Mai sat at the conference table, half-listening to the chief of covert operations outlining a plan to bring in a named arm's dealer they had been trying to get for the past 4 months.
She's suggested many ways to get him, but her ideas were always shot down by the chief—deemed too immoral, or too implausible, violent, a waste of department resources, that the paperwork for it might take too long to clear—the corporate yellow tape that kept popping up was quickly demotivating her to be a mute, unhelpful robot at the table.
If they didn't want her opinions, which were real solutions, she wasn't going to give them.
They paid her to sit there and look pretty, fine.
She was in it for the money anyway.
It was always about the money.
"Miss Valentine?" The chief crossed his muscular arms and nodded at her "Anything to add?"
Mai narrowed her eyes and replied coolly, "nope."
The chief stared back at her and said, "you have nothing to add, as our new head of our counter-terrorist tech specialist?"
Mai blinked.
What?
'New head'?
A promotion?
"Say that again. I wasn't listening to you babe," she replied as she stood and picked up her tablet from the table. "You never listen to me, so now you know how it feels."
There was a tense, cold silence in the room, and many people stiffened in their seats.
"I listen," the chief replied testily, his eyes flashing. "And I declined your frankly impossible solutions. You wanted me to clear a missile launcher gun for field-usage and put it in the hands of...well, you!"
"Yeah," Mai tossed a perfect blond curl of hair over her shoulder. "I said I know what this guy wants to buy and you're just taking the long route. Now that you've appointed me as a head, watch me submit the paperwork for it and be successful."
"Don't count on it. I already submitted a better solution," the chief sneered, and the temperature of the room dropped further.
Heads lowered, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire of their battle for dominance.
"Rafael," Mai addressed the chief informally, just to piss him off. "Use whatever means you want, but I know that a RPG-7 missile gun will make him crawl out of—"
"The solution is...to use an asset!" The chief interrupted her loudly, and Mai clenched her fists at her sides.
"Talk over me again and see if I won't file for harassment, go ahead," she said icily, and felt her grip slipping on the electronic pad in her hands. "We have no assets at our disposal. And even so, I wouldn't trust anyone else to play the part. I go, or no one goes."
"Hm," the chief said mockingly as he held up his pad and raised it up to his face. "Recently, a famed terrorist by the name of ATEM logged into our database as green. You know what that means? We can use him."
Mai felt a pit drop in her stomach and she opened her mouth, then closed it.
Oh boy. No.
How many ways could she say 'no' until this meathead understood?!
"Atem is...unstable, to put it lightly," she said with a wince. "He's not fit for anything, except for maybe enjoying a margarita and a pedicure at the same time."
"So you wanna let this piece of trash stay coddled in this country, breathing free air for no cost?" The chief barked, making a few people at the table flinch, and Mai felt the knot in her stomach grow even bigger.
"He's listed as an asset. We'll fucking use him. Dismissed," the chief said as he set his pad on the table with a rough thump. "Got anything else to say about that, Miss Valentine? As our first asset-turned-agent, you're making strides. I respect you for turning your life around, don't misunderstand that."
Mai smiled sweetly and shook her head.
"Use him at your own risk, chief," she replied shortly, and turned quickly to leave the room first, hearing the chief call over her, eager to have the last word.
"Don't need him to be stable to be effective!"
I hate him! Mai thought furiously as she stalked down the hall and locked herself in her office with the sweep of the sliding glass door, rushing to sit down behind her desk and inching out the satellite phone she kept in the lowest drawer.
She shoved the USB into her laptop and was about to dial when she changed her mind.
Any and all communications coming out of this building were deemed 'unsafe' if she were to talk directly to Atem. She'd learned that lesson hard, from Anzu.
Where to find him? For a man who was trained to be a ghost...he often hid in plain sight.
I'll start with his honey boytoy, Seto Kaiba, she thought as she stood from her desk and smoothed her skirt down her front.
Hopefully this would go well, because it had been almost 2 years since she'd spoken with Atem, and didn't even have a clear picture of what he looked like.
Just an elusive ghost who got Anzu in trouble a couple months ago with Interpol.
The heated eye mask slid off Yami's face when he heard Isono come in and rap his knuckles firmly on the table at the far end of the room, so he sat up slowly to nod, acknowledging his presence.
What was it?
"Sir. A...woman by the name of Miss Valentine is here to see you," the manservant said quietly, trying not to visibly tremble because the woman had shown a badge in the camera.
Another agent, and he wasn't ready for the gardening van to come visit again.
