Chapter Text
6:00am
You had awoken to the sound of knocking at your door.. Fan-fucking-tastic. That was never anything remotely good. You grabbed your phone, neon screen lighting up your shabby bedroom and burning your eyes. You grimaced, turning down the brightness and checking the date, which only confirmed what you had thought. You were supposed to be off today.
Whoever was at the door knocked again, “Don’t make me come in there,” Masky. Shit.
“Coming,” You yelled back to him, feeling around in your dresser for something to change into. You grabbed grey sweatpants and a black sports bra, brushing your hair in a rush, then walking to your door.
Your hand grasped the knob and you took a breath, grounding yourself before he said whatever he was here to say. Then, you opened the door, eyes taking in the sight of Masky in front of you, clad in his signature tan jacket, jeans, and his soulless mask. You blinked at him, “What?”
You could see his eyes narrow behind his mask, yet he chose not to comment on your sour greeting. “Last-minute mission. Pack to be gone for a week give or take. I’ll debrief you in the car. We’ll leave at 7:00,” He said flatly, voice monotone and gravelly, a sign that he had just recently gotten up, too.
You deadpanned at him, groaning internally, “You’re fucking kidding me,”
He sighed. It wasn’t even 6:30 and you were already getting on his nerves. “Get ready,” His voice was cold, somehow both irritated and void of any emotion. He left then, presumably to finish getting ready himself. You groaned out loud this time, pinching the bridge of your nose, cussing quietly. So much for peace and quiet.
You re-entered your room, shutting the door slightly too loud. You didn’t have time to be bitter, you had places to be. You grabbed an army-green duffel bag you had discarded on the floor and set it on your bed. You slipped on a light-gray t-shirt before starting to pack. You grabbed all of the practical things to grab- a toothbrush, travel toothpaste, a mini brush, a handful of tampons, and clothes. Lastly, you slipped your axe into the top of your bag. You could assume that today would likely be a travel day, so you didn’t feel the need to carry the axe on you. Still, you were taught to assume the worst, so you slipped on your holster, sliding a decently sized knife into the smaller of the two notches. Lacing up your boots, you walked out of your room, passing the kitchen and small living-room before reaching the front door where Masky was waiting.
He glanced at you, or at least you assumed he did, it was hard to tell, “Ready?”
“Yeah, you?” You asked, knowing the answer. He just gave you a curt nod, then headed out front, tossing his bag in the backseat of his car and slipping into the front seat. You mimicked him, heading for the passenger seat, “So, just us?”
He didn’t even look at you as he answered this time, starting his old, beat up car, “Clearly,”
You huffed. Great. You and Masky had never gone on a mission just the two of you before, you’d always been accompanied by Hoodie or Kate on the rare occasion Toby would be there. It wasn’t that the pair of you didn’t work well together, you worked together excellently on the field in fact. It was when you were off the field that problems arose. Masky was controlling, cold, and incredibly rigid. Whereas he saw you as unpredictable, reckless, and way more trouble than you were worth.
It was safe to say you didn’t get along. You looked out the window for a moment, already entirely bored of his company, “So, gonna debrief me or am I going in blind?” You rolled your eyes, seeing his body tense in your peripheral vision.
“Lose the attitude now,” He said and you scoffed, thinking that was it when he spoke again, “We’re driving roughly sixteen hours to the hotel, where we will stay until the next morning..” He began and you sighed. There was nothing you loved more in the world than sixteen uninterrupted hours with Masky, alone.
You leaned forward, arm reaching out to toy with his car radio. You could feel him watching you from out of the corner or his eyes, analyzing your movements as if he were waiting for you to do something he deemed “wrong”. The radio flicked on, Summertime Sadness, you changed the channel. Flipping through stations of mediocre music and static until you found one playing Fleetwood Mac. That would work.
Little Lies echoed through the speakers, and Masky’s eyes softened on you before you felt them turn back to the road. You stole a glance at him, stiff, rigid, you’d never met a man with such a huge stick up their ass before. He’s good at his job, a good leader, you reminded yourself, trying to stay positive. But oh how you wished Kate was here to keep you company. Hoodie would’ve been fine, too, he was slightly more bearable than Masky, but still not your first pick.
At least Hoodie had a sense of humor, at least with him the silence wasn’t thick with irritation and disdain, but what’s a girl to do? You sighed, an attempt at small talk couldn’t hurt, right?
“So,” You began, unsure, and gestured to the radio, “What kind of music do ya like?” You finished, hesitating, curious to see if you’d get a genuine answer. You doubted it.
“Good music,” Yep, that was the Masky you knew. Dry, insufferable, and so fucking difficult.
“And what is good music?” You prodded.
