Chapter Text
This war between the two nations was pointless.
They both knew it.
Or at least Black knew about it.
In this war where victory may be claimed not by just blind brute force, but by knowing the next step of the opposite party.
A war so long and cold with plenty of blood to shed and suspense to hold. A war between the two nations, Black and White.
Back and forth, the two nations would took turns winning and losing in field of battle, of manpower and field of wits, of outsmarting. And for their decades of equal exchanges of loss and victory, neither nations had barely made any progression toward the goal they envisioned.
Thanked to some certain agent's literal blood and sweat, The Black Nation had gained some upper hand recently.
Repeatedly fabricating false lies, stealing intelligences, infiltrating the other's nests, interrogating, assasinating, yada yada, were what this agent best at. If anything, his nation should had given him full credit for all these seemingly useful and useless documents or whatnots he got over the years from their enemy.
But why play this back and forth game when the other party did the same?
All of these were pointless, he believed, but at least they were fun.
A stress relief, normal citizens couldn't afford.
But 'fun' would be a tad bit childish... Thrilling should be a better word. For this feeling he felt when he was pushed to fight in the corner. When he was made to come up with a plan as the bomb ticking. When his mouth was ran to find an insult as a revolver pointed to his head...
Agent Black, or known better among his colleagues and enemies as simply Black for his all black attires, hat to shoes.
Like an addict, he craved and sought the thrill all the time. Frequently taking a beating and exposing to violence all the time took tolls on his mental health, some thought.
Becoming more and more dehumanized did a good job at blurring his private life and work altogether. All day he would think about work and work and espionage and politics... and violence. He almost forgot what life was like before the war declared. Probably something boring. Not liked he would miss it.
As days gone by, Black grew restless...
Even as the best spy The Black Nation had to offer, capable of doing all of the above and beyond average, he had to admit that lately his restlessness only grew and that made his repetitive games much less thrilling.
His problem was soon given a name: Boredom, or in his janky mind was, 'where the fuck is that bastard?!'
"That bastard", a nickname he coined for an agent of the opposite party, a certain spy from The White Nation.
Agent White, his perfect match in espionage, a highly trained spy, an equal foul-mouthed asshole, a sneaky, giggling bitch with a pointy nose who dressed proper and trimmed in all white from hat to, you guessed it, shoes.
Black had to admit, all these years of being a spy, being a violence and achievements crazed, White was the only one for him, the only thing he looked forward to at work. His only source of thrill.
Sadly, this object of obsession of his went MIA for months without much detail to fill the report, or that was what the tip gave him.
Now, Black found himself jumping into any mission that required sabotaging and infiltration directly at The White Embassy, which pleased his boss very much, (yet his paycheck stay the same. How strange). He just hoped the constant offense and high kill streaks would force the best of The White Nation to pop up eventually.
As the pitch black night started, Black hopped room to room in a seemingly lifeless building, looking for a single paper that may or may not contain interesting information about The White Nation's weapon trade routes. He went through all the three levels of security for each and every doors with ease. It was so easy that it wasn't fun at all, led him to believe that this whole setup might be just a trap to lure someone out...
And he wished that someone was him...
His heart beat crazy as he checked through every drawers, every locks in every single dim lit rooms he came across. It wasn't fear that drove his heart pummeling, but by overly excitement at the possibility that maybe, just maybe, that bastard had him playing hide-and-seek with.
Black gave up searching for that mundane paper for now. Chances were it never exist in the first place was likely the case and this might be a setup for trap.
A trap...
If his theory was proven true... Black smiled to himself. Then he could expect a thrilling night awaited. There was the only one who could pull this kind of foul play.
As he shifted from room to room with less and less effort to chase after the paper in the same furnished rooms with just a single desk, a drawer and a lamp...
About time for the suspense to be revealed.
It was just as he predicted, a cut off of lights like a B-grade horror movie. An already dim lit room was now swallowed by darkness.
He chose not to move even an inch, knowing how all it usually went, knowing how first came the sound of his familiar footsteps...
Then, the bastard would started with his lame and snarky monologue...
"I'm surprised that your tip was competent enough to give you the right address, but not smart enough to know that this was a setup."
"He knew I love to play pretend," Black replied back to the voice he heard from behind the door far to his right.
The voice he craved to hear. The bastard he yearned to meet.
And that door swung open, revealing a blurry figure of a man dressed in all white. Even in the dark, Black could make a shape of the scene he was in. His eyes followed along that walking white suit.
