Work Text
Five minutes late.
Again.
You suppressed a slew of panicked huffs as you navigated the industrialistic hallways of The Agency’s headquarters. The place was nothing short of bleak, and although you despised it at first, the place grew on you a few months into your employment. A thin tablet tucked under your arm alongside a few color-coded folders gave a faint buzz, and you frantically pushed a few locks of hair out of your face to read a notification from your boss– a steely man whose expectations towered straight through the ceiling. You hadn’t bothered to even read it. As always, it was a comment on your lateness or yet another threat to your job.
You swung the door open to his office, heaving exasperated breaths as you struggled to regain composure. In doing so, you tripped on the edge of the huge carpet that coated the hardwood floors. Wincing after bringing your weight down on your forearms, your face thoroughly flushed as the embarrassment of the situation kicked in. You slowly look up, heartbeat thrumming in your ears. As always, he sat at his desk– too resin-etched a beauty for its mundane use. His hard eyes looked down at you in disapproval, his hands steepled just under his bearded chin. The single overhead light caught the titanium surface of three fingers on his left hand. Almost serving as a testament to his absolute authority.
“Tardy,
as always.” His gruff voice came crashing down on you although he lacked any outburst– just that calm, disapproving tone he always carried with you. “For someone with previous secretary positions, you seem to lack the appropriate sense of urgency for this line of work.”
Your response came quick as you rose back to your feet. “Apologies, sir! I lost track of time running these over to the–” Your words halted upon the sound of him clearing his gravel throat, and with a cock of a silver brow you sucked in a breath. This had always been Ronan’s way of saying
‘get on with it.’
“Uh, the reports you requested from Team Zeta are in.” You took a few feeble steps toward his elevated desk and set a grey folder on the open space, “And, a message from Team Epsilon’s leader.” With that, you clicked your tablet on, sliding to your email and setting the thin device on the desk before him.
Ronan let out an approving hum before taking the device in his hands, tilting it upward, the light blue of the device catching on his glasses that perched on the very tip of his nose. You sat in silence for a good minute, used to waiting for him to read a particularly lengthy email from any of the heads of teams. But, this time was different.
He let out a laugh– more of a sarcastically amused chortle, and pushed the device back towards you.
The sound was so incredulous that you hesitated before taking it back. You knew whatever amused him wasn’t meant to, and the expression on his face dripped of disdain. What could that email possibly have said?
***
Hayden’s eye twitched at the sight of yet
another
unwanted pile of paperwork that had appeared on his desk that morning. He ran a gloved thumb up the corner of the pile, catching brief glimpses of each document that flitted by that required his signature, patience, and undivided attention. Two of the three he was running low on.
“At this point, you should just tell Command to tone it down. Think of how many trees you’ll save.” Came Annette's voice from behind. The arbiter leaned against the doorframe of Hayden’s office, a clever smirk plastered on her lips.
He ran a hand through his black hair, grumbling. “That’d just be asking them permission to
not
do my job.” He turned around, arms crossed over his chest. Although his gaze was shielded behind the white lenses of agent sunglasses, his irritation with her sentiment was apparent. Annette had her moments, especially since they had such a history, but the current one was a miss.
She stifled a laugh, averting her eyes to her forearm as she adjusted Knuckleboom. “With the way you down bourbon on our off-duty days, I can tell you don’t care for the job either way.” Her tone was casual, but contained some friendly bite to it.
Hayden didn’t care for it.
“Missing that longshot almost cost us the mission.” He said flatly, shifting to fold his arms behind him as he turned back around to the unfortunate display on his desk.
He heard a barely-audible intake of breath from behind, and from beneath his black face mask his lips pursed. Annette groaned, “I'll head to the range.”
Her footsteps that faded down the hallway sounded the bells of Hayden’s relief. But as he loomed over the paperwork, he couldn’t help take her advice into consideration.
He stepped around the desk and shrugged off his white kevlar vest, draping it over the back of his chair with the same meticulousness that applied to every other aspect in his life. He cracked open his device and began to type.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Can you
believe
the guts on this kid?” Ronan’s voice– hoarse from his time barking orders on the field (and maybe a few hundred cigarettes) filled his otherwise empty office, the sleek phone pressed against his left ear faintly capturing his coworkers’ shared amusement. His chair creaked as he leaned forward, bringing a calloused finger to the screen of his monitor as he recited aloud:
“...concerned with the amount of paperwork … affecting leadership performance…”
He read aloud, his gruff voice carrying a rare mocking tone. Ronan leaned back with another loud cackle, his hand slamming down on the surface of his desk in addition to the hearty sound. A pen clattered to the floor. “It almost sounds like he needs some kind of…secretary, or something.”