He glanced at you this time, progress, “You wouldn’t know,”
You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “God, you’re a dick,” You said to which he just hummed, seeming to agree with your declaration. How did anyone like him? You shifted in your seat, adjusting your seatbelt and moving to face out the passenger window. The world was dreary as you watched it pass through tinted glass. There was no color outside, no signs of anything good and pure, it reminded you of yourself.
You supposed you should give Masky some grace then, even though you’d never let him know it. No one got into this lifestyle because they were a good person, no one got here without baggage. Still, he could’ve pretended to be a decent person. Just because he was fucked-up in his own way didn’t mean he had to be a douche.
11:26am
Hours passed by in a dreary, bleak silence, with only the melodies on the radio to keep you grounded. If you didn’t focus on what you could hear, you found the car ride felt like reliving the same dull moment again and again. At least the radio let you know you were getting closer to your destination. Eventually, Masky pulled over and into a gas station, saying he needed to “Fill the tank” before he slipped out of the car.
You got out, too, turning to him, "I'm gonna get a drink,” You told him, “Want anything?”
He paused for a beat, considering, “No,”
You shrugged, “Suit yourself,” And headed inside. The gas station lights flickered overhead, the occasional fly buzzed around you as you walked to the cooler. You grabbed yourself a coffee, finding it hard to stay awake, and a thing of chips before you headed over towards the cashier.
Behind the check-out stood a middle-aged man, scrawny with sunken in features and cigarette lines decorating his lips. He didn’t bother to greet you as you set down your items, only grunting as he scanned them. It was fine you supposed, you weren’t the chattiest, but the occasional conversation was nice. Still, you didn’t expect five star customer service from a dingy, rundown gas station, or from a minimum-wage worker.
You walked back to the car. Masky was just finishing up refilling the gas as you walked out, and you slipped back into your seat without a word. Once he was seated he started the car he turned it back on, adjusting the radio volume. You watched him intently, analyzing him as if he were a puzzle you couldn’t put together. He could feel it.
“You’re staring” He said flatly as he started driving, and you looked away, ashamed, although you weren’t sure why. It wasn’t like you had done anything wrong. You were allowed to look, allowed to take him apart with your eyes and attempt to see why he was the way he was.
“Is that a problem?”
He turned to face you, looking at you for a beat, really, truly looking at you, “No,” He turned back to the road.
You took that as an invitation to keep looking. His walnut hair fell over his mask in slow waves, resting near his eyes. His hair was short, clean-cut. He had a strong build. You hadn’t looked too closely at his body before, but you could tell. You could see it in the way he carried himself, broad shoulders that bore the weight of the world, large hands, inflicted with calloused scars. Every part of this man was thick, strong from years of heavy labor, years of fighting relentlessly, serving something that never gave anything back.
It was attractive, in its own way.
You made a face at the thought. He was your boss, your dreadful coworker, you needed to get a grip. Nonetheless your inner voice said “You can detest him and still find him attractive” It was irking. You looked away.
Your eyes stayed glued onto the horizon line, something much simpler to gaze at. There wasn’t a certain way you were supposed to feel when looking outside, there weren’t any emotions attached. And when it comes to this lifestyle, the less emotions the better. The less you have to lose. The less you get hurt.
11:09pm
You weren’t sure when, but at some point you had managed to fall asleep. You’d awoken to Masky’s hand on your shoulder, jolting you awake as he said your name, “We’re here”.
You just stared at him for a couple seconds, not processing his words. They registered slowly, “Like… at the hotel?”
If you could see his full face you’d bet he was giving you the most diabolical deadpan, thousand yard stare. “Yes,” His voice was gruff, irritation not being masked in the slightest.
“Sorry,” You grumbled, not meaning it. You unbuckled yourself, getting out of his car and grabbing your bag, “You coming?” You bitched.
His glare was icy this time, “Watch yourself,”
You snicked, “Always do, boss” you mocked. His posture tensed, he glanced at you, he kept walking. You followed several paces behind him, watching his silhouette as you walked to the lobby. The yellow lighting inside had cast an eerie overtone to the room, shadows feeling hollow, highlights mistaken for the white highlights of a snakes’ eye.The furniture inside was all a muddy brown, couches appearing velvet and worn from years of use and poor care. The lampshades were moth-eaten, the carpet was stained, and there was something crimson-brown etched into the carpet. It was your typical mission hotel. Not designed for comfort, but chosen due to a lack of security, lack of interference from outside forces, and it was dirt cheap.
You didn’t listen as Masky spoke with the front desk receptionist, you could hear them talking, but paid it no mind. Eyeing the unfortunate paintings on the walls. They all looked straight from the 1800s, oil paint and romanticism, but that wasn’t what threw you off. What struck you was the jarring fact that they all had clowns at the center of them. Some clowns held balloons, some flowers, but the one that captured your attention was a dull black and white clown. He was staring straight into the camera with pointed teeth, hair short and jagged, his eyes were surrounded with a smoky black, feathers decorated his shoulders, and his arms matched his nose; rings of black and white.