Oh, the thrill.
"Come here. Let's have it easy this time."
He heard a shuffle around the desk and the little lamp on it was opened. Its small radius of light distracted him from the rest of White, showing him only the man's pale hand, resting lightly on the wooden desk.
Black moved in closer to the target with caution. By 'with caution' he meant with his pistol in hand. He could just shoot the other spy from this distance and be done with, but his curiosity was telling him to play along. And, oh, it had been so long since he had heard the white spy's sweet voice. He wanted this brief reunion of theirs to last a little... longer.
"With you, there is never an easy time." Black sighed, but he knew a few muscles on his stiff face were lifting into a grin. "So?"
With brief pause as if hesitated, the other agent replied, "Have you ever considered... putting an end to this pointless war, Black?"
White's voice trailed off at his name, he noted.
His eyes followed along the hand's small, slight movement. Its owner was waiting for his response.
The black spy didn't answer right away. He crept closer to the lamp and faced the room's only source of light. He tried to look up at the man across the desk, but saw only blurry figure of his in this pitch black darkness.
"We would end up jobless," was his reply as he shut off the lamp.
White sighed a heavy sigh as if expected this. His hand withdrew back into the darkness, voice became stern. "Is that a no?"
"Well, I did consider."
And in a swift moment, they both heard sounds of guns cocked simultaneously, yet there was a click and a single trigger was pulled.
Seemed as if they both had the same idea:
Talk gone wrong, gun out.
Black gasped, knowing he was a little late with his shot. The pistol was out but his finger wasn't on the trigger. Right now, he didn't feel anything, yet, maybe he wasn't shot, but it was too fast to assume that his adrenaline wasn't working on soothing the wound.
"Listen, we don't have to fight. Just listen to me once, I can explain you into details," the voice in the dark suggested. "We can talk."
His shadowy form crept closer to the other.
"I think we have been past the negotiation phase already." Black stood still, leaning heavily on the sturdy desk, trying to convince his body that it wasn't shot. His head and eyes attentively trailed after the ghostly figure.
At last, those hesitated footsteps stopped as if its owner figured out how this night would be. The last tap of his boot was heard right in front of him just as the same time he felt something pressed against his chin, forcing his head to tilt up.
"Let's fall back to our usual routine then."
Black grinned widely. He had been dying all these months to have this sweet proposal arranged.
But White had to know he wasn't the only one with a gun in this ceremony.
"Is that your pistol popping up or are you just very happy to see me?" White gave him a low chuckle, a chuckle that Black knew it came with a gentle smile, as he felt the gun's barrel shoved against his stomach.
"Quit with the dick joke and tell me where the damn paper is." Black rolled his eyes, pushing the other man off of him with his gun, so he could draw a little distance from where he sat. "Let's have it easy this time."
The ghostly figure gave him a displeased grunt, hearing his own saying being repeated. He hated it when Black tried to be a smartass with words. Something neither of them were good at.
Not seeing how he could change the outcome of this conversation, White leaned forward, to the desk, to the lamp, with fingers still laced around the trigger, so close that their knees almost touched. A gesture Black almost mistook for an intimate sign.
The little lamp was turned back on once again. This time, the small radius of light allowed Black to see the frowned face, though exhausted, of his enemy that he loved so much. The said face was soon replaced by a slight grimace as the black spy felt blunt force of the gun butt smacked against the side of his skull.
For a second Black was distracted.
Damn White and that lovely face of his.
The hit was harsh, but not enough to knock him down neither to crack his skull.
White knew he was at a disadvantage. A disadvantage he purposefully set up by himself. Wearing white, the most noticeable color, in the room surrounded by the dark, the lamp's white brightness was his only comfort. He saw the other spy slipped into the black pitch of the room, blending himself into the lightless corner.
Black, who thought was at an advantage, crouched down and charged at the white agent who quickly leaped onto the desk, dodging the tackle.
At fast as he could, White shot after the moving shadow he could see, thanked to the lamp. One, two, three, four and five. None of those bullets reached the black agent who was keeping track of the numbers. If he was right, White had almost emptied the chambers of his favorite revolver.
Using all the strength he had, Black forced the sturdy desk to flip with his quick push by the back. He heard, first the lamp fall, second a small yelp and then a loud thud from someone's side landed on the floor along with the heavy desk.
This time, the white spy wasn't quick enough to recover as he felt heavy boot stepped on his ribs. To his surprised, Black wasn't putting much weight on it.
