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tksfandomhellhole · 4 years

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Alright now this. This is the one I’ve been waiting for. This is the start to the (ongoing) series that makes me go “I NEED someone else to talk to about this.” Because boy do I have Plans™ that I really hope I follow through on

If I play my cards right the series may very well be the Apex of my apex fic career.

I also may have busted out my photoshop skills for it towards the end and it feels silly now but at least you can tell I had major fun with this

Fandom: Apex Legends (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Revenant (Apex Legends), Pathfinder (Apex Legends), Mirage | Elliott Witt Additional Tags: Minor headcanon for The Syndicate, Canon-Typical Violence Series: Part 1 of Infiltrating the Syndicate Summary:

Revenant is bored to death. Pathfinder would spend 10 minutes searching if you told him gullible was on the ceiling. And Mirage somehow gets roped into this.

What ensues ends up being more dangerous than any of them bargained for.

Revenant is bored out of his fucking mind.

Between being in this communal living space where he has to refrain from killing all these people he hates and rarely getting the chance to curbstomp some of them in the ring himself, being an apex legend is not all he imagined it to be.

Where's the death and action he was promised? He hasn't seen a match all day.

Even assholes need to pass the time somehow.

"Hello there, friend!"

Ugh, great. The smiling scrap heap is here.

"Go bother one of those skinbags you love talking to." He says, attempting to strike down the potential conversation before it starts.

The attempt goes unnoticed, as Pathfinder responds anyways. "I would! But they are all in the ring." The screen switches to a frowning face for effect.

If Revenant didn't have proof standing right in front of him, he'd think it was impossible for a robot to wear it's heart on their sleeve. It's not like they're supposed to have them in the first place.

It does give him an idea though. Maybe he can get some entertainment out of this after all.

"Really?" Revenant starts, feigning interest "Which of those skinbags do you consider your friends?"

"All of my teammates are my friends! They are very nice. I hope my creator gets to meet them one day."

"All of them? That's pretty strange considering half of them can't even stand you, including me."

"My friends don't like me...?" Pathfinder is visibly confused but still pauses to consider the thought, and Revenant knows it's working.

"Yea, in fact, I'm pretty sure that skinbag with the stupid hair and holograms has even told me he hates you." Even Revenant knows the scrap heap is partial to that skinbag in particular, as stupid as the idea of a robot harboring any sentiment at all is.

"Mirage? But he is the one who told me about the games! Mirage is my best friend."

"Hey, if you still wanna believe that it's your choice." Revenant says, before taking his leave. The bot may not believe him but the seeds of doubt have been placed, and knowing both parties far better than he'd ever like to, it's only a matter of time before things come to a head.

At this point anything is better than sitting here brainstorming the fastest way to kill himself so he doesn't have to put up with this a minute longer.

And as if on cue, the man of the hour returns to the lounge.

"Ah, Mirage!" Pathfinder calls out, intending to settle this the most logical way: by simply asking.

Before he gets the chance to respond though, another match begins, and Mirage finds himself on a drop platform getting ready to enter the next game.

Pathfinder doesn't have an issue with that of course, until he actually hears what Mirage is saying.

The platform is about to descend, taking their team out of earshot entirely, but not before Pathfinder hears Mirage say "At least I don't have to fight with that smiling robot" with a laugh.

Pathfinder continues to look at the spot where the platform descended crestfallen long after they've disappeared.

"See? What'd I tell ya." Revenant says with the biggest shiteating grin because holy shit this was way easier than he'd thought it would be.

"Oh... I see. I thought I was beginning to understand humans better since joining the Apex Games, but it seems I am still ignorant..."

Pathfinder remembers feeling this way once before; shortly after meeting Elliott for the first time and learning of how he was being tricked. Had he been tricked yet again? Were all humans just cruel? Is this what he was supposed to learn when his creator abandoned him?

He was beginning to suspect learning about the human race was not such a good idea afterall. He did not like being deceived but he also did not mind these things when he did not know any better.

