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This was the first time Chamber got seriously hurt on a mission.
Usually he was analytical, cold and collected — always prepared for anything thrown his way. But on a battlefield you can only be sure of your own actions. The others you have no control over.
When Chamber noticed that Yoru was in danger, he didn’t hesitate. Rendezvous took him right next to the riftwalker as Chamber shot down the enemy that was about to flank him from the side. Neither of them saw the third person before it was too late.
Realization hit Vincent in that moment as fast and painful as the bullets that sunk themselves into the soft flesh of his shoulder. Something must have been really wrong for him to act in such a stupid way. To put himself in danger without giving it a second thought.
It’s funny how the perception of time changes, when you're running out of it.
Vincent was no stranger to this peculiar feeling. Time often slowed down, just before he pulled the trigger, giving him a chance to weigh the true consequences of his actions. Every time he pulled the trigger. Every time he ended a life. His aim was impeccable and the moment a bullet left its barrel — a verdict was made. It has happened so many times that he grew familiar with this phenomenon. But as the person behind the scope, he never experienced it from the other side.
Now, when Vincent found himself on the contrary, he realized that this feeling could not be more different from the other… and that he was a fool to think otherwise. When he was usually surrounded by deafening silence, Vincent found himself in the middle of chaos. Memories, thoughts and feelings flooded his mind all at once, while seconds seemed to stretch into eternity.
People are willing to do unspeakable things, if they believe they are done for the right cause. But how can you continue living, when the stain from your past colors everything you touch?
Chamber faces that question every day.
Vincent did what he believed he had to, even if it involved killing hundreds of scientists and researchers. People who have never spilled blood, people who had family and friends waiting for them at the end of their shift, people who spent their lives learning how to change the world for the better… people who were nothing like him. Nothing like the man who decided it was in his rights to play god. At least by doing it himself, he knew it would get done correctly.
It’s not like destroying the facility was his first option. If Vincent could have stopped the project any other way, he would have. Unfortunately time was not on his side and sometimes sacrifices must be made.
But a dog that weeps when it kills is no better than the dog that doesn't. His guilt did not affect the violence. Blood was spilled and people died, their unfinished stories leaving behind an endless path of unanswered questions.
His goal might have been righteous, but it was never his decision to make.
Hundreds of thoughts flooded his mind, before Chamber hit his back against the concrete ground. The fall itself felt like it lasted a lifetime. His mind must have run a million miles an hour as the rest of the world slowed down around him. The impact brought him back to reality, if only for a moment. Chamber felt the rough surface dig into his back before heat spread from the point where a bullet hit him… Or was it multiple? He wasn’t really sure.
´Huh, how unusual of him to be uncertain,´ he thought.
And when he laid there and cursed under his breath as blood stained his tailored suit, he wasn’t cursing because of the pain. No. He cursed because of something far worse. Something that wouldn’t heal.
Things that happened after that were a blur.
As adrenaline flooded his veins to deal with the intense pain, Chamber found himself in a thick cognitive fog. He tried to get up — knowing that staying on the ground would mean certain death. But piercing agony shot through his nerves like electricity, tearing through every defence system his body had put in place.
That's when a strong hand pushed him back down. Chamber didn’t fight it. He couldn’t really make out what the voice said to him, but the presence alone made him relax. He recognised it instantly.
Hot pain spread when additional pressure was put against his bleeding wound. Yet it did not startle him. In its own way this pain was a comfort, because it confirmed to him that at least he wasn’t alone. When he looked down, Chamber saw red seep through the fingers that held onto him so tightly. Crimson stained those familiar blue gloves faster than it could clot up. Wherever that bullet hit, it must have damaged something important. By the amount of blood, it could have been the subclavian artery, which explained why he was hemorrhaging so fast.
Soon the pain subsided, and all he could feel was warm liquid dripping down his skin, gluing slick fabric to his skin. The heartbeat in his ears grew faster and louder, turning into thungering as his heart tried its best to keep up with the blood loss. Ironically pushing out more blood with every beat.
