A/N: The "mature" and "graphic depictions of violence" tags refer to a scene in chapter two! This one is clean.
Click. The coms were in place.
"Agent Vanderwood. Are we ready?" Across the courtyard, Vanderwood gave an almost-imperceptible nod. A couple draped in silks approached from his right. "I'm pleased to be here," he said through the coms, his voice crackling to life in Luciel's ear. His tone was pointed, a clear warning. No more 'Agent' when we're on the job.
Luciel smirked. "As am I." He turned without flourish and entered the building.
The ground floor was a ridiculously overfurnished lobby. The room was scattered with delicately patterned and cushioned seating that probably cost more per piece than Luciel's entire outfit for the night—including his hidden tech. He stopped for a moment to admire an impressive chandelier, dripping with gold and diamonds. No other guests spared it a second glance, so he quickly moved on.
A wide staircase led him into an even more extravagant ballroom, where guests were already milling about like delicate flowers. Luciel slipped a complacent smile onto his face before joining two young women near the door. Their dresses swirled lightly above their feet, and their necks were carefully adorned by precious metals and jewels.
He approached with practiced grace that came only from years of intelligence gathering, brightly introducing himself as Han Taeseok. A name he'd chosen himself, along with his fictional occupation as the owner of a new, but growing entertainment company. He'd even created himself a website and fake Wikipedia page, if anyone was curious enough to search. TS Entertainment. A simple lie to weave, especially with the internet at his fingertips.
Agent Vanderwood entered the room. Luciel had been letting his mouth run without his mind—as he often did during the small-talk portions of these assignments—but now he redirected effort to politely excuse himself from the conversation.
He began walking away from Vanderwood. Not in an immediate line, as that would be suspicious, but meandering away from his general location.
Click. "Mr. Gallego is on the third floor," Vanderwood informed him. "Shall we go see him?"
Click. "Not yet. Be a patient guest," Luciel instructed cheerily. "We have quite a few people to talk to before the night is over."
Click. "Got it. Over."
Luciel smiled and refocused with renewed vigor. As surely as a server without firewalls, he now saw the guests as untapped gold mines of information.
God, tonight might really be fun. A chance to stretch his wings, Luciel decided as he turned a corner—directly into a familiar pinstriped button-up.
The man was on the phone, engrossed in a conversation with his assistant, and they immediately crashed into each other. The man cried out as his phone slipped from his grip, and Luciel panicked and grabbed something for balance. One hand found the wall, and the other nearly pulled the other man's tie clean off.
Fury began to gather like a storm on the man's face. "What the—" he stopped. No. He looked closer. No. Luciel turned away. A hand grabbed his arm and turned him around.
Luciel stared guiltily into the shocked face of C&R's Director, Han Jumin.
"Luciel?" He asked. "Is that you?"
"No," the agent scowled, suddenly very angry. "I am Han Taeseok. I don't know you," he said pointedly, "or wish to."
He ripped his arm away and stalked into the next room, leaving Jumin to process an angry man who looked just a bit too familiar.
Luciel didn't relax until he was safely lost within the crowd of the next room. So much for subtlety, he thought to himself. So much for undercover work.
He clicked his com on. "Vandy, we have an issue," he reported solemnly.
"What?" Vanderwood's concern reached him with static-y undertones.
"Simple complications. I know a man here."
Silence on the other end.
"You don't have to ask," Luciel conceded. "He is from RFA."
"Damn you, 707," Vanderwood swore softly. "We'll discuss this when we debrief."
Luciel tried to muster all the cheeriness he didn't have to his voice. "Of course~ I'll see you then!" Click.
Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it all.
Luciel retreated to the snack table, moving as lightly as he could with his mood so heavy. He stationed himself next to a silver platter of tiny sandwiches, carefully taking one and eating it slowly. He kept his back turned to the majority of the crowd, but cursed the bright red hair that made him an easy target for anyone who knew what to look for. Like Han Jumin.
No, he could not think about Jumin now. This was what came with emotional attachments, he reminded himself. This was what he bought, and now he must pay for it.