Oh interesting, Yami frowned and wondered aloud, "did she say why?"
"I'm here to warn him, that is what she said," Isono whispered, and Yami set the eye mask aside and nodded.
"I'll get dressed. Have her meet me in the garden," Yami said quietly, already reaching for his phone to text Seto and then his therapist.
The new procedure was to talk it through before interacting.
That would prevent any more violent outbursts.
His fingers flew over the screen briefly and he set it down on the glass case in the walk-in closet to pull out a collared shirt and buttoned it up the front, seeing Seto's reply light up his phone.
Seto: ANOTHER agent? Oh this is that blond one.
Seto: ...okay. doctor checklist says, do a self-check on your emotions...
Seto: tell her your trigger words...
Yami let out a huff and smiled, typing back fast.
Y Wmi: you don't have to tell me, but its sweet you remembered the whole list
Kaiba was still typing, his responses popping up quickly.
Seto: you feel yourself reaching for a weapon, touch the squeezy ball
Seto: and then I'll come home, and you can squeeze me. Anywhere you want.
Seto: I'll really do it. I'm gonna finish up this last thing and come home in 40 mins.
Yami let out another chuckle.
Y Wmi: thank you Seto. You're so sweet. She's like a long-time friend who you follow on social media, never talk to, but always knows what she's doing and who she's doing. Ykno?
Seto: …...no I don't know, but I'll pretend like I understand that.
Seto: you feel the reflex coming, do the breathing exercise.
Y Wmi: yessssssssssssssssssssss
Yami inched his pants up and clipped a belt on around his waist, slipping the phone into his pocket and walking out of the closet, slowly making his way down the grand staircase while telling himself to prepare for talking about 'work'.
His phone vibrated with a response from the therapist and she said exactly what he'd expected.
"She is from the old job that you hate?
Okay, remember to set your boundaries with her.
If you feel a boundary being crossed, don't hesitate to say it immediately.
If you disassociate during the conversation, try to pick up the phone and call me, or your partner. Stand up and remove yourself from the situation.
You do not owe her an explanation for why you're suddenly walking away."
Okay, Yami thought as he pocketed the phone. Ready.
He saw a head of bright blond hair sitting on the garden chair by the glass table. She was wearing a smart, navy-blue blazer paired with a matching skirt, looking like a casual office worker.
Wow, what a difference.
He was used to seeing her...in cocktail dresses.
"Approaching," Yami said quietly, and she jumped before slowly turning around to face him, staring at him with her lips parted in surprise.
She blinked.
Yami blinked back and slowly raised his hand in a friendly wave.
First time seeing each other.
"You... are... tiny!" She cried, gripping the back of her chair with a manicured hand, the disbelief on her face obvious. "Here I was thinking I was gonna meet another muscle meat head!"
"Another?" Yami said with a conversational tone as he slowly pulled out the chair across from her and sat down, crossing his legs and placing the squeezy ball atop the table. "Don't mind that. It's my reflex exercise ball."
She nodded and took a breath, looking like she was ready to launch into a rant, so Yami jumped at this chance to tell her, raising his palm flat to stop her briefly, "wait. I have some... boundaries to set. For our safety, please refrain from saying these words to me, and use the abbreviations, or if you must say it—here, please read this."
He pushed his phone across the table, and she quietly leaned forward to read the list.
Mai's heart clenched at the list, realizing that Atem was truly, really burned out and unfit for service.
The list included the entire military alphabet, and a long,long list of guns, grenades, and heavy artillery.
Even the word 'bullet' had to be censored.
"Please say 'round'. Do not say 'hit' either," was the small note on the side, and Mai felt a shiver go down her spine.
Mai nodded in understanding and glanced down at the list, trying to construct her sentence around the censored words. Okay, this was a little difficult, but doable.
"My direct superior, is the chief of transnational…. covert...tech," she said, glancing down at the list and realizing she couldn't say the word 'terror' either. Oh boy.
The chief was openly calling Atem a terrorist.
He was going to catch a bullet.
No, he was going to catch around.
Yami nodded.
Secret ops.
Mai's division.
"I'm just gonna tell you his name, that asshole is named Rafael, with muscles for brains," she rolled her eyes, dropping formalities and not wanting to call him her chief. "He was assigned our head of operations, from the USA. Yeah. Uh huh, that face."
Atem had grimaced and rolled his eyes.
USA operatives were notoriously brutish.
