bittersweet (iso x clove)

by ruizachz

Summary:

A new agent has joined the roster, and the chatter among the others hasn’t gone unnoticed by Iso. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t dug into Brimstone’s files to learn everything he could. His job is clear—execute without hesitation, without questions, without personal interference. But this new recruit? They’re already proving to be a complication.

Juggling a strained relationship with a fellow agent, Iso must now balance the demands of his missions with the mess of his personal life. With Radianite falling into dangerous hands more often than not, there’s no room for error. His focus must stay sharp. His aim, sharper.

But when the 25th agent steps into the field, everything begins to shift. Whether it’s for better or worse… that’s a decision Iso will have to make for himself.

Notes:

hello every nyan

this fic is my first time posting my own fanfic for something im passionate about so PLEASE be nice and keep your criticisms constructive.

disclaimer;

POV switch; - or ~

Time skip; —

Chapter 1: good morning!

The alarm blared through the darkened room.

A hand swatted at it once, then again, before Iso groaned and sat up, yanking his phone off the charger.

The screen lit up with a few persistent reminders:

• Take your medication.
  
  
• Training with Sage – 9:00 AM.
  
  

He stared at the second notification a beat longer than the first.

Training with Sage…

Right.

Iso rolled out of bed and stretched, arms reaching above his head like a waking cat. He tucked his sheets back into place with quiet precision — a habit drilled deep, maybe just one of the few things he still had control over.

He opened the closet, flicked on the overhead light. Rows of hoodies lined one side, all in muted shades. On the other: his collection of Under Armour compression shirts — folded with military neatness, some hung, some stacked.

Everything in its place.

He grabbed what he needed, then tapped his phone again, connecting it to the bathroom speakers.

Thank god I asked Brimstone for a personal bathroom.

No way in hell I could handle shared showers and a contract.

He scrolled through his playlist, hovering for a moment. Then:

Play.

The music blasted through the speaker — loud, sharp. It pierced the early quiet like a blade, but that was the point. He needed to wake up.

Hot water spilled down from the shower head. Steam crawled up the mirror and clung to the walls. Iso stood under it, eyes half-lidded, watching droplets trail down the fogged glass.

He let out a breath, slow.

“…Huh.”

It was barely a whisper, but it echoed faintly in the tiled room.

The rest of the routine followed like muscle memory.

Wash your face.

Brush your teeth.

Dry your hair.

Pack up used laundry.

Get moving.

He glanced around his room one last time — the stillness of it. Then he shut the door behind him.

The hallway outside was quiet, lit in soft gold from the morning sun bleeding in through high windows. This wing was reserved for Duelists. His room sat across from another: Jett’s.

He didn’t spare it more than a glance.

“Iso—wait up!”

Her voice caught him just as he rounded the corner. A light tap on his shoulder followed.

He turned slightly. Purple eyes met hers — sharp, unreadable. Almost cold.

Jett’s hand hovered near his arm, uncertain. “You’re headed to training, right?”

“Does it matter?” he replied, turning to face her fully. He stood still, spine straight, expression unreadable.

She blinked. The sharpness caught her off guard. “I—Sage mentioned we have a task later this afternoon. Said I should let you know.”

“Got it.”

That was all. Then he turned and kept walking, footsteps steady, uncaring if she followed.

Iso’s music thundered in his ears, drowning out the low hum of the base. He moved through the common room like a ghost, not even sparing a glance at the agents lounging around.

Killjoy.

Raze.

Neon.

None of them mattered right now.

His hand met the scanner pad. Cold.

A soft chime, a hiss of hydraulics — the training room doors slid open.

Sage was already inside, centered and serene in her sleek, white uniform. Her hair was pulled back with meticulous care, not a single strand out of place. She glanced over and offered a small bow.

“Good morning, Iso.” Her voice was calm, like warm tea in winter. “Today is light. We’ll push just enough.” She pinned her bangs away from her eyes, her stance shifting from graceful to sharp.

“Shall we test your ultimate today?”

Iso nodded, wordless. He dropped his gear — phone, water bottle, towel — onto a nearby bench.

Sage tapped at a floating hologram. The room expanded with a soft rumble, metal walls shifting into an open space lined with reactive panels and sensor grids.

“Come,” she said, extending her hand like an invitation. “You should be fully recharged since our last trial.”

Iso didn’t take her hand. Instead, he focused — fingers folding in precise motion, as if stitching space itself. Reality cracked. A soft, eerie purple glow gathered in his palms. A dark orb formed, swirling with volatile energy.

He glanced at Sage. She gave the faintest nod.

Do it.

He slammed the orb to the ground.

In an instant, the room ruptured.

The floor became liquid — shimmering water that somehow supported their weight. The walls flickered with unstable light, glitching in and out, purple static crawling over every surface.

“Maintain it!” Sage shouted, her voice echoing through the distortion.

Iso clenched his jaw. The warped space trembled around him, the illusion fighting back. His chest burned, every breath sharp and ragged. His heart slammed against his ribs like a warning.

The barrier flickered— then shattered.

The room snapped back into place. The water was gone. The light was stable.

Iso dropped to one knee, gasping like he’d been underwater. His hands trembled.

When he looked up, Sage was already forming a healing orb between her palms — calm, effortless.

“I don’t need it,” he muttered, standing with a shake of his head.

Her expression didn’t change. “That wasn’t a request.”

The orb faded anyway, dissolving into tiny shards of light.

She stepped around him slowly, her steps deliberate. “You’re burning out faster. I can feel the drain on your nerves, Iso. Even if you won’t admit it.”

He stayed quiet, rolling his shoulders, grounding himself.

Sage stopped behind him. “I’ll keep this brief. I’ve assigned you and Jett to retrieve our newest agent. They’ll be arriving tonight.”

Iso turned slightly, finally looking her in the eyes.

“Escort them safely. Use whatever means are necessary,” she said, and pulled something from her pocket — a small polaroid.

She handed it to him with a subtle wink. “So you know who you’re looking for.”

Before he could say a word, the room shimmered again.

The next moment, he was outside the training hall, blinking in the hallway’s neutral lighting. His music had stopped. His hands were full again — phone, water bottle, towel.

But the polaroid? Gone.

He exhaled through his nose, jaw tight. Then turned toward the common room without a word.

—

The rec room looked different today—calmer, heavier somehow.

Instead of the usual chatter, two women sat by the wide windows in silence. One was blonde, her prosthetic arm glinting faintly under the overhead lights. The other looked utterly spent, dark hair pulled back loosely, eyes hollow despite the warmth of the coffee in her hands.

They murmured to each other, voices too low to make out, more presence than conversation.

Iso barely acknowledged them as he headed for the fridge, thumbing through his phone. When he opened the door, his eyes immediately caught the bright sticky note slapped on a smoothie cup.

Mango this time, since you didn’t like the green one :) – Sage

He stared at it for a second longer than necessary, then grabbed the cup and shut the fridge. As he turned, his gaze flicked to the blonde woman—Deadlock—before quickly snapping away.

Shit. I looked at her.

Trying not to seem like an ass, he cleared his throat and attempted something that might pass for small talk.

“You’re Deadlock, right?” he asked quietly.

“…Yes,” she replied, her voice guarded.

Before the awkwardness could settle, Sage leaned over from her seat, arching an eyebrow. “Iso, aren’t you supposed to be with Jett? It’s already past ten.”

His head jerked up. “Ten?”

She turned her wrist to show him the time.

10:13 AM.

Good morning, his phone screen taunted as it lit up.

“Damn,” he muttered, already halfway to the hallway, smoothie in hand. He downed it in a few long gulps and tossed the empty cup into the recycling with practiced ease as he disappeared from view.

His pace quickened as he neared the Duelist wing. Jett stood outside his room, scrolling through her phone idly. When he brushed past her, shoulder clipping hers, she looked up with a small smile.

“Oh—Iso! If you’re ready to—”

“Stop pretending we’re friends, Sunwoo,” he snapped, pressing his palm hard against the door scanner.

Her face froze.

“What happened won’t happen again,” he said coldly, his eyes unreadable. “Let’s keep it professional.”

He ducked into his room, grabbed a hoodie, and pulled it over his compression shirt without looking back. When he emerged, Jett was still standing there, her expression subdued.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, eyes on the floor, her thumb digging into the meat of her palm.

Iso didn’t answer. He just started walking.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said.

And she followed.

Notes:

i dont speak on my posting schedule but i do plan to post 2 chapters every 3 days-1 week.

HOLD ME TO THIS 🙏

Chapter 2: agent 25

Inside the launch room, Killjoy sat at the main console, fingers flying across the keyboard.

“The teleporter’s ready. Once you meet up with the target, ring me—I’ll boot up the exit portal on your call,” she said, standing and unlocking a thick, reinforced door.

Behind it pulsed a vertical beam of bright red light, humming with energy. It shimmered, casting eerie shadows across the room like it was slicing reality in half.

“They’re kind of a loud one,” Killjoy added with a wry smirk, double-thumbing them in before sliding the door shut behind them.

Iso rolled his eyes and stepped into the portal.

Jett followed without a word.

—

They landed hard.

The world they arrived in was old—tired buildings, fractured roads, and walls stained by time. It still bore the fingerprints of modern technology, but those had faded beneath years of wear, and likely, Kingdom’s careless reach.

They didn’t need to ask where to go. It made itself clear.

A single glowing butterfly floated lazily around them before drifting off. Others soon followed, a glowing trail weaving through the broken village.

The walk was long and quiet.

Jett walked ahead, steady and silent.

Iso lingered behind, hands in his pockets, his eyes occasionally flicking to her back—then forward again, to the butterflies and the ruins beyond. Whatever passed between them days ago hadn’t been mentioned since. And neither of them seemed willing to bring it up.

Eventually, the trail ended at a small, cracked building, one of the few still standing. Through the dusty glass, they saw movement—a figure, small and still, sitting cross-legged as the butterflies spun slowly around them.

“I think that’s them,” Jett whispered, leaning in against the glass.

Iso drew his revolver and stepped forward.

Inside, the figure looked up. They didn’t flinch at the sight of the weapon.

“I suppose Brimstone warned you we’d meet like this,” Iso said, his grip on the gun loosening ever so slightly. They stood slowly, the butterflies drifting around them like a living aura.

Up close, Iso could see them clearly now—short, no more than 5’5”, with dark hair streaked in soft pink highlights. Light freckles dusted their face. A soft lilac shimmer touched their eyeshadow, and their silver eyes reflected the dim light like mirrors.

“Name?” Iso asked, keeping his tone even.

“Clove,” they replied, raising both hands in exaggerated surrender. “Don’t shoot me, oh mighty gun-wielding agent.” They laughed, almost theatrically, as the butterflies began to spin faster. “Of course Brimstone told me! Wasn’t I supposed to be greeted by two of you?”

They circled Iso slowly, curiously. “You seem cool, Mr. Purple.”

For some reason, Iso didn’t feel on edge around Clove. Maybe it was their lighthearted tone. Or the way their presence felt… grounding, somehow.

Jett finally stepped around the corner, knife spinning once in her hand before slipping back into its sheath. Her face was unreadable.

“We’ve got what we came for, right?” she said flatly. “Let’s head back before it gets dark.”

She tapped her earpiece and started walking.

Clove tilted their head, watching her go. “She seems moody,” they muttered under their breath.

Iso gave a slow nod, following at a measured pace. “She is.”

Clove trailed behind, butterflies drifting lazily around them as the ruined world quietly faded behind them.

Clove circled him, curiosity in every step. “You seem tense,” they said with a slight grin. “Is it the gun? Or do you just naturally radiate ‘I don’t like fun’ energy?”

Iso kept a straight face. “Maybe I just don’t like strangers walking circles around me.”

Clove raised a brow. “Ooh. Cold. Mysterious. You’re definitely one of those types.”

“And what type is that?”

“Brooding. Serious. Probably has a tragic backstory and never smiles unless someone dies.”

Iso finally cracked a smirk. “You think you’ve got me all figured out already?”

Clove twirled a finger, and the butterflies mimicked the motion in a spiral. “Not yet. But I’m fast. I’ll get there. And I bet once you do smile, it’s rare enough to be worth something.”

Iso looked at them, studying the playful gleam in their silver eyes. There was a weightlessness to Clove, like nothing could dent their mood—but something about it felt genuine, not forced.

For a moment, the tension in his shoulders eased.

“Mr. Purple suits you, though,” Clove added, grinning. “What’s your real name?”

“Iso.”

“Lame. Mr. Purple’s better.”

He scoffed. “I’m not calling you anything but Clove, so don’t get attached.”

“Fair enough. But if I save your life later, I’m upgrading myself to ‘Coolest Butterfly Overlord.’ Deal?”

A snort nearly escaped him, but he stifled it just in time.

From behind them, Jett had gone still. Her arms were crossed, but her hands were clenched too tightly. Her lips were pressed together like she was physically holding something in.

Clove turned to glance at her. “Oh,” they said quietly. “She’s not enjoying this. Guess I should tone it down.”

Jett’s voice cut through, flat and sharp.

“Are you done?”

Both turned toward her.

Her gaze was fixed on a point past them, her voice neutral—but her posture was too tight, her expression too carefully blank.

“Let’s head back before it gets too dark,” she said, tapping her earpiece. Her thumb lingered on the button longer than necessary.

“Killjoy,” she said into the comm, her voice clipped. “We’re ready. Open the return gate.”

As she turned away, Iso noticed her thumb digging into the side of her palm again.

Clove tilted their head, voice light as they walked beside Iso. “I get the feeling she doesn’t like me.”

“No,” Iso said, glancing after Jett. “It’s not that.”

But he didn’t elaborate.

Clove walked a few paces ahead, butterflies trailing in their wake like petals on a breeze. They hummed something off-key, hands tucked behind their head as they wandered.

Jett slowed her stride until she and Iso walked side by side in uneasy silence.

“I don’t trust them,” she said quietly, eyes on Clove’s back.

“They’re harmless,” Iso replied. “At least, for now.”

“That’s not really the point,” she muttered, voice tightening. “You were awfully chatty.”

Iso glanced sideways at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jett shrugged, but it was sharp, forced. “Nothing. Just surprising. You don’t usually talk that much to anyone.”

“Yeah, well, Clove’s not you,” he shot back before he could stop himself.

Her jaw tensed. “Right,” she said, bitterly. “Because you only talk to me when you’re telling me to forget something ever happened.”

Iso stopped walking. “That’s not fair.”

“No?” she said, finally looking at him. “You’ve barely looked at me since that night. You don’t want to talk about it, fine. But don’t act like I’m the one pretending.”

He didn’t respond at first. The words were there—sharp ones, soft ones, some he didn’t even want to admit were true. But all he managed was, “You kissed me. I didn’t stop you.”

Jett blinked. That hit harder than she’d expected.

But before she could respond—

“Hey!” Clove called from up ahead, waving dramatically. “I see the teleporter! Pretty sure. Either that, or it’s a microwave the size of a car, and I am into that idea too!”

They spun on their heel and waited, butterflies fluttering around them in slow loops.

Jett exhaled and started walking again, brushing past Iso without another word.

Iso stayed behind for half a second longer, gaze fixed on the spot she’d just been standing in. Then he moved, following both of them—wordless, but not unaffected.

Getting back to HQ wasn’t hard—not with Killjoy guiding them through every step like a backstage tech keeping the chaos just out of frame.

The further they got from the ruins, the more the threat of Kingdom felt like a shadow peeling off their backs.

Clove bounced ahead, still in their own world. They tapped floating butterflies mid-air like they were popping bubbles, their mood light and unbothered—until it wasn’t.

They stopped dead.

Without a word, Clove reached for their sidearm and raised it toward a narrow alley to the left.

Iso’s instincts kicked in fast—revolver out, safety off. He raised it and fired a flare. Purple light exploded into the darkness, momentarily revealing movement—shadows ducking low, glinting steel.

“Jett—take them and go,” Iso barked, already moving to cover.

He activated his barrier ability, and a violent pulse of white-violet energy rippled out from him, streaking the walls with jagged light.

“Iso—” Jett started.

“No time! Move!” he shouted. A shot rang out—the sound of it echoed too late.

A bullet ripped past his face, grazing his cheek. Hot pain flared instantly.

Gritting his teeth, he pivoted and fired six shots in rapid succession. Each one connected, the heavy thud of bodies hitting stone floor following just after.

As he turned, Iso caught Clove’s eyes in the glow of the barrier.

Worried. Wide.

He wiped the blood off his cheek with his sleeve and reloaded smoothly, each bullet slotting in with a cold, practiced click.

Then he heard them. Footsteps—too many.

Kingdom soldiers were flooding in.

Way above my pay grade.

Iso turned and ran, catching up to Clove and Jett in just a few strides.

The portal shimmered open at the end of the path, whining like metal under strain.

They dove through—first Jett, then Clove, then Iso just as the sound of enemy gunfire roared behind them.

The gate slammed shut.

The silence that followed was a different kind of deafening.

Killjoy burst in seconds later, eyes scanning them in a flash. “Holy hell—everyone in one piece?”

Her gaze snapped to the blood on Iso’s face, then to the unfamiliar figure standing calmly in the room.

“Oh? And you must be Clove!” she said, her voice flipping to delight like a switch.

Clove gave a mock salute, still a little winded. “Yup! Name’s Clove. Agent twenty-five.” A butterfly circled lazily above their head.

Killjoy beamed. “Sage is going to love you.”

She stepped aside, motioning toward the hallway beyond.

“Come on,” she added. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Iso followed, quiet, his fingers still twitching like the fight hadn’t quite left him yet.

Chapter 3: medical

The medical bay was quiet, lit with low, sterile lights that made everything feel like it had just exhaled. The hum of machines was a low thrum under Sage’s soft footsteps as she moved between the two chairs.