By the time his tiny sandwich was gone, Luciel had composed himself enough to return to his job. He spotted Vanderwood in the center of the room, so he skirted the edges of the crowd, chatting up older businessmen and their makeup-dusted wives. To them, he was an impressive young entrepreneur with every right to be there. But to a dark-haired, grey-eyed man somewhere in this building, he was an infiltrating spy.
And even if that man wouldn't give him away intentionally… he could never risk being discovered. If his enemies didn't kill him first, then his employer would.
So, it was with this in mind that Luciel twisted every bit of charm and sway he had to extract sensitive information from guest after guest. A smile on approach, an open demeanor. Tell a few lies about himself before asking about the others. Always ask with an easy smile, he reminded himself, as if you barely want to know. Some men would have an easy, but structured exchange with him, and he would leave with only the barest tidbit of useful data. Some women responded when he made them chase him, keeping a secretive smile on his face and letting them tell the stories with overeager lips.
Through it all, he danced like a spider, spinning a web of information around the room. Influence as well, at least for the night—until Han Taeseok and TS Ent. both disappeared in the daylight.
He met with Vanderwood in the center of the web, joining their threads into a coherent story.
"So," Vanderwood hummed, keeping his face carefully neutral. "We may be on the wrong side."
"I think whichever side is paying us is the right side," Luciel corrected. 'Agents can't take sides,' the very lesson that Vanderwood had taught him. "You're losing your touch, Madam." He grinned. Vanderwood didn't react. Either he was as good an actor as the job required, or he didn't care what he was called anymore.
"It's our job to find out what our dear Mr. Gallego did wrong," Luciel said, lowering his voice. "Not what our client did to him."
Vanderwood nodded, the movement ever so slight.
"Let's move out, then," he said. "To the third floor."
"Whatever," interrupted a voice from behind them, "could be on the third floor?"
They tensed, turning around as quickly as possible without attracting attention. Vanderwood's hand visibly twitched towards his thigh, where Luciel knew that his taser was cleverly concealed beneath his coat.
Luciel only glared at Jumin. "Why are you following me?" he demanded. "I told you, I don't know you."
Jumin raised one delicate eyebrow. "Really, Luciel? I was sure we'd know each other from our years of friendship."
Vanderwood's hand didn't move from his thigh, but now he was beginning to look like he'd rather tase Luciel.
He tried to compose himself. He was better than this. He could control his emotions in the field- he always did. "Please, it's Mr. Han Taeseok tonight," he requested gracefully.
"Another Mr. Han? You didn't name yourself after me, did you?"
Vanderwood looked murderous now. Several people were within earshot, and it seemed Jumin was only a few words away from announcing their intents to the entire party.
"Follow, me, Mr. Han," Luciel hissed. "And don't speak on the way."
He couldn't afford to grab his arm and make a scene, so he herded Jumin out of the crowd and into a hallway. Vanderwood went in the other direction, after sending Luciel a look that confirmed his intentions to loop back around and meet them.
Luciel harshly guided the other man to a door, and instructed him to stand quietly and keep watch while he picked the lock. Jumin obeyed, finally understanding the gravity of the situation.
With Luciel's hands shaking ever-so-slightly, he finished with the lock just as Vanderwood joined them- looking, for all intents and purposes, like he'd stumbled into the hallway for no reason at all. Except for his face. Now that his back was turned to the crowd, his face threatened murder. Or possibly torture by taser.
Jumin made no complaints as he was shown into a smaller room. Irregular shapes loomed out of the darkness of what was most likely an office, but they didn't bother to turn the lights on. Instead, Luciel and Vanderwood closed the door and stood like sentries on either side. Jumin settled on the desk, taking the confrontation with surprising grace. His eyes found Luciel's glasses, glinting faintly in the moonlight that filtered through the blinds.
No one said anything for a moment, all fixated on each other.
Finally, Jumin spoke up, choosing his words slowly. "Care to explain why we've met tonight, Luciel?"
"Yes," Vanderwood agreed, his tone laced with venom. "I'd love to hear it." Luciel glanced at him. The other agent's eyes remained firmly forwards. They were staring at Jumin, but it was clear that Luciel was the one being interrogated.
Where did he start?
