The wind whistled harshly in his ears, making it hard to hear Axel's voice as they crouched behind a ledge. The roof they were on was one of the highest in the neighborhood, a perfect spot for them to hunker down and prepare for the upcoming task.
The screen in his grip was cold, blue light shining brightly in the darkness that surrounded them. Arctic's gloved fingers drummed once against its sleek surface as he contemplated the information he'd just been given. "Do you understand your objective?" The Colonel asked seriously, his eyes searing into Arctic's helmet, as though if he tried hard enough he would be able to look right through the tinted lens and search for sincerity in his gaze.
"Yes, Sir." Hands came down to snatch the device from his hold, movement rough and aggressive. He let the screen go without much resistance, having expected something like that to happen.
"In these files here," Axel pointed at the documents Arctic had just been scanning through. "We compiled some of the most recent evidence the SI department gathered." He scrolled down the page with practiced movements. "As you can see, some of the footage they took is grainy at best, so we couldn't identify in detail what was happening." He clicked the tablet off, stuffing it into one of his many pouches strapped to his duffle bag. "That's where you come in."
Taking out some rolled-up papers from his bag, he laid out the biggest one between them. A map, Arctic concluded as he looked at the blueprints stretched out before him. Thin white lines spread on the blue parchment to create an intricate web of information and special indication. Closing his eyes, as if stepping into the place himself, he pictured the building's floorplan, floor after floor, room after room, fully laid out in his mind's eyes.
Axel remained silent as he let the soldier process the information on his own, having gotten used to that particular ritual by now. His face was twisted into a sneer, mouth opening, and closing as if growing more impatient by the second.
"Are you done?" The words were gritted out, on the very edge of calm.
He opened his eyes a minute late, fully confident in his newfound knowledge. He nodded once resolutely.
Muttering to himself for a second, Axel then continued his directions. "The objective is to get in, get the information, and get out. Understood? You are in no way, permitted to engage our targets. This mission has the sole purpose of confirming our suspicions. The camera in your visor will gather the evidence we need, and you are to collect the files we talked about. Alright?"
"Yes, sir." He hesitated before asking. "May I ask, who is our target?"
"You may not. You will know when you see them. For now, all we have are speculations. However, I can at least tell you that this is one of the League of villain's hideouts. So you will surely run into either Shigaraki or one of his underlings." He continued, voice low and heavy with tension. "If our suspicions do pan out, and you run into our target, you are to remain hidden, and under no circumstance are you to exercise lethal force. Am I clear?"
"Crystal, Sir."
Regarding him for a moment longer, the Colonel nodded to himself and stood up, Arctic following a second later. "Good. If you run into any problems, ping my communicator." He said, looking at the building in question. "Now go, we'll sink back up at our meeting point when you're done."
Arctic didn't waste a second. Feet already turning to leap down from the roof, scaling the side of the building until he was directly facing his entry point. A small airshaft sticking out of the wall of the third level.
Swiftly and silently, he launched himself across the gap, latching onto the thin edge with sturdy fingers. Swinging once, he slides into the opening, movements careful and light to not make any noise.
The metal shaft was just big enough for him to crouch down, the cool surface creaking softly as he righted his body into the wanted position. He crawled his way through the pipe, stopping a couple of minutes later as an opening finally made itself known.
Cobwebs and dust caked his gloves and knees as he finally reached an exit grid. Rusted, striped metal leading into what he remembered, was the third-floor supply closet. Steady fingers wrapped around the steel firmly, pulling once with calculated force, just enough to dislodge the grid without the expected recoil.
Sliding his body carefully, he dropped onto the floor below, careful to place the grid back into place as he did so.
Infiltration, now successful, he straightened up and looked around, taking in his surroundings. Cleaning supplies were scarce, dirt caking the row of shelves instead. Good, he thought, knowing that it meant that very few people wandered in here. It had, therefore, been a good call.
Turning until he faced the door, he leaned lightly against the wooden surface, stretching his senses until he could listen more carefully to the hallway outside. When no presence made itself known, he proceeded to rummage through one of his many pouches.
He pulled out a small rectangular black device, twisting the nob on the top until a small screen blared to life, three waves of circles pulsing from the center, followed by a small red needle that twitched once before settling back to motionless rest.
This detector had been given to him on one of his earliest missions. A trusty tool he's come to rely on frequently as it enabled him to detect and deactivate any cameras or heat detector nearby.
It always made infiltration missions such as this one, marginally easier.
Activating the device, he waited a moment before turning it back off. It seemed the league was more lax on their security than he anticipated. No cameras adorned this floor, so, Arctic could walk out of the supply closet without much trouble.
