#ch.3

“Breach? What are you doing with Sova’s phone? Is he with you?”

“…Do you really want to know?” he asked, voice raspy and half asleep.

There was a sigh on the other end that made him chuckle. “He’d better be ok.”

“I didn’t touch him.” Much. He ignored the fact that Sova was wrapped around him, eyes just barely twitching as he was about to wake up any second now.

“Get him back to Protocol – you too, actually. There’s a mission briefing in the next hour, and you’re both on it.” There was a pause. “…At least this saves me from having to call twice.”

With that, he heard the beeping of the dial tone. Breach gently rubbed Sova’s head, getting the blond to silently blink open his eyes just to glare at Breach.

“What is it?”

“Brimstone called. Turns out mister Captain wants us on base for a mission. Get packed. Take whatever you need from my place, ok?”

That got Sova to snap out of his sleepiness and start scurrying around the apartment, trying to find what he’d need. Breach followed suit, though less eager, and picked up one of his travel ready bags. He waited for Sova before taking an early morning jog back to base.

“Testing human souls.” That’s how Brimstone started the meeting. “The same way we all see Reyna doing it, they’re trying to replicate that effect with tech so that even non-radiants can use it. We don’t know where their test subjects are coming from yet, Cypher is currently trying to figure that out. What we do know,” he pressed a button on the laptop and the next slide of the presentation showed.

Breach has seen horrible sights before – he’s been part of his fair share… but this… These were grainy photos of bodies on the ground, chests ripped open but with no blood, just grey ash. The ribs stuck out of the muscle that previously kept them contained and were rotting at the ends. Could bones even rot? Eyes were completely sunken in, dried out of anything. The bodies looked like they would fall apart if not for the harnesses around their abdomen. He snuck a quick glance at Sova who sat there watching it all with a neutral expression. Sometimes he forgot that Sova had probably seen worse in his time. Before he could look back at Brimstone, Sova caught his eye, and gently patted his hand like he was trying to reassure Breach. He caught the hand before Sova could retract it and held it as softly as he could as he went back to paying attention.

“Obviously, we don’t want Reyna there. We don’t want her giving them more footage to work off. And we don’t want any Radiants on the mission in case they set something off.”

Breach looked at the others. Brimstone, Killjoy, Kayo, and Viper were all studying the notes on the board. The team was unbalanced, which worried him, but considering the circumstances, Brimstone was right to keep it this way.

“Should we expect civilians?” Kay/O asked. “Or are we free to use lethal force as needed.”

“There’s a high chance we’ll run into a few civies.” Kay/O nodded, joints whirring to keep up with the movements. “If possible, we get them to the carrier. We don’t want more casualties from this experiment.”

Breach crossed his arms, letting go of Sova’s hand, and stood. “Alright then, what are we waiting for? Let’s go! The faster we do this, the faster I get paid.”

He walked out of the room to pack the guns he’d need. Probably something short ranged, maybe something for a little further out just in case… A few lockers down, he saw Sova buying himself more ammo. The longer sniper case was already packed, and he was now just checking his Vandal and pistol. He knew the chances of needing to use the sniper were low, but he supposed Sova felt better with it ready. Him and his darn superstitions.

The ride was tense, each agent, maybe not Kay/O, understood the severity of the incident, and the level of danger they would face as humans walking into a place where others like them were used like lab rats. But in order for them to become lab rats, they’d have to get caught first. And Breach was going to make sure that didn’t happen to him or Sova at the very least.

They were trained, practiced, and comfortable with one another. The mission was fine until he was sent to clear out the basement floor with Sova. Somewhere above him, one of the previously “cleared” floors set off an alarm that sent lights flashing throughout the facility and had security robots and remaining human personnel swarming the place.

Breach let go of the robotic leg in his hands, now permanently separated from the other pieces, and let it clack against the ground. They were doing fine, but their stamina would run out eventually, and there was no way of knowing how this would all end. Sova took aim and fired a few shots down the hallway and listened to the pieces slump onto the floor.

“Keep moving, let’s get to evac and get out. They have a copy of the data.” Breach said, taking one last look behind them to make sure that they weren’t being followed.

Sova finished his scan of the area before nodding to Breach. They pushed onwards, following the single hallway. They pushed through doors and swept through rooms with a ruthless efficiency that came from their shared trust in each other. It was all fine, they were fine… Until they reached the holding cells. Breach knew something was wrong the moment he smelled the room. It was rank, and it made him want to puke. A look over at Sova told him the hunter was just as affected by the stench.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to adjust to the room. It was wider than all the others, with cells on both sides of the center hallway. There was no source of light, and when he took a step up to one of the closer cells, it… Yeah, the pictures were right. He saw Sova look over at the other cells, eventually meeting back up with Breach to shake his head. No survivors.

Breach was about to lead their way out when he heard it. A name.

He’s had three names used throughout his life. First was this name, Breach, an agent in the Valorant Protocol. The loud-mouthed, arrogant, impatient agent that rushed into every situation, guns blazing. He was the brute, the dumb one that always had to prove that he had lived this long in the business for a reason. And it was the only name Sova knew him by. But before Breach, there was another. One that made audiences cheer with anticipation and make his opponents wonder just what they got themselves into. It was on the lips of every Interpol agent for a time, and it was how he first made his fortune. But that was left in the underground fighting pits where it was born.