Instead of thrusting the cold barrel of the pistol or the sharp end of a knife like always to his rival's face, the black agent approached him a little more... humane than usual, tucking away his own pistol.
Either by death or his own carelessness, he didn't want the bastard to slip away again now that he finally had him.
Lowering himself, almost kneeling, enough to ensure that White wouldn't squirm away underneath him, he gently took away that revolver he gripped tight in his hand and pointed it back at its owner's chest. The fallen little white light of the lamp just above White's head allowed him to see the man's pale, lovely face again.
"Hey, now, put that thing down. It's dangerous to play with a gun," his white counterpart said.
The black agent knew he was being mocked at, judging by his rival's small smirk. "There's still one round left to put in your skull."
"So, you counted." White giggled, playfully tapping on his shoulder. There, his dumb little laugh was getting on his nerve already.
Black grunted, changing the subject. "Where have you been all these months?" His voice didn't come out as cold as he wished despite being fucking annoyed by the man beneath him. "I thought you were dead for real this time."
"Admit it," White teased, cocking his head to the other side, trying to have a better look at the other agent's expression in the dark. "You missed me."
"The only thing I missed was beating you to death."
The not so hidden longing tone in his scary statement made White's lips curled up all the while saying, "I've been busy chasing papers."
Black shrugged, uninterested. What White was after was not of his concern. Right now, he just wanted to focus with what in front of him. "Right, you remind me that I have my own paper to chase."
"Believe it or not; it's in my front pocket." White winced a little as his hand guided the revolver away, feeling the impact of the earlier fall on his ribs already. "So, be careful where you shoot. You wouldn't want such important thing to have a hole in it."
"What the fuck? You're not that important."
"I meant the document, dumbass." The white spy hissed as he reached for the said item, folded and small. "Just take it. I don't have the energy to quarrel with you tonight."
Even in the dimly lit office, they could 'see' the grins from each other.
It was a miracle that the lamp was still working its best to radiate some light for their little exchange of smiles.
Months passed and now they were here, facing with their worst nemeses.
Oh, how they loved to banter with each other, trying to mess another with words and gestures... and traps and murderings.
Strangely for rivals who mocked and killed on daily basis, they felt comfortable with whatever weird relationship label that was currently going on between them. It was ironic of Black to admit that it felt like he was having fun with a friend.
"Will you let me go now? I have other stuffs to do."
But soon Black's grin would drop into his usual frown as he quickly rid away the piece from his rival's hand. He knew not to trust this docile act of the bastard. Although it didn't happened often with him acting like this, the black agent could never put his trust on this said 'friend', especially one who was a spy. Not to mention of the opposite nation.
Just to be sure that he wasn't tricked into another nonsense trap, Black pressed down the revolver even more with force. "This is all too easy, don't you think?"
It took away all the thrill.
Black grunted in frustration, getting both the gun and himself off from the other spy, dusting his clothes clean only to feel a little bump in-between his shirt collar.
"You-" he reached for it in panic before realizing what it was.
A small explosive.
When?! Was it when the bastard reaching for the lamp? Was it when he was handing him the document? Don't tell him it was that stupid tap on the shoulder?
Many thoughts raced in Black's mind in those few seconds that he didn't pay much attention on White who was already sprung back to his feet.
The white agent gripped tight on the small lamp in his hand.
Like the lamp's lightbulb, Black felt like the world went dark for a second as he heard the small sound of glass being broken as well as a tiny explosion ringing inside his head.
The pain forced him to grip tighter on the revolver.
"It's not enough to kill you, is it?"
"Like hell I would die from kid's toys," he hissed and said that, but the side of his skull hurt like one. "I'll fucking kill you."
In that swift moment, White didn't know which he should react to first. The murderous intent of wanting him dead, the cruel grin from the black agent he saw in a flash of light or the fact that he was shot in the leg already, by his own revolver to boost.
White found himself dropping on one knee instinctively from the sudden pain. He immediately calculated how long he may have before passing out from blood loss, only to find out that death might come too soon by having the same revolver pointed directly at his eye socket.
His short breath shaken, trying to keep it cool still. "And I was expecting a peaceful Saturday night."
Now that the last round of the revolver was emptied and the document was secured with him, Black walked out from the building, reaching for the nearest house of his own that he could treat the stinging pain on his face and fresh clothes to change into.
But more importantly, tonight, he had his thrill.