"And his Japanese is...like, okay, he speaks half in English whenever he knows you can understand English," Mai sighed and glanced down at the list again to continue. "And I basically fought with him this morning. ...Um... Warning, I'm gonna say the words, "Asset" and... tell you about a g-word."
Atem couldn't evenhear the word gun anymore?!
Who was this man?!
And in the list, it was requested that she address him as Yami.
Never Atem. Well shit.
Yami blinked and nodded.
No twisting feeling accompanied that, so he was fine. Good.
"Thank you, please continue," he said carefully, and she launched into it.
"This dickhead sees that you were logged into our system as 'green' and he thinks he can 'use you'," Mai said, putting it in quotes and feeling herself shake when Atem's face darkened. "I literally stood up at the table and tried to argue him down. His words, "he's an asset, I'm going to use him" and then, "don't need him stable, need him effective.""
Yami clenched his teeth.
Cool.
"And what Ireally wanted to say at the time was, sure, you want him to have a reaction to you and end your life, be my guest," Mai ranted furiously, like a stopper had been pulled. "These dicks are so fucking sexist. They want to catch an arm's dealer. I suggested solutions. They turned me down, and now paperwork is being filed for requesting you to work with us. I hope you can say no. This fucker needs to learn that I have the better ideas!"
Yami nodded and nodded again, feeling like he was floating away from the table, and he had to rest his hand atop the squeezy ball and give it a clench.
With three fingers on top, thumb curled around the bottom the pointer extended, like it was the butt of a gun. The motion calmed him.
Mai noticed this and stared.
"I said what I wanted to say and now I'm leaving," she announced, slowly rising to her feet with both her hands held up defensively. "...I didn't even think I'd find you here. I didn't know how else to get them to listen, and if they didn't listen, I wanted to warn you. Because I owe you forever. Okay. That's it."
She turned to walk off the grass and Yami secretly appreciated her tact.
"Thank you!" Yami called at her back, and she replied with a wave over her head, her blond hair glinting in the sun.
Well, great.
Seto would not be happy about this.
Time to deploy the lawyer.
He picked up his phone to tell Seto about how that had gone.
Yami had just hung up the phone when it rang again, and it was a blocked number.
He stared at it, his mind slowly churning before he jumped to his feet, racing through the house at top speed to find a sim card removal tool. He had nothing in immediate reach...
Out of comfort and habit, he ran into the bedroom and dove for Seto's desk, prying the top drawers open, his heart pounding furiously in his ears as he sifted through the tray, counting the rings...
Two more rings...
One more...
The call ended.
His phone went silent.
Shit.
Yami hissed and finally found something to stick into the sim card slot.
He popped it out and stared at it in his palm, his blood boiling.
Well, now he knew he was listed as a green asset with the agency, they were going to call him like one. Great. He needed to set further boundaries.
Shaking slightly and filled with furious regret, Yami sat down at Seto's desk and slowly lifted the laptop lid to use it.
Time to scramble a second receiving signal and...tell Seto about it.
He stuck the simcard into a USB and crammed it into the side of the laptop.
Hovering his fingers over the keyboard, Yami felt a heat building behind his eyes.
Was this okay?
There was no time to ask. Another call was incoming.
He took care of it with a few furious taps of his fingers and then shut the computer off and yanked the USB out, standing slowly and walking into the closet while feeling numb.
In a familiar shoe box he kept hidden under a stack of newer ones, he pulled out a reinforced metal box and tossed the USB in there with the sim card still stuck in it.
Shaking his head to himself, he rose to his feet again and walked out to set the box on Seto's desk and went to lay down on the bed, pressing his face into Seto's pillow to inhale his scent, calming himself down.
He curled his knees up to his chest and didn't feel them ache.
That was good...
Deep down, he knew he could never run from the consequences of what he'd done for a living. It was a miracle he was even alive.
Only because of Seto's power and money was he doing alright for himself now...
No, Yami growled to himself as he smashed his face into the pillar harder, his chest clenching with fury.
Thinking that way made him feel helpless. He'd learned not to discredit himself for being alive in his therapy-focused thinking.
He was alive because he was careful, and Seto was part of that careful behavior.
Better, Yami breathed a tight sigh and rolled onto his back, hating how he couldn't text his therapist about this.
Because her phone might be tagged too.
Yami sat up so fast, his head rushed.
Oh. Fuck no.
Would the agency drag her in for questioning?
If so, they would only learn that he was suffering.
Then...it was fine.
He slowly sank back into the bed and let his breath out slowly.
It was fine. No need to panic.