"Well there isn't really a lot to learn about skinbags I wouldn't trouble myself too greatly over it." Revenant begins panic backtracking because, yea, he was trying to stir tensions up a bit, but the scrap heap seems to be taking this far more personally than he thought possible, and he doesn't actually want to be the reason the bot figures out that most skinbags are terrible retched creatures- really, he should learn that on his own the hard way. Later. When he is far far away, and not right now, in front of him, where he can see how devastating this discovery is to the thing.

For a long moment, Revenant isn't even really sure if the machine has heard a word he just said, before Pathfinder suddenly snaps back to normal, in an almost jarring movement. "Well, I should get going now! See you later, friend." he says, and heads out of the lounge area, leaving Revenant more than a little confused.

---

Mirage had almost forgotten Pathfinder had been trying to ask him something earlier before he noticed he hadn't seen Path around since before that match.

That's strange, he thought to himself. Path was not the best at intentionally masking his presence, so he should definitely have run into him by now, especially if there was a question still burning away at his mind. Pathfinder seemed to be an infinitely curious being.

There wasn't any harm in looking around at least. After asking "Path? You here?" to at least four different rooms, Lifeline finally took pity on him and pointed him in the right direction.

"Last I seen him, he was talking with Revenant. Ya better off asking him."

Stranger yet Mirage thinks, but decides not to jump the panic button just yet, heading over to where the robot in question idly twiddled with a knife.

"Revenant, was Pathfinder talking to you earlier?"

Revenant almost seems caught off guard by the question "Yea, what of it, skinsuit?" He bites out.

"Well, did you at least catch where he went after that? Cause he doesn't seem to be here."

If he didn't know any better, Mirage would say Revenant almost looks sheepish now, and given the context that's none too reassuring. Revenant says nothing and Mirage narrows his eyes in suspicion. "Wait, do you know something we don't?" Maybe it was just something robot related that non-robots wouldn't understand? Mirage didn't have any idea what the two could've possibly discussed that would make Revenant of all people clam up.

Revenant finally relents "Alright so I may have said somethings that set the walking quote machine off, but I didn't know the pathetic scrap heap was gonna run off like that."

"I'm sorry, did you say HE RAN OFF?" Mirage asks, internal alarm bells suddenly going off.

Revenant regains his edge with a smirk "Yeah, you might wanna go find him before he gets lost. He's about as smart as a toaster oven."

"Dammit!" Mirage yells, grabbing his gear on the way out.

---

“Stupid Revenant and stupid fast Pathfinder leaving without telling anyone. Seriously how did he get this far away already?" Mirage mutters to himself as he speed searches in the general direction he believes Pathfinder would have went. Maybe he should've enlisted Bloodhound's help before he left. At least they would be able to tell if someone had traveled this way recently.

It's dark out, and he's far from where the ship base docked. He hopes he finds something soon because he really doesn't want to be out here all night.

He's also starting to get paranoid, because he swears he heard some shuffling a few times that definitely wasn't his own, despite the fact no one is around.

Finally, he manages to spot the unmistakable silhouette of Pathfinder up ahead.

"Path! What the hell are you doing out here?!" He yells, to stop the robot in it's tracks.

"Oh, hello Mirage! I have decided to quit the apex games."

Mirage takes only a moment to process this, before asking, incredulous, "Are you dualsinal- delis- dil- are you out of your mind?!"

"I have been informed our friends do not like me, so it does not make sense to continue participating. I decided to continue looking for my creator elsewhere. It appears I am lost though!"

"Ok you're a robot, so you probably dont understand how ironic that is- but more importantly! Who told you that- wait, nevermind don't answer that, I already figured it out." Mirage says, putting two and two together. He sighs before continuing. "Okay, listen. Path. Nobody hates you buddy. Everyone thinks you're a valuable player to the games, and a valuable member to the teams. And, AND the games are still your best bet at finding your creator, not roaming the worlds blindly. So this is a very poor decision!"

"Then does this mean you don't hate me?"

"Hate you? Why would you think- Ok maybe I joke A LOT, but Path, you were the first person I even met in the games. If I hated you, you would definitely know by now."

