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raise your weapon 1
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raise your weapon - Dusk threw away his past, his life, everything, to become a spy to preserve order. He’s now got to don the look of a family man and get a wife and child, all to prevent a war! Meanwhile, Bam is a beleaguered law secretary, struggling with identity. Miseng is a child looking to stop running. Hijinks will ensue. SxF au
Now with art by yole!
Chapter 1
The trade-off was easy. Photos and a promise of payment for a messed up toupee and boom. He had officially delayed negotiations between Wolhaiksong and one of the Great Families by another three months at minimum. Perfect.
Dusk slides the car smoothly onto the road, dodging the upcoming smell of gunfire. There’s yelling behind him, and he tugs his blonde hair back down. A small smirk decorates his face.
Success always feels sweet.
Unfortunately, he still has to dump the man’s spoiled uncultured daughter but there were always snags to complete a mission, so it wasn’t hard. The hardest part was washing out the hair dye.
Lillial Jahad (Lo Po Bia) has a sister who is probably easier to get along with, but wining and dining and subsequently dumping Lillial was a common occurrence for her and she just had to learn to not be so proud when she demanded to stomp on a man. In this day and age it was asking for Khun Eduan or one of his hornier sons to pursue her.
For her sake, he idly hoped that didn’t happen.
He sits down at the local train station with the paper and the local coffee. Ground fresh with hazelnuts and barely any creamer, just how he preferred it. It’s one of his few vices, giveaways even, as a spy.
A stranger in a trench coat walks by and meows before bending down to scoop a kitten from by the upcoming train.
Cipher C then. A simple one. His blue eyes glitter in the sun, his other vice. He cannot forget where he came from, no matter how hard he tries.
He swallows a gulp of coffee, mentally noting to grab something to eat on the train. The creamer is not good for his stomach alone.
But train food is just so heavy.
He really should just learn to cook. Perhaps another time.
He folds the paper and tucks it under his arm. Dusk hands the conductor his ticket and heads to a chair. A kind train staff member passed him two croissant sandwiches from her trolley. He bites into one and winces at the taste of ham. Poorly cut and with a strange cheese. He supposed he should have checked first.
Polishing off the first sandwich, Dusk finally opens the newspaper properly. Reading through the cipher, he hears a child laugh.
Warm nostalgia fills his throat as a mother shushes them down the train. Dusk forces it down with another swig of coffee.
Their voices, their peace, was what he did this for after all. Noble as that sounded, it was something he lost.
And a petty vengeance and power hunger hurt no one.
Dusk, he reads, congratulations on your successful mission. Though you will see no accolades or gratitude, know you are performing a great duty.
… Were they really wasting precious space with this flowery nonsense? Well, whatever, it was fine.
Your next mission will be of crucial detail. A long-term character if you will. You will need to infiltrate the Jahad Institute of Starlight Education. We have suspicions of Karaka Jahad being a member of FUG.
FUG was the organization that flitted in the shadows between Headon and Wolhaiksong. Informants had lost their true name in the last wars. It led a majority of crimes in the nations and sowed chaos wherever it walked. If Karaka Jahad had betrayed Jahad for FUG, it was a big deal, and his organization absolutely needed to know about it. Jahad had so few birth children as it is, it made his monarchy immensely difficult to follow, for the future’s sake.
Still, Dusk trusts his handlers on this, if nothing else. W.I.S.E had given him plenty of opportunities. He wouldn’t consider wasting them.
The problem is that Karaka is notoriously paranoid. He doesn’t even go out in public outside of his armor, and even then, he only removes his armor behind the walls of the Institute to greet his brothers and sisters. With the eldest no longer in the university division, he will visit the adoptive ones, as the middle and upper echelons do not allow guests. That is the only time you will get him. Determine his loyalties to the country and if necessary, kill him.
If necessary? Was there someone else? Still, this mission didn’t sound that difficult. He could infiltrate as a member of staff then—
To do so, you will need to gain a wife and child by the end of this week.
He sceptics all over his newspaper… and the other half of his first sandwich. Thank goodness for his second one.
A wife and child? In this economy?
It made more sense and would be more subtle. No one, not even one of Jahad’s ilk, would prepare for that kind of long game.
He hopes that’s the case, anyway.
The problem was the attachments that would come afterwards. They’d be disposed of somehow immediately once the mission was complete and with no complications either. Bonds were strictly meant to be performative and perfunctory for his ilk. They would not last.
So… this was the mission: infiltrate the school with the child, make the child a successful student so he could investigate and possibly detain Karaka Jahad, all for the sake of regional, and potentially even world peace.
It’s not something he can envision, but it is a dream. Still… fatherhood, family. Those are concepts he’d never dreamed of.
Dusk smiles.
At last, a challenge.
Miseng avoids the other kids in this orphanage too.
It’s easier this way. She doesn’t want to get attached to them. She doesn’t want to get close to anyone. Their thoughts are loud and uneven, skipping from one immediate concern to the next. They aren’t like it was in—
“You can’t play right now, you have to work. What are they saying?”