After waiting through another moment of silence, he finally opened the door, keeping it close to the wall as he stepped out.
The air within the League of Villains' stronghold was dense with the scent of malice and secrecy. Arctic crept through the dimly lit corridors, his steps silent against the cold, unforgiving floor. His mission repeated itself on a loop in his mind as he walked. Infiltrated, gather information, and vanish without a trace. Easy enough, he hoped.
As he skulked deeper into the labyrinthine structure, Arctic's keen senses picked up on a murmuring conversation. A familiar voice spoke, low and ominous, reverberating through the walls, leading into a small room. "They'll be assets to our cause," He quickly identified the speaker as Kurogiri, the warp gate villain. Adjusting his position to eavesdrop without revealing his presence, Artic slid until his back was pressed tightly to the wall. His heart, though hardened by training, quickened at the implications of their discussion. "Giving them a chance to prove themselves will not be remiss."
"Assets." The words were hissed scathingly, words dripping with sarcasm as he spoke. "Sure, of course, you think those psychos will be of any use." Shigaraki's voice was unmistakable as he snarled. "Didn't you hear that little shit? They know nothing of Sensei's goals, all they care about is their precious Hero killer."
"The hero killer is missing, presumed dead, his existence is inconsequential now." Kurogiri placated, his tone sounding level and calm as if he'd uttered those words many times before.
"Yeah, well, his cult doesn't seem to have gotten the message." Shigaraki muttered roughly, "Did you hear Toga go on and on about him this morning? Even Dabi seemed to agree with her." He growled at his own words, seemingly growing angry at the mere thought. "It makes me want to kill something." A strong smell of decay reached his senses and he figured that this was his sign to leave, filing away the names for later research.
Pushing forward, he navigated his way through the compound, descending into the bowels of the building, occasionally ducking behind corners and craters as guards made their rounds down particular corridors.
The lower levels exuded an unsettling chill that seemed to seep into his bones, the more he descended the stairs leading to it. Eventually, he stumbled upon a chamber, a sterile and haunting laboratory. He could smell it before he saw it, taking a moment to pause once more and take out his detector, he stiffened as rows and rows of weak, frail heat signatures flared on his screen.
Deciding that taking the door would be risky, he circled the floor, looking for another way in. Soon enough, he found what he was looking for. And abandoned air duct leading right above the lab.
Crawling once more into it, he stopped short as a gridded window was once more within his sight.
His eyes widened marginally as he took in the sight before him. His heart beat faster despite the emptiness that expanded within his chest.
Rows of pods filled the room, each cocooning a fragile, unrecognizable form submerged in a translucent, life-sustaining liquid.
The sight sent a shiver through Arctic's spine, an involuntary reaction he tried to suppress. The green liquid within the pods made something in his stomach twinge, a suppressed memory barely managing to remain repressed in his mind. Their occupants were suspended in a state of eerie vulnerability. Some figures twitched with spasms, their faces contorted in silent agony. The soldier's expression remained a mask of detachment, even as his pulse thundered in his ears, an erratic rhythm against the stark silence of the room.
With purposeful, slow movements, Arctic dropped back down onto the ground, feet hitting the floor lightly as he realized that the heat signatures all belonged to the creatures within the pods and not any league member.
Once standing upright, he approached the nearest console, his hands deftly connecting a USB drive to the computer terminal. The files began to transfer, the screen illuminating with encrypted data. It was his duty to retrieve vital information, but the gravity of the situation clawed at the edges of his consciousness.
As the transfer bar progressed, Arctic's gaze drifted back to the pods. A disconcerting sense of familiarity washed over him as he observed the pitiful conditions of the occupants. His jaw clenched in an instinctual response to the dissonance between his mission and the haunting reality before him. The sight was eerie now that he was, for the first time, on the other side of the equation.
It seemed, however, that the project they were undergoing was far from completion as he regarded the death-like state some of the creatures within the liquid appeared to be in. Creatures his mind whispered, because these things were no longer human, even if the skin on their bones made it seem so. He knew that, could see clear as day that no ounce of humanity could have survived behind the surface.
It was then that he finally saw it, there on one of the first rows of pods, was his call sign, stamped out in bold letters next to the words. 'Weapon A8.1', beckoning his attention. The stark letters burned into his memory. He looked back at the computer screen and was unsurprised to find files with similar titles being transferred. Multiple encrypted ones holding his codename as their own. It made something inside of him twist.
Just as he prepared to retreat, a shadow loomed in the doorway and he quickly ducked behind a row of shelves, gaze trained on the transfer bar which was now complete, if not yet, in his possession.