Clove sat on the exam table, legs swinging, still jittery from the portal jump. They held a butterfly in their hands, cupped like something sacred. It dissolved into mist as Sage passed a hand gently over their shoulder, checking vitals with a subtle pulse of healing light.

“No major injuries,” she said, giving Clove a small nod. “Just overstimulation. You’ll feel better in a moment.”

“You’re like…a warm cloud,” Clove murmured, eyes drooping a little. “Or an expensive humidifier.”

Sage gave a rare, quiet laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

On the other side of the bay, Iso sat on the edge of a different bed, a sterile cloth pressed to his cheek. Blood had dried down the curve of his jaw, cracked and flaking.

“You’re next,” Sage said gently, stepping toward him. “Let me see it.”

“I’ve got it,” he muttered, shifting the cloth slightly. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” she replied, calm but firm.

“I said it’s fine.” He reached over to the supply tray, peeled off a plain, matte bandage, and pressed it over the wound with one smooth motion.

Clove blinked. “You seriously just slapped a Band-Aid on that after taking a bullet to the face?”

“It grazed me.”

Clove tilted their head. “You’re weird. In, like, a tough-guy-who-uses-cheap-bandaids kind of way.”

“I prefer it,” Iso said, not looking at either of them. “Magic healing—it feels…”

“Like someone else is reaching inside you,” Sage finished for him. “I know.”

He looked up at her then, surprised.

“I’ve worked with agents like you before,” she said simply. “You’re not the first.”

Clove raised a hand. “Okay, but I am getting the magic healing, because I wanna feel like a microwave burrito that’s being nuked back to life.”

Sage turned to them again, smiled softly, and placed two fingers gently at the center of their forehead. A warm glow pulsed once, twice. The tension in Clove’s shoulders melted immediately.

“I love this,” Clove whispered. “You could charge money for this.”

“I do,” Sage said, dryly. “It’s called employment.”

Iso gave a quiet huff of breath—maybe a laugh, maybe just exhaustion. His fingers idly touched the edge of the bandage, like he wasn’t sure if it was helping or just something to hold onto.

Sage glanced between them, then gave a nod toward the hallway.

“Take the rest of the day to recover. Emotionally, too. That kind of encounter…lingers.”

She turned back to tidy the counter, already trusting them to leave when ready.

Clove hopped off the bed, still a little floaty. “Hey, Mr. Purple,” they said softly to Iso. “Thanks for not letting me get shot today.”

Iso stood, rolling his shoulder. “Don’t make it a habit.”

“No promises.”

They smiled, then turned to wait by the door. Iso followed after a pause, his steps slower, more thoughtful.

—

His room was exactly as he left it. Clean. Controlled.

He peeled off his training gear and pulled on something more casual — a black tee, joggers, socks. Still monochrome. Still him.

Then—

Two knocks. Sharp. Deliberate.

He sighed.

When he opened the door, he wasn’t surprised.

Jett.

“What did I tell y—” he started, but she pushed past him, shutting the door with a firm thud.

“You’re breaking the rules,” he muttered, stepping back. She was already too close.

Jett hovered slightly, her feet barely brushing the ground — a tell that she was emotionally charged. Her presence was like static.

“Quit avoiding me,” she said, steady and direct.

“Running away doesn’t suit you.”

Me? Run away?

Iso scoffed. He shoved past her, hand reaching for the door handle — but hers slammed down over his.

Their eyes met.

“What?” he said, breath catching. Her face was inches from his.

Then she kissed him.

Harder this time. Intentional.

He didn’t kiss her back.

His body froze — not with indecision, but with restraint. After a second, he pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Get out.”

His voice was low. Final.

He opened the door and practically dragged her toward the hall — and that’s when he saw Sage walking toward them, hands folded, eyes calm.

“Iso?” she asked. “What’s the matter?”

Chapter 4: kiss me not

His hand was still gripping Jett’s shoulder.

“Just getting an insect out of my room,” he said, voice cold as ice. He shoved her out fully, stepping into the light.

Sage’s expression didn’t flicker.

“I see.” Her gaze moved between the two like she was reading a report.

“You do remember the agency’s policy about entering another agent’s quarters without clearance, correct?” she said, tone polite but edged.

Jett stared back, jaw clenched. “…Correct.”

“Then I expect you to follow that.”

Her smile didn’t budge — but the weight behind her words was unmistakable.

“To your room, Jett.”

Sage stepped aside. She waited.

Jett opened her mouth as if to protest, but no words came out. She turned and walked into her room. The door hissed shut behind her.

Sage let out a soft breath.

“Iso,” she said gently, “take a walk with me.”

He didn’t hesitate.

They walked in silence, leaving the Duelist wing behind. The doors opened to the indoor garden — a quiet, curated space filled with oxygen tanks and bright grow lights meant to simulate nature.

The only time they saw real nature was in blood-soaked fields or in between brief, forced vacations. This was the best they got.

Iso dropped onto a bench, elbows resting on his knees. Sage moved calmly among the plants, pruning leaves with small silver scissors.

She spoke without looking at him.

“Tell me. What’s going on between you and Sunwoo?”

“There’s nothing going on,” he said, a little too quickly. He leaned back, spine pressed against the cool concrete wall.

Sage gave a soft hum. She refilled the water tank beside her, her movements smooth and unhurried.

“So you say. But your voice changes when you talk about her.”

She turned, eyes soft but searching.

“At this moment,” she said, “I’m not your supervisor. Not your healer. Just a friend. So talk to me.”

A friend…?

Iso leaned forward again, hands on his thighs. He stayed quiet, trying to fish through the static in his own head. Trying to make sense of that night — of everything since.

~

Everyone was drunk.

Iso and Jett sat tucked away in a corner while the rest of the Agents danced and stumbled about, celebrating Brimstone’s 30th year as their commander. The music had slowed, the lights dimmed, and the room was littered with the aftermath of a party—half-empty bottles, slurred laughter, and bodies slumped in chairs or sprawled out on couches.

Jett leaned into Iso, her fingers resting lightly on his chest as they traded quiet words, both of them still awake, caught in that hazy place between tipsy comfort and something more dangerous.

“Can you believe Brim’s been in charge that long?” she murmured, her voice low and warm.

Iso gave a small, tired laugh. “Feels like I just got here. Can’t say I’ve seen even half of it.”

Jett shifted closer. The scent of her drink—sweet, with the sharp sting of sake—clung to her breath. Her eyes flicked to his mouth.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice barely a whisper, his body already tensing as he leaned back just slightly.

But she kissed him anyway.

It was soft. Slow. Her lips tasted like mango and alcohol. For a split second, Iso forgot where he was.

Then his gaze shifted—Phoenix was passed out a few feet away, snoring into the armrest of a couch, a bottle still dangling from his fingers.

She’s his girlfriend.

The thought hit like a punch to the chest.

As soon as the kiss ended, Iso stood up abruptly, heart hammering.

“You taste nice,” Jett mumbled, already sinking back against the cushions, her words slurred, eyelids heavy. Within seconds, she was out.

Iso just stood there, staring at her—at the space he’d just occupied—while his mind raced and the guilt twisted like a knife in his gut.

~

Iso sat in silence for a while, his eyes on the floor, fingers loosely linked between his knees. The garden lights buzzed faintly overhead, but it was the quiet that Sage allowed — the nonjudgmental space — that grounded him.

She didn’t rush him.

Finally, when he exhaled and leaned back again, Sage stood from the planter and gently dusted soil off her hands.

“Thank you,” she said, voice low but sincere. “For telling me.”

He gave her a slight nod. Not gratitude — just acknowledgment. They both knew how hard it was to speak when someone had crossed a line.

“She’s not going to be allowed near my room again,” he said.

Sage met his eyes. “She won’t. Not without consequences.”

A beat of silence.

“She’s been… unstable lately,” she admitted, her gaze drifting toward the floor, “but that doesn’t excuse what happened. You shouldn’t have to guard your personal space from someone you’re expected to trust in the field.”

Her voice didn’t shake, but there was something hardening underneath it.

“I’ll be filing a private report with Brimstone,” she added. “It won’t be public. Not yet. But it will create a paper trail — something formal.”

He didn’t respond right away. Just stared ahead, eyes distant.

“She kissed me without asking,” he murmured. “And she acted like she deserved something in return.”

Sage’s jaw tightened for a second. “You do not owe her anything. You made that clear.”

He nodded again.

She knelt to check one of the smaller herb tanks, but her voice stayed even.

“We both know you’re capable of setting boundaries, Iso. But that doesn’t mean you should have to do it alone.”

A pause.

“I’ll talk to her.”

“Don’t bother,” he muttered. “She won’t listen.”

“Maybe not,” Sage said. “But she’ll hear me.”

Another silence passed — not uncomfortable, just heavy. Finally, Sage stood again, brushing her hands clean on a cloth from her utility belt.

“Clove asked about you earlier,” she added casually, a flicker of something lighter in her tone. “They were worried when you didn’t come to breakfast.”

Iso didn’t look at her, but she noticed the way his posture shifted slightly. The tension in his shoulders eased just a little.

“I’ll check in on them,” he muttered.

“Good.” Sage allowed a hint of a smile. “They seem to trust you already.”

She started walking back toward the hallway, her footsteps light.

“Iso,” she said just before reaching the door. He glanced over.

“Next time something’s wrong — anything — don’t wait until it explodes.”

She gave him one final, knowing look before slipping out of the garden.

Chapter 5: juice box thief

The door hissed open before the knock even finished.

Sage stepped into Brimstone’s office, her expression unreadable but her posture perfectly upright — calm, collected, and yet unmistakably urgent.

Brimstone looked up from the mission reports scattered across his desk, glasses pushed to the bridge of his nose, the soft glow of a hologram reflecting in his eyes. The scent of burnt coffee lingered from a forgotten mug.

“Sage,” he greeted, voice deep and even. “You’re early. Or something’s wrong.”

She folded her hands behind her back. “There’s been trouble with the Duelists again.”

Brimstone let out a low chuckle — not mocking, but knowing. He leaned back in his chair, the synthetic leather creaking under his weight.

“Of course there has,” he said, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You put five blunt instruments in a box and shake it long enough, someone’s bound to bruise.”

Sage didn’t smile.

“This isn’t sparring tension, commander. It’s personal.”

That sobered him a little.

He leaned forward, elbows planted on the desk now, the humor draining from his face. “Sunwoo?”

She nodded once. “Uninvited in Iso’s quarters. Physical advances. Rejected. He was clear — she ignored it.”

Brimstone sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “That girl’s going to dig herself into a pit she can’t climb out of.”

“She already has,” Sage replied softly.

Silence thickened between them for a moment, filled only by the hum of the vent systems and the occasional blip from the terminal.

Brimstone finally exhaled. “Write it up. Keep it discreet for now — but it goes in her record. If she steps out of line again, we’ll escalate.”

Sage tilted her head slightly. “And Iso?”

“He’s earned space. Give it to him. Keep an eye on Clove too — I don’t want their first few weeks poisoned by internal drama.”

He gestured toward a wall-mounted screen where recent field footage played in muted loops. “We don’t get to choose who fights beside us. But we do get to set the standard.”

Sage gave a quiet nod.

“I’ll handle it.”

—

The lights in the rec room were dim, the soft hum of the refrigerator the only sound cutting through the quiet. Iso stepped in, towel slung around his neck, hair still damp from a recent shower. His eyes immediately landed on the figure half-buried in the kitchen cabinets.

Clove.

They were crouched down, face practically buried in the fridge, mumbling to themselves.

“Come on… I swear I saw one during the tour…”

Iso raised an eyebrow. “You break in here just to rob us of juice boxes?”

Clove yelped slightly, smacking their head on the top shelf as they pulled out too fast. “Ah—! You can’t just sneak up on people like that, Mr. Purple!”

He leaned against the counter. “Didn’t sneak. You’re just too busy committing grand larceny over kids’ drinks.”

Clove pulled out a single apple juice box, triumphantly holding it like they just retrieved a holy relic. “It’s not theft if it’s unlabeled.”

“That’s not how ownership works.”

“That’s exactly how ownership works,” they said, stabbing the tiny straw in with an exaggerated flourish. “Besides, I earned this. Do you know how many Kingdom drones I had to dodge for this sweet little sip of childhood?”

“You dodged exactly zero. You followed a glowing butterfly into a teleporter.”

They shrugged and took a long slurp from the straw, then leaned casually against the counter beside him. “Details. Don’t ruin the narrative.”

A small smile tugged at Iso’s lips before he quickly masked it. “You’re impossible.”

Before Clove could reply, the door to the rec room slammed open.

“I don’t need you checking up on me like I’m your problem!” Phoenix’s voice echoed through the space, heated and sharp.

Jett followed close behind, visibly irritated, her arms crossed tight. “I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t blow off the mission briefings!”

“Oh, right, because you’re suddenly the gold standard for responsibility?”

Clove blinked, juice box still in hand. “…Is this normal?”

Iso didn’t answer right away. He stood a little straighter, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched Jett enter the room with Phoenix on her heels.

“Define normal,” he muttered.

Jett’s eyes landed on Iso and Clove. For a second, her expression shifted — something unreadable passing through her — but then she scoffed and looked away.

“This isn’t over,” she hissed to Phoenix before brushing past him and storming toward the hallway again.

Phoenix looked like he wanted to throw something, but instead just ran a hand through his hair, muttering something under his breath before retreating into the kitchen to grab a water bottle.

Clove glanced between them, then at Iso.

“So… do all of you have unresolved sexual tension or is that just a Duelist thing?”

Iso exhaled sharply through his nose. “Finish your juice box.”

Clove raised it in mock salute. “Aye aye, Captain Cold Shoulder.”

Phoenix let out a heavy sigh, twisting the cap off his water bottle and downing half of it in one go. He didn’t say a word to either of them, just shook his head and walked back out, the rec room door hissing softly shut behind him.

Silence settled again, warm and quiet, save for the gentle buzz of the fridge and the soft slurp of Clove finishing their juice box.

Iso moved back to lean against the counter, arms crossed. He kept his gaze on the door Phoenix had exited through, jaw tense.

Clove crumpled the empty box in their hand and tossed it with surprising accuracy into the trash bin. “So,” they said lightly, turning toward him, “what’s going on between you, her, and the human bonfire?”

Iso blinked. “It’s not that serious.”

Clove tilted their head. “You say that, but you sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

He looked at them, one brow raised. “You always this nosy?”

“Only when people are obviously pretending they don’t care,” Clove said with a lopsided smile, hopping up to sit on the counter. “I mean, come on. The room was about to burst into flames—and I don’t just mean from Phoenix.”

Iso exhaled through his nose, pushing off the counter and walking to the fridge to grab a bottle of water for himself. He opened it, took a long sip, then leaned back again.

“Jett and I have… history. That’s all.”

Clove watched him for a beat. “You mean the ‘we-slept-together-and-never-talked-about-it’ kind of history, or the ‘she kissed me and I didn’t know what to do so now everything’s weird’ kind?”

Iso didn’t answer.

Clove grinned. “Got it. Column B.”

He stared down at his water bottle, the condensation running over his fingers. “She’s complicated. Phoenix is loud. I don’t like being dragged into things I didn’t ask for.”

“But you’re already in it,” Clove said softly.

He didn’t reply to that either.

Clove kicked their feet lightly against the cabinets. “You ever think maybe you don’t want out as badly as you say you do?”

Iso’s eyes met theirs. He didn’t speak. But he didn’t look away either.

Clove leaned forward slightly, resting their elbows on their knees as they looked at Iso.

“You’ve got that whole brooding, ‘don’t talk to me’ thing going,” they teased, “but I think you secretly enjoy people bothering you.”

Iso gave them a deadpan look. “You’re projecting.”

“Am I?” Clove grinned, eyes twinkling. “You haven’t told me to shut up yet, which is basically flirting in your language.”

Iso scoffed, glancing away with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Too late. Already done. Confidence is all I’ve got.” Clove stretched, arms reaching overhead with a dramatic yawn. “Besides, someone’s gotta chip away at that stone wall you call a personality.”

He threw a bottle cap at them. It bounced off their shoulder harmlessly. “You’re really annoying.”

Clove placed a hand over their heart, mock-offended. “And yet, you’re still here. Talking to me. In a rec room. While I steal your juice boxes.”

Iso shook his head, glancing at the trash bin. “You missed.”

“What?!” Clove twisted around to look, then laughed when they saw the crumpled box sitting just outside the bin. “Tch—ruining my perfect streak.”

They slid off the counter and dusted off their pants. “Anyway, I just realized I haven’t even set up my room yet. Probably should before Sage hunts me down and lectures me about ‘organization reflecting mental clarity’ or whatever she’s into.”

They made finger guns at Iso as they backed toward the door. “Later, Mr. Purple. Try not to miss me too much.”

“Don’t count on it.”

Clove winked. “Oh, I am.”

With a light skip in their step, they turned and exited the room, the door hissing softly closed behind them.

Iso stood alone again, the hum of the fridge filling the space. He stared at the spot Clove had just been standing in, then sighed and took another sip of water, letting the quiet settle over him like a weighted blanket.

The noise from the hallway dimmed into the background, and for a moment, he let himself breathe.

His thoughts drifted to Jett—the sharp edges of their last conversation still prickling beneath his skin. He didn’t want anything with her. Not again. The tension, the push and pull… it was exhausting.

But Clove? Talking with them was different. Easier. Somehow, when Clove was around, the weight on his chest lightened, like they didn’t expect anything from him but himself.

He reached absentmindedly for a juice box nearby. The carton was bright and overly sweet, a stark contrast to the bitterness lingering in his mind. Iso cringed at the thought, setting it back down without a sip.

Maybe some things were worth waiting for.

Chapter 6: blank slate

Clove pushed down the hall. 