"Really? This is great! I love you too, friend." Pathfinder exclaims, wrapping Mirage in a hug before he can object.

"Uh-huh, you're coming back and rejoining the games, that's great, now can we please go back? This place is starting to freak me out." Mirage says, pushing out of the hug.

Mirage begins to backtrack the way he came. "Alright, uhhh, I'm pretty sure it's this way, come on let's- ack!" The sound of a bullet whizzes by and Pathfinder and Mirage manage to get a glimpse of three armored figures coming from the direction it came from before dodging into cover behind a nearby rock.

"That's not good!" Mirage states, yelping when a spray of bullets flies past his head while attempting to assess the situation. "Path, how many crimes did you commit, since leaving the ship?!"

"I have not engaged in any illegal activities!" Pathfinder replies, similarly panicked.

"Well, It's a good thing I never leave the ship without my weapon holster!" Mirage says, pulling out a p2020 from his belt.

The three men converging on their position have spread out, attempting to cut them off on all sides.

"Alright, think fast Mirage, there's 3 guys flanking us, we have a robot with a grappling hook, me, and a single p2020. Totally doable."

Mirage straightens up suddenly and takes one last quick look over the cover before turning back to Pathfinder. "Follow my lead!"

Mirage dodges bullets as he runs out from behind the cover and sends out one of his decoys at the person flanking the left. They shoot the decoy and he loads a clip into their skull. In the same motion he swings back towards the center and heads for the remaining two enemies, activating his decoy cloak.

Pathfinder takes the hint and uses the confusion to hook his grappling hook on an iron bar above the person flanking right, swinging into them at full force and knocking them out flat.

"You got bamboozled!" Mirage says, now dramatically posed behind the last guy. He takes aim and-

*click*

"Fuck." Mirage says, upon realizing his clip is empty. The man whips around to train his gun on him and Mirage instinctively stumbles a step back before-

The shadows twitch for a second and suddenly the man cries out in pain, robotic fingers protuding through him for only a moment before Revenant retracts his hand entirely and the man crumples to the floor.

"Revenant? What the hell are you doing here?" Mirage asks, relieved, not for the first time, that Revenant is on their side.

If you accused Revenant of being concerned about the trouble he may have inadvertantly gotten these two idiots into he'd brush you off, so instead he says "I was bored. Thought you guys might be up to something more entertaining. Looks like I was right."

"Well that was an uncomfortably close call. Do we have any idea who these wack jobs were?" Mirage asks approaching one on the ground to get a better look.

" ...Hey wait a minute, this is the Syndicate's symbol." He says, running his hands over a logo printed on the shoulder of their armor.

He picks up a boxy device from the person's holster and clicks the button. It boots up and displays a hologram with a dossier.

Mirage doesn't like being stressed, so he chooses to be offended instead. "Hey! Revenant's here too, why isn't he on the target list?"

"You think I got to be a hitman by being as loud and dumb as you two?" He responds, insulted.

Either way, this didn't bode well for any of them. "...Path, Rev, we-"

"I didn't consent to you giving me a nickname, skinbag." Revenant interrupts.

"You guys! We can't tell anyone about what happened here today."

"But Mirage, should we not notify our friends of-"

"No!" Mirage quickly grabs Pathfinder by the shoulders and shakes him for emphasis. "No. This stays between the three of us. We're already in enough trouble as it is, let's just go back to the ship and pretend nothing happened- And for the love of god, Path, don't try to quit the Apex Games again."

Pathfinder frowns at this turn of events but nods his head. "Understood."

Revenant simply gives a noncommittal grunt of acknowledgement.

"We might not live to tell the tale next time..." Mirage adds under his breath, taking one last look at the mercenaries lying at their feet.

Was there even a guarantee they could return to the games without further issues? Only time could really tell.

One thing was for sure; Revenant got exactly what he asked for.

Things just got a hell of a lot more interesting around here.

Perhaps it was time he revisited the Syndicate, add some targets to his hitlist. No one's gonna tell him where he can and can't go.