A short, lumpy figure entered the room, with the confidence of a regular occupant, his gaze trained on the pods. He needed to get the stick and get out of there, Axel's earlier directions flared in his mind. But first, he knew he had to get a little more information on the room's new occupant.
Twisting his body to the right, he peered out from behind his hiding place, taking in the figure's appearance for the first time. It took him a moment to realize just who it was he was facing. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, panic flickered across Arctic's features for just an instant, a crack in his composed facade, swiftly smothered by his training. His heart thundered in his chest as his eyes narrowed behind his visor. The familiar milky-white coat was a mere hint, his eyes taking in the greying features of the man, as light glinted off his tinted round classes. Shivers raked across his body as his mind conjured detached memories of the years he'd spent in the science department.
There was no mistaking it, this man was none other than the doctor who'd been in charge of his formation. The cavity in which his heart resided suddenly felt emptier and colder than ever. A sudden sharp sting flared in his spine and behind his eye as something unidentifiable fought to break into the open.
Gloved fingers clenched tightly and he worked to compose himself. Right. He had a mission to complete.
He needed a distraction. And so he looked around and finally caught onto something he could use. A plan already formed in his mind as he carefully approached the target of his attention.
A small console was screwed onto the bottom of one of the pods, labeled with different numbers, each indicating a specific unit. Closing his eyes, he urged himself to remember the exact order of the units he'd seen upon entering the room. And so with confident movements, he pulled down the levels of the four furthest pods from his destination. Satisfied as a shrill blaring sound sounded from the wanted units, immediately drawing away the Doctor's attention.
Waiting only a moment before moving, he pivoted out of his hiding spot, feet making no sound as he marched towards the computers. With deft, swift actions, he swiped the USB from its port, exiting the progress bar's page and erasing any trace of his interference. His attention switched from his task to the doctor working right ahead of him, his heart beating slightly faster with each passing second.
USB clenched tightly in his hand, he crept his way towards the door, knowing that the vent wouldn't be the viable choice this time. Behind the veneer of practiced indifference, a tempest of emotions churned—a sense of foreboding, an unspoken horror that he couldn't fully grasp.
As Arctic slipped out of the chamber, the weight of the files bearing his own designation pressed against his consciousness, an ominous reminder of a truth he was yet to comprehend. The journey back was a silent, careful march, his mind wrestling with fragments of unsettling images, his training forcing an impenetrable mask over the chasm of- of something- threatening to spill forth.
His focus didn't waver, not even when he was finally out of the building and back into the open night air. His spine prickled with every thought that churned its way into his consciousness and he could feel something within him warring with itself. The small USB stick in his pocket felt somehow heavier than anything else he was carrying.
When he got to the meeting point, Axel was already waiting for him there, his face the picture of impatience and disdain as he finally caught sight of him.
Shifting fully to his feet as Arctic approached him. "Took you long enough." He muttered, hand outstretched and waiting. Arctic deposited the USB into his palm almost reluctantly, something heavy plunging into his stomach as he did so. "I'm going to need a detailed mission report from you as soon as you get back to your place. If a fly pissed itself while you were there, I want to know about it, got it?"
Narrowing his eyes at the crude words, Arctic nodded. "Yes, Sir." He turned to leave but was stopped short by an arm grabbing his shoulder roughly.
"Aren't you forgetting something, Brat?" He barely suppressed the urge to flinch beneath the unwanted touch. His mind went through his objectives for the night and paused as he finally understood. His helmet was unclasped a moment later and offered to the man. His signature, Arctic white hair swayed lightly at the movement, brushing his forehead as the previously confined stands brushed over his eyes. He'd forgotten about the camera footage they were supposed to collect.
"Apologies for the oversight, Sir." Axel yanked the helmet out of his grasp, tucking it into his side.
"Scram, you're giving me a headache." He didn't need to be told twice.
In the silence of his solitude, Arctic finally stepped into his apartment, mind going over each line of code he'd read while transferring the files. A testament to the unsettling reality he had uncovered. Yet, the contents of the encrypted folder that bore his own name remained an enigma, a dormant terror lurking within the recesses of his consciousness, waiting to unfurl its dreadful truth.
He'd have to wait for the colonel to brief him, of course, only if the General saw it fit for him to be let into the fold.
His mission, for now, had been completed. That didn't mean that the emptiness he felt inside of him was any less prominent.
As he made his way into his bedroom, discarding his gear in the process, he figured he had, once again, a long, restless night ahead of him.
chapter 19 already up on my patreon! link in my bio