—Before.
Besides, they were all competing. Everyone wants a da or a ma or both (both is impossible, both is a dream.) So she keeps her distance, listens to them and their dumb thoughts and sees what they see in others. She keeps her zygaena plush in her arms and listens and eats.
She doesn’t get much, so that’s about as much energy as she can spare.
People come and go at all these orphanages. She has to store food, prepare to escape, to keep her things safe. There aren’t many.
Still, she listens. The kids are dumb, way dumber than her, but they know things. They pay attention better than she can.
So she’s prepared whenever potential parents come. They usually like the loudest kids or the quietest ones. The ones that wanted but didn’t say they wanted or the ones that said pick me! Pick me!
Miseng… wants to be picked. But she doesn’t want to dance for it. No one wanted kids who stood out.
After breakfast that morning, she hears the kids whispering. The ones outside ran inside, chatting about a tall blue-haired man, a Khun maybe, coming to adopt. Apparently, this was a big deal. Khuns didn’t really adopt outside of the family or something. She’s not sure. Narae says Khuns don’t adopt outside of the family. It must be important.
Miseng doesn’t get up from her game. If he comes here, it’ll be different at least. She steals a box of crayons and some paper and sits on the floor to make new rules.
Someone whispers about how expensive bread is a few houses away, another complains their husband is with another woman (for snacks?), a man hates his job, and then quiet thoughts.
It will be easier with one who can read and write…
That thought is closer, simultaneously too hard to read but easy to understand. She could read and write, but she didn’t like it. Everyone’s handwriting was all squiggly, including hers!
Maybe I can finally get rid of this one.
She likes this orphanage director. His thoughts don’t lie. He’s grumpy, but he’s not pretending to be nice like the other places. He nudges the door open and so Miseng pays him no mind. Maybe this will be quick. Super Spy Prince is going to be on soon and this episode has the guard and the servant girl supporting the princess about her evil fiance. Maybe they’ll finally find the evid-evidy-evidence so she can marry the man she really likes instead!
“Oi, Miseng!”
Aw, peanuts.
She looks up and sees a tall man with blue hair (oh the one everyone was talking about!) staring at her. His expression was friendly, really nice! He looks cool too, standing in his business suit. His thoughts are fast though, like trains and cars fast. It makes her a little dizzy. She can pick out bits though! Something about world peace? And spies.
“She can read and write, no problem. I’ve seen her. It’s messy though. Doesn’t talk much either.”
She looks a little young…. Jumps out first. Five or six would be best. She looks about four—
“Six!” She shouts with a starburst of inspiration. “I’m turning six!”
Well, that was enthusiastic.
Khun (goodness, he’s so rusty at that name, how many years has it been now?) blinks once, blue eyes meeting blank brown ones. There’s a flower in her dark hair, shiny and new and her pink zygaena plush doll looked like it had seen better days. Her pink and red clothes are definitely too big for her, but she doesn’t seem to care as she stands up.
“I’m six,” She declares, as if it were extremely important for him to know specifically.
… He needs an older child, one who could read and write. Older so he didn’t have to be stricken with grief about his daughter and wife who passed in childbirth, preferably, but young enough to get into Jahad’s Academy.
This was too convenient. The kid could be lying, but what kid was stupid enough to lie and lie well? He’d have to test her. He needs a kid who can read and write and he can’t take the word of this seedy manager. He casts his eyes around for a quick text he could use and spots a newspaper flipped to the crossword. The answers flash into his mind, but before he can even open his mouth or gesture for it, she rushes over to it and fills it out.
…Hm. Interesting. Intuitive maybe? That could work in her favor. And definitely in his.
“What’s your name?”
“Miseng,” she chirps at once. The girl has gone back to clutch her plush, staring with a wide, pleading expression on her face.
Out, it screamed. Save me. Please save me.
Khun exhales. This is what’s necessary for world peace, he tells himself. He smiles up and down at her and the orphanage director.
“Where do I sign?” This is for the mission. It’s for the mission.
He misses the shock on her little face when he turns around.
Three hours later, Khun regrets his decision. He regrets it a lot.
“Papa! What are these?” Said while pointing at beets. “Do they taste good? They look dirty!”
Miseng herself is… a lot. At the least, he can tell she’s not trying to be, but she has one outfit and old shoes and a few quick items. So she needs more things.
Unfortunately, in exchange has more curiosity than she knows what to do with.
The little girl runs into everything. Anything that interests her, she asks a question for, including things he didn’t think he knew about at her age. A child’s curiosity was normal and in fact, Khun knows logically that it should be celebrated, encouraged, even.
“Papa! Can I have this?”
All the same, there needs to be some moderation!
She’s quick, darting from stall to statue to window and back to his legs. She tugs eagerly on his pants, demanding for him to look. Even as a trained spy, he can only keep up with her with use of reflexes and very good prediction and even then she escapes him.
The citizens, the innocent civilians, somehow find her cute, of all things. They coo at her and pat her head or say, “I hope you’re having fun, papa!” like nothing is wrong.