His skin covered with cold sweat as exhaustion settled. Maybe it was the blood loss induced haze, but Chamber couldn’t find it in himself to panic as many would have in his situation. His brown eyes turned to finally face Yoru, who looked way more worried. A furrow had formed above his brows as the riftwalkers dark eyes darted around looking for an answer.
Chamber brought his free hand to lay on top of Yoru's, which made the riftwalker stop and meet his gaze.
He wanted to thank Yoru. Express how grateful he was that he didn’t have to be alone at this very moment, but all words got caught in his throat. Chamber couldn’t find his voice. So he forced himself to smile as he held onto Yoru just a little bit tighter.
He was never meant to fall for anyone. His will was stronger than that. Yet when he noticed that feelings had formed, it was already too late. Light blinded him long before he felt the heat and once he regained his vision, Chamber was already surrounded by flames.
Even as he was bleeding out, Chamber found himself at peace. He found a moment of serenity as he got to spend time so close to the person he found himself getting attached to. Even if his blood stained their surroundings, ran down his skin and soaked the ground beneath — a hand held onto him. Kept him close. Chamber could lose himself in a moment like this.
The corners of his vision began to blur. A hand cupped his cheek, when his head was about to fall.
A gesture that was supposed to help keep him grounded, felt oddly intimate to Chamber.
Though this intimacy was particular. It was not the type two lovers shared, but something that reached way deeper. Something that was so unmistakably human in its nature. Something that formed between two people who have seen and accepted each other, despite their differences. A silent bond that makes you stay even if you don’t love everything about the other person.
Chamber knows the touch of skin very well. He has spent many nights with countless partners, who have never meant anything to him — nor had he to them. Their warmth was always empty, just an imitation of the real thing.
This moment felt way more intimate than anything he had experienced in years. It felt real, it felt genuine. The way Yoru held onto him was way more tender than anybody has touched him in a very long time. And as his brown eyes met Yoru's own, it felt as if every single barrier that Vincent has built over the years shattered in an instant.
With Yoru, everything softened — Vincent's fears, his thoughts and the way he held his own heart.
The way Yoru held onto him and the way his eyes filled with worry were the last things Vincent remembered, before darkness engulfed him.
He found himself surrounded by this darkness. There was nothing to worry about, nothing to regret. It was peaceful, warm, and safe. It held onto him so tightly, wrapping its strong arms around him and refusing to let go… without any worry tugging on his heart, Vincent wanted to surrender to it… but somewhere beyond, a muffled voice called out to him. Called out his name.
And while he hesitated — held out for that voice — a flash of turquoise dragged him out of that darkness.
Right as Vincent was about to cross that thin line that separated life from death, Sage made a decision for him.
The expansive floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view that captured the sprawling cityscape of Paris in all its glory. Even in the later hours, those streets were full of people. From up here, Chamber could appreciate the familiar scenery without the constant noise that usually accompanied living in a busy capital like this. Like everything else in his luxurious over the top penthouse apartment — these windows were built to be elegant and practical. They insulated well enough to keep warmth in on colder nights and block out all unwanted noise. Here, he was close enough to adore the city without letting its nature affect him.
However, in moments like these Chamber found himself missing that noise. That constant sound of traffic, occasional sirens and screech of metal wheels. When his mind was clouded by thoughts, this comforting silence quickly turned into something suffocating. Something that even music couldn’t soothe, since it always lingered in the background.
After what happened on yesterday's mission, Chamber was given a day off to defuse and debrief. Instead of staying at headquarters, he decided to go home. A decision that he quickly came to regret. Instead of staying with the others, he was eager to withdraw into isolation like a wounded animal.
He was used to being this untouchable, charming marksman who acted larger than life. He was used to being Chamber. When the mask you wear becomes essential and you hide behind it long enough, the line between who you are and who you need to be begins to blur.
What happened yesterday… all he had to face. Those events ripped that mask away from him… and Vincent was scared by it. He was utterly terrified that the others would see it too.