And maybe, for once, he had two targets to protect instead.

#apex legends #apex legends fanfic #pathfinder #revenant #mirage #series: Infiltrating the Syndicate

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terminallydepraved · 7 years

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Epithymy Chapter Six

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Something was off, but for the life of him, Chrollo couldn’t figure out what it was.

For the third time since that morning, Silva pulled out the map and held it close to his chest, reading it as he walked. Every so often he would glance up at the sun and reorient them, taking them due south and deeper into the humid, arid forest. Chrollo fanned himself with his hand, recalling all too well how disgusting it had felt traveling through a similar heat when he first had left the Underdark. What he wouldn’t give to go back to the town from before. A cold mug of mead sounded like a dream right now, one he would pay any sum to enjoy.

“As much as I adore putting my faith in your navigation skills,” Chrollo said, breaking the silence that had been following them doggedly for the past ten miles, “I think that avoiding weather like this would probably be better than diving head first into it.”

Silva peered over the top of the map, glaring at him without much heat. When surrounded by the wet, sticky air, there was no heat left to sting as much as the weather already did. “I know what I’m doing,” he grunted, going back to whatever it was he thought he was accomplishing behind there.

“Sure, if you say so,” Chrollo grumbled, shifting his folded cloak to the other arm, a thin layer of sweat sticking uncomfortably to his skin. “But that doesn’t mean I know what you’re doing. Why don’t you let me lead for a bit? Let’s go back north. This heat is awful.” If the humidity got any thicker, it would be like drowning with every breath he took.

“Suck it up and deal with it,” Silva grunted, in no mood to play it seemed. “I know where we’re going.”

“And where is that?” Chrollo snapped a little, his own patience evaporating like the sweat on his dark skin. Gods, but it was hot. Did he feel it worse than Silva, or did Silva just handle it better? There wasn’t an ounce of shade along the path they traveled, the only spot of cover in sight some far off forest that looked just as stifling with the thick heat mirage rippling along the stretch of space between them. Could there really be a town out here? How did they survive with it so oppressively hot?

“Where we need to be, brat, so stop harping on it.” Silva folded up the map with an annoyed air, shoving it deep into his pack without another word. He held a hand over his eyes and looked off towards the forest, orienting them towards it silently. Chrollo sighed and glared at him, but if he felt it, he didn’t make it known.

“You’re being such an ass today,” he mumbled, shifting his cloak again into the other arm, regretting not keeping enough space open in his pack to let him shove it in there so he wouldn’t have to carry it. “You’ve been an ass since we left that other village. Did you forget your manners back there? Maybe we should double back to get them.” Before he got fed up enough with Silva to stab him, he added silently with a glare hot enough to make Silva turn.

For a moment, it looked like Silva might snap back at him. Instead, he took in a deep breath and looked back ahead, letting it out with a low sigh. “Just keep moving,” he muttered, shifting his back higher, his own fur-lined mantle tucked under his strap to hang from the bag. The glint of his axe in the sunlight was nearly blinding. “It’s too hot to argue and we need to get into the forest before we run out of water.”

Chrollo groaned, wiping the sweat from his brow. He wasn’t used to this sort of heat at all. The Underdark was nearly frigid, any light that shined down there created through artificial means. The sun baked him from above, his dark hair holding the heat like a stone. How surface-dwellers put up with it, he would never know.

But, in the end, Silva was right. Once Chrollo stopped complaining, he found that the walk did go faster. The sun rose and then began to list to the west, its overbearing heat easing slightly as it lost its apex. Chrollo was completely soaked in sweat when they finally ducked into the trees, the shade granting some relief, but not much. The humidity was even more thick here, sticky and heavy and just barely preferable to what it had been before.

“Great Gods far below,” Chrollo swore, leaning heavily against a tree. “I fucking hate this. I hate this place so much.”

“Whining won’t make it better,” Silva said, his own breathing labored, his long hair bundled up in a messy bun on the top of his head. His pale skin was flushed red, his simple shirt soaked through with sweat. He pulled the axe off his shoulder and carried it in his hands as he pressed on, forcing Chrollo to keep moving.