As they rounded a corner, a shadowy figure emerged from a nearby door. Omen, cloaked in his usual quiet presence, cradled a tiny bonsai tree in his hands, the delicate branches swaying gently as he moved.

Clove paused, curiosity sparking. “Hey, Omen,” they greeted, tilting their head. “That’s a nice tree. You into gardening?”

Omen’s voice was low, almost a whisper. “It is… calming. A small piece of stillness in a world of chaos.” He glanced at Clove, his eyes glowing faintly beneath the hood. “You would get along well with Raze. She brings a different kind of chaos.”

Clove chuckled, stepping closer. “Sounds like an interesting duo. Maybe I’ll have to meet her sometime.”

Omen nodded slightly. “Perhaps. Keep your balance, Clove.”

With that, he disappeared down the hallway, leaving Clove smiling softly to themselves before waving goodbye and continuing on their way.

Clove stood just inside the doorway of their new room, bag dropped lazily at their feet. The walls were bare, the lighting sterile. It felt too… blank. Like a hospital room pretending to be a living space.

They exhaled and rubbed their hands together.

“Sage did say I could do whatever I want with it,” they murmured with a growing grin. “She did say that.”

Two hours later, the room looked nothing like it had before.

The walls now bore soft lavender and coral gradients that pulsed subtly—custom LED panels that Clove had programmed from a handheld device they pulled out of their coat. Pinned butterflies, both real and sculpted from wire and resin, spiraled up one wall in an artful flutter. Dreamcatchers with little dangling beads hung from the ceiling in one corner, and on the opposite side, glowing symbols drifted lazily through a projection of their favorite constellations.

A soft rug—pale blue and star-speckled—covered the cold floors, and a small speaker in the corner played gentle lofi beats. Their bed was already draped in mismatched pastel blankets and pillows, a plush moon in the center.

Clove took a step back, arms folded, eyes sweeping across the room with pride. One of their butterflies zipped by their shoulder.

They lifted a fist toward it.

“Boom.”

The butterfly gently bumped its tiny glowing wing against their knuckle.

Clove grinned, spinning in a quick circle. “Now this feels like home.”

As Clove adjusted a few final things—repositioning a glowing jar and fluffing one of the pillows—a soft knock tapped against the doorframe.

“Clove?”

They turned, only to find Sage standing just outside, arms gently folded behind her back. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the room—its color, its warmth, its unmistakable personality.

“I barely recognized the space,” she said, stepping inside slowly. “You’ve made quite the transformation in so little time.”

Clove rubbed the back of their neck, sheepish. “I, uh… I like to make things feel like me. Couldn’t stand the blank walls.”

Sage gave a soft smile, hands relaxing as she took another glance around. “It suits you. Truly.”

Clove looked up, visibly touched, their butterflies flitting quietly around the room as if proud too. “Thanks.”

Sage reached into the satchel at her side and pulled out a small, rectangular box wrapped in soft cream-colored fabric. She extended it toward Clove.

“I’ve decided a small dinner party is in order. To welcome you properly,” she said, her voice calm but warm. “Nothing extravagant, just something for the agents to come together—formally, for once.”

Clove blinked, accepting the box. “Is this…?”

“Something to wear for the evening,” Sage nodded. “Tailored to your style. I took a few liberties. I hope you don’t mind.”

They held the box close, a grin spreading across their face. “Guess I better live up to the hype, huh?”

Sage chuckled gently as she turned to leave. “You already are.”

And with that, she disappeared down the hallway, the soft sound of her footsteps retreating into the quiet.

Clove looked down at the box again, then back at their vibrant room.

“A dinner party…” they mused, a sparkle of curiosity lighting their eyes.

Chapter 7: if the shoe fits

Iso stood in front of the mirror, a towel slung around his neck, his white tank top crisp. His closet doors were wide open behind him—rows of sharp blacks, greys, and muted purples all hung with militant precision.

He hadn’t dressed for anything outside of missions or training in a long time. Not since Brimstone’s anniversary dinner, in fact.

He reached for a sleek black button-down, pausing at the sleeve before pulling it free from the hanger.

Why am I even doing this?

His eyes flicked up to the mirror. The man staring back at him looked… unsettled. Brows tight, jaw set. Not the cold confidence he usually wielded like a blade.

The image of Clove floated to mind. The way they always smiled like they had the world in their hands. That ridiculous butterfly that kept circling their head. Their voice—light, teasing, never quite serious but always oddly sincere.

He gripped the shirt tighter.

It’s not attraction. It’s just… they’re easier to be around. That’s all.

But the thought lingered longer than he liked.

He scoffed and turned on the sink. Water blasted against the porcelain as he leaned forward, cupping his hands before splashing the cold liquid onto his face. The shock pulled him back down to earth.

This is nothing.

He patted his face dry with a towel and finally slipped the shirt on, each button done with precision. Still, as he adjusted his collar, he caught his own gaze again—and this time, there was something softer in it.

A flicker of curiosity. A hint of nervousness. A buried question.

He clicked his tongue, grabbed his jacket, and turned to leave.

—

The hallway was quieter than usual. Iso walked with measured steps, the sound of his boots echoing softly against the sleek floors of the HQ. He could already hear the faint hum of conversation and clinking glasses from the lounge-turned-dining space up ahead.

As he turned the corner and stepped into the room, a warm, golden hue bathed the area. Decorative lighting—definitely Killjoy’s doing—hung neatly around the perimeter, casting soft glows on the walls. The long table in the center was filled with dishes and drinks, curated to please agents from every corner of the world.

Killjoy stood near the head of the table, mid-laugh, a drink in her hand as she chatted with Raze and Yoru. She looked up, immediately catching Iso’s eye and flashing a grin. “Look who’s not fashionably late for once.”

He gave her a curt nod, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets.

Around him were familiar faces: Neon was gesturing animatedly as Skye listened with half a smirk. Sova leaned casually near the drink table, eyes scanning the room like he never fully shut off. Even Omen stood in the far corner, looming quietly beside a bonsai tree he’d apparently brought as décor.

But neither Phoenix nor Jett were here.

Iso noticed it instantly.

And the more he stood in the room, soaking in the low chatter and the occasional bouts of laughter, the less it bothered him. In fact, it didn’t bother him at all.

He exhaled through his nose and stepped further into the room, making his way toward the drink table without a single second glance toward the empty spaces they’d left behind.

Because this night wasn’t about them.

It was about someone new.

Someone who made the air feel less heavy and the silence less sharp.

The door slid open with a soft hiss, and all chatter in the room immediately tapered off. Every head slowly turned toward the entrance, eyes widening in surprise.

There, framed in the doorway, stood Clove.

They were breathtaking. The outfit Sage had chosen suited them perfectly — a sleek, deep emerald jacket that shimmered subtly under the warm lighting, paired with tailored black pants and polished boots. The colors matched the gentle glow of the butterflies fluttering delicately around them, casting soft shadows that danced on the walls.

For a moment, the entire room was silent.

Then, Killjoy blinked, breaking the spell with a grin. “Wow, Clove… you look incredible.”

Neon’s jaw dropped slightly, her usual electric energy momentarily replaced with awe.

Iso felt his heart skip a beat — no, more than that — a flutter, as if the butterflies themselves had rushed closer, circling him before swirling gently around the room. His breath caught, and his usual guarded expression softened as he watched Clove step confidently inside.

They caught his gaze and gave him a small, knowing smile.

The tension in Iso’s chest loosened.

The night had truly begun.

As the initial shock wore off, Neon and Raze were the first to spring into motion. They approached Clove with bright smiles, eyes sparkling with curiosity and excitement.

“Clove, seriously — you clean up so well!” Neon exclaimed, her usual energetic bounce barely contained. “I mean, look at you!”

Raze chuckled, already launching into questions about how Clove managed to make the outfit work so effortlessly. Clove smiled, their butterflies flitting around happily as they engaged with the duo, their laughter light and easy.

Iso shifted his gaze across the room, spotting Astra behind the bar, already setting out glasses and bottles with practiced grace.

He made his way over, his steps quieter than usual. “Something strong,” he said quietly as he reached the counter.

Astra looked up, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “You don’t waste time, huh?”

She reached for a dark bottle and poured a neat glass, sliding it smoothly toward him. “This one will hit the spot.”

Iso caught the glass, nodding his thanks without breaking eye contact. The rich aroma promised exactly what he needed — something sharp to steady the swirl of thoughts and unexpected feelings tonight.

Astra gave a small smile, leaning a little closer. “It’s nice to see you relaxed for once.”

Iso allowed himself a brief, rare smile before turning back to the room — to Clove, laughing with Neon and Raze, their butterflies dancing through the air like flickers of light.

Tonight, things were shifting.

Astra slid the glass across the bar with a knowing smile. “You know,” she said softly, wiping down the counter, “I can see it. You’ve got that look.”

Iso’s jaw tightened just a fraction. “Look?” he echoed, trying to keep his tone casual, “I don’t—there’s nothing going on.”

Astra raised an eyebrow, pouring another drink with practiced ease. The liquid caught the light as she set it in front of him. “Save it,” she interrupted with a smirk. “You’re not fooling anyone, especially not me.”

Iso stared down at the glass, swirling the liquid. “I just don’t want things to get complicated.”

“Complicated’s a given when you’re part of this mess,” Astra said, leaning in slightly. “But you better get it together, Iso. Talk to Clove before someone else beats you to it.”

Iso’s eyes flicked up, meeting hers. There was a quiet weight behind her words — a blend of challenge and encouragement.

He took a slow breath, nodding just barely.

“Thanks, Astra,” he muttered, a flicker of resolve sparking inside.

Notes:

zoo wee mama

Chapter 8: two sides of a coin

Clove smiled politely as Neon and Raze peppered them with questions about their favorite missions and gear, but their mind wasn’t really on the conversation.

I want to talk to Iso, they thought, watching him from across the room. Just say something. Anything.

But every time they tried to excuse themselves, another agent stepped in with a new question or a compliment. The butterflies circling around them fluttered faster, sensing their rising anxiety.

Calm down, Clove. You can handle this.

They took a steadying breath, forcing their smile wider as their hands twitched, trying to keep the butterflies from darting wildly in the room.

Just one moment alone. That’s all I need.

The buzz of voices felt like a tide pulling them further from Iso, and for the first time since arriving, Clove felt the weight of being the new one — spotlighted but somehow still invisible to the one they wanted most to see.

Clove’s butterflies suddenly fluttered into a frenzy, their chest tightening as the noise and questions swirled around them like a storm. Trying to find a way out, they took a quick step back — and collided right into someone solid.

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” Clove said, their voice slightly breathless as they looked up.

Iso’s purple eyes met theirs, calm and steady in contrast to Clove’s fluttering nerves.

“It’s alright,” he replied, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You look like you just survived a hurricane.”

Clove chuckled softly, brushing a stray lock of hair behind their ear. “Feels like it. I’m still trying to figure out if I’m more of a butterfly or a tornado.”

Iso’s smile deepened, the tension between them easing just a bit.

“Well, tornadoes do tend to leave a memorable impression,” he said, folding his arms.

Clove grinned. “Good. Because I’m definitely not here to be forgotten.”

Their grin lingered as they stepped to the side, the butterflies orbiting them settling down, as if Iso’s presence grounded not just them—but everything else around them.

Iso looked them over once, eyes flicking briefly to the butterflies now gently bobbing in the air. “You always bring those things with you?”

“They follow me whether I want them to or not,” Clove said with a shrug, though the fondness in their voice gave them away. “I guess they’re a little like emotions. Loud, colorful, impossible to control.”

Iso raised an eyebrow. “So you’re saying you’re emotional?”

“I’m saying I’m expressive,” Clove said with a dramatic toss of their hand, half-laughing. “There’s a difference.”

He shook his head, amused. “You’re a lot.”

“I’ve been told worse,” they shot back, smirking. “But I guess I’ll take that as a compliment coming from you.”

Before Iso could answer, a nearby laugh from the bar cut through their bubble of calm. Clove turned, catching sight of Raze spinning a glass with energy, while Astra leaned on the counter laughing at something.

Clove turned back to Iso, quieter now. “Thanks… for not letting me freak out back there.”

Iso blinked. He hadn’t really done anything—just stood there, been present—but maybe that was enough.

“Anytime,” he said, tone low.

There was a brief beat of silence between them, heavy but not uncomfortable.

Clove’s fingers grazed the edge of their sleeve before they shifted. “Well… I should probably get back before they start throwing questions at someone else’s face.”

Iso gave a small nod. “If you need rescuing again, I’ll be around.”

Clove hesitated for half a second, then smiled again—this time a bit softer. “I’ll hold you to that.”

They walked back into the crowd, butterflies rising and parting like a veil as they disappeared.

Iso stood where he was, exhaling through his nose and glancing down at his untouched drink.

“I’m in trouble,” he muttered.

And somewhere near the bar, Astra chuckled without even turning around.

The soft hum of conversation filled the dining hall, the golden lights casting a warm glow across glassware and polished floors. Laughter burst from the far side of the room where Phoenix had finally shown up, joking with Chamber and Breach. Astra continued mixing drinks with effortless flair behind the bar, and Iso found himself briefly at peace—until the room shifted.

A sudden hush fell over a corner of the gathering as the door hissed open again.

She stood there, framed in the entryway like she owned the place.

Jett.

She wore a sleek, white dress that shimmered with every breath of movement, sequins catching the light like tiny flashes of lightning. The slit up one side added just enough drama, and her hair was pulled back into a clean, elegant twist. The second she stepped into the room, all eyes seemed to veer toward her—even if only for a moment.

Iso froze, his glass still in his hand. He didn’t even drink from it—just downed the entire thing in one smooth motion before pushing away from the wall and striding right back to the bar.

Astra glanced up, her brows raising with perfect comedic timing. “Didn’t think you’d finish that so fast,” she said, already grabbing a new glass.

“Change of scenery,” Iso muttered flatly, leaning an arm on the counter. “Not a fan.”

Astra poured with a chuckle, sliding the drink across the polished bar. “That scenery walked in wearing three hundred diamonds and a grudge.”

“I didn’t ask for a runway,” he muttered, eyes flicking back toward the crowd where Jett was now basking in a few surprised reactions. He felt his jaw clench.

Astra leaned closer, voice low and dry. “You’re acting like she wore that dress to win a war.”

“She probably did.”

“Careful, soldier. You’re on your second drink and your first spiral.”

Iso finally looked at her, his voice quieter. “She’s not the one I’m trying to impress.”

Astra blinked once, then offered the tiniest smirk as she tilted her glass in his direction. “Then maybe you should stop staring at the wrong person.”

Iso exhaled slowly, his gaze naturally drifting back to where Clove stood under the soft lighting—laughing at something Neon had said, a butterfly landing gently on their shoulder.

That ache in his chest stirred again.

Right. Focus.

He took a slow sip of his drink, finally relaxing his shoulders.

-

Clove watched Raze slip away with a wink, saying something about needing to “drop the bass before someone drops a drink.” Neon peeled off with her, hollering dramatically about a song request, and just like that, Clove was left standing near the buffet alone—until they saw her.

Jett.

Clove blinked. She was stunning, honestly. That dress shimmered like starlight, pure white and eye-catching in every way. The moment she walked in, it felt like the room’s energy shifted. Conversations quieted, eyes flicked toward her, and then just as quickly returned to their drinks or plates. Clove didn’t feel the awe that most did—more curiosity. Something about her posture felt… off. Tense.

Feeling friendly, Clove made their way over. “Hey,” they greeted, brushing a few butterflies off their shoulders. “You look incredible, by the way.”

Jett’s eyes snapped to them, and for a beat, her expression didn’t shift. Then, she offered a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thanks,” she said, voice light but clipped.

Clove tilted their head. “I’m Clove, by the way. I don’t think we’ve properly talked yet. It’s been kind of a whirlwind since I got here.”

“I know who you are,” Jett replied, taking a sip from a champagne glass she must’ve grabbed on her way in. “New Agent. Butterflies. Everyone loves you already.”

Clove blinked. “Um… I mean, I’ve had a warm welcome, sure.”

“Right,” Jett said with a laugh—sharp and flat. “You’ve barely been here what, a day? And they’re already throwing you a party. Some of us had to prove ourselves for months.”

Clove hesitated. That stung, but they weren’t sure why. “I didn’t ask for a party,” they said gently. “Sage set it up.”

Jett’s gaze hardened slightly. “Of course she did.” She took another sip before adding, “Seems like a lot of people are bending over backwards lately.”

Clove offered a tight smile, trying to keep the mood afloat. “Is this about the butterflies? I promise they’re not bribing anyone.”

That got a snort from Jett, but the tension remained. “You know, Iso doesn’t usually talk to people that much. Especially not like that.”

Clove blinked. “Like what?”

“Like he cares.”

There was something biting in her tone—an edge of jealousy Clove hadn’t expected. They stared at Jett, unsure of what to say. The butterflies fluttered slightly faster around them, as if sensing the shift.

And for the first time since arriving… Clove felt unwelcome.

Clove blinked, unsure they’d heard Jett right. Like he cares.

They stood still for a second, letting the words settle like a bad aftertaste. The butterflies around their shoulders shifted uneasily, their wings twitching like static. Clove tucked their hands into their pockets, exhaling slowly through their nose with a wry smile. Humor—Clove’s favorite armor—kicked in.

“Well,” they said, voice light but edged, “maybe I’m just that charming. You know, irresistible in a weird, ‘talks to bugs and might reorganize your spice rack’ kind of way.”

Jett didn’t laugh.

Clove tilted their head, their smile thinning. “Look, I’m not trying to step on anyone’s toes. Or floaty dress hems. I just got here.”

Jett’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Doesn’t look like you’re trying very hard not to.”

Now the butterflies froze. Suspended like delicate ornaments in the air.