'No need to panic' was the new mantra.
Yami told himself everything was going to be fine as he sat loosely handcuffed in the police van.
He clasped his hands together and stared at his knuckles, hating how the silver metal clashed with his woven bracelets, his watch, and his thin golden wristbands.
It was fine.
They said they were going to take it off the moment they got to location.
He could easily pick the lock with anything he could get his hands on...
And the only niggling thing in the back of his mind was: the last time they'd shuttled him to headquarters, they didn't handcuff him.
And he didn't have a full-force armed guard escort in full body gear, and a parade of vans.
Something about this entire thing felt off, but he let it play out, as his therapist suggested.
He was used to reacting instantly.
Right now, he should wait and see.
Seto had sent him off with a grimace, with the defense lawyer bowing dutifully beside the CEO, saying he was right behind the van escorts in his civilian car.
Last night, after Seto stepped out of the shower to see the metal box on his desk, he went quiet, and after a long minute, asked, "what happened...?"
So Yami carefully recounted his talk with Mai, and the lawyer was called instantly.
They were supposed to have a sit-down talk, but after seeing a sim card in the metal box, Seto acted with more urgency.
And that somehow didn't make him feel better or more protected.
Agency vans showed up the next day to take him to headquarters, so Seto tried to brush it off to him like he was 'going to work' for a day.
Sure.
The van went over a slight bump and Yami's knee went knocking into the man's leg beside him.
"Sorry," Yami muttered, and drew his legs together, crossing them.
The man beside him shifted uncomfortably, and Yami paid him no mind. Lug.
There was another long silence, and the man beside him spoke up nervously, "y-you don't remember me?"
Bored, tired, stressed, Yami raised his head to stare into the man's helmeted face. He couldn't see anything other than a pair of eyes.
"I can't see your face,"idiot, Yami bit the tip of his tongue and reminded himself to remain kind. Uniforms were not hostile.
Uniforms were not hostile...in this situation.
He'd chant that until his body believed it.
Therapy only worked so much.
His knee-jerk reaction was to cuss the man out and then throw him into a choke hold.
Handcuffs were perfect for choking...
The man nodded stiffly and moved to undo the strap under his chin, receiving a warning from another officer across the way, "... What are you doing, ...Senpai?!"
The man unclipping his helmet replied gruffly, "it's fine. We're friends."
We are not, Yami thought darkly but reminded his face to remain pleasant. He wasn't wearing a mask so everyone could see his expressions...
The man lifted the helmet up and shook his hair out of his eyes, giving Yami a bright smile and a thumbs up.
Yami blinked. Ah. The...muscle-man from his women's self-defense class.
"Oh!" Yami felt his mouth smile automatically, so he followed that emotion and slowly...felt a pang of...relief. "I see! Nice to meet you...again. How is your daughter?"
"She is doing good, and has asked why we only did the class one time," the man said with a guilty shrug. "We have signed her up for kendo."
"That will be fun," Yami beamed, feeling a rush of kinship. "Mokuba made me do kendo with him for about 4 months. He tried to quit the lessons after deeming them 'useless' and 'not as cool'. There was a little fight in the house about wasting resources...and Seto made him finish the course out of respect for the instructor."
The man chuckled and set his helmet in his lap, running a gloved hand through his hair while replying, "ah yeah, she asked me 'when will we learn 'hostile grip techniques' in kendo. So after this semester, we will sign her up for jiu jitsu..."
Yami nodded enthusiastically and kept the smile on his face. "She might enjoy that more. I recommend the Murasaki Studio in downtown, know of it? I drive by it often, it's on northeast main."
The officer nodded his head fast and moved to take out his phone before he realized he didn't have it, and then bobbed his head sheepishly, "thank you for the recommendation. Any specific instructor?"
"I think there's only one for a beginner class," Yami said with a gentle laugh, feeling himself loosening up even though he was in handcuffs. "Try getting her through that first, right? Are you going to take the class with her?"
"Yes—" the officer began, and the radio crackled on his shoulder, so he paused apologetically to answer it. "Green team leader. Go again?"
The answer was in his earbud, but Yami could hear some of it with how quiet it was in the van...
"...Hostile asset... Privacy concerns...walking him through a building full of agents... Don't want him seeing anyone's..."
Which is it? Yami grit his teeth. Am I hostile or green?
He was getting mixed signals. He hated that.
Another trigger.
Thankfully, he heard the team leader advocate for him.