He has new respect for his mother now. She’d raised three children on one man’s child support and her paltry salary and never let it break her.
Khun shakes his head to not think of her now. She was… he had managed… everything was fine. He had to focus on his situation.
At least she was light enough to hold with one arm while he finally did the normal civilian shopping. (Candy was out for the foreseeable future.) He had also picked up a cookbook and after five seconds of thought, some about children and family psychology.
Not a single one is doing him any good. Knives are his weapon of choice, not his use in everyday life! That’s why he has a brain.
By the time he gets her home (home, what a strange feeling), she’s waking up. “Papa?” she says sleepily.
Khun’s heart clenches and he doesn’t like it. Relax, Dusk, now isn’t the time. “We’re back. It’s time to familiarize yourself with our lodgings. Ready?”
“Yes sir!” When he sets her down, she beams up at him, like there’s not a single weird shenanigan planned in her young mind.
“Good.” Khun pauses. “Remember, you’ve always been my daughter and I’ve always been your father. Got it?”
“Yes, papa!”
Good. They may survive this. Next is the wife. But first, he has a report to make.
Just in case, he locks her in with a weight in the way. Better to be safe than sorry. Nothing can go wrong with the kid inside the apartment right?
Even if she had cried a little when he’d left. That was normal. He’d come back. What was she so worried about?
Miseng hadn’t cried.
Her eyes leaked! That’s not crying! Stupid papa!
He has so many thoughts too. Of course he does, he thinks so much she can’t think. But at least he leaves the tv on. That’s nice of him. He locked the door and stuff which wasn’t nice. But it was fine, because he was such a loud thinker that he hadn’t noticed she could read minds, even when she said it! By accident. She’s super good at keeping secrets.
Hence why she knew where all his spy stuff was. So she didn’t bother to sneak (no one was watching anyway, and found a machine right where he left it. It has a lot of keys! She tries to remember what he said the code was… uhm…
Miseng tries. Numbers are hard. Eights squiggle and fours dance. It’s hard. But she gets it right. Hehe. Secret code unlocked! Maybe she can be secret agent Twilight with him and they’ll save the world together!
… But she doesn’t want to save the world. She left, so she didn’t have to. She just wants to play and spend time…
Papa should be home soon. He’s rude, locking her up. He’d need to get her a bunch of snacks.
At least there were peanuts.
Something twinkles in her mind, like lots of dots on the ceiling to look like stars, like a warning thought before a needle.
Then her ears ring and everything goes white.
She wakes up tied and gagged and not alone.
Papa, she thinks, and wishes she wasn’t the one who could read minds this time.
The meeting runs late, as meetings with Isu tend to do. He rambles a lot. Isu is one of the best information gatherers he knows, etc, etc.
So he is, simply put, not prepared to find his home in fucking shambles.
Not that this is the first time, mind, but this time didn’t have a small child as collateral damage.
For a long moment, Khun stares at the wreckage of his plan. At the waste of WISE’s money and resources. It’s recoupable. He can just go to a different orphanage, find another kid, make sure whoever did this received reprimand by a different agent—
Fuck no he couldn’t do that.
Khun searches for the rubble for what he needs and runs.
It doesn’t take long to find. An abandoned warehouse for a grocery store bombed in the last war. They wanted quick, not subtle, which meant lots of bodies not lots of fighters. They thought the quantity was enough.
Heh. For Dusk, it was never enough.
His aim is simple. His mind is quiet. He knows exactly what to do. All he needs is to keep his bullet use light.
He smirks in a way he hasn’t in a long, long time.
She’s not scared. She will not die. She’s not scared at all. The others seem scared. One of them is dead. She needs to run. She’s tied up, she can’t run.
Miseng is going to cry, she already is. She’s scared. She’s scared. That man has a gun, and it’s a real gun and it’s really meant to kill people. (It already has, Miseng! This bad guy already killed someone!) and she’s not a super spy. She’s too little. She needs training.
But papa is a super cool something. He… he’s going to come, right? He picked her for world peace! He’s going to save her… right?
The room erupts into smoke and sound. She squeezes her eyes shut, thoughts getting louder and louder around her. Her head spins with pain. Then something grips her side. She eeps behind the tape before the tape comes off her mouth. And then the world is moving. The sound of a gun (so much louder, so much smellier) cracks by her ear. Wind rushes as smoke clears.
Strong, gentle hands set Miseng on her feet. A hoarse voice whispers. “Start running, your papa is waiting for you.”
Keep running, don’t stop, I don’t need this, I’ll find someone else. I hate crying kids; I hate my own tears; I hate —
Miseng trusts the voices in people’s minds. They’re not honest exactly but they don’t lie. They just talk because no one can hear them and that’s enough. It’s enough to know her papa is a liar.
But that’s okay! They, she thinks as she runs and runs and runs to a place no bad guy would ever look but her papa would surely pass, can be liars together.
When papa picks her up, grimacing at the state of himself and his clothes, she greets him with a smile and takes his hand. It’s warm.
And something, something buried in a chilly place in her papa, starts thawing.