Once their laughter at Hayden’s expense died down, the voice from the other line crackled back to life with a hefty amount of sarcasm in their tone, “Hey, you’ve been looking to fire that secretary of yours, right?”
It had been a joke. But, Ronan’s brow lifted.
“Now that’s a million-dollar idea.”
***
You trudged through the doorway. It was a much better entrance than your tumble yesterday. Your day had already been full of headaches– answering your boss’ more trivial emails and taking some calls from Agents under him that had much to say about their recent missions. You brushed your hair back, blowing an exasperated sigh.
“I’m here with the latest requisition forms.” You said flatly, fatigue dripping in your tone.
Upon placing them on his desk, however, you were met with an unfamiliar sight. He seemed…amused. Looser, today. “Thank you,” He said, which gave you temporary pause– when had he said that, ever? “I’ve been meaning to address something with you. About your job.”
You felt what seemed to be a brick sink in your stomach. But it wasn’t like you didn’t expect to get fired. If anything, you were surprised they kept you around for this long.
“It seems that the head of Team Epsilon’s been struggling with…organization.” Ronan said, subtly pausing as if to choose his words carefully. But there was an air of lightheartedness to his tone you couldn’t place. “I think it’d be best to send someone to…help him with that.” It was barely detectable, but you caught a ghost of a chuckle that escaped his lips.
“And you’re suggesting
me
for that position?” You say, beside yourself.
“Correct. But that does suggest imminent departure for Eden-227…” In one smooth gesture, he slid open a drawer from beneath his desk, pulling out a thin stack of paperwork stapled horizontally in the corner, “It is a big change to ask of you. But I’m sure the hike will accommodate that.”
You eagerly reached up to pluck the papers off his desk. You flick through them– you've seen them before, paperwork outlining a general promotion, but tacked on is forms for transport to Eden. You had always been curious about them, having devoted more time than you should to reading through them each time you were asked to fetch them. To say that the idea of working, and living on Eden– the very place your job revolved around yet no information of it was ever bestowed to you
didn’t
appeal to you… would be a bold-faced lie. Your life here was nothing but bleak. Bending to your higher-ups and then returning home to a shitty apartment that left you questioning if it was even worth it. But you had been in the secretary scene for years, now. And each year was no different from the last.
But leaving this place entirely? It appealed to you more than you had expected.
“The date for your departure is listed on the forms. Will you be ready by then?” Ronan’s voice brought you back to reality.
You shifted your gaze, focus landing on a date–
Tomorrow.
You didn’t know why. Or where from within you it came, but you responded, “I’ll make it work.”
And with that, your boss– or, ex-boss now? Had sent you home for the day after you signed off for your new position. The drive back to your apartment was quiet, lacking the radio you usually turned on. But with such jarring news, you simply couldn’t bring yourself to drown out your stunned thoughts. It was that kind of flat-faced surprise that you couldn’t even muster an expression for because you simply couldn’t place it. Excitement? You were just an ordinary person, after all. Ordinary people don't just
go
to Eden. And that thought hit you– along with
all
the excitement– when you stepped up to the door of your apartment.
You threw the door open, beginning to pack everything you’d even think you’d need into a large duffel bag. Some of it may have been excessive, but with a departure date and no return date, who knows when the next time you’ll be able to see your stuff again was. And as time went on, your heart raced more with excitement, and your apartment got a hell of a lot more empty.
***
The howling winds of Eden-227’s desolate atmosphere could be heard even through the thick, concrete walls of Team Epsilon’s base. Within, the team sat around a simple table. It was a standard morning, Annette whistling to herself as she scrambled eggs in a pan over the stove while Vesper, the team’s eccentric bird-mask wearing drifter hovered over her shoulder, pestering her to hurry up with her plate. Meanwhile Quiri, berserker, leaned back in her chair with her boots propped up on the table, her long rouge braid cascading down the back of her chair as she tinkered with her signature weapon– The Decimator. Her plate was long discarded to the middle of the table, no crumbs left on her plate.