“It’ll make me feel better,” Chrollo gasped, stumbling behind him weakly. “Can we please, for the love of all that resides beneath our feet, make camp soon?”

“There’s still daylight to burn,” Silva tried to say, but Chrollo just shoved forward and blocked the man’s path, chest heaving as he tried to breath in the air that stuck in his throat.

“If we don’t stop soon, I am going to pass out,” he said, stumbling a little in his search for another tree to lean against. “Seriously, Silva. I don’t think I can keep up this pace with it so hot.”

Silva let out an annoyed growl, but it seemed he was too worn out himself to bother arguing. He let out a breath and nodded, looking around at the wilderness surrounding them. “Let’s at least get deeper in,” he sighed, taking Chrollo by the arm to get him moving. “We need to find a clearing so we can make a fire.”

Chrollo pulled a face, his vision swimming a bit. “A fire? In this heat?” He was cringing at the thought alone.

“You want to eat tonight? It’ll help keep animals away, too. Always make a fire, brat. Even in heat like this,” Silva lectured, dragging Chrollo through a thick bunch of vines to deposit them into the first clearish space they had seen yet. Chrollo didn’t bother to yank himself free of Silva’s hand. He just shucked off his pack and crumpled to his knees, letting Silva hold onto his arm as he finally rested.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he groaned, his hand falling down beside him on the ground when Silva dropped it. “You go do that. I’m gonna. Breathe. For a bit.” Try to, at least. Gods, it was so hard to breathe here. He heard more than saw Silva walk off to gather wood. There was plenty around them so he wouldn’t have to go far, luckily. The clearing was strewn with all sorts of loose branches and the like, some dried while others looked soaked through with the moisture afflicting everything in the forest’s embrace. Chrollo closed his eyes and caught his breath. With the sun off him and the hike over, he could begin to cool down a little.

He opened them back up when he heard a soft sort of clatter, turning a bit to watch Silva deposit an armful of small branches into a pile. He knelt down with a handful of moss and set himself to stacking it all together, building up the fire the way he always did when they made camp. A lot of skill went into the movements. Silva had been doing this for decades. It showed.

Silva edged away from him the moment Chrollo tried to sit beside him. “What’s wrong?” he asked, scooting closer to spite Silva. “Not feeling like talking to me now? I just wanted to watch you work.”

“It’s too hot to have you clinging to me, brat. Go drink some water and leave me be,” Silva said a little harshly, a flood of sparks rising off the flint and steel to fall on the tinder bundle tucked inside the dried sticks. A few caught and Silva leaned down to blow gently on it, coaxing it into a small fire within a minute or two. There was a lot more smoke than there usually was, probably from all the moisture in the wood.

As weary as he was from the day’s travel, Chrollo figured he knew the way to alleviate whatever it was bothering Silva. He moved closer to Silva despite his admonishments, draping himself against the man’s solid, muscled shoulder. “I know a better way to deal with the heat,” he whispered, kissing Silva’s cheek, running his hand down Silva’s arm to rest over his hand. “Why don’t we sweat it out together?”

Silva stilled, his breath catching in his throat. Chrollo smiled and moved his lips to Silva’s ear, teasing him with a soft gasp. “You’ve been so tense today,” he breathed, lacing their fingers together, bringing Silva’s hand to settle on his thigh. “So on edge. Do you want me to help? Let me make you feel better.”

Cool blue eyes took him in, a shiver running down Chrollo’s spine. Silva stared at his lips, and then lower, following the line of Chrollo’s neck down to his clavicles. “It’s…” His eyes closed, his jaw tightening. He pulled away from Chrollo and stood up, leaving him on the ground by the fire. “No. I’m going to go bathe. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Chrollo blinked, staring up at the hunter in disbelief. “Oh, well,” he murmured, beginning to lift himself off the ground. “I’ll come with you.” It was so hot here. A dip in a river would be heaven.