Something about him felt familiar. You weren’t sure why.
“Hey,” Masky said, upset, and you realized he had been talking to you for some time.
“Yes, sorry,” You said softly, earning yourself an eyeroll.
“Room 203. Come on,” He started walking, key in hand, not waiting to see if you followed. He knew you would. As much as you could be a pain in his ass, you never disobeyed him when it came to work. You knew better.
Reaching your room, you watched Masky unlock it, and the two of you ducked inside. You glanced around, a small table, a tv mounted on the wall, a mini fridge, and one bed. Typical, as far as overnight missions went, one bed per two proxies was the standard. You’ve just never had to share with Masky before, not that it bothered you.
Masky muttered something about going to shower, and you hummed in acknowledgement. Setting yourself down on the side of the bed you’d chosen to be yours, you cracked your neck before pulling out your pajamas. They weren’t anything special, you didn’t see the point in bringing anything particularly nice to work. You never knew what could happen to it. You took off your holster before you stripped yourself of your clothes. Putting on an old, hand-me-down t-shirt and shorts, you got onto your bed, resting above the covers. Grabbing your phone, you chose to scroll until Masky got out of the shower.
It was only fifteen minutes before he was out, wearing baggy sweatpants and a skintight wifebeater, his mask was off, too. Like in the car, you found your eyes wandering. The muscles of his torso were strong, yet soft, covered in a layer of pudge. Biteable, you thought to yourself, snickering, then shaming yourself for even looking. When you brought your eyes up from his abdomen to his face, you realized he was watching you, too.
You blushed. You stood swiftly, grabbing your toothpaste and brush, and headed to the bathroom, being careful to not brush any part of your body against him when you passed him in the narrow hallway. Flicking the light on in the bathroom, you walked to the sink. Setting your stuff down, you grabbed a dry rag and ran it under water for a moment. You lightly washed your face before you brushed your teeth.
You went back to your bed, finding Masky smoking out the window. You debated commenting on it, but figured him smoking like this was the best you were going to get. You didn’t want to irritate him and cause him to shut the window out of spite. You knew he had it in him, that kind of grumpy pettiness you detested when it came to him. Odd, you encouraged it in Kate, and found it amusing in both Toby and Hoodie, when it wasn’t directed at you.Maybe you were hypocritical, you thought you were justified.
You weren’t sure what you had done for him to be so bitter towards you, he had been for as long as you could remember. It was different from how he interacted with the other proxies. His silence with you was full of tension and unease, yet around everyone else it was simply neutral. You dared to say that around Hoodie it may have even been pleasant.
You laid under covers, huffing and facing away from him, “Night,” You murmured, unsure of if you spoke loud enough for him to hear you in the first place. Not that it mattered, you wouldn’t get a response regardless.
1:13am
You were irritated. You needed to piss, and you didn’t want to climb out of the warmth hiding under the comforter. The floor creaked slightly under your even steps, and you wondered how easily the floor would give in. Washing your hands, you took note of your appearance in the cracked mirror. Your hair was tussled, you must’ve been restless in your sleep, and your undereye bags were beaming. Though you’ve slept plenty within the last 24 hours, your bones still ached from years of unforgiving labor, and no matter how many hours you slept, you could never catch back up to the hours lost.
Walking back to your shared resting space, you noticed Masky alert, upright, and sitting on the bed. You paused, cautious, and unsure what he was doing, “...Masky?” You asked, doubting whether acknowledgement was the right move.
“Hmm?” He hummed, head turning to face you. You saw his mask was back on.
“What, uh, are you doing?” You walked over to his side of the bed in slow, educated steps.
“Watching,”
His voice was flat, devoid of all things human. You’d seen Hoodie deal with him when he’s like this. “I’ll watch,” You offered, hopeful. Tomorrow's travelling would be unbearable if he was too tired to drive.
He stared at you, but he wasn’t truly seeing you. You were blurry. “Why,”
You weren’t sure what to say to that. That this is how you’ve seen others deal with him? That you were trying to minimize things? That maybe you gave the absolute tiniest fuck about his well being? Even if you didn’t like him, he was still someone you’d been around for hours upon hours, and you aren’t completely emotionless.
“I’m good at my job, Masky, you know this,” You started, looking into cruel, blue eyes, “I can watch tonight, you watched all day today- I’ll wake you if I need to,” You finished.
He huffed at you, moving so he was now laying down, facing the window, clearly still watching, “Do what you want,”
Well, that was the best you were going to get, “I will,” You whispered, moving back to your spot on the bed. You sat upright this time, mimicking his earlier position to a tee. You could tell he knew, you saw his shoulders loosen.
Two and a half hours later, you heard the sound of light snoring. You smiled.