Chapter Text
The soft hum of the VLTR was a complete contrast to the earlier chaos of the mission - gunfire, explosions, the thud of bodies hitting the ground and yells of pain as bullets struck true to flesh on both sides.
Zyanya had swooped in like a magenta hawk - striking the mirror agents with precision and providing excellent cover for the others to move in and take control, splitting the site and defusing the spike.
Two mirror agents had gotten away with the bodies of their fallen comrades, but the victor was them, for today at least.
Now, the last drains of adrenaline were still running through the team’s veins, and Skye as the healer on the mission patching up scrapes and the odd graze of bullets or punctures.
Neon hissed as Skye sorted the wound on her leg, fingers digging into the seat.
Zyanya had healed herself, so required no such attendance. She was sitting in her own chair (hers really, she’d slapped a sticker on it as was custom), arms folded and relaxed, the mission replaying in her mind. The chaos of it would work well as a training simulation - anything could happen on missions where the spike was involved, and the agents needed to be prepared for all scenarios. She’d note it down when they got back, and would program it in the morning.
Filing that train of thought away, her eyes turned to the others in the aircraft.
Skye was still healing Neon’s leg.
KAY/O was flying the VLTR - he’d been the one to pick them up post mission.
Cypher was on his phone which was an odd sight, but judging by the crinkling of his mask’s eyes, he was either playing stupid games or texting someone.
Then, there was Sabine.
Eyes tired - clearly spent too much time in the lab, and not enough time taking a break. Or it was the stress of the mission showing on her pretty face. It wasn’t a secret that the two shared feelings - nights spent tangled in sheets, breathless and sweating were occurrences not common but remembered, and Zyanya had been thinking of proposing another.
It wasn’t the sexual attraction she felt the strongest, even though Sabine’s body and attitude in bed was something to die for, but it was more the companionship and click they had - like puzzle pieces or colours, or when things went perfectly right. It was that click, that had Zyanya desiring more from their meetings, and something more permanent, longer, more passionate than just sex.
Perhaps that was why her eyes were coasting across Sabine’s form, the pout on her face and storm in her green eyes despite their success. Maybe it was the fact that those green eyes, full of thunder and clouds, flicked up to meet Zyanya’s own magenta gaze, before turning back to whatever spot on the floor was most interesting.
It was that small sign - and many others - that had Zyanya thinking there was a chance of what she wanted. Which made her chest swell in pride and her head scream there was a chance. Maybe the fact she could have sabine was what made her egotistical sometimes.
Sure, she had a slight issue about ego and all that jazz, and Empress definitely didn’t help in the rush of endorphins and the slight god complex (if it could even be called slight) she gained. But the possibility and chance, and any attention she was paid outside of their sequesters at night was what really fuelled it.
So what if the attention made her a bit crazy?
She was justified in it.
There was just one problem.
Fade.
Now, Zyanya only knew that Fade, or Hazal rather, since they’d gotten closer over time, was an issue was because of a loose tongue Sabine gained after a rough orgasm - she became more of a floating, spaced out post-coital person, and sometimes let the odd thing slip in the lingering haze of pleasure.
And a few nights ago after such an occasion, Sabine had mentioned how Zyanya wasn’t the only person she really slept with. Zyanya didn’t mind that fact - it was common knowledge that everyone in protocol was healthy as of frequent medical checks due to Radianite exposure and wounds suffered in the field, but of course she’d been intrigued to find out who the other person was.
And hearing it was the resident dreamseer? That had done something to her.
Because from getting closer to Hazal, Zyanya had found out that she had similar feelings to Sabine as Zyanya herself did.
Which, in a rather petty way, meant some serious competition.
And some pretty severe difficulty in trying to get what she wanted.
Hazal was an incredibly stubborn person - from her sheer refusal to pursue safe and simple self care habits, to even sharing her special coffee, she was difficult a lot. It was more of the past that did that to Hazal, but if that stubborn streak was exposed further, perhaps her incredibly held back temper might be too.
Zyanya only knew of Hazal’s temper due to some incredibly difficult missions - such as the one at the Elder Grotto, where Hazal’s missing man had not been found. She’d overheard from those who had been on Hazal’s squad at that place how badly she’d reacted upon finding him not there, and how they’d overheard the voicemail she’d sent to Brimstone. Hell, even one of the other squads had overheard her scream.