“No you won’t,” Silva grunted, looking off into the trees. “Stay here. Finish making the camp up. I don’t need you hanging on me as I wash.” He turned and began to move towards the tree line. “It’s hot enough right now as it is.”

It stung more than it should have. Chrollo crossed his arms and sat back down, glaring at Silva’s shoulders as he walked off into the woods. What was that all about? “Fine then!” he shouted at his retreating back. “Don’t drown yourself!”

Silva didn’t even react, and within a few seconds, he disappeared entirely, vanishing amongst the thick foliage and hanging branches. Chrollo sighed and kicked at a log half in the fire, watching the sparks rise up in a wave nearly as angry as he was. What on earth was going on with him? Chrollo had been around plenty of men, but in his experience they tended to sweeten their disposition after getting off as much as Silva had.

“His loss, then,” he muttered to himself, glaring into the crackling fire. If he didn’t want to touch Chrollo, then he didn’t have to. It would have been nice to have been rejected in a kinder way, but Silva had always been a rough brute of a man, so he shouldn’t have been surprised.

Rubbing at his eyes, Chrollo told himself to stop thinking about it. It didn’t matter. Not really. Silva was probably just irritated from all the walking and the humidity. There was no point in taking it personally.

Chrollo sighed. Logically, he knew that, but it was still hard not to be upset. Things had been going well, hadn’t they? What a mess this had turned into. He really hoped it was just the weather. He really hoped the irritability would pass like a bad storm. Maybe it would once they got out of this forest.

But that begged the question of where they even were right now. Chrollo rolled onto his knees and looked for Silva’s bag, spotting it off against a far tree. He moved towards it, digging into the bag for the map he knew to be inside. Silva had been so cagey about where they were heading. Any attempts to pick the next destination had been met with staunch refusal to Chrollo’s utter chagrin. If Silva thought he could bogart the map, though, he had another thing coming.

Clothes, whetstones, some dried jerky– Chrollo rooted through it all, snagging a piece of jerky to chew as he searched for what he knew had to be inside. Gods, Silva was a slob. Nothing was organized in here. The clothes were all wrinkled, the weapons strewn about in a manner that Chrollo figured had to be dangerous. It was only after a few minutes of constant digging that his fingers brushed crisp parchment tucked inside a side pocket. Smiling victoriously around his mouthful, Chrollo swallowed and yanked it free, setting it in his lap.

His smile morphed into a confused frown a moment later when he realized he had grabbed two pieces of parchment, not just one. The one on top, the thicker of the two, opened up to reveal the map. Chrollo glanced at it, tracing his fingertip along the route they had taken thus far. They had been walking for a couple days since the last village, their progress directed towards the south. Traveling at Silva’s side had given him a rough estimate of distance and walking speed, and with a bit of quick addition, he gathered they were somewhere within the Berserian Forest.

Chrollo bit his lip, his finger traveling a little lower over an x that marked what he knew to be an entrance to the Underdark. That x… that hadn’t been there before, had it? Chrollo would have noticed it when he had stolen the map, wouldn’t he? He drew the map closer to his face, the evening far from too dark for him to see through. A cursory sniff told him the ink was fresh. Much fresher than the rest around it.

Running his fingers through his hair, Chrollo tried to keep the inevitable thoughts at bay. It was just a coincidence, right? Silva had probably just marked the Underdark entrance to make sure they steered clear of it. They were heading south because there had to be some major city he wanted to go to. A city with big bounties and a big enough crowd that Chrollo could get lost in; a place where Chrollo didn’t have to worry about being seen or targeted.

His heart lurched in his chest when he forced himself to look back down at the map. Once the forest ended, there was nothing southwards. Nothing besides a few insignificant dots that symbolized villages too small to bother with.

A branch snapped somewhere behind him and Chrollo whirled around, breath choked and adrenaline pumping like a heady cocktail of fear and instinct. He scanned the darkening treeline. Was it Silva? An ambush?