Clove chuckled softly, but this one was more incredulous than amused. “You’ve got a real interesting way of saying ‘hello.’ Is this, like, a Duelist hazing thing? Should I expect someone to dump juice on my head next?”

Jett’s lips pressed together. “You don’t know how things work here.”

“No, I don’t,” Clove said, and the humor finally cracked—just slightly. “But I know when someone’s projecting all their bitterness on me like I’m some kind of mirror they don’t like looking into.”

There was a pause. A tense, humming silence between them.

Clove held Jett’s gaze, still smiling, but their tone now burned with a quiet fire. “If you’ve got a problem with me, Jett, maybe say it straight. I’d hate for the butterflies to get confused.”

They turned smoothly on their heel, not waiting for a reply, the swarm of glowing insects trailing like a cape behind them. Their pulse drummed fast beneath their collar, but they didn’t let it show. Not until they stepped away, toward the balcony, where the air felt easier to breathe.

What a party.

Chapter 9: confront

Clove leaned on the balcony railing, the cool metal grounding against their palms. The artificial sky above shimmered in an eternal twilight — a simulation of starlight mapped across a ceiling of screens and delicate tech. It was beautiful in the way imitation roses are beautiful — perfect, but not quite real.

The butterflies slowed, orbiting gently as Clove stared upward.

“Maybe I don’t belong here,” they murmured under their breath. “Or maybe I just don’t belong with them.”

They weren’t sure who “them” meant anymore. Jett? The Duelists? Everyone in that room who already had history with each other?

They’d tried to laugh it off. Keep things light. That was the safe zone. But what if Jett was right?

What if Iso really didn’t care?

Stop.

Clove gave a weak laugh, shaking their head and tapping their fingers against the railing like it would help flick the thoughts away.

That’s when they heard him.

Heavy boots. Slower steps. The faint sound of glass clinking.

“Iso,” they said before even turning around. The butterflies immediately perked up, like someone just turned on a warm light.

“Guess I’m not that subtle, huh,” he muttered, voice lower than usual, slightly hoarse.

When Clove looked, he was already leaning against the balcony beside them, a half-empty glass in his hand. His collar was slightly unbuttoned now, the party version of casual for someone like him. His eyes met Clove’s — less sharp than usual, softened with something they couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe not.

“You okay?” he asked, head tilting. His tone wasn’t pushy, but it wasn’t passive either.

Clove hesitated. Their mouth opened, closed. They exhaled through their nose, giving a tiny shrug. “I had a run-in with Jett.”

Iso’s jaw tensed ever so slightly.

“She said… something,” Clove went on, glancing at the glass in his hand, then back out to the false sky. “About how you don’t care. That it’s not serious. That I’m not serious.” They paused. “I know it’s dumb to even let that get under my skin, but… I guess it did.”

A beat of silence stretched. The kind that felt too short and too long at the same time.

Then Clove laughed — short and sheepish. “Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m just a shiny new toy in the armory, and all this is just a temporary sparkle.”

They weren’t sure what answer they wanted from Iso. But they hoped, more than anything, that he had one.

Iso was just about to speak — words visibly building in his throat — when a sharp voice rang out behind them like the crack of thunder.

“Well isn’t this cozy.”

Clove stiffened.

Jett stood at the threshold of the balcony, white dress gleaming beneath the artificial stars. Phoenix trailed behind her reluctantly, rubbing the back of his neck as if already regretting whatever led them here.

Iso turned slowly, the muscles in his jaw locking tight.

Jett’s gaze was icy, aimed directly at Clove. “Didn’t take you long to find someone to cling to. I guess that’s your specialty, huh?”

“Jett, don’t—” Phoenix tried, but she waved him off without even looking.

“And you,” she snapped at Iso, voice sharp enough to slice glass, “are just throwing everything away? For them?”

Clove’s heart dropped. The butterflies around them began to buzz in frantic motion, their wings pulsing with scattered light. It was getting hard to breathe. The voices around them felt like echoes bouncing off walls that were getting closer and closer.

Iso stepped forward, his voice dangerously low. “Watch your mouth.”

“Oh, what? Hitting a nerve?” Jett threw her arms out. “You’ve been avoiding everyone since they showed up — acting like you’re above it all, like none of us ever mattered. You think anyone here doesn’t see what’s going on between you two?”

Clove took a small step back. Then another. They couldn’t find their voice. The panic scratched like claws behind their ribs.

Phoenix tried again, raising his hands. “Okay, enough. Jett—this isn’t it. You’re not helping.”

“Of course you’d say that,” she bit back. “You’re always playing peacemaker.”

The butterflies scattered in a sharp burst, zipping past everyone in a nervous cloud of violet and gold light. Clove turned away from the balcony entirely, weaving between them without a word, head ducked, chest heaving.

“Clove—” Iso turned instinctively.

But they were already slipping through the doors, hand pressed to the wall as they navigated the hallway. The noise of the party, the balcony, the arguing — it all blurred behind them like it was underwater. The butterflies clung to their shoulders, their arms, their neck, like they could hold Clove together.

But they couldn’t.

Clove’s footsteps echoed, uneven and rushed, bouncing off the sterile walls like gunfire. The artificial lights hummed faintly overhead, the same pale glow that once seemed comforting now felt cold and clinical.

Their hands trembled.

Their breath came out in uneven gasps, too shallow to be useful, like they were trying to suck air through a straw. One hand gripped the edge of the nearest wall as if it might fall away without warning. The butterflies clung to them tightly — silent, pulsing little lights — as if they could sense their creator was unraveling.

“Just breathe. You know how,” Clove whispered to themself, but their voice cracked. It felt like the air was running out.

Then—

Silence.

The music, once distant and muffled, had stopped.

In its place, a burst of raised voices slipped through the party room’s closed doors. A commotion. Furniture scraping. Someone shouting.

Clove’s eyes squeezed shut.

Their chest was tight. Too tight. Like invisible ropes pulled taut around their lungs. They tried to count — the way Sage taught them — tried grounding themselves with sensation.

But all they could feel were the butterflies crawling under their skin.

Then: footsteps.

Steady. Purposeful.

They didn’t look up at first, too lost in the whirlwind inside their own body — until a familiar voice cut through it.

“Clove.”

Iso’s voice was lower than usual. Softer. Still rough around the edges, but missing its usual bite. The concern bled through, unfiltered.

Clove blinked up at him.

He stood just a few feet away, chest rising with deep breaths — like he had sprinted to get there. His jacket was unbuttoned, his tie loosened. His eyes, still touched with that intoxicated haze, focused entirely on them.

He didn’t say anything else. Not yet.

Instead, Iso slowly stepped closer, close enough to kneel down beside them — not reaching out, not touching, just… there.

He let a beat pass, then another.

“You’re okay,” he said finally, voice low, almost a murmur. “You’re not alone.”

Clove didn’t answer right away.

But the butterflies slowly began to calm — some landing gently on Iso’s sleeve, others resting quietly against the wall.

Their breathing, though still fast, began to shift.

Bit by bit.

Clove’s breath still stuttered in their chest, but they didn’t look away from Iso. Not when he shifted slightly to sit beside them, back against the wall, matching their posture with a quiet sort of understanding.

He held out his hand, palm open, steady and patient — an unspoken offer.

Clove stared at it for a long second. The skin of his hand was calloused, a thin scar cutting across one knuckle, but he wasn’t forcing anything. Just waiting.

Their hand trembled as they lifted it.

They set it gently in his — cool fingertips brushing his palm before finally settling. Iso’s fingers curled just slightly around theirs, his grip light but grounding, like he was holding a delicate thread from slipping loose.

“Your nails,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence like cracking glass in the most unexpected way. “They’re… kind of amazing.”

Clove blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

Iso smirked faintly, the corner of his lip tugging up as he gently turned their hand, studying it like it was some rare artifact.

“The rings, the color… violet chrome?” he guessed, squinting a little. “You really committed. Got this whole mystical butterfly thing going.”

Clove let out a shaky laugh — short but genuine. “You saying I’ve got good taste?”

“I’m saying,” he replied, voice low, “if you showed up to a mission with these nails, half the enemy would be too dazzled to shoot straight.”

A small, crooked smile curved Clove’s lips. The tightness in their chest began to loosen, just a little.

“You’ve got the hands of someone who doesn’t take crap,” Iso added, thumb brushing near the edge of a sharp silver ring. “I like that.”

Clove tilted their head, letting their shoulder rest lightly against the wall. “You trying to distract me from having a complete breakdown?”

He shrugged. “Is it working?”

“…Yeah,” they admitted, softer now. “Yeah, it is.”

Their fingers stayed interlocked, resting between them. The butterflies were calm now, orbiting the pair with a quiet shimmer — faint pulses of color that matched Clove’s steadier breathing.

And for a moment, neither of them moved.

They didn’t need to.

Chapter 10: consequences

The quiet between Iso and Clove was starting to feel like a rare sort of peace — the kind that neither of them got very often. But it didn’t last.

The soft echo of footsteps down the corridor pulled both their gazes toward the doorway.

Sage entered the room, her long coat flowing lightly with each measured step. Behind her, just out of full view, lingered Reyna — her arms crossed, one brow raised as she leaned against the wall with cool disinterest. The room seemed to adjust to their presence, a shift in the atmosphere from gentle to composed tension.

“Iso. Clove.” Sage’s voice was steady, but there was a slight edge beneath it — not anger, but something resolute.

Clove immediately sat up straighter, slipping their hand away from Iso’s with a sheepish little glance. Iso rubbed his neck, blinking slowly as the reality of the evening settled back in.

“The others have gone,” Sage said, eyes briefly scanning the room. “Phoenix escorted the last few out — at my request. We needed the space.” She turned her gaze fully to the two on the floor. “Now it’s time we address what happened.”

Clove’s fingers fidgeted in their lap.

“No point in postponing it any longer,” Sage continued, stepping aside slightly as Reyna finally entered the room, the glint of her piercing eyes cutting through the soft lighting. “If Sunwoo chooses to continue this pattern of behavior, it will only damage team cohesion further.”

“She’s unstable,” Reyna added coolly, her voice like velvet with steel woven in. “And jealous. A dangerous combination.”

Sage gave a quiet sigh but didn’t disagree. “She’ll be given a chance to speak. And then… we’ll decide how best to proceed.”

Clove glanced at Iso. His jaw was tight, brows slightly furrowed.

“We’ll need both of you present,” Sage said, her tone softening slightly as she looked at Clove. “This concerns you too.”

“Understood,” Iso said before Clove could respond. His voice had that quiet command to it again — protective, grounded.

Sage gave a small nod, then motioned toward the hallway. “Take a moment to gather yourselves. I’ll call you when it’s time.”

She turned and walked out, Reyna following with one last glance at Clove — not quite a smile, not quite a challenge.

Just… watching.

Clove exhaled slowly. “So much for a peaceful first night.”

Iso gave a low grunt in agreement, pushing himself up to stand. Then he looked back down at them, extending a hand again — not to comfort this time, but to offer support.

“Let’s get this over with.”

The door hissed open.

Jett sat slouched in her chair, one leg bouncing, arms crossed tightly across her glittering dress. Across from her, Phoenix leaned forward, frustration radiating off him in sharp waves. Brimstone stood near the wall, a heavy frown pulling at his face as he pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh that sounded like it had been waiting all week to be let out.

“I’m not the one acting insane!” Jett snapped, her voice sharp and biting.

Phoenix gestured wildly, voice hot. “You’re the one who threw a drink at me in front of everyone! Because what—Iso wasn’t hanging off your every word? Grow up.”

“You don’t know anything, you never have,” she hissed.

“Enough,” Brimstone muttered under his breath, clearly worn down, but it didn’t stop them.

Sage stepped between them smoothly, her presence both soothing and firm. “Sunwoo. Jamie. You’ve both had your say.”

She turned toward the door as it slid shut behind Iso and Clove, the latter lingering just a half step behind. Sage pulled two chairs from the wall and gestured for them to sit.

“Please. Join us.”

Clove settled into the seat beside Iso, stiff but composed. Iso’s jaw was tense again, the memory of earlier events still simmering behind his eyes. He didn’t speak. Not yet.

Jett’s eyes locked on Clove, and the air immediately shifted.

“Oh, great. The butterfly whisperer’s here.” She rolled her eyes and leaned back, voice dripping with mockery.

“I’d advise you to drop the sarcasm,” Brimstone said without looking up, his voice tired, gravelly.

“Let’s not waste time,” Sage added calmly, though her expression was far from patient now. “This isn’t about relationship squabbles. This is about your conduct as a Duelist, Jett. Your disregard for privacy, your aggression at an event meant to welcome a new Agent, and your escalating hostility toward two of your teammates.”

“I didn’t do anything that bad,” Jett muttered.

“You cornered Iso in his own room. You verbally attacked Clove in a public setting. And you’ve created a toxic atmosphere for the rest of your unit,” Sage said flatly.

Phoenix shifted uncomfortably, muttering, “It’s been going on for a while…”

Jett glared at him, betrayal twisting her face.

“You were the one who told me—!”

“Don’t,” Phoenix cut her off. “Don’t twist my words just because you’re losing control.”

The silence that followed was tense, punctuated only by the faint mechanical hum of the room.

Sage’s voice cut through it. “Sunwoo, do you have anything to say for yourself before we proceed with disciplinary review?”

Jett looked at Iso.

Then at Clove.

Her lips parted like she might apologize — or lash out again — but her pride caught her first. She swallowed it down and said, “No. Do what you want.”

Clove’s fingers twitched slightly in their lap. Iso, for once, was entirely unreadable.

Sage turned to Brimstone and gave a slight nod. “Then let’s begin.”

Brimstone finally dropped his hand from his face and stepped forward, his boots hitting the floor with a controlled weight. His expression was sharp now, no hint of the man who’d once laughed at petty Duelist squabbles.

“This has gone on long enough,” he said, his voice cutting clean through the tension. “Jett, your behavior has not only jeopardized team cohesion, it’s also compromised the trust between you and your fellow agents.”

Jett’s jaw clenched. Her eyes were trained on the floor, her silence louder than any protest.

“Effective immediately,” Brimstone continued, “you’re removed from all future mission rosters until further notice.”

Jett’s head snapped up, panic flickering behind her eyes.

“You will remain in your quarters unless you receive clearance. That means no training access, no common room, no rec privileges, and absolutely no unsanctioned contact with other agents.”

“You’re kidding,” she breathed, eyes darting between Sage and Phoenix, landing on Iso last.

He didn’t even look her way.

Brimstone didn’t falter. “If this behavior persists, we’ll have no choice but to place your Duelist status on probation. That means complete relinquishment of your field rights and title until we deem otherwise.”

“You’re benching me?” Her voice cracked, humiliation creeping in.

“No,” Sage replied, folding her hands behind her back. “We’re trying to stop you from crashing the entire unit over a personal grudge.”

Clove said nothing, their posture still and unreadable, but the butterflies that fluttered gently around their shoulders had calmed — as if sensing the storm beginning to settle.

Phoenix leaned back in his chair with a sigh, letting the tension roll off him for the first time that evening.

“I suggest you take this time to reflect,” Brimstone said with finality. “You’re still one of our best, Jett. But that won’t matter if you can’t function as part of a team.”

The room fell silent.

Jett stood slowly, her glittering dress catching the low lights. For a moment, it seemed like she might say something — but she simply turned, stiff and wordless, and walked out of the room.

The door hissed closed behind her.

Brimstone let out a slow breath before glancing toward Clove and Iso. “You two handled tonight better than most would’ve. Thank you.”

Sage nodded gently. “Go get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

~ —

Iso fell into step beside Clove as they left the tense room behind. The corridors were quieter now, the hum of distant conversations fading beneath the low buzz of the facility’s systems.

Outside Clove’s door, Iso hesitated, his hand resting lightly on the cool metal frame. They turned to him with a small, tired smile, their fist coming up in a gentle bump against his shoulder.

“Thanks, Iso,” Clove said softly.

He nodded, returning the gesture with a slight smile of his own. Then, without another word, Clove slid the door closed, the soft hiss echoing in the stillness.

Iso stayed there a moment longer, watching the door as if it might open again. But it didn’t.

With a deep breath, he turned and started his walk back toward the Duelist wing — the opposite side of the building, where shadows already stretched long along the walls.

His footsteps were steady but thoughtful, the weight of the evening settling over him like the quiet before a storm.

Chapter 11: sweet dreams

Summary:

uhhh theres smut here so turn back NOW or skip onto the next chapter if it’s out

love ya!!

-R

Iso’s steps slowed as he neared his room, the familiar corridor stretching out under the soft hum of overhead lights. His eyes flicked sideways, catching the gleam of Jett’s door just a few meters away. The sleek surface looked as unyielding as the tension that had been building all evening.

He pressed his palm firmly against the scanner by his own door. The soft beep echoed quietly in the stillness, and the door slid open. Iso hesitated a moment in the threshold, the lingering gaze toward Jett’s door heavy on his mind.

With a subtle shake of his head, he stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. The room felt both sanctuary and cage — familiar, but shadowed by the undercurrent of recent events.

He moved to the window, staring out at the city lights far below, his thoughts a tangle of frustration, worry, and something unspoken that wouldn’t quite leave him alone.

Iso moved through his night routine with mechanical speed—brushing his teeth, washing his face, and changing into his sleepwear without really registering any of it. The motions were automatic, a shield against the noise of his thoughts.

Finally, he slid under the covers, the cool sheets settling around him. His eyes locked onto the blank ceiling above, wide and unblinking.

Jett’s face flickered in his mind—her fiery temper, the tension between them—then it was replaced by Clove’s presence. The way their laughter had filled the room earlier, the ease of their conversation, the gentle flutter of butterflies that seemed to trail them everywhere.

A faint smile tugged at Iso’s lips as the memories played like a quiet film behind his eyes. For once, something felt right.

But even in the darkness, the question lingered—what did that mean?