"Jumin," he said firmly. "You shouldn't be here. You weren't on the guest list. Since you're an unforeseen complication…" Luciel's gaze loosened. "You will not bother me tonight. You will not approach me, or mention to anyone that I am here."
Jumin rose from the desk. "You are hardly in a situation to give me orders," he warned.
"Just sit down," Vanderwood instructed. "And for the foreseeable future, stay out of our way."
Jumin sat down. "You still haven't answered any of my questions," he pointed out. "What are you looking for on the third floor? Why are you here? And most importantly, did you name yourself after me or not?"
"The answers to the first two questions are classified, unfortunately," Vanderwood said, idly playing with the hem of his coat. No- he was playing with the weapon hidden underneath.
Jumin turned to Luciel, who smiled guilessly. "I thought if I named myself after you, I could get close to pretty Elly."
Jumin's eyes darkened. "Never, you bastard."
Luciel sighed to himself. "Someday, pretty Elly," he whispered.
The room fell into silence again. It was not exactly a comfortable silence.
Jumin cleared his throat. "Well, if that's all, I suppose I can leave you alone for the night. On the condition that you later tell me about your…" his eyes wandered to Vanderwood. "...partner."
"Absolutely not-" the agent began, but was cut off by Luciel.
"Vanderwood, please just let me handle him," he interjected.
"Vanderwood?"
"Yes, that is my name!"
Jumin's perfect lips parted in barely-veiled surprise. "Mary Vanderwood?"
Vanderwood's eyes narrowed, hand already on his taser. "How do you know me?" he demanded, his voice hard and precise as a diamond.
Jumin pursed his lips, seemingly remembering that it was rude to gape. "I thought you were a woman," he said bluntly.
"The hell?" Vanderwood inquiered, following Jumin's eyes to… Luciel. Luciel who looked caught between pissing his pants and laughing. His eyes danced with uncontained humor, even as his posture shifted to defend from possible blows.
"Are you, by any chance," Jumin asked, a smile beginning to creep onto his own face, "Luciel's maid?"
Vanderwood balked, unsure whether his taser was more relevant in Luciel's side or Jumin's face. "I, well, I… I might as well be," he said. "But no!" he shook his head angrily. "I am not!"
"Oh." Jumin sounded disappointed. "I suppose Luciel lied to me."
Vanderwood abandoned his post by the door to storm at Luciel, brandishing his taser. "What the hell did you tell those RFA people about me?"
"Nothing that's not true," Luciel said slyly, before being promptly tased. He screeched, but was otherwise unharmed.
"Next time, I won't use the lowest setting," Vanderwood threatened. "Also, you'd better be quiet before we jeopardize our position."
"Be quiet? I think you just tased him," Jumin pointed out, humor dancing in his tone.
Vanderwood turned to glare at him, but was suddenly caught off-guard by the absurdity of the situation. Here he stood, with one of Luciel's secret RFA friends, in complete darkness, interrupting an important assignment to inform each other that Vanderwood was supposedly Luciel's maid. And Vanderwood tased him. And God, nothing was going right tonight, was it?
He withdrew his taser, tucking it safely into the inside of his coat.
Luciel saw the smile dancing on Vanderwood's lips. "What are you happy about?" He asked warily.
Vanderwood shook his head. "Let's go meet Mr. Gallego. Our clients don't like to wait."
Jumin rose from the desk, this time moving towards the door. "I need to see Mr. Gallego as well," he tossed out casually. "We have business arrangements to finalize."
Luciel threw an arm out, barring the door. "You have business with him?" His eyes glinted, although the moon had disappeared behind a cloud this time.
"I do," Jumin replied coolly. "Is that of use to you?"
Luciel's smile grew wickedly. "You know, Jumin, you still owe me."
"For what, again?"
"That time when a thirteen year old hacked your penthouse security for no reason, and none of your technicians could get through the new firewalls he set up, so you called me down to fix it? Which I so graciously did for free?"
Jumin frowned ever so slightly. "I do… remember that."
Luciel turned towards him in the doorway. "I'm cashing in my favor now. Take us to Gallego."
Jumin pushed Luciel's arm out of the way, but there was no real force behind it. "That's a deal, I suppose," he agreed.