He jumped half a foot in the air a moment later, only to catch himself when his eyes recognized the disturbance for what it was. A squirrel ran out through the clearing, darting past him to reach the other side of the camp. Chrollo let out a short gasp of a laugh, smacking his cheeks a little. His heart hammered in his chest. He needed to calm down. This was silly. This was so silly. He knew nothing at all, really. Not nearly enough to be getting so paranoid, at any rate.

“Just breathe,” he told himself under his breath, rubbing at his eyes. “Just. Breathe.”

A much needed breeze rolled through the clearing, cooling the sweat on his brow. The leaves whispered and the grass answered, the parchment crinkling along, begging to be included. Chrollo looked down at the other sheet, his hand stalling just above it. A feeling of disquiet filled him, only growing stronger when his touched the papery surface. For some reason, he didn’t know if he wanted to look at it.

He closed his eyes, laughing at himself a little. What was he so afraid of? It was just a little piece of paper, no bigger than a sheaf from a book. He snatched up the page and opened with his eyes still closed, taking in a deep breath, refusing to let his smile fall. Silly. So silly.

Silly as it was, he couldn’t help but count to three before he opened his eyes.

Confusion greeted him first one he did. He bit his lip and furrowed his brow, the thick, ornate script a little hard to read. He ran his finger beneath the first line, parsing out slowly what was written. Here by that which has been agreed up in order of His Lordship in search of the aforementioned… Chrollo relaxed a bit, realizing it was just a contract. For a bounty? Some sort of acquisition, it looked like. Was this what they were going south for? Chrollo wondered who on earth could have given it to Silva. They had been together pretty much the whole time.

Chrollo cursed whoever had written this. He scooted closer to the fire in hopes that the unnecessary light might help him read the looping, cramped script easier. There should be a name on here, one that told who had ordered the bounty. So much legal-speak. It was a wonder Silva was able to read any of this at all. He supposed that working with these types of contracts often allowed for a certain amount of proficiency. It would be a necessary skill to learn if Chrollo wanted to be a hunter too.

With that in mind, he set to studying the page before him. First came a few paragraphs of various clauses, it looked like, all outlining the various rights and claims each party had. Things to protect from scams and double-crosses, a few lines here and there to account for injuries and compensations. Whoever had written this was thorough. Exceedingly so. Silva was dealing with a professional, one who knew what they were doing and weren’t afraid of covering every single possibility that might arise.

Moving on, Chrollo narrowed his eyes at the next section. His attention wavered when he was met with another thick block of text, the script all the more cramped, the words nearly unreadable. He snapped back into focus when he caught sight of a tangled Dr–. Could it… No, there was no way. It couldn’t say Drow, could it?

It took a moment for him to realize his heart was pounding. Chrollo looked down and covered his heart with his hand with a frown. He needed to calm down, he told himself. It was too early to be making snap assumptions. Just keep reading. It was probably nothing.

The next paragraph made his heart stutter. For a moment, he swore it stopped entirely. The script changed suddenly as if written in another hand. The words seemed illuminated, drawing his eye and stealing his breath from his lungs as mercilessly as a punch to the gut.

Upon completion of the outlined task, His Lordship, the renowned Hisoka Morrow, Purveyor of the Western Underdark and the most loyal servant of the Council–

His eyes began to blur, so much so that he could barely read what remained. He didn’t need to, though. He would know the hand of his lover anywhere. How many years had he sat at Hisoka’s side, watching him work, watching him sign document after document, ending lives with just an errant scratch of his plumed quill? Chrollo sagged forward, catching himself in the dirt, something like anger flooding his veins.

What was this? How could this be? It had to be a mistake. He forced himself to look, to see past the fury, the betrayal.

Signed by the Hunter Silva Zoldyck on behalf of his most noble Lordship in that the return of one Chrollo Lucilfer be made swift and punctually–

“What are you doing on the ground, brat?” an annoyed voice asked, the forest crackling and crunching in deference to his arrival. “I’m gone for an hour and you’re already making a mess of yourself.”

Chrollo was on his feet in an instant, the contract clenched in his shaking fist. The very air tasted bitter on his tongue, and when he saw Silva, saw him with his shirt slung over his shoulder, his long hair wet and tossed over alongside it, as guiltless as priest, Chrollo saw red. Blood red.