Sure that place was in the centre of an echoey cavern, but that scream had been loud.
Which showed enough about Hazal’s temper to know it was dangerous if it ever reared its head again.
Which was another point as to why Hazal was such a problem.
It wasn’t that Zyanya begrudged her for her dalliances with Sabine, it was the position she posed as being as close as she was - like the match of Zyanya, but just her.
They were similar in ways that neither even pointed out, but it was pretty obvious they were. Even Sabine herself had mentioned it before - a mission that had both come out blood soaked and running on adrenaline before a massive crash that had the both of them in the medical wing for two days.
Zyanya caught Sabine's eye again, giving her a slight grin.
Sabine just rolled her eyes and tried to stop her smirk, almost succeeding.
Almost was the key word. It was nice to see her try though, despite the cold face she put on, Sabine was a very emotive person. Just circumstance made her have to act like a cold bastard.
As if that wasn’t incredibly hot in bed though.
Zyanya got out her phone and went to Sabine's contact, sending a short message about meeting tomorrow night if that would work.
Sabine heard her phone buzz, looked at Zyanya - who still had hers out and a grin on her face - before turning it off and rolling her eyes again.
Of course.
Zyanya raised a brow. Sabine shot her a glare and went back to staring at the floor.
Fine then. She’d just ask her later about it.
When they did finally arrive back at base, Skye was busy helping Neon off whilst Cypher slinked off - either to catnap or to go back to watching the cameras, and catch up on all the footage he had missed to make fail montages again.
For a man who surveillance was his greatest weapon and was rather terrifying sometimes, he was such a clown. Playful might have been a better word, but even so.
Sabine disappeared off before Zyanya could catch her - either to her room, or to the lab.
Deciding not to interrupt Sabine’s lab time again, lest get ignored for a week, Zyanya headed to the residential wing to shower and sleep.
Protocol said they should attend the board room for a debrief, but that unspoken rule was mainly ignored. Not even Brimstone tried to enforce it anymore, showing quite frankly how useless it was.
Every agent would submit mission reports anyways, so there was no need for a debrief when the information would be repeated twice.
Zyanya sighed as the door to her room closed behind her with a hiss, the lock sealing and leaving her alone.
She stripped off her bodysuit, rolling it up and tossing it into the laundry hamper before stripping her underclothes and too tossing them into the laundry hamper.
She turned on the shower, waiting for it to heat up. Using the short wait well, she used a makeup wipe and swiped it all off, testing the water to see if it was her desired precipice of hot to burning before stepping under, soaking in the warmth into her stiffened muscles.
Grabbing the shampoo, Zyanya worked it through her hair, massaging the suds into her scalp and rinsing it, before scrubbing the mission off of her body.
Freshly showered, she stepped out, wrapping herself in a towel and doing the same to her hair before grabbing her phone from the desk where she’d left it.
Zyanya perched on the edge of her bed, opening her phone to see what looked like a reply from Sabine.
Sure. My place this time. 9 work?
She typed a reply confirming, before sending it and turning off her phone, towel drying her hair and changing into fresh underclothes and a tank top and loose trousers.
She slipped on a pair of purple socks (a gift from Mateo) and trainers, before slipping her phone into her pocket and heading out to grab some leftovers from the mess hall and get the mission into the training simulation log.
She’d run it tomorrow, and see how they handled it - maybe even co-run it with Waylay, despite her apprehensions about joint training. Mateo, Phoenix, Jett, Clove and Iso could all benefit from it, perhaps Neon could be on the sidelines to help and explain how it went in the actual mission.
Heading to the training room, Zyanya heard the sounds of a session from the adjoining sparring room.
Who the hell would be sparring at this time of night?
Whilst Zyanya herself was guilty of such a thing at occasion, it was rare for others to partake in that as their evening, which only drove her curiosity further.
Inputting the simulation could wait, for now she was intrigued and wanting to figure out the mystery.
Zyanya headed up the stairwell to the viewing window - which was tinted for now, so no one could see who was observing. It was a tactic she had for when the younger agents were training on their own - to let them do well without her there, even though she was watching.
Looking through the reinforced glass, Zyanya spotted someone she hadn’t expected.
Hazal. And Sabine? Sparring?
What the actual hell?
That was something Zyanya didn’t expect one bit.
