knew they brought him comfort. 

He looked up when he saw someone walk up to him, but did not close his book. He wasn’t sure yet if he wished for the company of another person, or if the book would suffice this evening.

Another mission in the bag and Melody was pleased. Exhausted, but nonetheless pleased. She thought everything went pretty smoothly and she managed to get her fair share of fun—one of which was spilling champagne onto the host’s Pierre Frey carpet. It was a customized piece which made it even more satisfying. After getting back to the warehouse, Melody lingered for some time to oversee the inspection of the mysterious object. Not long after, she asked one of her crew members to keep her posted before letting them go on at peace—without her hovering over them like a hawk. So she went outside for a cigarette before ending the night, an after-mission habit. 

Stepping out into the cold, familiar area, Melody inhaled the crisp air, reached into her small purse to grab a pack of Marlboros. She fished out a stick, slipped it between her lips, and then used her Zippo to light it. Melody took a long drag and then blew sweet smoke into the air. Realizing she wasn't alone, Melody looked around and spotted a somewhat familiar figure not far from where she was standing and decided to make contact. The closer she got to the person, the more familiar he—and the language he was speaking—sounded. 

“I haven’t heard that in a while,” she began, referring to Bahasa Indonesia, a language she grew familiar with during her expedition to the language’s country of origin.

The idea of Mel sending West home, like a kid making the walk of shame away from the principal’s office, is a hilarious one. Mel takes herself, and everything else, too seriously and West has made it a personal mission to get her to lighten up sometimes. Maybe he’ll bust out the ol’ tuxedo shirt at a Pantheon meet up. He could hide it under a button up, Superman style, and burst out of the outer shirt when she isn’t looking. 

“Fun,” he deadpans back at her with a shake of his head. The communication links start to crackle with nemesis movement, and West dutifully listens to it, but only because it is part of his job tonight. Their chatter is calm and boring, just like the rest of this cursed event. “I’m afraid to see what you did with your dolls growing up Mel. You do know waterboarding is against the Geneva Conventions, even if your victim is Polly Pocket.”

Her chuckle is friendly, not offended, which is what he expects from her. Mel is an enigma, interesting enough to keep West on his toes, and scary enough to keep him in line most days. All in all, a good choice for one of his Hercules. West is one-hundred percent sure the Pantheon put him in her crew on purpose, and he isn’t complaining at all. Better a blood thirsty wild card than a stick in the mud, any day.

“Better strange than normal,” West corrects with a wink. “Normal people are boring and drink their champagne out of stupid glasses from the Great Depression.”

It does sound fun to her. Melody’s a control freak and a megalomaniac, and there is nothing she wouldn’t do to maintain control and power. People pranking her would mean losing she’s losing her control and power. In all honesty, Mel grew up a normal kid. She had toys and played with them, attended ballet and piano lessons, and surprisingly, had a couple of friends. Shortly after hitting puberty, everything changed. She started abandoning her friends, lessons, and toys for weapons and history lessons from Mammie. “I stopped playing with dollies earlier than you probably did,” she states. “And Polly Pocket was a travesty. It was too tiny and they’re stupid. Why would they invite a doll that fits into your pocket? For what?”

“Normal,” Melody scoffs. “I’m definitely not normal. I’m Melody Colette Jaurès. Normal is never the adjective used to describe me. Exceptional. Notorious. Unstoppable. That is what I have always aimed for.” Whenever she was in pain or her body ached during her training, she told herself that this was her life. Her trainers didn’t step in to help her because they cared, no. They stepped in to make her weak, to drag her down to their limitations, their weaknesses. A helping hand is a selfish one. If you can’t save yourself, then you don’t have the right to be saved, Mammie used to tell her again and again.