"He's alert and focused, with no ill intent," the man said firmly, his fist clenched tightly over his knee, and Yami hated that he knew what that meant. The man was talking back to a superior and risking something...
There was a heavy silence.
"No sir, I am not engaging with him—"
Another silence and the van pulled into the parking lot of the headquarters, stopping at the yellow bars of the security booth.
"...Yes sir." And the man took his hand off his radio, giving Yami another pang of dread.
Oh, god, what.
Were instructions to shoot him now?
Shoot the hostile asset in transit? It was time to start running again...
The window rolled down and the team leader held his hand up, calling out, "one moment!" making Yami tense.
The other men in the van sensed this and a couple hands went to the butts of guns, and Yami's eyes darted to them, hating how his mind was already playing out a scenario...and it was bloody.
The team leader turned to Yami with both his hands on his knees, bowing his head forward so formally, Yami was startled. What?!
"I've been requested to put a hood on you," the man said darkly, and Yami grit his teeth.
REALLY?! A hood?! That was extreme!
"I'm offended," Yami said coldly, and the man replied with equal disgust in his voice, "I am as well. I fought against it, and...well, if I can speak openly...the man leading this op is not Japanese. Perhaps we can attest it to a culture difference? He's trained by western intelligence. I can only assume this is his training speaking."
"I'm not Japanese, so that is a poor excuse," Yami said gruffly, his eyes narrowing. "A hood on a green asset means hostile—worldwide. But fine. I will accept, since I am...not hostile and willing to prove as such."
He felt the entire van let out a sigh of relief, and a hood was passed through the window.
It was bright orange.
Like a prisoner's.
Great.
Still let it play out? Or break out of the van and cause a pursuit through the city that would lead them all back to Kaiba's mansion?
Let it play out.
No panic.
Yami lowered his head obediently and saw the team leader's hands shaking as the hood went past his cheeks and rested just above his chin because of the height of his spiky hair.
Well. This man was scared shitless.
Relaxing into the hood, Yami couldn't help but feel an old part of himself emerging.
Hooded and handcuffed, with two men in front, one man on either side, one in the driver and one in the passenger. Being shuttled into a hostile building to 'help'.
An odd numbness was taking over.
He felt the van drive down a dip, creep slowly through another parking lot and Yami could only assume he was being led in through the back of the lower entrance. Like a prisoner.
Would Dartz be able to get him out of this?
Hopefully yes.
The van doors were slid open and a warm hand clamped around his elbow, making him jump again, and the green team leader apologized readily.
"Sorry to scare you. It's just me. Please watch your step."
Yami nodded and realized he could see his feet through the bottom opening of his hood due to his hair, so he climbed out of the van with ease and then heard heavy footsteps approaching fast.
It sounded like combat boots on concrete.
Sure enough, a pair of steel-toed boots appeared beside the team leader, and the man was talking loudly in English while someone translated for him, "why are you breaking protocol, officer? Put the helmet back on! You want this man to find you and murder your entire family? Be my guest!"
Yami swallowed thinly and made sure to keep his hands relaxed.
The Japanese translator's voice was shaking.
He could feel the other officers standing at attention beside him.
Interesting.
What was this...curious hell?
His previous experience at this building was pleasant, loving, full of friendship and laughter.
This man shouting in English was probably the cause of this rough treatment.
"He is not hostile," Yami heard the team leader advocate for him again, and his heart warmed.
The combat boots stepped forward to give the man beside Yami a shove.
"He's fired. Tell him he's fired for today!" The voice in English called, and he walked away with a heavy thumping of his boots.
Yami blinked rapidly under his hood and heard the translator relay that message, and the green team leader sighed and walked away too.
Another man approached him, but this time, said, "approaching..." And a warm hand landed on his elbow, leading him forward into the building where the sound of doors slamming could be heard echoing through the spacious parking garage.
He was led up concrete stairs of a stairwell, and Yami remained calm, not feeling a strange urge to lash out.
There was a hierarchy struggle happening, and he could tell if the Japanese agency had it their way, they wouldn't hood or cuff him, since he hadn't been before. Well, if that man was Mai's superior, he could understand why she was so angry.
That man struck him as the type to issue commands carelessly, and a field death might occur.
Great, Yami thought blithely as he was carefully walked through another door, and his officer warned him kindly, "a step up..." So Yami raised his foot up comically to step over the silver bevel of the door, even though he could see his own feet under the hood.
He would still let it play out and see where it went.
Biding his time to react was something he was good at.
Author's note:
ohnoooooooooo (more coming soon) thanks for following along so far!