Chapter Text
After hours spent grueling over his tech in the confines of his lab, Cypher decides to have his once-a-day meal. As he pads closer towards the entrance of the room, he hears voices coming from the inside.
“Omen!” Raze shouts from across the lounge. Her, Jett, and Phoenix, the trio whom he has affectionately nicknamed “The Three Musketeers”, were sprawled out across the couch, trying to think of a way to spend their Friday night.
“We’re all gonna go out for drinks, surely you come out!’’
“Phoenix is paying” adds Jett. They’re all just saying anything now, if it means getting Omen outside. Phoenix just rolls his eyes. He did promise them drinks after the success of their last mission, after all.
Omen huffs from across the room, his arms crossed and back towards the wall. He looks to be brooding in typical Omen fashion.
“I’ll pass.” He declines, almost in a growl.
Cypher loiters in hallway, shamelessly eavesdropping on the conversation. As a good Cypher does. It's times like these that allow him to know everything about everyone.
Well, almost everyone.
Omen is a tough nut to crack- but Cypher did enjoy a challenge. Anyone who dares provoke Omen about himself or anything personal, are sure to face his wrath afterwards.
“Welp, we tried.” says Jett, half-heartedly. She doesn't hide her disappointment well, but opts to recover quickly. “Let’s go find Breach. I owe him a rematch to see who can down more shots without getting shitfaced.” The wind user gets up from the couch and begins to walk towards the door. Phoenix shrugs and follows suit.
Raze sighs, and rubs her temples. “Well, if you ever change your mind…” she trails, and Omen doesn’t respond, not even looking in her direction. Disappointed, she begins to dart off after the other 2 duelists. She waves at Cypher as she walks past him. He nods in acknowledgement, and walks into the room.
They leave it a mess, as per usual. Cheeto dust and candy wrappers litter the carpet in front of the TV. Sighing, Cypher walks towards the supply closet. He'd rather not have his friends to get yelled at by Brimstone again for not cleaning up after themselves, so he decides to take one for the team. The closet is huge, just like most things in the base. Kingdom loves designing buildings for giants, apparently. He spots the red hand vacuum on the top shelf, and reaches up to grab it. As he does, he knocks over a couple of bottles of cleaning sprays and chemicals. He lowly curses to himself, and scrambles to grab them as they fall.
He was surprised to feel a sudden presence behind him, and whips around to come face-to-face with Omen, who was now holding miscellaneous cleaning supplies in his arms.
The ability to teleport. A radiant with radiant power.
Cypher feels heat in his face, feeling extra grateful for his mask.
“Be more careful.” Omen chides, holding the items out for Cypher to take.
Cypher blinks a couple of times, but regains his composure.
“Yes, my apologies. Thank you.” he whispers, cordially. He takes the vacuum and walks off, mortified, towards the direction of the mess.
He can feel Omen’s eyes burning holes into the back of his skull. Cypher likes to think of himself as a grounded man, who isn’t bothered by anything- which is mostly true. On the outside, at least. Omen, however, bothers him. He bothers him very much. Cypher hacks into everyone’s files and enjoys them at his leisure. It’s just something he likes to do. Collecting secrets is his cup of tea, his hobby, his purpose. Omen’s file was completely empty. Question marks under his name, his age, his place of origin, everything. It’s like Brimstone didn’t even know who, or what he was when he recruited him. This didn’t please Cypher at all, because for once, he didn’t know something about someone. Except for that Viper and Omen were connected somehow. Co-workers in another life, he suspects.
All he knows for sure, is that he wants, no, needs to know more. He cant help it. He feels compelled to learn everything about this creature, a man at that. Not a monster. As Sova makes sure to reiterate every chance he gets. Cypher frees himself from his thoughts, surveying the room to find he's now alone. Swiftly, he removes all traces of mess from the lounge (it's good crime scene etiquette), and takes his leave.
He ignores the way his stomach twists in hunger.
Cypher doesn't sleep that night. He tosses and turns in his bed for what seems to be an eternity. He peels his eyes open in defeat, glancing at the clock on his bedside table.
2:29 AM
Cypher sits up with a groan and rips the sheets off his body. Stepping out of bed with a yawn, he put his bunny slippers on (He got them from Killjoy. He wasn't allowed to say no.) and rubs his eyes, making his way towards the balcony.
Every agent had access to their own balcony from their room, as each agent’s room was on a different floor of the headquarters. Omen’s room was on the floor above Cypher’s, as Sova’s was underneath. Cypher leans forward against the railing, feeling the wind flow through the dark waves of his hair. The cold air feels good on his face.