Iso's hand drifted beneath the waistband of his sleepwear, his fingers wrapping around his already hardening length. He stroked slowly, his thoughts consumed by Clove. The way their eyes sparkled when they laughed, the soft curve of their smile, the subtle scent of their perfume that lingered in the air long after they'd left.

His grip tightened, his breaths growing deeper as he imagined what it would be like to explore every inch of them. To trace the lines of their body, to feel their skin against his, to taste their lips and lose himself in their embrace.

A shiver ran down his spine, and he bit his lip to suppress a groan. His hand moved faster, his imagination running wild. He pictured Clove above him, their body glowing in the soft moonlight, their hips rolling as they took their pleasure from him.

"Clove," he whispered, their name barely audible, his body tensing as he approached the edge. He could almost feel them, could almost taste them, could almost hear their soft moans in his ear.

With a final, desperate stroke, he pushed himself over the precipice, his body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over him. He rode it out, his mind filled with images of Clove, their name a silent prayer on his lips.

As he came down from his high, a contented sigh escaped him. He cleaned himself up and settled back into the pillows, a small smile playing on his lips. Whatever tomorrow brought, he knew he would face it with a newfound sense of clarity and purpose—all thanks to Clove.

—

 

The common room was quiet in the early morning haze, only the hum of overhead lights and the distant whir of automated cleaning drones filling the silence. Iso sat hunched forward on one of the lounge couches, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on his phone screen. The faint glow lit his sharp features, unreadable as ever. A half-finished cup of coffee steamed gently on the table in front of him, long forgotten.

“Morning, grumpy.”

Clove’s voice cut through the stillness like a spark, light and alive. Iso blinked and looked up just as they plopped down beside him, far too energetic for this hour.

“They really weren’t joking about early starts,” Clove continued, stretching their legs out and folding one knee over the other. “I read that brief three times and still barely understand half the jargon. But hey, Radianite theft sounds… eventful.”

Iso turned to look at them, one brow arching slightly. “You always talk this much before 8AM?”

“Only when I’m excited,” Clove grinned, nudging his shoulder. “Sunset’s my first real field op. You’re my partner on it, right? Not that I’m complaining. I’ve seen the way you throw those reality spheres—kinda hot.”

Iso blinked slowly. “You’re way too awake.”

“And you’re way too serious. What are you reading on that thing, anyway?” Clove leaned over to try and peek at his phone, but Iso locked the screen and slipped it into his pocket with a practiced flick.

“Nothing important.”

Clove smirked. “Oooh, secrets. Spicy.”

Iso gave a short exhale—something just shy of a laugh. He reached for his coffee and finally took a sip, eyes lingering on Clove’s animated face as they continued talking about the mission, butterflies quietly fluttering around their shoulders.

—

The low hum of the VTOL transport filled the air as it soared steadily across the clouds, the violet glow of the rising sun barely peeking through the reinforced windows. Inside, the agents sat along the padded interior bench seats, their gear resting by their boots, the mood light but focused.

Reyna sat coolly near the back, arms folded, a pair of sleek sunglasses perched on her head despite the dim interior. Sage was diagonally across from her, posture upright, as composed as ever. Gekko lounged with one leg half propped up, chewing on a piece of gum, his backpack of creatures quietly rustling beside him.

Clove had plopped down beside Iso, sitting cross-legged and already chatting away, their fingers drumming lightly against their thigh. Iso sat with one elbow propped against the window, his phone in hand — though he wasn’t reading it, just scrolling aimlessly.

“So,” Sage began, her voice effortlessly rising above the drone of the engine, “I assume everyone had time to read through the brief?”

Reyna nodded wordlessly. Gekko gave a thumbs up.

Iso, however, stayed quiet.

Clove leaned forward, peeking toward him. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

Iso slowly looked away, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“You totally forgot.” Clove gasped, mock betrayal etched on their face. “What kind of veteran agent—?”

Gekko let out a bark of laughter. “Yo, no way—Iso’s gonna go in blind?”

Reyna smirked. “Classic.”

Even Sage cracked a knowing smile as she shook her head. “Good thing I printed extras,” she said, handing over a slim tablet with the mission intel pre-loaded.

Iso took it silently, gaze narrowed, but Clove nudged him playfully with their shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you alive out there.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, only half sarcastic.

Clove leaned back with a grin, whispering toward Sage, “He just wanted an excuse to partner with me.”

Sage raised a brow, though amusement flickered behind her eyes. “Then let’s hope it’s a productive partnership.”

The transport hit a pocket of turbulence, just enough to jostle them slightly. Gekko clutched his bag instinctively. “Yo, Dizzy didn’t sign up for turbulence, man.”

Everyone chuckled, and for a moment, there was warmth between them — the kind only felt in moments before a storm.

Outside, Sunset loomed on the horizon.

Chapter 12: mirror

The transport hissed as it touched down on the edge of Sunset — a quiet part of the city overrun by concrete sprawl, red steel, and the whisper of recent conflict. The bay doors slid open, warm sunlight spilling inside as the group disembarked with practiced ease.

Their boots hit the ground with muffled thuds. Off to the side, a sleek, temporary armory had been erected by the local VALORANT liaison team — all black cases, clean racks of weapons, and a soft biometric glow lining the interior.

Sage was already by the racks, checking inventory. “Standard loadout. Grab what you’re most comfortable with. And these—” She lifted a small container and flipped it open, revealing four elegant black-and-silver earpieces. “Encrypted channel. Only us.”

One by one, they clipped the comms into place.

Clove spun their weapon in hand — a short-ranged rifle outfitted for mobility. “Nothing like a shiny toy to start the day.”

Iso slid a pistol into its holster and shouldered his rifle. His eyes briefly flicked to Clove’s hands, noting the steady confidence in how they handled their gear. “Don’t slow me down,” he said, his tone even.

Clove grinned. “Was just about to say the same to you.”

Reyna, already walking toward the alley beside the armory, tilted her head. “Gekko. Let’s cover A.”

“You got it,” he replied, calling Wingman to his side as they jogged off. His voice crackled over the comm: “Call if things get weird.”

Sage adjusted the cuffs of her jacket and looked toward the main thoroughfare. “I’ll keep middle clear and monitor for spikes in Radianite output. If something changes—call it in.”

Iso gave a short nod. Clove offered a small salute.

“Clove, Iso — B site is yours,” Sage added. “Keep it clean.”

With that, the team split, boots crunching over the cracked pavement as they fanned out into position.

B Site wasn’t far — a more exposed section near the back, with two open corridors and elevated scaffolding. The quiet buzz of a streetlamp buzzed overhead, and the scent of sun-baked concrete filled the air.

Clove crouched beside a stack of crates, glancing at the half-built cover nearby. “Feels like something’s watching.”

Iso scanned the rooftops before replying, “It’s Sunset. Something always is.”

Clove chuckled, but their fingers were already guiding two butterflies into scouting positions near the entrance. “Guess we’ll see who blinks first.”

Iso didn’t respond immediately — but his eyes briefly lingered on Clove as he adjusted the grip on his weapon. The sun glinted off their rings.

And for a second, he forgot to worry.

Clove’s eyes narrowed as a faint clack echoed off the nearby scaffolding.

Then another.

Footsteps — slow, deliberate, wrong.

They glanced at Iso, who had already frozen mid-scan, head tilted as he listened. His hand slowly rose — palm open — silently signaling: Wait.

The comms were silent. No ping from Sage, Gekko, or Reyna.

Then a voice drifted through the still air, warped slightly by distance but unmistakably familiar.

“…I told you it wouldn’t take this long.”

Clove’s blood chilled. That was Fade — low, rasped, with just the right edge of annoyance.

Another voice answered, clipped and smooth, the kind of tone you’d only use with someone you knew well.

“Don’t blame me. It’s the transport’s fault, not mine.”

It sounded like Breach.

Clove furrowed their brows. But they weren’t assigned here…

They shifted closer to the crates, crouching just low enough to peek through a gap between the planks. Iso, already by the opposite corner, raised two fingers and swept them downward — stay low.

Clove pressed their lips into a line and followed orders, but couldn’t help the quick glance they snuck between the planks.

Two figures approached the site perimeter. Fade — her silhouette unmistakable, that trailing coat and slanted posture. But her expression…

Something was off. Too neutral. Eyes flat, unreadable, almost mechanical. And Breach? He didn’t walk like Breach. No swagger, no weight in his shoulders. His limbs moved too precisely, like he was being piloted.

Clove’s heart skipped. Their butterflies twitched in response, shifting restlessly around them.

They turned toward Iso, just in time to see him mouth the word:

“Doppelgängers.”

He tapped his earpiece twice — static.

No signal. Comms were down.

Clove slowly crouched beside him behind cover, their voice barely above a breath. “Okay… what the hell is this?”

Iso didn’t take his eyes off the pair. “I don’t know. But if they get closer, we test if they bleed.”

Clove smiled faintly despite the tension. “Romantic.”

Another few seconds passed, the impostors pacing further into B site — Fade studying the corners, Breach tapping his arm as if adjusting a nonexistent loadout.

Then, suddenly, both fakes stopped and turned — not toward the agents, but toward the scaffolding above them.

Like they knew.

Clove’s hand hovered near their weapon. “They didn’t see us, did they?”

Fade’s head tilted.

Then she smiled.

Mirror Fade brought two fingers to her temple, a faint glint in her eyes as she accessed her comms.

“B site is clear,” she said calmly, her voice eerily identical to their Fade. “But… we’re not alone.”

Her gaze flicked directly toward Clove and Iso’s hiding spot — like she sensed them.

Then she extended her hand.

A shadow ripped across the ground, fast and sharp, before launching upward — a twisted version of Haunt, the same ominous wraith of black smoke and burning violet eyes. It spiraled high above, shrieking as it latched onto the air like a bat finding prey.

“Contact—!” Iso’s voice cut through the silence.

Bang!

The second the ghostly eye materialized, Iso fired — clean, reflexive. The bullet tore through the center of the apparition and it burst in a splash of shadow.

But the damage was done.

“I got spotted,” he hissed, adjusting his grip on the rifle. “She knows exactly where we are.”

Clove swore under their breath, eyes darting to the ledge. The Mirror Breach had already activated his gauntlet — they could feel the faint tremble in the ground.

“Behind the crate, now!”

They both dove just in time for the enemy Breach’s Aftershock to slam into the wall beside them. The concrete splintered, shards pelting Clove’s sleeve as the blast knocked them sideways.

“Backup’s coming,” Iso growled. “We hold them here until Sage or Reyna gives the word.”

“Cool, cool,” Clove replied, half breathless as they pulled themselves upright again, butterflies beginning to circle their arms. “No pressure or anything.”

The sound of another set of boots echoed from the hallway behind Mirror Fade — heavier, faster.

Clove’s eyes met Iso’s.

More were coming.

The Haunt had barely hit the ground before Iso blasted it to pieces — but the real noise came after.

Footsteps. Multiple. Coming fast.

He didn’t hesitate.

He whipped around the corner and fired two clean rounds — both hit. Breach let out a pained grunt, stumbling and clutching his side. One down—

CRACK.

Pain exploded across Iso’s knuckles — his weapon flew from his hand before he could even process the shot.

“Shit,” he hissed, stumbling back as metal scraped across the floor.

“Contact!” Clove snapped.

They didn’t wait. With a quick, smooth motion, they hurled two of their smokes. Violet fog erupted, spiraling high as it masked the lane in seconds. A second later, their rifle was in hand — sleek and matte black, glowing faintly at the barrel. Clove stepped up beside Iso, shoulder brushing his as they dropped into a low crouch behind cover.

“You good?” they asked, eyes never leaving the clouded path ahead.

“I’m breathing,” Iso muttered, clutching his hand. “Gun’s not.”

Another shot rang out — missed, but close. The edge of the crate splintered beside them.

“They’ve got sightlines. Fade’s keeping high ground.”

Clove’s jaw clenched. “Let her watch,” they murmured, their voice low and tight. “I’ll give her something to see.”

Iso let out a breath through his teeth, smirk twitching despite the blood on his glove. “Didn’t think you were the bold one.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Clove muttered.

Movement in the fog.

Clove’s finger shifted — and they fired.

Clove’s bullet struck true — Fade crumpled to the ground, her body folding awkwardly beside the edge of the container. The shadows around her flickered and faded like ink pulled back into a bottle.

“Fade’s down,” Clove confirmed, voice clipped, eyes scanning for the next threat.

Iso crouched beside them, retrieving a sidearm from his holster with his non-dominant hand. “Nice shot,” he muttered, flexing his bruised fingers.

Gekko came sprinting around the corner, Wingman leading the way. “We’re clear on A,” he called. “They were already bailing when we showed up.”

Reyna wasn’t far behind, her eyes like twin embers as she surveyed the battlefield. “They retreated too clean. They knew we were coming.”

“Then someone’s feeding them intel,” Sage’s voice cut in through the comms. “Stay sharp. They may circle back.”

Clove stepped forward carefully, gun still raised, scanning Fade’s form. Her visor was cracked, her arm bent at a wrong angle. But it was her — the real one. The gear was different. The posture. The tension that always lingered around the real Fade wasn’t present here — this one lacked her presence.

Just a copy.

A good one, but not the one.

Clove relaxed, lowering their weapon slightly.

“No Mirror of me then,” they muttered.

“Would’ve been a shame,” Iso said as he stepped beside them. “I’ve got my hands full with one.”

Clove smirked faintly at that, nudging his elbow with their own before stepping forward to help Gekko secure the body.

The wind carried a faint scent of smoke and metal as Sage’s voice came through the earpiece again.

“Regroup at Mid. We’re sweeping the rest of the complex.”

“Copy,” Iso said, then glanced toward Clove. “Let’s move. Stay close.”

Clove gave him a look. “Only if you ask nicely.”

A pause. Iso’s smirk returned, slow and amused. “Stay close… please.”

As the team regrouped near Mid, the artificial sunlight from above flickered through the jagged skylights of the industrial complex. Footsteps echoed against metal walkways and hollow walls, everyone tense, weapons still drawn.

Reyna was the first to speak as she reloaded her pistol. Her voice was smooth, but there was a sharpness under the surface. “That was three.”

Clove looked up from where they’d crouched to inspect the Haunt Fade had thrown earlier. “Three?”

Reyna nodded slowly, her red eyes narrowing. “Mirror Fade, Mirror Breach… and that Brimstone imposter from A site.”

Gekko furrowed his brow. “That’s usually five in a Mirror unit, yeah?”

Sage’s voice came through the comms again, slower this time. “They didn’t have the spike either. Just a sweep team.”

Iso tensed. “So this wasn’t a plant. It was recon.”

“Or bait,” Reyna added darkly.

Clove exchanged a glance with Iso. “They wanted to see how we’d respond.”

“And now they’ve seen it,” Sage murmured, finally appearing from a side corridor, cloak catching the light like soft frost.

Gekko crossed his arms, frowning. “So where’s the rest of them?”

A long silence followed.

Then Iso muttered under his breath, “They’re still here.”

Clove felt the weight of the rifle on their back more acutely than before. The butterflies that had begun to calm in their chest started fluttering again.

“Whatever’s going on,” Sage said, cool and collected, “we regroup at base. Debrief. This isn’t over.”

Chapter 13: doubt

The sky above the site had turned a dull shade of orange as the artificial sun began its slow descent. One by one, the Agents filed into the transport ship, weapons holstered, chatter low and cautious.

Gekko was the last to hop up the ramp, giving the perimeter a final once-over before stepping inside. “All clear on my side.”

Clove lingered just outside the door, adjusting the strap of their rifle across their chest. The wind shifted slightly, carrying a strange scent — not industrial oil or gunpowder, but something… floral.

Their head turned.

Down the narrow alley beside the ship’s landing pad, nestled between two crumbling storage units, a small movement caught their eye.

A butterfly.

But not theirs.

It hovered, wings translucent like glass and lined with a faint violet shimmer. Where Clove’s butterflies glowed warm and steady, this one seemed wrong — flickering at the edges, as if caught between dimensions. It landed silently atop a cracked metal box.

Clove blinked. Their own butterflies were curled calmly at their shoulders, undisturbed. But this one—

“What are you looking at?” Iso asked, stepping down from the ramp, zipping his jacket back up.

Clove didn’t answer right away.

The butterfly flitted once more, then dissolved into a flicker of static and vanished.

Clove swallowed and finally turned toward him. “Nothing. Just… thought I saw something.”

Iso studied them for a moment before giving a short nod. “Let’s go.”

As they stepped up into the ship and the ramp hissed closed behind them, Clove glanced back one last time.

Nothing was there.

But the image of that butterfly — wrong, glitching, watching — remained burned behind their eyes.

Back inside the transport’s cramped cabin, the Agents settled into their seats, weapons laid out on their laps. The low hum of the engines filled the silence.

Reyna was the first to break it. “That mission was… off. We didn’t find the spike, fewer enemies than expected. Felt too quiet.”

Sage nodded in agreement. “And those communications we picked up… not the usual chatter. Like they were deliberately keeping things tight.”

Gekko added with a shrug, “Maybe they just got sloppy. Could happen.”

Iso glanced at Clove, who kept their gaze fixed on the window, lips pressed tight. They said nothing.

Clove’s butterflies fluttered softly — a comforting rhythm against the tension in the air.

Iso looked away, eyes on his hands folded in his lap.

The ship began its ascent, the cityscape shrinking beneath them.

Outside, only the fading light and the unspoken mystery of that vanished butterfly remained.

Clove’s eyes never left the alleyway as the transport’s engines hummed steadily beneath them. The butterfly lingered in their mind — so unlike their own, yet hauntingly similar.

A cold knot twisted in their stomach. What if it wasn’t just some strange coincidence? What if there was truly another them out there? Another Clove, but not quite right. A shadow or a reflection, but with its own will, its own agenda.