But she watched. Of course she did - wanting to see how they fit, how they balanced one another out.
Hazal was in a compression crop (or was it a binder? Zyanya couldn’t tell) and loose shorts, whilst Sabine was in leggings and a tank similar to Zyanya’s own. In fact that might have been Zyanya’s...
She pulled one of the fold up chairs from the side, opening it and sitting down to watch. It looked like they’d been going for a while, and weren’t going to stop anytime soon, so why not at least be comfortable as a spectator?
She watched as they moved, like fluid, like balance itself - a parry there, a block with a forearm and a jab to the midsection dodged with a lunge to the right, a careful blow to the back that sent Hazal stumbling with a huff, before darting forward and striking Sabine in the leg with a duck and jab.
It was impressive to see how well they fought - knowing exactly what move each was about to do, what move to counter with, the tells of body language and facial expression.
But it also made Zyanya jealous. Had Hazal spent this much time with Sabine she could just do this like it was?
Was that why Sabine had been a bit more distant lately?
A surge of questioning and annoyance rose in Zyanya’s blood, and a weird sense of possession overcame her too.
Maybe tomorrow night she’d get possessive, leave a mark or a little brand for a while. Remind Hazal exactly who else was in the equation.
The thoughts fizzled out of her head when Hazal’s gaze darted to the viewing window and her momentary distraction led to her getting whacked in the head, stumbling backwards and falling on her ass.
A choked laugh of both amusement and surprise had Zyanya standing up, certain that hazal had sensed her there - fear meant she could tap into people’s ‘signatures’, or whatever she called them, so could recognise who was there and when.
Shit. Remembering this, that meant that Hazal had probably noticed the moment Zyanya even came into the stairwell of all things. And now, checking if the ‘signature’ was still strong had her knocked on her ass.
Zyanya still watched though. She wasn’t afraid of making it known to Hazal that she’d been watching. She had nothing to hide.
She watched as Hazal rubbed her head, taking Sabine's outstretched hand and chuckling about it, before glancing up at the tinted viewing window again.
One eyebrow raised, a clear statement of what Hazal thought about their little audience. Sabine turned to the window too, drawn by whoever it was that Hazal sensed to be there.
Whilst the room was soundproofed, it seemed that one nightmare tendril switched to turn off the dampening field, so that Zyanya could hear what Hazal had to say.
‘Enjoying the show, Empress?’ She asked, a smirk on her lips.
Little shit.
Sabine narrowed her eyes at it, huffing something under her breath before walking off to the locker room.
Zyanya held her ground up there for a few tentative moments. They headed to the stairwell, and descended, walking past the locker room entrance right into the sparring room itself.
Hazal was still there, arms crossed over what definitely was a binder, a snarky grin on her face. She looked smug, way too happy with herself and mischievous - a vibe more common from Cypher than Hazal of all people.
‘Have fun up there Zyanya?’ She asked, eyes flaring with delight.
She could probably sense that her calling out of Zyanya had ruffled a few feathers, but decided to push it anyways. Very, very out of character for her indeed. It had Zyanya wondering what brought on the change in attitude.
‘Just watching.’ She replied with a downward nod.
The two women looked at one another for a moment, before Hazal shrugged, arms stretching over her head as her spine audibly popped.
‘I don’t want to be rude, but I’ve got plans to do, so I’ll see you around?’ She said with a nod of her head to the locker room, walking off in that direction.
Zyanya was left a little dumbfounded. Surely hazal had not just implied how she was sleeping with Sabine that night? Surely she wasn’t actually just doing that?
Zyanya could tell a sexual innuendo when one happened, and was almost one hundred percent certain that was one.
Little shit indeed.
Zynya heard the essence of conversation - the timbre of sabine’s voice followed by the husk of hazal’s. She felt incredibly jealous. And like she needed to step her game up.
If Hazal was doing this stuff - late night training, directly implying that she was sleeping with Sabine, making her mark with her words - then she might be just as stubborn to keep her mark there.
Maybe, she even had the same end goal as Zyanya herself did.
And that possibility was perhaps a little frightening.
It was a threat of sorts, and one that made Zyanya determined to fight it.
Fuck it was stupid - petty, even, to maybe fight over a woman who may even only just have that relationship with both of them for good sex - but it was too much.
This was about to get difficult. Incredibly difficult.