Hair that most people don't even know Cypher has. A face that no one can put a name to. As a man of many secrets, he prefers it this way. He reaches for a small box hidden on the balcony, a place where only he knows, and pulls a cigar from it. Cypher doesn't smoke often, but it's one of those nights. The cigars were a marvel, something fancy, having been imported from the Dominican Republic. They were a gift from Breach, who apparently just has that kind of thing lying around. He takes a toke, feeling the rise of his chest and slowly exhaling. He watches as the smoke escapes his lips. He gives himself to the taste of expensive tobacco. He allows himself to feel the discomfort in his lungs.
“Cypher.” he hears a voice call from somewhere, distantly. He snaps to his senses and looks around, trying to pinpoint the location of the disembodied voice.
What is in these things? It's just tobacco, right?
“Knock it off. That stuff will kill you.” it continues. He looks up, finally locating the voice.
‘Oh,’ he realizes. Cypher didn’t consider that Omen could probably smell the aroma if he was on his balcony, too.
“Ah… I don’t do this much,” he responds, sheepishly. “Just something to take the edge off.”
Closing his eyes, he listens to the sounds of late night traffic below them. Cypher absolutely loves the nighttime. He loved the cool air of the wind, the smell, the freedom of not wearing his mask for once. There's no one here but him. And...
Cypher yelps, rather undignified, as he is startled by the sudden appearance of Omen on his balcony. He falls flat onto his ass.
“Boo.” Omen says, now standing over him. He looks unfazed. Cypher should be used to this by now.
“Did I scare you?” asks the ghost, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Cypher just shakes his head in exasperation. "You are going to give me a heart attack.”
Omen stretches out his hand to the sitting man. Cypher looks at it in confusion, then back up at Omen, who stares down at him through his slits. Omen doesn't necessarily have a face (at least, he doesn't think so?), but Cypher surmises that he was looking at him rather expectantly. Cypher grabs the offered hand and lets Omen help him get onto his feet. A pregnant pause, hands still connected, under a star-less sky and full moon. He can still feel cold air on his face.
Cold air...
Horrified, Cypher reaches up with one hand, and realizes then that he is without his mask, in front of Omen. He jerks his hand away from Omen's, like he's been burned, and flings his door open.
“I’ve already seen your face. There’s no point in hiding anymore.” he hears Omen call from the balcony.
He sighs in defeat and shoves his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. He hears Omen close the balcony door behind him as he half-steps into the room, one foot still on the balcony.
“I didn’t mean to intrude.” explains Omen from the door, awkwardly. “I apologize...” Omen sounds genuinely sincere. A rarity in their interactions.
“Nobody has ever really seen my face. I wanted to keep it that way.” mumbles the informant broker. “You probably know what I mean by that.”
Omen nods. “But you’ve seen under my hood before, haven’t you, Cypher?” he replies, “Does it scare you?”
Cypher lets out a small laugh. "I’ve seen monsters, Omen. You aren’t one of them."
Omen stands there for a moment in silence as he takes in Cypher's words. He feels something shift within him, something that has been neglected for years.
“It’s alright, Omen. It was an accident, you don’t have to feel bad.” adds Cypher, noticing Omen's lack of response.
And just like that, the shadow was gone- like he was never there to begin with. Into the night. A familiar loneliness washes over him when he realizes that he is alone again. He crosses the room, flops back onto his bed and sighs.
The next morning, Cypher awakens with deep aches in his body. He was also on the floor. He must have rolled out of bed in his sleep, and just didn't wake up.
With a groan, he checks his clock, which tells him it was almost noon. Shit. How long had he slept? Good thing there wasn't a mission today. He shuffles to his bathroom, and all he can think is that it's so cold. He makes the mistake of looking in the mirror. He never likes what he sees.
He scrutinizes his hooded, brown eyes, weary and bloodshot. A long, diagonal scar over his left eye made him feel like a movie villain. His focus moves down his body, rubbing his hands over his abs. Cypher wasn’t ripped per-se, but his job still required much physical exertion. He looks at his wrists, tracing the deep lines that ran across them like tiger stripes. He winces, remembering how bad showers stung after he... Those days were years ago. Nobody knows about the things Cypher used to do to himself, and he plans on keeping it that way. He starts to reminisce, something he knows better than to do. He remembers his family.
He was the one who found their bodies. His little brother, his niece, his mom, they were all gone- and there was nothing he could do to help them.
Cypher gets out of his clothes and steps into the shower, turning the water on to the highest level of heat he could handle. He wants to burn, he wants to feel something.
He wants to feel the heat of summers in Morocco, like being at home with his family. Waking up every morning with the person he loved by his side; Nora.