They thought back to every time they’d felt… off. Every moment of dissonance, the subtle glitches in their own sense of self. Was it possible they weren’t unique — just one version among many?

The thought clawed at their mind, wrapping cold fingers around their heart. If there was another Clove, what did that mean for who they were? Could they be replaced? Erased? Overwritten?

They felt a sharp pang of isolation. How do you fight a version of yourself? How do you even begin to understand what that means?

Their butterflies fluttered erratically now — a frantic heartbeat manifested in wings.

Clove swallowed hard, biting back the rising tide of panic. This was a fear they couldn’t share. Not yet.

Because to admit it aloud would be to admit just how fragile their grip on reality had become.

Clove’s grip tightened around the strap of their rifle as they stared out the window, the landscape shifting beneath the aircraft. The weight of their own thoughts pressed hard against their chest — spiraling questions, fears too strange to voice aloud.

Another version of me.

The butterflies fluttered near their shoulders, pulsing with the same quiet dread they felt in their veins.

But their thoughts were abruptly severed when Iso’s voice cut through the cabin.

“I said I’m fine,” he snapped, voice rough with exhaustion and annoyance.

“You said that last time too, and you still ended up with a blood-stained jacket,” Sage replied sharply, standing over him with a faint glow flickering between her hands.

“It barely grazed me.”

“A bullet grazed you,” she emphasized, like a tired parent scolding a reckless teenager. “You keep brushing these things off like they don’t matter—”

“They don’t.”

“They do,” she bit back, her calm tone warping with frustration. “You may not care, Iso, but we do.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but didn’t pull away when she placed a hand just above the wound. Soft green light pooled there, closing the shallow cut with gentle precision.

Clove blinked, finally pulling away from the view outside the transport window. The tension that had wrapped around them slowly unraveled as they watched the scene — so normal, so loud — unfold.

A familiar warmth returned to their chest, softening the fear that had taken root.

They smiled faintly, the shadow of dread still flickering beneath their calm exterior — but for now, it could wait.

HQ came into view on the horizon.

And whatever came next, they weren’t alone.

Chapter 14: calm

Notes:

hello every nyan,

i dont know if people actually read notes but heres a small update:

i’ve been pretty busy and depressed these last few days which has accumulated into a drop in publishing. I am sorry for that and I will post 6 chapters this weekend as compensation.

These next 2-3 chapters will be fluff as a means to give a short break in-between conflict (and smut).

thank you for taking the time to read my fic and enjoy !

The metal ramp hissed softly as it lowered, steam curling at the base of the ship as the agents began disembarking. Boots clattered against the polished floor of HQ’s hangar bay, the usual buzz of return filling the air — muted laughter, low groans, the clatter of weapons being handed off to technicians. Gekko was already stretching his back, Reyna rolled her shoulders with a sigh, and Sage strode forward to debrief with the handlers.

Clove lingered at the rear of the group, gaze flicking up to see Iso slowing his pace to match theirs. They didn’t speak at first — just walked side by side, the sound of footsteps echoing in the wide corridor.

“You’re dragging,” Clove said with a faint grin. “Not used to taking it easy?”

Iso snorted. “You say that like you weren’t wheezing up the stairs back on site.”

“Please. I was gracefully winded.”

He laughed, and for a moment the weight of everything felt a little lighter. But then Clove’s expression shifted — only slightly — as the thought returned.

“There’s something I didn’t mention earlier,” they said, glancing forward to be sure no one was in earshot. “After we cleared the site… I saw a butterfly.”

“…You see those all the time,” Iso said, brow lifting, though his tone lost its humor.

“Not like this one,” Clove murmured. “It wasn’t mine. It didn’t move like mine. The wings— they shimmered wrong. It felt… off.”

They weren’t sure how else to describe it. Their own butterflies felt like an extension of them — light, intuitive, alive in a way that wasn’t just physical. This one had landed cold. Still. Watching.

Iso tilted his head. “Maybe it was one of yours,” he offered. “And you just didn’t notice it before?”

Clove frowned. “I know my butterflies.”

There was a pause between them. The air felt thinner for just a second.

Iso didn’t push. He just let out a slow breath, gaze flicking to the ceiling lights overhead.

“Well, if it’s not yours…” he muttered. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come with teeth.”

Clove cracked a half-smile. “Optimistic as always.”

“Someone’s got to be.”

And with that, the two of them continued down the corridor, their voices low, banter returning — but the unspoken weight of that butterfly still hovered in the silence between.

The dining hall hummed with warm, ambient light, the long tables already half-filled with agents as the dinner bell echoed through HQ. Laughter and conversation rippled through the space, mingling with the clink of utensils and trays. For once, the energy felt easy—no alarms, no alerts, just the rare peace of a completed mission and a hot meal.

Clove was nearly bouncing on their heels as they stepped through the threshold, eyes lighting up at the spread. “Finally. A proper meal. No rations. No dried protein bricks. Real food.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Iso said, following just behind, his voice flat but faintly amused. “Last time I got ‘real food,’ it was rubber chicken.”

Clove cast him a smirk. “That’s because you didn’t season it.”

“I’m not cooking out in a war zone,” he shot back, grabbing a tray. “Be glad we’re not eating vacuum-sealed soup.”

Clove wrinkled their nose. “I blocked that texture from my memory, thanks.”

They both slid into seats near the middle of the hall, a faint golden hue cast over their faces from the lighting overhead. Plates were stacked with warm rice, roasted vegetables, grilled meat or tofu, and a rare treat: real bread rolls.

Clove tore a piece of theirs off with gleeful reverence. “This is divine. This is what victory should taste like.”

Iso raised a brow as he shoved a bite into his mouth. “Pretty dramatic for someone who got caught in their own smoke cloud earlier.”

“Strategic smokescreen,” they corrected, pointing a breadstick at him. “I’ll have you know it saved your life.”

“Sure. Let’s call it that.”

They chewed in silence for a moment before Clove looked over with mock seriousness. “You know what I really think we need?”

“Let me guess—an espresso machine in the field?”

“Snacks.” Clove nodded, deadly serious. “Sage should pack snacks for every mission. We’d all fight better with a protein bar or two.”

Iso snorted into his drink. “I’d settle for gum.”

“Or trail mix. With the little chocolate pieces. The ones that make you feel like you’re cheating your macros.”

“I’d shoot a Mirror Agent for those.”

Clove let out a short laugh, shaking their head. “You’re horrible.”

“Hungry,” he corrected.

They clinked their utensils together in a mock toast, smiling in spite of themselves. Around them, the hum of conversation continued—but in their corner, it felt lighter, like the tension of the day was finally settling into something familiar. Something calm.

Chapter 15: mr jacuzzi

Summary:

clove uses iso’s shower :p

Sage entered the dining hall with her usual grace, arms loosely crossed as her gaze swept across the tables. She didn’t need to raise her voice—her presence was commanding enough that the room naturally quieted as she stepped forward.

“Alright, everyone,” she said, her tone gentle but firm, “dinner time is coming to an end. Showers are scheduled next, so finish up here and start making your way back. I’d like lights out to be smooth tonight.”

Groans rose from the crowd in waves, particularly from the Duelist end of the table.

Neon leaned back in her chair with an exaggerated sigh. “Ugh, the communal showers suck. And they’re supposed to be top-of-the-line. How can something so expensive still feel like a locker room in high school?”

Phoenix, across from her, smirked. “Probably ‘cause you keep using up all the hot water.”

“Maybe it’s ‘cause you take twenty minutes trying to style your hair like a K-pop star,” she snapped back.

“I look amazing, thanks.”

Clove leaned closer to Iso, whispering, “Should we place bets on who gets shampoo in their eyes first?”

Iso didn’t even look up from his plate. “My money’s on Gekko. He lets his critters sit on his shoulders while he showers.”

“I would do that if my butterflies were waterproof.”

Sage, now by the door, turned slightly to catch the end of that conversation, and—without breaking stride—said, “And no flying companions in the shower stalls. We’ve been over this.”

Laughter rippled across the room.

Sage gave a small smile. “Five minutes. Then I expect everyone to be on the move.”

Clove sat back, content. “You know,” they said, flicking a piece of bread crust across their plate, “as annoying as the schedule is… there’s something comforting about it.”

Iso glanced over. “You’re really settling in, huh?”

Clove grinned, nudging his arm with their elbow. “Maybe.”

The warmth between them lingered—just like the scent of baked bread and the low hum of camaraderie that floated above the table.

As the dining hall gradually emptied out—chairs scraping against tile, half-finished conversations fading into the corridors—Iso rose from his seat, brushing off his pants with a lazy sweep of his hand.

Clove caught the movement from the corner of their eye and turned toward him. “Hey,” they called, voice light but curious, “where are you going?”

Iso tilted his head slightly, like the answer should’ve been obvious. “Room. I’ve got my own shower.” He started toward the exit, a slight shrug in his posture.

Clove blinked. “Wait, wait—you have a personal bathroom?” They jogged a few steps to catch up, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Iso gave a low chuckle, hands in his pockets. “Perks of being one of the senior agents. Or maybe Brimstone just got tired of hearing me complain.”

Clove groaned dramatically. “Ugh. I’m officially jealous. Do you know how terrifying it is trying to shower next to Neon? I swear she zips between stalls.”

“I believe it.”

“I dropped my shampoo bottle once and she asked me if it was a grenade.”

He huffed a laugh, glancing sideways at them. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Clove bumped his shoulder lightly with theirs as they walked. “One day I’ll climb the ranks, and when I do? First demand—private shower. Second demand—snack shelf in every room.”

Iso cracked a grin. “You’ve got your priorities straight. I respect that.”

Clove smiled, trailing their fingers along the cool metal wall as they passed. “You’re really not gonna share that shower, huh?”

“I could, but then it wouldn’t be a personal shower anymore, would it?”

“Fair point,” they muttered, laughing under their breath as they turned toward the hallway leading to the communal showers. “Guess I’ll go brave the wild.”

Iso watched them walk away for a moment, the corner of his mouth still quirked upward. Then, without another word, he turned in the opposite direction—toward the quiet of his own room, and the kind of silence he was no longer sure he wanted as much as he used to.

Iso made it to his room, the scanner blinking green as the door slid open with a soft hiss. The familiar quiet welcomed him—dim lighting, the scent of clean linen, and the slight hum of the ventilation system. He stepped inside, letting the door begin to seal behind him.

But he paused.

His hand hovered near the panel.

The echo of Clove’s laughter still lingered in his ears. Their voice, full of joking jealousy. That bright-eyed glimmer when they talked about shampoo grenades and snack shelves.

He exhaled through his nose, turned on his heel, and cracked the door open just enough to peek back into the hall.

“Clove.”

Their name wasn’t loud, just enough to catch attention—and it did. Clove turned at the end of the corridor, towel draped over one arm, already bracing themself for neon-speed water pressure and judgmental body wash.

Iso leaned out slightly, one hand on the frame. “You really wanna use the communal showers?”

Clove blinked, lips parting. Then—

“Are you serious?” they asked, eyes lighting up like they’d just won the lottery.

Iso gave the tiniest shrug. “You’ve got five seconds before I change my mind.”

Clove didn’t even answer. They took off down the hall in a blur, towel flapping like a cape behind them. They practically launched themself through the doorway as the sensor registered their presence.

“I’m in!” Clove grinned, breathless, looking around the space like it was a five-star suite.

Iso raised an eyebrow. “You’re tracking dirt everywhere.”

“I’ll sweep later,” they said without missing a beat, already toeing off their shoes. “You just earned yourself the title of Most Valued Agent.”

Iso shut the door with a soft sigh and shook his head. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.”

But he couldn’t help the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he turned toward the bathroom, footsteps echoing softly behind him.

Iso reached for the panel beside the door and pressed it. The sleek bathroom lights flickered on one by one in a soft cascade—warm tones bouncing off polished black tiles, chrome finishes gleaming under the recessed ceiling lights. The room came alive in quiet luxury: dual sinks, towel racks heated to the touch, a rainfall shower the size of a small closet, and at the far end… a deep, inlaid jacuzzi tub.

Clove stepped in and immediately stopped in their tracks.

“Oh my god,” they whispered, eyes scanning the space like it was a museum exhibit. “You have your own spa? What kind of favoritism is this?”

Iso chuckled under his breath. “It’s just a bathroom.”

“Just a bathroom?” Clove echoed, spinning on their heel dramatically. “Iso, this is where rich CEOs confess their secrets. This is where dramatic breakups happen in bathrobes.”

They walked over to the jacuzzi and poked at the edge. “You’ve got jets in this thing. Jets, Iso.”

He shrugged casually, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “Comes with the Duelist suite. Brimstone said I needed a stress outlet.”

Clove shot him a skeptical look. “What, so now you de-stress by lounging in private pools while the rest of us battle over half-working soap dispensers?”

Iso just walked past them and reached for a cabinet, grabbing a towel. “You’re the one who ran in here like your life depended on it.”

He turned, and without missing a beat, shut the bathroom door behind them both with a soft click. “So, use the jets or don’t. Just don’t drop any shampoo bombs in the tub.”

Clove held up a hand solemnly. “No promises.”

Iso sat on the edge of his bed, the blue glow of his phone lighting up his face in the otherwise dim room. Notifications pinged quietly—mostly updates from the mission log, a few stray memes from Phoenix in the group chat, which he ignored. His thumb scrolled aimlessly.

The sound of running water echoed faintly through the walls from the bathroom. He could still hear Clove’s occasional exclamations, muffled by the door—something about the shampoo smelling like real oranges, and how it wasn’t fair he had three towel options.

Iso smirked faintly, leaning back against the wall. His mind wandered. He wasn’t sure when it became so natural, this rhythm between them. With anyone else, the silence would have felt heavy, awkward. But with Clove, it just… was.

A few more seconds passed before he called out, not quite shouting, but just loud enough to carry.

“You fall in or something?” he teased, a brow raised as he waited for a response.

The water turned off.

“Nope!” Clove called back. “Just enjoying your luxury, Mr. Jacuzzi.”

Iso chuckled under his breath, staring back down at his phone. No unread messages from Jett. Not that he was looking.

He tapped the screen off and tossed it aside, ruffling a hand through his hair as he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. For some reason, tonight felt different. Lighter. And he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or just another distraction waiting to bite him later.

The bathroom door cracked open with a hiss of steam, and Clove poked their head out, their hair slightly damp, face glowing from the warmth of the shower. A towel was draped around their neck like a scarf, and their clothes from earlier were bundled awkwardly in their arms.

“Hey,” they said, peering at Iso, “you wouldn’t happen to have a hoodie or something, right? Just until I get back to my room?”

Iso raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile pulling at his lips. “So you use my shower and now you’re trying to rob my closet too? Bold of you.”

Clove snorted. “I’m not robbing it. It’s borrowing. Totally different.”

“Sure it is,” Iso muttered, but he stood anyway, stretching a little as he padded over to his closet. He sifted through a few hanging jackets and grabbed a worn black hoodie—soft, slightly oversized, and, judging by the fading logo on the back, clearly a favorite.

He turned and tossed it over without a second thought. “Here. Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

Clove caught it mid-air and held it up. “Wow, generous and fashionable. This night keeps getting better.”

“Don’t push it,” Iso warned, but the grin stayed on his face as he sat back down, watching them tug the hoodie on.

It fell just past their hips, swallowing them slightly, and Iso had to look away for a second longer than necessary. Something twisted gently in his chest—familiar, but new.

Clove gave a pleased hum, hugging the sleeves like it was a prized possession. “You know… this might accidentally go missing.”

Iso laughed under his breath. “You walk out of here with it, and I’m changing the access code on my door.”

“Fair. But I’m still tempted.”

Clove padded softly across the room, hoodie sleeves hanging past their fingertips as they approached the bed where Iso sat, still scrolling idly through his phone. They didn’t ask—just plopped down beside him with a light bounce, pulling their legs up to sit cross-legged.

“You know,” Clove began, their tone teasing, “for someone who acts like they don’t want company, you sure make it hard to leave.”

Iso shot them a glance, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “I think that’s your problem, not mine.”

“Uh-huh.” Clove leaned back on their hands, watching him. “You like me here.”

Iso gave a low chuckle, locking his phone and tossing it aside. “What makes you so sure?”

Clove shrugged, turning slightly toward him. “Well… I used your fancy bathroom. I’m wearing your hoodie. I’m sitting on your bed. And you haven’t kicked me out yet.”

“Mm.” Iso pretended to consider this. “Maybe I’m just too tired to deal with your dramatics.”

Clove gasped, mock-offended. “My dramatics? I’ll have you know, I’m very low-maintenance.”

“Yeah?” He leaned in a little, eyebrow raised. “Then why are there butterflies all over my room right now?”

As if summoned by his words, a soft flutter passed between them. One of Clove’s butterflies—shimmering faintly violet and blue in the dim light—landed gently on Iso’s knee. Another perched itself on Clove’s shoulder, wings slowly pulsing.

Clove glanced down, their expression softening. “Guess they think you’re not so bad.”

Iso looked at the butterfly, then at Clove. “They’ve got weird taste.”

Clove turned their head just enough to meet his gaze, something quieter in their eyes now. “I don’t think so.”

For a moment, the room felt still—warm, soft, easy. The glow from the lights above dimmed behind the gentle wings fluttering between them, and the silence wasn’t awkward—it felt like understanding.

Iso looked away first, the edge of a smile playing on his lips. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

Clove smirked, nudging his shoulder. “Takes one to know one.”

Clove laughed under their breath at Iso’s last comment, the sound soft and close. The butterflies continued to flutter lazily around the room, one even daring to land in Iso’s hair. He didn’t bat it away—just let it stay, eyes fixed on Clove.

They were closer now, neither one entirely realizing how little space was left between them. The air shifted—less playful, more charged.