“What is this, Silva?” he breathed, his body cold, his breath coming short. “What did you do?”

Silva had the audacity to look confused, but it only lasted for a moment. After that, he just looked ashamed. “Chrollo,” he murmured, taking a step closer, reaching for him with the hands that had signed the contract. With hands that had sold Chrollo out like chattel. “It’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it?!” Chrollo shouted, eyes pricking with moisture. He threw the contract up to Silva’s eye level, reaching for a dagger from his hip. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you sold me out!”

The man snarled, moving into Chrollo’s space. “I didn’t,” he bit, and if he was just a touch more angry, maybe Chrollo would buy it. “You have it all wrong.”

“Do I?” Chrollo hissed. “Then explain why you have my lover’s signature on this?” He brandished the parchment, jabbing the point of his dagger at the looping name tucked so neatly into the corner of the page. “Explain why the hell you signed next to it?”

“Put the knife down, brat,” Silva ordered, somehow keeping cool despite the tempest of emotions assaulting Chrollo. He lifted his hands placatingly, hair still dripping wetly from the river he had just come from. For a moment, the memory of him submerged in the water and spitting curses rose up in Chrollo’s mind, overlaying the present like a cruel joke.

“I won’t,” Chrollo breathed, throwing down the contract, holding the dagger out in front of him. “Not until you explain yourself.”

“I did it for you, alright?” Silva shouted, his loud voice rolling through the clearing, echoing off the trees like a clap of thunder. His chest heaved and his glare was as hot as the fire behind them. “They came to me. Threatened to break my arms if I didn’t hear them out. You miss your lover so much? Well, he misses you too, brat.”

“What are you talking about?” The dagger in his hand shook, his feet moving him back as Silva steadily worked his way closer. “Hisoka did this? How did they find me?”

Silva rolled his eyes. “They’ve been tracking us since the cave,” he grunted, averting his eyes, glaring somewhere past Chrollo. Chrollo ached to look, to follow his gaze, but he forced himself to keep his eyes on Silva. “There are dozens of hunters looking for you. I took the damn contract to get the information they had. To see how much they knew.”

The dagger fell an inch and Silva matched it, moving that much closer. “How… How am I supposed to believe you?” he asked. “I saw the reward. I saw how much he was promising.” It was more than enough to incite betrayal. Far more than enough.

“Because,” Silva said, his voice soft though his features were hard. “We’re partners, aren’t we?”

Chrollo froze, his eyes wide. He wanted to believe him; every inch of him wanted to believe that Silva spoke the truth. He wrapped his arms around himself and stared at the man before him, looking him in the eye, searching for the truth. Silva sighed and drew ever closer, arms outstretched to embrace him.

When he wrapped his arms around Chrollo, it almost felt the same as it had before. Silva was warm. So warm. “Do you… Do you promise?” Chrollo’s voice was shaky, his face buried in Silva’s chest. The dagger slipped from his fingers and hit the ground with a dull thud, nerves soothed by the man’s familiar scent, by his addicting warmth.

Silva didn’t answer. He held tighter, holding a hand to Chrollo’s head, keeping his face on his shoulder.

“Silva?” Chrollo whispered, tugging against his hold, stomach twisting anxiously.

“I’m sorry,” came the low, whispered reply.

There was a sharp jab as something was stabbed into Chrollo’s thigh, and then a dizzying rush as the world began to tilt on its axis. Chrollo clung to Silva’s chest, staring up at him, confusion brimming in his eyes. “What?” he gasped, his knees giving out. Silva caught him before he could fall, but he hid his face from Chrollo, staring at the ground.

“Just sleep,” Silva’s low voice rumbled, Chrollo’s eyes so heavy that they refused to remain open. “Just sleep and it’ll all be over once you wake.”

All over? What would be? But blackness encroached greedily, devouring him completely before he could ask.

#drow au #silvakuro #hisokuro #im really excited so have another chapter

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