Death itself didn’t scare him as much as the turmoil of emotions that guided his actions that day. Vincent never knew it had gotten this bad. All of the regret and guilt that he repressed had turned into a maelstrom that hid just below the surface. And worst of all — it got overshadowed by these intense feelings he had for Yoru. When have they appeared? What even were they? These feelings were so complicated and messy, they twisted around him like wines whose sharp thorns dug deep into his skin, deep enough to bury themselves into his heart. It was something that went way beyond just physical attraction. Vincent was ready to throw everything away just to keep the riftwalker safe.
It has been such a long time since he last acted out of instinct that it scared him. Turned his stomach into lead. He thought that part of him died the same moment the explosion tore through Everett-Linde… only to realize that it was never gone… just dormant, somewhere deep within himself.
He hated how everything felt so heavy and real and raw now.
Chamber and Deadeye made a list of rules to follow, before either of them officially joined Valorant. It had to be followed exactly — no exceptions. He knew that list by heart and it contained an agreement to stay away from any personal relationships. There was a good reason for it too. To make the hardest decisions, you had to be guided by logic, not emotions… feelings and bonds complicate things. Made you hesitate when it mattered most.
For people like Chamber, love is anarchy; love is chaos. It has tendons and guts and consequences… it clouds your decision making. And when there was so much on the line, all distraction turned lethal. Not just for Chamber, but for everything he was working toward. He proved that just yesterday… when he let emotions guide him.
That’s exactly why they agreed to keep things casual — flings and one-night stands. Nobody from protocol, or work or anything where the other person could be seen on a daily basis. That's how Chamber lived for many years. People stayed the night and left the next day before the sun rose too high—preferably earlier. He knew their faces and names, the scent of their skin against his own, yet never their stories or experiences. It soothed his hunger, but not his appetite.
Chamber stood in front of those tall windows for a long while now. Eventually, his gaze landed on the reflection of a man staring back at him. He could see the exhaustion that adored those sharp features. Vincent didn’t have it in him to hide that today.
This lingering silence was finally broken by the sound of the front doors opening. Chamber didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The familiar clack of dress shoes on marble gave him away long before the man opened his mouth.
After hearing what happened, Deadeye demanded to come see him — to assess the situation. Now, his mirror from omega was standing next to the marksman, shoulder to shoulder. Chamber could sense the tension that filled the room. The air had turned stale.
”You messed up,” Deadeye began. No greetings, no pleasantries. His jaw was tight and his voice carried a sense of disappointment as if talking to a child who should have known better. ”What happened? We never falter.” He gripped Chambers shoulder a bit too tightly when turning the marksman to face himself, thumb sinking into the sore flesh.
Chamber inhaled through gritted teeth as pain shot through his nerves, but didn’t dare to pull away. Sage managed to heal most of the damage earlier, but the wound lingered while different layers of the skin tried to knit themselves together. Deadeye must have known this because his thumb pressed even deeper, making sure the other man would not mistake his cruelty as accidental.
Deadeye was upset, but there was no hint of worry underneath that anger. As if by getting shot, Chamber damaged something that belonged to his omega counterpart. Though technically, he did. His ability to perform played a crucial part in their shared plan and being hurt certainly affected that.
”What the hell happened?” he repeated, voice sharp and demanding, leaving no room for debate.
”The mission could have been compromised, I had to step in,” Chamber gave an elusive answer, not wanting to admit the truth behind his actions. He kept his voice flat and appearance calm. The marksman would not falter under his mirror's presence.
”No. We don’t step in,” Deadeye hissed, ”We never step in the line of fire.” He reminded the other man.
”I made a calculated decision.”
”You panicked. Imagine if that caused permanent damage…” Deadeye carefully scanned Chamber, not worried or caring, but analyzing. He finally loosened his grip on the shoulder as brown eyes met their matching pair, “what then?”
”It didn’t,” Chamber noted, irritation hidden behind a well crafted mask.
”It could have!” Deadeye snapped. He finally raised his voice, which seemed to surprise him more than it did Chamber. Both of them were masters of their own emotions, but it was easier to let things slip when you faced yourself.