Clove’s voice dropped, barely above a whisper. “You’re not so scary, you know.”

Iso’s smirk faded into something gentler. “You don’t run from me like the others.”

“I don’t think I could… even if I tried.”

Their eyes met, the kind of gaze that lingered—like both were daring the other to make the first move. Iso’s hand twitched between them, not quite reaching, but close enough to feel the heat from Clove’s knee. Clove tilted their head, just slightly, expression unreadable but open.

Then—

Knock knock.

The sharp sound jolted the air between them.

“Iso?” came Sage’s voice from the hall, muffled but unmistakable. “Have you seen Clove anywhere? They didn’t return to their room.”

Clove groaned, forehead falling gently against Iso’s shoulder in defeat. “Unbelievable timing.”

Iso blinked, staring at the door like it had personally betrayed him. “Yeah, they’re—uh—here,” he called back, not moving an inch.

Sage’s voice was suspiciously neutral. “I see. Well… when they’re done with whatever they’re doing, tell them not to forget their training session tomorrow morning.”

“Will do,” Iso muttered, still frozen.

The footsteps receded down the hall, and Clove finally pulled away, their face flushed with a half-laugh. “We really can’t catch a break, huh?”

Iso looked at them, eyes trailing down to where one of the butterflies still rested on their chest. “We will,” he said simply. “Eventually.”

Clove nudged him again, a small smile playing on their lips. “Eventually better hurry up.”

Clove stood, adjusting the oversized hoodie draped around them, the scent of Iso still clinging faintly to the fabric. They padded over to the door and cracked it open, expecting the hallway to be empty—but Sage was still there, arms crossed and a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

Clove froze. “Oh. You’re still…”

Sage raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I usually give a full thirty seconds before walking away. You’d be surprised what people admit in the first ten.”

Clove winced. “Right.”

Her gaze softened, though her tone remained firm. “You know the rule—no entering each other’s rooms without clearance.”

Clove bowed their head slightly, ready to offer some kind of apology, but Sage held up a hand to cut them off.

“…But,” she added, “I’ll let it slide this time. First week grace period.”

Clove blinked, surprised. “Really?”

Sage’s smile widened faintly. “Let’s just say I’ve been around long enough to recognize when something’s harmless… and when it’s not.” She gave them a once-over, then added, “Get some rest. You’ve got training early.”

Clove nodded, and with one last glance toward Iso—still sitting quietly on the edge of his bed—they stepped out.

The door shut behind them with a soft hiss, leaving the room quiet once again.

Inside, Iso exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

—

Clove walked down the hallway, butterflies gently trailing behind like a silent procession, wings flickering like distant thoughts they hadn’t quite pieced together yet.

Clove barely had time to wave back at Sage before Neon’s voice shot across the common room like lightning.

“Wait a second—!” she blurted, practically tripping over the arm of the couch as she stood up. “Was that Sage leaving you alone in that hallway just now?”

Clove blinked, already regretting not running faster.

Raze was up just as quickly, bouncing beside her with a mischievous grin. “Nahhh, forget Sage. You. What were you doin’ in Iso’s room, huh?”

Clove opened their mouth to deflect, to come up with something—anything—but Neon cut in again, eyes widening as she pointed.

“And is that his hoodie?!” she gasped like she’d discovered a hidden easter egg in a video game. “You’re literally wearing it right now!”

“I—I mean—” Clove stammered, tugging the sleeves down on reflex, even though the oversized fit had already betrayed them.

Raze’s grin stretched wider. “Oooooh! You were in his room and you left with his hoodie? That’s serious territory, cariño.”

“I was just borrowing it,” Clove said, tone flat but cheeks very much warm. “It was cold.”

Neon elbowed Raze playfully. “Dude, I told you there was a vibe. I told you.”

“Yep. I owe you five creds,” Raze said with a dramatic sigh before turning back to Clove. “So? Anything we should know about?”

Clove looked between them, butterflies flickering faintly around their shoulders like embarrassed little sparks.

“No comment,” they said, spinning on their heel and walking away.

“That’s basically a yes!” Neon shouted after them.

“Text us if you kiss him!” Raze added.

Clove didn’t answer—just raised one hand in a peace sign without looking back, hoodie sleeves dangling past their fingertips.

Notes:

hello omg.

im so sorry for not following through with the multiple chapters ily all.

as an apology i’ll give more soft moments between iso and clove (and maybe a kiss?)

Chapter 16: trust

The room is colder than usual. Artificial lighting hums faintly overhead. The agents — Duelists, Controllers, Sentinels, and Initiators alike — sit around a large, circular tactical table. Brimstone stands at the head, arms crossed. Behind him, a screen flickers with red-highlighted intel logs and mission schematics.

“All hands on the table,” he says.

Chairs shuffle. No one protests. Everyone lifts their palms and places them flat on the table’s embedded scanner plates. A soft glow pulses around each hand — a failsafe measure, verifying identity and flagging for any anomalies in Radianite signature or psychological variance.

Clove, still wearing Iso’s hoodie beneath their regulation vest, watches the scanner flash green beneath their hand. They glance around.

Neon mutters, “Creepy,” but keeps her palm steady.

Sage’s expression is unreadable.

Brimstone begins.

“We’ve had three mirror ops in the last two months. You already know that. What you don’t know is this—” He taps a control pad, and the screen splits into five separate images: security footage, slow-motion combat clips, and audio logs.

Each shows something… off. A strange twitch. An agent taking a path they never trained for. A phrase they never used before.

“They’re learning,” Brimstone says. “And worse—they’re blending.”

A beat of silence.

Reyna leans forward. “So, we can’t trust our own shadows now?”

“You can trust who’s in this room,” Sage replies calmly, her eyes sweeping the circle. “That’s why we do these checks. But if they find a way past that…”

“They haven’t yet,” Brimstone cuts in. “But we have reason to believe they’re targeting individual agents for replication. It’s no longer just surface-level mimicry.”

On the screen, a distorted image zooms in — a butterfly, caught mid-flight in surveillance footage from the last mission.

Clove’s breath catches.

“This was recovered at the Sunset site.”

Gekko frowns. “Looks like Clove’s, but… it’s not, is it?”

Clove shakes their head. “No. Mine don’t flicker like that.”

Brimstone watches them closely. “We’re flagging this incident for deeper review. Until then, stay alert. If anything — anything — feels off during a mission, you pull back and report. Understood?”

Murmurs of agreement ripple around the room.

Iso’s fingers drum once on the table before stilling.

Clove’s heart pounds, a chill crawling up their spine despite the warmth of the hoodie.

There might be another version of them out there.

And that version might already know more than they do.

—

The metal doors to the strategy room hiss closed behind them, sealing in the tense energy. The hallway feels a bit quieter now, though the buzz of morning activity still lingers. Clove and Iso walk side by side, their steps in sync, boots tapping against the sleek flooring.

Iso runs a hand through his hair, a huff of breath escaping. “I actually read the brief this time.”

Clove snorts, casting a sidelong glance at him. “You? Reading a mission brief? Are you feeling okay? Should I call Sage back?”

He rolls his eyes. “Funny. I figured after last time, maybe I shouldn’t walk into a mission half-blind again.”

Clove grins, stuffing their hands into the front pocket of the oversized hoodie. “I’m impressed. What’s the damage?”

“Icebox,” Iso replies, grimacing slightly. “We’re deployed with Yoru, Phoenix, and Neon. Site recon, possible Mirror contact. We’re supposed to retrieve a flagged Radianite container that was buried after the collapse of the eastern wing.”

Clove’s grin fades slightly. “Icebox? Again?”

“Yeah. Lucky us.”

They walk a few more paces in silence before Clove murmurs, “At least it’s not a repeat of the Sunset op. No… haunted butterflies this time, hopefully.”

Iso glances at them, sensing the edge in their tone, but chooses to keep it light. “If one flutters too close, I’m shooting it.”

Clove smirks. “I’ll be sure to tell mine to keep their distance.”

“Good. No offense, but yours are freaky when they get emotional.”

That earns a soft laugh from Clove, and for a moment, the weight of the earlier briefing lifts.

“C’mon,” Iso says, bumping his shoulder lightly against theirs. “Let’s gear up. I’d rather not be late for a mission Phoenix is somehow already excited about.”

“God help us if he tries to race Neon on the ice,” Clove mutters.

“God help him,” Iso smirks.

They round the corner toward the locker wing, side by side — the only warmth between them and the frozen battlefield ahead.

The frigid air of Icebox bit at their faces the moment the dropship doors opened. Snow crunched under their boots as Phoenix and Neon immediately groaned in unison.

“Bro, it’s so cold,” Phoenix muttered, pulling his hood tighter over his head. “Why can’t we ever get assigned somewhere warm for once?”

Neon shoved her gloved hands into her pockets, visibly shivering. “I was built for sprinting, not freezing. My legs feel like ice sticks.”

Clove, a few paces behind them, was wrestling with the zipper of their tactical jacket. Their fingers, already stiff from the chill, fumbled with it as they muttered a soft curse under their breath.

Iso, silently watching, sighed and stepped closer. “Hold still.”

Clove looked up in mild surprise as Iso took the zipper gently between his fingers, tugging it up smoothly with practiced ease. His eyes flicked briefly to theirs, then back to the task.

“There,” he said simply.

Clove smiled sheepishly. “Thanks. Stupid thing jammed.”

Behind them, Neon elbowed Phoenix and gave him a smug little grin. “You see that? That’s how you zip up someone’s jacket without trying to flirt.”

Phoenix raised a brow. “Girl, I wasn’t even—”

“Don’t start,” Neon cut him off with a snicker, already jogging ahead toward the supply crates.

Iso exhaled a puff of mist into the air, shaking his head as Clove zipped the collar all the way up to their chin. “You warm enough now?” he asked.

Clove gave a small nod, butterflies flickering briefly behind them like sparks in the snow. “Yeah. Just enough not to freeze solid.”

“Good,” he replied, turning to follow the others, his tone casual—but the corner of his mouth curved just slightly.

—

The agents left the drop-off zone together, boots crunching against icy steel walkways as they moved toward Site B. Icebox was always quiet, but this kind of silence… felt unnatural.

“Too quiet,” Yoru muttered, narrowing his eyes beneath the shade of his hood. “Middle of the day, and it feels like we’re walking into a ghost town.”

Clove shifted uncomfortably, their breath visible in the cold. “I don’t like it either.”

Phoenix glanced behind them as they neared the back of the B site building. “Either we’re early, or someone’s watching.”

—

They entered the old, abandoned kitchen—the metal cabinets frosted with cold, counters long stripped of gear and supplies. Everyone took a seat on whatever wasn’t frozen solid. Phoenix leaned against the counter. Clove perched on an old crate. Iso stood, arms crossed, near the broken comm station.

Neon sat on the counter, swinging her legs. “Okay, not gonna lie, this whole mission feels kinda cursed already.”

“Oh?” Clove looked up at her, tone playful. “Because of the weather or your frozen limbs?”

Neon huffed out a laugh. “Neither. Remember during the scan-in before we dropped? When the screen glitched out for a second?”

Everyone glanced her way.

Neon’s smile faded a little. “There was a butterfly. On the scan screen. One of yours, Clove. But… not exactly.”

Clove’s breath caught just slightly.

“I saw it too,” she continued, eyes shifting toward them. “But it was different. Almost like it was distorted or… glitching.”

Yoru raised an eyebrow. “You sure you weren’t just seeing things?”

“I’m literally lightning. I know what I saw,” Neon shot back.

Clove’s eyes lowered for a moment. Their fingers fidgeted with the edge of their sleeve. Iso’s gaze flicked to them subtly.

“It didn’t match mine,” Clove said softly. “The one I saw after the last mission. In the alleyway. It… it wasn’t mine either.”

A brief silence fell over the group.

Phoenix frowned. “You’re sayin’ we’ve got some kind of copycat floating around?”

“Or something worse,” Yoru added flatly.

Clove didn’t respond — just stared across the room at the frosted window, where a thin film of snow pressed against the glass.

The silence thickened like the frost clinging to the windows, unease lingering in the corners of the abandoned kitchen. Clove was still staring ahead when Neon, ever the energy shift, cleared her throat and kicked her legs again against the counter.

“Okay, okay—vibes are getting a little too horror movie. Can we talk about something else? Like… I dunno, Brimstone’s retirement party?”

Iso snapped his head toward her so fast it was almost audible. “Neon. Shut up.”

She blinked. “What? What’d I do?”

Phoenix, already leaning against the counter, raised an eyebrow. “She hasn’t said anything wrong, man. What happened at that party anyway? ’Cause ever since, it’s been knives between you and Jett.”

Yoru glanced over, his interest piqued but his expression unreadable. Clove, sensing the air shift again, looked between the three.

Neon’s voice dropped. “I mean… there was a lot of weird energy. Everyone was dressed up, music was good—until you disappeared, Iso. And she was drinking something stupidly strong.”

“I said drop it,” Iso sighed, his jaw tight.

Phoenix, ever the instigator, gave a dry laugh. “Yeah, which only makes it sound worse. Like… did someone get decked? Did someone almost kiss someone else’s ex?”

Iso stared at him, deadpan. “You know, for someone who controls fire, you really enjoy playing with it.”

Phoenix held up his hands, grinning. “Hey, I’m just saying—if there’s a story, I’d like to know it before it becomes agency legend.”

Neon snorted and looked to Clove. “I bet you know what happened.”

Clove blinked, mouth parting—only for Iso to cut in fast.

“They don’t.”

Another silence. He straightened from where he was leaning and moved toward the window, letting the cold leak into his skin and cool his temper. “You want answers, wait for Brimstone to write a memoir.”

Yoru scoffed. “He’s not the one we’re interested in.”

“I said—drop it,” Iso said again, quieter this time.

Clove watched him for a long moment, eyes narrowing just slightly in thought. Neon chewed her lip. Phoenix gave a shrug and backed off, the moment diffused only slightly.

And just like that, the mission’s silence returned… but this time, it wasn’t just the snow outside that felt cold.

Chapter 17: you

Notes:

hello everyone.

i know it’s been a really long time since I last updated you all with a chapter so I’ll give a brief explanation—I was burnt out with other projects and I needed time to recover so that I could deliver peak writing instead of slop. This is a hobby I plan to keep going and I apologize for the undisclosed delay in getting chapters out. I will be trying to update you all regularly.

anyway—enjoy this chapter.

love ya always !!
-R ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Neon swung her legs off the counter, lips curled into a knowing smirk as her gaze flicked toward Iso. “Y’know… I did hear Jett mention something about a kiss at Brimstone’s party.”

The air in the abandoned kitchen grew colder.

Iso didn’t even blink. “Neon. Shut up.”

His voice cut through the stillness, low and cold. Clove paused mid-fidget with the cuffs of their gloves, their head turning slightly at the sudden tension.

“What?” Neon blinked, feigning innocence. “I didn’t even finish what I was saying.”

Phoenix leaned forward, narrowing his eyes slightly. “Why’re you getting so worked up, man?”

Iso’s jaw flexed. “Because it’s pointless gossip.”

Phoenix straightened up slowly. “Right. Except you’re acting real shady for someone who’s not involved.” He crossed his arms. “Especially since Jett’s my girlfriend.”

That hit harder than the chill crawling in from the broken vents.

Clove’s eyes flicked between the two men, trying to read the invisible threads between them. Butterflies hovered silently above their shoulder.

Neon glanced at Clove, then back at Iso. “Yeah, so if you’re not involved… why does it bug you so much?”

Iso didn’t answer right away—just looked past them all, jaw tight, a muscle twitching beneath his cheekbone.

Yoru, who’d been standing with his arms crossed against the wall, finally spoke. “This mission’s not gonna run itself.”

“Agreed,” Clove said quietly, brushing past the tension with a faint smile, though the tightness in their chest was harder to ignore.

The four agents grabbed their gear again, but the silence that followed wasn’t the comfortable kind. It was heavy, watching, waiting.

And somewhere in that silence, Clove found themselves wondering—

Why did it bother Iso so much?

And why did it matter so much to them?

The silence held until they reached the service hallway leading toward Site B.

Phoenix flicked his fingers, fire curling along his knuckles to warm them. “Man, this place gives me the creeps.”

Yoru said nothing, scouting ahead with his signature sharp-eyed wariness.

Neon walked a little slower than usual, sticking closer to Clove. “So… anyone else feel like something’s off?” she murmured.

Clove nodded, their fingers twitching at their side. “It’s too quiet. No patrols, no resistance—this area’s supposed to be fortified.”

Iso scanned the long corridor, gun up. “Eyes open. We’re not alone.”

Just then, static crackled in their comms—then dropped out completely.

“Comms down,” Yoru muttered. “Figures.”

Phoenix swore under his breath. “Right when things get sketchy.”

They turned a corner, entering a loading bay with broken crates and shattered radianite canisters scattered across the floor. One of the boxes hissed faintly, glowing a sickly green.

“Radiation leak,” Iso noted, pointing toward it. “Move wide.”

As they maneuvered around it, Clove paused—eyes flicking to the upper catwalks. For a moment, they thought they saw something move. A shadow—too fast, too smooth.

Then a loud metallic clatter rang out behind them.

Everyone turned.

A canister had rolled out from the adjacent hall.

Yoru immediately pulled out a flash. “We’re being baited.”

“Split,” Iso said. “Yoru and Phoenix left. Clove—on me.”

No time to argue. No time to ask questions.

Just time to move.

As they sprinted into cover, gunfire rang out—short bursts from a silenced weapon.

“Return fire!” Phoenix shouted, ducking behind a crate as something ricocheted past his shoulder.

From their new position, Clove pulled a smoke charge and launched it ahead, cutting off visibility. Butterflies shimmered in the haze, sensing the growing panic in Clove’s chest.

Then came the sound of boots—fast and light—approaching through the smoke.

