Chapter Text
Spies were the furthest things from Saints.
It was a fact all in espionage were far too aware of, and it was a fact most tended to skirt over, if only for the sake of their own conscience. Even most criminals shied away from the deeds that spies commit in the dark for the sake of their country. Thievery and deceit, torture, cold-blooded murder. For the sake of peace between Ostania and Westalis, even the darkest of deeds could be justified.
All but one:
Treachery.
The thin veneer of peace and stability between the two countries was an altar made of glass and gunpowder. The blood, sweat, and tears of countless lives were sacrificed on it, all in the hopes that one day, things would get better. That one day, the future generation that they’ve fought so hard to protect will get to witness the sun rise over a country unravaged by the talons of war.
To a spy, there was no worse criminal than a traitor. A person selfish enough to be willing to dig knives into the backs of others as a way to climb to the top themselves. A person willing to throw away the sacrifice of those countless others for their own benefit.
And Nightfall?
She was the biggest traitor of them all.
-
Despite the risk of the mission she was currently undertaking, those thoughts occupied her mind more than any other. Whispers lingered in the back of her mind (traitortraitortraitortraitortraitortraitor-) as relentlessly as the sound of gunfire in the distance.
Said mission involved retrieving a set of stolen war machine blueprints from a group of black-market dealers in Nielsberg. Child’s play for an agent as efficient as Nightfall. Or, it would have been, had it not been for those thoughts consistently plaguing her mind.
Nightfall barely had the time to duck behind the walls of another dilapidated building before a barrage of bullets rained down from the side street, peppering the alleyway walls with bullet holes. She gritted her teeth, then risked a peek from behind her hiding spot. Two grunts, one on either side of the alleyway’s mouth. Roughly shoving the crumpled blueprints into her jacket pocket, she darted her head out and returned fire. Two successive bangs echoed through the tight space, followed by the heavy thuds of two bodies hitting the pavement. She quickly ducked back behind the wall, leaning her head back against the dirty brick as she took a quick breath.
The underbelly of Nielsberg had to be one of the worst Nightfall had ever seen. Pockets of poverty and disrepair existed in all corners of Ostania, as it did in Westalis, but somehow, this place seemed the most pitiful of the lot. Dirty, cramped streets, overpopulated dwellings, and the ever-present scent of factory smog and trash lingering in the chilly air.
The factories themselves loomed over the ramshackle town, metallic behemoths against a steely grey sky. The old wartime factories had been converted from manufacturing tanks and military equipment to everything from appliances to car parts. Despite the attempts at change, the lingering effects of the war remained in the area like a phantom presence. It could be seen in the hollows in the road where bombs had once made their mark, the old war propaganda posters buried beneath the mounds of flyers and missing persons reports. It was there in the air. A sense of loss from a town that had been torn apart by the war and put back together haphazardly, leaving parts unmatched and empty.
The sounds of footfall replaced the previous deafening bangs of gunfire. Murmurs sounded from the distance, closing in on Nightfall. It would only be a matter of time before the others discovered the bodies of their comrades.
Would Twilight mourn her if she died? Or was she irredeemable in his eyes after kissing another?
It was for the mission, Nightfall reasoned as she slipped into a crouch, pulling a hand grenade from her coat pocket.
It was for the mission that she dared touch another man. It was for the mission that she kissed partook in the ruse with Briar. Both for the sake of Operation Strix, and for her own personal mission. In the end, all of this would end up with her finally replacing Yor Briar as Twilight’s wife. It would all be worth it, as long as they were going to be together like it was always meant to be. Twilight would understand. He would.
(Traitortraitortraitortraitortraitortraitor-)
As the sound of footsteps neared, Nightfall didn’t hesitate.
She pulled the pin.
Then ran like hell as an explosion rocked the alleyway behind her, finishing off the remainder of her pursuers.
Stray pieces of shrapnel burst from the hot smoke, sinking into the brick and tearing up the ragged mounds of posters tacked up on them. Nightfall couldn’t afford to look back to see the damage, since there might have been reinforcements or survivors looking to put a bullet in her during her moment of hesitation. She slipped into another alleyway, stepping over leaking trash bags and mounds of smelly rags, before walking off into the darkness.