A sigh left Deadeye. He plucked an invisible piece of flint off of Chamber’s vest and stepped backwards before fixing his own suit.
”You need to distance yourself from him,” he said, without looking at the marksman. Those words sliced right through the strained tension that lingered in the air and hit Chamber in the gut. Deadeye said it so casually, as if he was talking about today's weather. Yet it made Chamber’s mouth run dry, and the skin of his palms turn clammy.
Chamber was about to question his counterpart. How could he possibly know the truth behind this mess-up?
Then brown eyes caught a hint of clumsiness as Deadeye straightened his own outfit. Barely noticeable but still there. Something that would have surely gone overlooked by anybody else. Of course he knew what made Chamber act in such a desperate way, because he was looking at himself. Even if the man who was standing in front of him was from another reality it was still him. And of course he loved someone too.
Deadeye didn’t come here to look for answers, but to confirm his suspicions. And no matter what Chamber said, his mirror read him like an open book. Because even if he wanted to, even if he felt like it was the right thing to do — he would have never put himself in danger if feelings were not involved, for his life was not his own anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time. He had to stay alive to finish their mission and see it through.
But this man standing in front of him was stronger than Chamber. He did not let feelings guide his actions, even if it ate him up from the inside.
”Don’t you regret it?” Not following your heart, not indulging, Chamber wanted to add. The tone of his voice was careful.
”I regret many things… this is not one of them.” Deadeye spared one last glance before he turned to walk away. Despite his words, there was a hint of vulnerability creeping through his facade.
Chamber was about to turn his attention back onto the scenery, but hesitated when heavy silence replaced the sound of footsteps. As Deadeye was walking down the corridor, his movement suddenly halted. The man raised his chin but never turned to look back at his counterpart.
”If he turns into a distraction, I'll have to make a decision you clearly don’t have the guts to make,” the sound of his voice was like velvet over sharpest steel.
And the moment those words were said, something snapped within Chamber.
Without even thinking about it, a revolver appeared in Chambers' hand. Not a heartbeat later, he pulled the trigger.
There it was again… instinct.
A golden bullet tore past Deadeye, wind grazing his ear. The man remained perfectly still. Somewhere further down the corridor a vase exploded, shards flying across the room and skidding along the marble floors. Some stopped only as they hit Deadeye’s polished dress shoes.
That shot echoed through quiet halls.
Silence settled between the two men. It lingered for a while. Neither of them moved.
”You threaten me like that again and I won't miss next time,” Chamber said, knuckles turning white as his grip on the headhunters' handle tightened. He didn’t miss, he never did. ”We have a deal. Don’t break it.”
Then he understood.
This is exactly why Deadeye wanted to see him.
Deadeye stayed quiet for a moment longer before finally turning around to look at Chamber. His cruel smile was polite yet it didn't have any warmth to it. His mirror knew the shot was an empty threat, but the fact that words alone prompted Chamber to disrespect him like that, caused a new surge of anger to boil over.
”Vincent, we have too much blood on our hands to start being selfish now,” a quick step brought him closer.
”We made this decision together and we have to carry this burden together. We don't get to rest! We don't deserve closure!” Deadeye raised his voice again. This time, it was intentional.
A clutched fist met Chambers cheek before he could step back. Stars flooded his vision, his ears rang. The marksman felt himself stumble but firm hands grabbed the collar of his shirt before he could fall.
”I will see this done — but god save me,” Deadye pulled him closer, “if you stumble and we fail because of your foolish desires, I will make sure you pay the price for everyone who was buried underneath this path we walk on.”
This was not a threat. It was a guarantee.
That iron grip on his shirt was an unnerving force that held Chamber close. So close in fact, that he could feel hot breath against his skin. The man in front of him was almost shaking from pent up rage. Chamber felt his cheek burn. His breath got caught in his throat as he forced himself to meet Deadeye's sharp gaze.
”The ones we killed deserve at least that much.” Deadeye said, disgust coating his every word.