“Contact!” Iso yelled, raising his rifle.

A figure burst through the smoke—gun raised—face unfamiliar but the silhouette unsettlingly familiar.

Clove’s stomach twisted.

The figure stopped just short of shooting.

They stared at Clove.

And Clove stared back.

“…Is that—” Iso started.

“No,” Clove whispered, their voice small.

It looked just like them.

The other Clove didn’t speak.

Not at first.

Their head tilted—just slightly—and then their hand snapped forward, tossing a dark sphere to the ground between them.

Smoke burst out, thick and quick, clouding everything in seconds. Iso shouted something—Clove didn’t catch what—before the haze swallowed him whole.

“Wait—!” Clove staggered forward, hand outstretched, but their foot slipped on the ice just beneath the powdery snow.

Their knees hit the ground hard. Cold bit through their suit.

They gasped, fumbling for balance, when—

Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate.

Then the smoke parted.

And standing there, illuminated by the harsh white light overhead, was… themself. The same armor. Same hair. Same butterflies orbiting like a halo—except these ones were pitch black, like ash and shadow.

Mirror Clove smiled.

“I wondered when we’d finally meet.”

Chapter 18: snow

Clove’s heart pounded as they pushed up onto their elbows, backing slightly into the snow. “What—what are you?”

Mirror Clove tilted their head again, this time with a mocking glint in their eye. “I’m what’s left when you stop pretending you’re not scared. I’m what happens when you let the world get to you.”

“Funny,” Clove muttered, trying to stand, “I don’t remember being a complete jackass.”

The smile on Mirror Clove’s face sharpened.

“But you remember the nightmares, don’t you? The ones where you were the reason everything went wrong?” They leaned down, crouching beside Clove in the snow, voice low and cutting. “You’re not the hero here, Clove. You’re the fuse. You always have been.”

Clove’s jaw clenched. The real butterflies around them flickered with agitation, spiraling faster.

“Get away from me.”

But Mirror Clove only laughed—softly, coldly. “You can’t run from yourself.”

Then the smoke behind them shifted—gunfire.

A shout.

“I’m coming!” Iso’s voice.

Mirror Clove stood tall, turning toward the sound. “See you soon.”

Another cloud of smoke dropped.

By the time Iso broke through it—gun raised, chest heaving—there was no one else there.

Only Clove, still catching their breath in the snow, face pale and shaken. The wind howled softly through the corridor. And the butterflies were still.

—

Clove’s boots crunched through the snow, their shoulder brushing Iso’s as the two moved side by side down the corridor. The smoke had mostly cleared, but something about the silence still felt wrong—like a held breath.

“You okay?” Iso asked without looking at them.

Clove gave a short nod. “Later. Let’s just find the others.”

They rounded the corner, slipping back into the main route toward B site. A flickering overhead light buzzed as they passed under it, the faint whir of the nearby processing units humming in the background.

Voices drifted into earshot.

“You said she said something,” Phoenix insisted, pacing a few feet behind Neon, who had her arms crossed tightly as she leaned against a crate.

“She did,” Neon muttered, not looking at him. “But maybe now isn’t the time, yeah? We’ve got mirror freaks showing up, remember?”

Phoenix didn’t back down. “We’ve been dancing around this for weeks. If it’s about me, I’d rather know—”

Yoru’s voice cut clean through the air. “Both of you, shut up.”

He was crouched near a half-open crate, fingers brushing through shattered vials of faintly glowing Radianite dust. His eyes flicked up toward Clove and Iso as they approached.

“’Bout time,” he said. “You find anything?”

Clove hesitated, eyes lingering on a butterfly that had perched itself on the ridge of a broken pipe. This one—thankfully—was their own. “Not exactly. There’s… something going on.”

Iso glanced sideways at them but didn’t say more. Not yet.

“Great,” Phoenix huffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Glad we all agree this place is cursed.”

Neon glanced between them all, jaw tight. “We need to finish the sweep and get the hell out. Whatever’s happening—it’s not just a breach in security anymore. This feels set up.”

Yoru stood, brushing his hands clean. “Then let’s move. Stay sharp. No more wandering off.”

They all exchanged looks.

Clove’s hand drifted to the holster at their side. Iso loaded a fresh mag into his pistol. And with a quiet nod, the team pushed forward, deeper into the Icebox.

The real cold wasn’t from the snow anymore.

Chapter 19: bang

The group moved with purpose now, boots leaving shallow prints in the half-frozen floor as they crossed into the main site. Pale light filtered in through frosted-over skylights, casting strange, shifting shadows over the stacks of equipment and crates.

“Clear left,” Yoru muttered, sweeping his sidearm across the edge of the room.

Iso moved toward the glowing core chamber, where chunks of exposed Radianite pulsed faintly. “It hasn’t been siphoned yet,” he said, running a handheld scanner along the surface. “But something’s… off. This isn’t the standard resonance.”

“Same here,” Yoru added, crouching near a fractured console. “Whoever was here knew exactly what to target.”

Phoenix lingered by the door, watching their backs. “We’ve got time, but not much. Feels like we’re standing in a trap waiting to spring.”

As they fanned out to cover the site, Neon found herself shoulder-to-shoulder with Clove near a crate of sealed canisters. She leaned closer, a sly smile tugging her lips. “So… you never told me about the hoodie.”

Clove rolled their eyes with a soft exhale, the smile on their face barely restrained. “It was cold. Iso offered.”

“Right, right,” Neon grinned. “Totally normal. Everyone offers up their closet when it’s chilly.”

Clove bumped her lightly with their elbow, then leaned in, dropping their voice just above a whisper. “We would’ve kissed. But Sage knocked.”

Neon covered her mouth to muffle a cackle, shoulders shaking. “No way.”

“I’m serious.” Clove grinned, cheeks warming under the frostbitten air. “Right there on his bed. I mean, we were already halfway—”

“I knew it!” Neon whispered, eyes sparkling. “That’s why you’ve been walking around with that smug look lately. Okay, okay—mission first, gossip later.”

Clove’s eyes flicked back to Iso for a moment, who was still focused on the readings. They bit their lower lip, the memory fresh like heat in the chest.

For a second, everything felt normal again—until the hum of the Radianite core shifted in pitch. Yoru stiffened, his hand slowly reaching for his earpiece.

“…Something’s triggering a drain cycle,” he muttered. “But there’s no one near the console.”

Iso looked up, his expression hardening. “Then someone already started it remotely.”

The humor faded instantly.

Neon’s smile dropped. “You feel that?”

Clove did. A low, vibrating tension in the air, like a storm winding up just beneath the surface.

They were no longer alone.

A chill swept through the chamber—not from the cold, but something else entirely.

Clove felt it first, a tightening in their gut. Then they saw it.

A butterfly.

Not theirs.

It fluttered through the fractured skylight, trailing faint, glitch-like particles in its wake. Unlike the delicate, luminous ones that followed Clove, this one shimmered in jagged, unnatural colors—flickering red, deep purple, static-white. It circled once above them before drifting toward the hallway leading to A site.

“What the hell…” Clove whispered.

Phoenix turned, his expression sharp. “Wait—do you hear that?”

A faint sound. Subtle at first, almost like a heartbeat.

Tick-tick. Tick-tick.

Phoenix’s eyes widened. “That’s the spike. It’s ticking. A Site. Now!”

Everyone moved at once, boots slamming against metal and snow as they sprinted down the corridor. The world blurred past them—walls, crates, pipes—and then the lights flickered violently as they emerged into the A site atrium.

Mirror Clove and Mirror Raze stood near the spike, which was now locked into the Radianite core. The faint green glow of the site’s ecosystem was draining, warping into unstable reds and grays. Tubes overhead sparked. The hum of the machines turned into an angry screech.

Mirror Clove’s eyes locked with theirs.

Real Clove froze in place, breath catching in their throat.

It was like looking into a warped reflection—familiar, but hollow. The Mirror Clove tilted their head, and the same jagged butterfly landed on their shoulder.

“Shut it down!” Iso yelled, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Retrieve the spike—now!”

Yoru didn’t wait for backup. He vanished in a blink, teleporting across the platform, blade already drawn.

The mirror figures reacted—Raze spun around, reaching for a detonator.

Clove raised their weapon, hands trembling.

This time, it was personal.

The moment felt suspended in time.

One breath in. One butterfly, its wings glimmering like oil-slicked glass, perched itself gently on Clove’s shoulder.

It wasn’t theirs.

Before they could react—

Bang.

Chapter 20: spike

The butterfly exploded in a sudden burst of corrosive energy, like glass and static colliding. Clove was thrown back off their feet, crashing hard into the snowy walkway just outside A site.

“Clove!” Iso shouted, lunging forward—but it was already too late.

A thick wall of smoke hissed across the site. Mirror Clove stood tall in the haze, head tilted as if in mock sympathy before flicking another smoke canister to the ground. Everything vanished into thick grey.

“They’re covering their escape!” Phoenix called, arm raised to shield his eyes as Mirror Raze fired a burst in their direction.

From the smoke emerged three more silhouettes—their outlines glitchy, uncanny. Mirror Neon. Mirror Phoenix. Mirror Yoru.

“Aw, hell no,” Phoenix growled. “They got all of us?”

Mirror Neon zipped past, a flash of light streaking between crates as her electricity crackled. Yoru drew his kunai, already flanking the incoming threat. The site erupted in full-blown chaos:

4v4.

Sparks danced across metal. Gunfire crackled like thunder.

Sage ducked behind cover, her hands already reaching toward Clove’s crumpled body, trying to close the distance. “Hold on—hold on—”

Clove winced, blinking through the pain. Their shoulder burned, skin seared and raw from the butterfly’s blast. “I—I’m fine,” they lied, trying to sit up. They weren’t fine.

Neon skidded beside them, panting. “We’ve got to shut that spike down—now!”

Behind them, the spike continued to tick, pulsing with energy. The radianite core was glowing violently now, veins of energy shooting into the ecosystem’s structure. If it detonated, the entire substation would collapse into a corrupted zone.

Iso ducked a blast from Mirror Phoenix, gritting his teeth. “Cover me—I’m going for the spike!”

“I got you!” Phoenix shouted, laying down fire to keep their counterparts distracted.

Clove’s ears rang. Snow stuck to their jacket. Vision blurry.

But even through it all, they caught it—

A glimpse of Mirror Clove, watching them from the exit, mask covering their mouth. They raised a hand—half wave, half warning—before disappearing into the shadows.

The ringing in Clove’s ears dulled everything else. Muffled shouting, the thud of footsteps, gunfire snapping in bursts around them—none of it made sense.

They blinked.

Sage was above them, lips moving, her hands glowing with green light—healing, surely—but when Clove blinked again, she was gone.

No one was there.

Their breath hitched. They looked down, and the reality slammed into them like a freight train.

A gaping, seared wound tore across their side where the butterfly had burst. Their jacket was scorched through, skin blistered and red beneath the fabric. Blood mixed with the snow around them.

Not a hallucination. Not a dream.

They really hit me…

“—Clove! Clove, stay with me!”

Iso’s voice finally cut through the haze. He wasn’t far—scrambling toward the spike. Its ticking now rapid, near the final second. Everyone else was locked in combat just meters away.

Clove tried to move, to warn him, but only a choked sound escaped their lips.

At the core of the site, the spike let out a high-pitched whine.

3…2…

“Come on—come on,” Iso hissed, fingers flying over the interface.

1—

The spike powered down with a sharp whirr, its casing folding inward like a machine breathing its last. Silence hit the site like a hammer.

Across the room, Mirror Raze was the last one standing, a crazed grin twisting her features as she pulled a small cylinder from her belt.

A grenade.

It hissed violently.

“NO—”

Before anyone could react, Iso charged her, tackling her arm to the ground. The grenade hit the icy floor and rolled once—

A sharp hiss—

Then—

CRUNCH.

Iso’s boot slammed down on it, crushing the shell just before ignition. Sparks fizzled out beneath the sole, harmless. Mirror Raze’s eyes widened just before Yoru knocked her out cold.

All of them—Mirror Neon, Mirror Phoenix, Mirror Yoru, Mirror Raze—

Subdued.

Still breathing, but unconscious.

Clove finally gasped, their vision darkening at the edges. Iso was at their side in seconds, snow clinging to his sleeves, panic barely veiled in his eyes.

“Hey—hey, you’re good, we’re good. I got the spike. Just—don’t fall asleep, alright?”

Clove tried to laugh, but it came out more like a cough. “…Crushed it. Real dramatic…”

“You’re one to talk,” Iso muttered, hand pressing firmly against their wound to slow the bleeding. “We’ll get you out of here.”

They didn’t ask how he was going to carry them. Or how far they were from evac. They just let the snow fall, eyes fluttering as Iso kept speaking—louder now, like if he stopped, they might slip away for good.

Chapter 21: enough

The HQ lights always felt too clean after missions—too sterile. Iso sat slouched on one of the common room couches, hoodie half-zipped and thumb lazily scrolling through his phone, though he wasn’t really reading anything. Neon lounged beside him, one leg slung over the armrest, chewing on an energy bar like it owed her money. Phoenix, across from them, was spinning a coin on the glass table.

Clove wasn’t here.

They were still in medbay, under Sage’s care.

Of course they were. Clove had been barely conscious when they’d been lifted off the field. Iso’s hands still smelled faintly of iron. His jaw flexed at the memory.

“Hey,” Phoenix suddenly said, tossing the coin up and catching it. “You think they’re gonna cancel the party now? After all that?”

Neon made a face. “They better not. I already bought something fancy. Plus, I heard Brimstone’s getting a limited-edition cigar case from Killjoy.”

“Party’s still on,” Phoenix added. “Just postponed.”

Iso didn’t look up from his screen. “It’s not really the time.”

Phoenix’s brow raised. “Just sayin’. A little celebration might not be the worst idea. Especially with the way everyone’s been at each other’s throats.”

There was an edge in his tone. Neon caught it too—her chewing slowed.

Iso’s eyes finally lifted, gaze sharp. “You’ve been dying to bring this up again, huh?”

Phoenix leaned forward, palms flat against his knees. “Don’t act like you didn’t hear her. Neon said she heard Jett talking about a kiss. And now suddenly, you’re throwing punches and dodging questions. You’re not exactly subtle, bro.”

Iso exhaled through his nose, shoulders tense. “Jett is your girlfriend. You should be asking her.”

“And yet you’re the one always hovering around her or, I don’t know, shoving her out of your room?” Phoenix snapped.

Neon slowly slid off the armrest, sensing the shift. “Okay, hey, maybe we don’t do this here—”

“No, no,” Phoenix interrupted, voice louder now. “I’ve been patient. I let it go in front of Sage, during debriefs—but you keep dodging and suddenly you’re attached at the hip to Clove and acting like Jett never existed.”

“I never asked for Jett to act like that,” Iso hissed, finally putting his phone down. “And you weren’t there when she crossed the line.”

Phoenix stood. “So what, now she’s the villain and Clove’s your redemption arc?”

Neon quickly stepped between them, arms out. “Okay! Enough. Seriously. This place barely holds itself together as is and now you two wanna throw down in the common room like it’s a bar brawl?”

The silence after that was heavy.

Iso’s chest rose and fell steadily, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

Phoenix shook his head, biting down whatever else he had to say before storming out. The common room doors hissed as they shut behind him.

Neon sighed and turned to Iso. “You alright?”

“No.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “But I will be.”

His eyes flicked toward the hallway leading to medbay. He still hadn’t seen Clove since they got back.

He stood up, fists tucked into his hoodie pockets. “I’m gonna go check on them.”

Neon gave a small nod, quiet now. “Let Sage know I said thanks. For patching them up.”

“I will.”

Iso didn’t say anything more as he stepped out of the common room, the echo of his footsteps soft against HQ’s polished floors.

Chapter 22: status

Notes:

uhhh chapter is short cause it was too much to be added to another. is this laziness? maybe..

The hallway outside medbay was dimmer than usual, the soft hum of the facility’s lights a quiet contrast to the buzz still ringing in Iso’s ears. He stood in front of the door, hand flexing at his side like he wasn’t sure whether to knock or reach for the handle. The heavy steel door slid open before he made a decision.

Sage stepped out, removing her gloves with a slow, deliberate tug. The dark circles under her eyes said enough about the past few hours.

She froze slightly upon seeing him.

“Iso,” she greeted carefully, voice neutral.

He straightened. “Can I see them?”

Sage didn’t answer immediately. She looked back into the room behind her, then back to him. Something unreadable passed through her expression — a flicker of discomfort, maybe even guilt. She exhaled softly and pulled the door closed behind her with a faint hiss.

“No,” she said at last, her tone firm. “Not right now.”

Iso’s brows furrowed. “Why not?”

“They need time. Their vitals are stabilizing, but they’re still recovering from the effects of that… thing. Whatever hit them, it wasn’t just physical. You rushing in won’t help.”

“I’m not trying to hurt them,” he muttered, jaw tight.

“I know,” Sage said gently, brushing her gloved fingers over the tablet clipped to her waist. “But you’d see them like this and want to help, and there’s nothing you can do right now. Let them rest. Please.”

He didn’t speak.

Instead, he stared past her, at the narrow window in the door where the lights inside glowed faintly sterile blue. He couldn’t see anything through the frosted glass.

She paused before adding, “They’ll want to see you when they wake. But when they do, it has to be on their terms.”

Iso’s fists curled in his hoodie pockets.

“What happened to them,” he asked quietly, “is it bad?”

Sage didn’t reply. Not directly.

Instead, she reached behind her and pressed the lock button on the door. The panel beeped once. The soft, mechanical click sounded louder than it should’ve.

Her eyes met his. “Go get some rest.”

And with that, she turned and walked down the hall, her white coat catching the air behind her.

Iso remained where he stood, eyes fixed on the locked medbay door, a storm brewing behind them.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of VALORANT