Then, there was the name of the young, armless, innocent boy who cried into his mother’s skirt whenever he got pushed around at school that day. That boy was coddled, protected, and then ignored as that protection was stripped away to reveal just how poorly adjusted he was to take on the reality of the world. He missed that name but hearing it here was bad news. He wished that he had misheard it perhaps, but…

There it was again. He looked back, almost running into Sova who was watching his face with an intensity of someone who was desperately trying to piece a puzzle together, but realizing that they were missing parts. Breach walked towards the voice, ignoring Sova’s hand on his shoulder – a warning that he didn’t need. Especially if this was—

“Is that you?” the voice asked. He started shaking his head slowly. He didn’t hold her gaze, instead taking note of the silver in her blond hair, the casual clothing – like one would wear to the airport he thought – and saw the few cuts on her arms and legs.

“Breach?” Sova had stayed by his side and was now looking between the two of them as if that would help him understand what about her got Breach to stop a mission in its tracks. His mother looked at Sova, seeming to only now realize that her son was dirty, had sweat and oil streaked across his nose and cheeks and was holding a gun. They were both armed.

“Why is he calling you Breach?” It was in Swedish, which might’ve been what tipped Sova off because his narrowed eyes widened as he turned his head towards Breach, who was unable to look either in the eye right now.

Instead, Breach searched her face. Maybe she was a clone, maybe this was a mask some asshole had made just to fuck with him. Maybe… Maybe… But her eyes were so real – so familiar…

“Cover me Sova,” he commanded, walking up to the vertical iron bars. Sova hesitated for just a second before nodding and walking back towards where they came in from. He heard the report back to Brimstone as well, though he couldn’t focus on the conversation for much longer.

He stood, feet slightly parted and gripped the bars. “Stand back.”

That was the only warning he gave before he started pulling the bars apart. He squeezed his eyes shut, focused on his rage, and pulled, even when it felt like his back was being ripped to shreds. His teeth were grinding against each other as he heard the squeaking and scraping of metal on metal as his hands slowly but surely pulled the bars apart. Somehow, despite that loud creaking sound, despite the sounds of a gunfight down the hall, the only thing he could focus on was her voice calling him by the name of a young boy that threw himself and his future away. The name of a person who he was not anymore. The thought hurt. It focused him, it made him remember that if he couldn’t do this, that his mother was going to die. He would never get to finish making amends with her.

“Darling, please stop, that’s enough.” He opened his eyes to look at the space between his feet and relaxed when he felt the familiar touch on his chest, moving up to cup his cheek. “Help me squeeze through.”

Breach made sure that he was offering her an arm to balance with the entire time, gently helping her out of the jail cell. “This place isn’t safe… I—”

He was cut off by an explosion behind him and he heard the feral call of, “I AM THE HUNTER!” echoing throughout the facility. Brim even checked in with him to see if Sova was ok.

He quickly moved his mother to an empty corner of this room. He couldn’t focus at the moment, and that was dangerous. He felt an old, familiar rage start swelling in his stomach, heating up his heart and getting his blood pumping again. Right now, in this moment, Breach was not focused on protecting her or trying to get her out. His guilt was manifesting in a cold, sharp fear that felt like a blade through his heart. The only way he knew how to respond to the chill of fear was with the heat of rage. No, in this moment, he needed Sova’s level head, calculated vision, and dedication to the job. “I’m gonna go call him back. He’s going to bring you out, ok?”

“But you—”

“I’ll be fine.” He didn’t say another word before running back the way he came from to tap Sova’s shoulder, ignoring the blood and the twitching bodies as they fell down the staircase to land before Sova’s feet.

“Sova, you’ve done VIP protection before, right?”

“Yes.” He knew what Breach was asking, and they swapped places.

In theory, Breach only had to protect them until Brimstone confirmed that they had met up. In practice, Breach was boiling alive with his own guilt and anger. The sound of blood rushing was all that he heard as he stormed back up to the first floor, practically ripping every door off its hinges. Someone had unlocked the depths of his emotions locked away since the day he turned eighteen. That person was going to pay.

He found that, later, when he was recounting what happened to Brimstone, he didn’t remember much. And the parts he did remember, he didn’t exactly want to share with anyone else. He remembered the feel of oil splashing on his skin, the sounds of metal on metal, as he crushed the fragile joints of those standard built robots, watching as their eyes grew dim before being reduced to a pile of twitching metal and wiring. He remembered the feeling of pushing a person’s head so hard against a wall that he heard the skull crack, then watching as it popped, blood dripping between the cracks of his fingers and arms. The moment he remembered clearest, unclouded except for the haze of sick satisfaction, was when he felt the ribs of the commander crack under the pressure. It was when he heard the breath get forced out of the body. It was the feeling of reaching for a beating heart and pulling it out like you would an electrical plug. He didn’t mind that he was covered in blood, he didn’t care that his arms were damaged enough to warrant intense repairs that would take days to finish. All that mattered was that when the man died, it was Breach who delivered the killing blow.

He was a long way away from that young boy who called for his mother during the summer thunderstorms. He was no longer the gangly child who hugged his mother every day before and after school. He was no longer the straight A student, his mother’s pride and joy.