Chamber sucked in a breath. ”I know.”
And as his brown eyes met Deadeye's own, it carried a message so clear — no words could match it. He had no hesitation behind that gaze. Even when they disagreed or butted heads, their shared goal still stood in place. They had a mission to complete, a debt to pay. Despite everything, Chamber would not back away from that goal. Vincent would see it through. Both of them would.
Deadeye must have seen it in that gaze, because his grip loosened.
”Then act like it,” he sneered, releasing the marksman with a shove.
”I’ll keep an eye on you,” Deadeye added, ”Be it how it may, I won't be the one breaking our deal,” those words carried a heavy weight. Deadeye didn’t bother to look at Chamber before he walked away. Broken pieces of ceramic crunched against stone as the omega counterpart let his hurried step carry him towards the exit.
The front doors opened and closed with a thud. Chamber was alone again.
Before returning to his previous spot, Chamber went to grab a generous glass of red wine from the kitchen. Alcohol, just as any other substance, was a guilty pleasure of his. He did not indulge in these often but they did help with the nerves on occasion. There were better ways to deal with this overwhelming pressure, but there were also worse ones. He would settle on this.
He took a large sip, yet it gave no satisfaction.
It tasted bitter. Everything was bitter. His apartment was way too quiet and the air felt stale. The burning sensation against his cheek was long forgotten now that the world was collapsing around him. He was being pulled in too many directions. His grip on the glass got tighter.
His chest ached. As Chamber closed his eyes, he found himself back on that battlefield… looking into that dark brown gaze that held so much emotion — just barely out of reach. Those eyes… that worry behind them. It followed Vincent.
It was obvious that neither of the two were exemplary when it came to talking about their feelings or emotions. Both men had their masks and layers on top of layers of unresolved problems. It would be a mess to even try to unravel those. But as a talented actor himself, Chamber knew that eyes were the hardest part to veil. And the way Yoru looked at him yesterday… it was real. It had to be. Even in that haze Chamber could make out the sincere fear that loomed over the riftwalker.
He was a fool to let himself get so attached to somebody, to let somebody so close. There was so much on the line, so much to do. His mind had to be clear. Even if feelings were there, even if he wanted to indulge, Chamber did not deserve to be on the receiving end. Yoru should not care so much for a man who has done such unforgettable things. Yoru did not deserve to fall for a lie.
The glass shattered in his grip. Shards clattered onto the floor, surrounded by the red liquid.
Chamber held his breath. Blood mixed with wine as it seeped through his clutched fingers and dripped onto the stone beneath his feet. Alcohol burned against the open wounds but Chambers grip remained firm, making sure the shards of broken glass dug even deeper into the skin of his palm.
Pain grounded him. It was a theater that anchored his mind to this reality. It made sure all those big unnamed feelings that Chamber kept somewhere deep within himself didn’t get a chance to spill out. He was afraid that he would lose himself to those feelings. He had bottled up everything for so long that facing it now seemed like too big of a task.
His hand trembled, knuckles turned white. His lungs burned. Brown eyes stared at the scenery without looking at anything particular.
Then, he loosened his grip. A sense of calm washed over him as fresh air filled his lungs.
Whatever was hunting him right now, be it guilt or yearning, he couldn’t let it startle him. Not now. He had to focus on the bigger picture… all these feelings — they were temporary.
He had to focus.
Chamber was sitting in the common area around a plain round table. One of those cheap pieces that felt too light and stained too easily. He had a coffee in front of him that was brewed by using capsules you put into an espresso machine. Not his preferred way to drink coffee but he would manage.
He was sipping his espresso flavored tap water while holding a holopad with his other hand. Chamber raised his gaze when a shadow fell over him.
”What happened?” Yoru asked. His expression was unreadable but Chamber instantly knew what the riftwalker was referring to just by following his gaze. He was curious about the bandages that wrapped around Chambers’ right palm. Messy and uneven — nothing like the standard that the marksman usually held himself up to.