Cypher feels his eyes begin to sting, and he allows the tears to trickle down his face freely. They blend into the rain of the shower. This shower was the only place he was allowed to cry. He hates feeling like this, wallowing in his tragic past. It's pointless. He knows he needs to move on somehow.
'Aamir. There's nothing we can do for them, besides live. They're dead, you aren't.' he reminds himself.
As he exits the bathroom, he reaches for his pills on his dresser, which were prescribed to him by Sage. She said they were to help with his ''anxiety and depression'', but he has no clue if they are working. When he was done with his routine and dressed, he left for the mess hall to get some food. He was pleasantly surprised to see it mostly empty, save for a fellow sentinel. Alone, Killjoy was nursing her coffee, eyes glued to her laptop. He smiles weakly at her and heads towards the fridge.
"Cypher, can I have a word with you?" calls Brimstone, who was now somehow in the kitchen with them. Who knew the elderly could teleport, too? A tired Cypher groans internally and turns to face his commander.
"Do you know where Omen is? He's nowhere in the building. Sova says he heard you guys talking last night, so you're probably the last to have seen him. Any ideas?" inquires Brimstone.
"Hmm No, we talked last night but he'd left. I thought he just went to his room. I had no idea he left base." Cypher explains.
Omen likes to wander off sometimes. He sees it on his cam occasionally. A common occurrence every once in a while- Omen goes MIA. Just says he has "unfinished business" to attend to, then comes back after a few days. That was another thing Cypher wondered about; what is this "unfinished business"?
"Well, do let me know if you find out anything. Not that it’s an emergency," says the older man, dismissively. They both knew Omen could take care of himself, wherever he was. Wordlessly, Cypher returns to his room.
He was on autopilot- screw food, he now had an excuse to check the CCTV footage.
'I may as well install a tracking device on him the next time I see him,' Cypher thinks to himself, only half joking. Booting up his computer, he logs into the security system. He carefully skims through the footage of yesterday, looking specifically for shadows and a cloak.
He sees a tired Sova shuffling through the halls with his hair down, Viper carrying test tubes to her room, and even the duelists returning from getting drinks late that night, visibly drunk. But there was no Omen to be seen anywhere. Cypher was growing frustrated. Why was he wasting his time with this anyway? Omen was probably fine.
There was no need to pry further. But he did love to pry.
Almost as if a lightbulb appeared above his head, Cypher got an idea. It was risky... but Omen wouldn't be back for a while, anyway. Right?
“This is a terrible idea,” Cypher says to himself, now standing outside of Omen’s door. Nobody has ever been inside Omen's room. That was about to change.
It's breaking and entering. This is strictly prohibited at the VALORANT Protocol. If anyone found out, he'd surely be dead. Or worse, out of a job.
Cypher pries the door open, cautiously stepping inside. He closes the door gently as to not make any noise. The room was rather plain, and he couldn't spot anything out of the ordinary. It wasn't very different from how the rooms looked when agents first moved in. Everyone else had some sort of personalization to their rooms; Killjoy, Cypher, and Raze had workshops in theirs. Sage has a small greenhouse where she kept her plants. Viper has an entire laboratory. Jett has a kitchen that Gordon Ramsay would approve of.
Omen has... a litter box?
In the room was also a small, beige scratching post with a platform on top for a cat. Cypher squints his eyes in confusion. That's when he heard a tiny bell chime, and quiet padding steps towards him. He looks down to see a most precious black cat with piercing green eyes. It had a purple collar around it's neck, with a tiny silver bell and tag on it. It tilts its head at him, before striding over and rubbing itself against Cypher's leg. Cypher couldn't fight the smile that crept onto his face and knelt down, rubbing his gloved hand over the head of the mysterious cat. The cat seemed to melt into Cypher's touch, purring and nudging its head deeper into his palm. He used his free hand to examine the collar, reading the silver circle plaque on it.
Pets were allowed at the facility, Skye made sure of that, so long as the agents took care of them in their rooms. However, Omen was the last person Cypher imagined to have a pet.
'Moon'
''What a cliche name,'' Cypher snickers. That was... rather adorable. It was adorable that Omen even had a cat. Who knew this was one of the things he hid in his room? Moon playfully rolls onto its back, looking up at him as it stretched its paws. The cat wasn't small enough to be a kitten, nor big enough to be a senior. Cypher loves animals. There were stray cats and dogs everywhere in his town. Him and Nora would always feed them.
"Ya amar, don't tell Omen I was here, alright?" he jokes, standing up. The cat looks up at him almost as if they were complying with him, and began to groom itself. Cypher turns to leave, as he's seen enough. Just as he reaches for the door, he sees the knob turn on its own.
Someone was opening the door. From outside
"Fuck."