Chamber lowered his cup onto the table before raising his chin to face Yoru. There was so much left unsaid between the two, yet he couldn't even imagine where to start. How to scratch the surface of this tension that lingered between them… It seemed like it was never the right time.
”Accident at the workshop, cher, nothing to worry,” a lie. He tried to reassure the other man with a smile that was a bit too tired for his own liking.
”Why didn’t you go to Sage?”
”She is busy. This is nothing but a small cut,” Chamber subconsciously squeezed his bandaged hand into a fist, which didn’t go unnoticed under the riftwalkers sharp gaze.
While saving him, Sage used a lot of her powers. She would never admit to it, but Chamber noticed the toll it took on her. Even if he could never truly relate to radiants, Chamber recognised that tremble that appeared when you pushed your body to its limits. That was familiar. That was human. Crying about a small cut felt ridiculous in hindsight.
Yoru scoffed, but didn’t argue. Somewhere among the endless stubbornness, he understood where Chamber was coming from.
”Idiot,” he muttered under his breath, almost too quiet to hear, before walking away.
Chamber watched the riftwalker leave. His tired smile lingered right up to the moment Yoru disappeared behind a corner.
The marksman let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. Without giving it a second thought, Chamber focused on the holopad again. His fingers ran along familiar blueprints and schematics.
What Chamber didn't expect was Yoru coming back but a moment later. He had something in his hand.
”It’s hard to bandage something with just one hand,” the riftwalked explained as he dropped a med-kit onto the table, “your work is sloppy,” he added, clearly unimpressed by Chamber’s sad attempt at patching up his dominant hand. Yoru hooked his foot around a chair's leg and dragged it closer so he could sink into it. He outstretched his hand as a gesture for Chamber to do the same.
Chamber smiled again. It was a careful expression that didn’t have extensive flare added to it. He knew he shouldn’t, but he let Yoru take his hand anyway.
Yorus hand was steady as he unwrapped the bandages that Chamber had haphazardly put on. They did not share a single word but the riftwalker expressed his gratitude in the gentleness of his touch. Calloused fingers were careful as they applied the new gauze, making sure it was tight but not smothering. He didn’t ask any more questions, he didn't need to.
They stayed close to each other, close enough to share breath. For a moment, neither of them dared to move or even look at the other.
”Thank you,” Chamber was the first to break the silence.
”Don’t mention it,” Yoru answered. His dark brown eyes finally raised to meet Chamber’s gaze. ”How is your shoulder?”
Yoru raised his hand and was just about to touch the marksman's shoulder but hesitated the moment he saw Chamber tense up. His fingers lingered in the air for another moment, before he pulled his hand back, clutching it into a tight fist against his lap. The moment those dark eyes moved away to avoid his gaze, Chamber felt a pang deep within his chest.
Vincent cursed himself for it. For letting himself flinch at Yoru's touch, when it was Deadeye who planted that fear of pain somewhere within himself. He remembered that thumb that sank into his tender shoulder. That sharp pain worked wonders to remind Chamber of his failures, imitating the agony those bullets caused when they sunk themselves into his flesh, piercing through muscle and tendons and arteries… It was nothing like the touch of that strong, firm hand that held onto his shoulder, trying to stop life itself from pouring out of his wound.
”Better. I don’t need the painkillers anymore,” Chamber said with a reassuring smile.
”Good,” Yoru said, ”that’s good,” he repeated in a hushed tone, more to himself than anybody else.
Yoru's leg bounced a few times as he played with his thumbs. Something that was not common for the riftwalker.
”I never thanked you for… earlier,” he continued.
”There is no need, really-”
”Would you like to grab dinner someday?” Yoru interrupted. His eyes returned to meet Chamber’s own, ”I’ll pay.”
”We have too much blood on our hands to start being selfish now”
Deadeye's words, his gaze and touch lingered in his memory — a heavy weight against his shoulders, as Chamber thought about his answer.
He should say no. He has to say no.
Chamber blinked away his surprised expression. Words spilled out of Vincent's mouth long before he could stop them.
”I would love to.”