“You think it’ll jam again?” Quiri asked the last man at the table, Teddy, the team’s Zealot. She effortlessly tipped her large weapon in his direction despite its impossible weight.
Teddy leaned up from what he had been hunched over working on. “Doubt it. We worked on that thing for hours in the shop.” He spared no second glance or closer look, opting to shift his focus back onto what he had been tinkering on. Quiri rolled her eyes.
Annette and Vesper, on the other hand, were still hogging the stove. Vesper, in her tall and lanky nature, practically draped over Annette’s shoulder. “You’re taking
forever,
Annette. Last time I checked, eggs don’t take that long to cook.”
Annette rolled her visible eye. “Rush me one more time and I give your plate away.”
But right as Quiri was about to lean over to call dibs on Vesper’s plate– Hayden walked in.
His presence was usually commanding enough to quiet a room– at least, a room full of
regular
people. The team had already gotten used to his stoic and impassive demeanor. But today… he carried an air of silent rage. His black hair stuck up awkwardly, a sign he hadn’t had adequate sleep. His black face mask hadn’t been tied fully taught around his lower face like it usually was. And his eyes– although usually covered by his agent sunglasses, had darker bags than usual.
The team’s chatter had died down instantly. Their focus tore away from whatever they had been doing, and instead silently followed Hayden as he practically trudged to the coffee machine. He was usually composed. Serious. Unreadable. There weren’t many times the team got to see him crack, even just a little. The team watched in silence as he– without a word to the rest of them, simply twisted his thermos open and allowed the sound of pouring coffee to overtake the common room.
Finally, Vesper whispered to Annette, “Is…Hayden more
Hayden
or is that just me?”
Annette hardly suppressed a chuckle, “You mean
pissed?
Of course he is. He sent Command an email complaining about his paperwork load and they struck back. Gave him a secretary.”
Before any of the team could react to the new info, Hayden slammed his thermos against the surface of the counter. The loud sound silenced the chatter in a second. Coffee speckled the counter.
“They’re
punishing
me with a secretary. They know what they’re doing.” His voice came low and sharp– almost cold enough to rival the winds outside the base.
A long stretch of silence hung over the room. The team all looked around to each other, as if begging one another to bite the bullet and just say something. The burden landed on Teddy. He cleared his throat awkwardly and set down the small Phillips screwdriver he has been using. “Maybe, uh… they just wanted to lend you a hand there, boss.”
“They
know
I don’t do well with help. How would a secretary even help me in this line of work?” He said, tone full of bite. He turned to the lot of them, crossing his arms over his chest and narrowing his eyes.
Teddy, a little lost on how to respond, weighed, “Well… they could get on our asses ‘bout our own forms so you don’t gotta.”
“Yeah!” Vesper chimed in promptly, “Or help you with those debriefs you hate so much.”
Hayden shot her a glare. “I wouldn’t
hate
them so much if you guys would stick to the plan,” He capped his thermos, then turned to the cabinet, “Besides, I get by
just fine
doing it on my own. A secretary is for 9-5 office jobs. Not for Agents killing scavs on another planet.”
The team shot each other another look– they all knew he had a point. But it was less that he needed the help– which he did, but more that he lacked the system for help. Hayden was a man of structure. Not just any structure, but his structure. His team had come to know him as a bit of a control freak, not just on the field, but also in the way he led his life.
It was Vesper’s turn to pitch in once more. “I think you’re just bummed out that you’re gonna have to share your office now,” she turned to the others sitting at the table, simultaneously flicking her bird mask up just enough for them to catch a glimpse of a devilish smirk playing on her lips, “Hayden values his alone time. He’s such an introvert.”
Hayden didn’t justify her teasing with a response, instead narrowing his eyes her way before turning to head back to his office. But he didn’t even leave the base’s sad excuse of a kitchen before Annette ditched the stove to grab his shoulder, turning him back around.
“When you told me the news last night, I made ya something.” Annette snickered, reaching into her fur-lined jacket to pull out a card. It was a simple store bought one she probably accidentally kept from a stint years ago and didn’t know what to do with it. The card– upon Hayden opening it wryly– read in generic bubble letters, ‘Cheers to your new baby!’ But the word ‘baby’ had been crossed out, and under it in scraggly handwriting read the word ‘secretary.’
Hayden’s eye visibly twitched, and he refused to dignify her idiotic joke with a response. The rest of the team laughed behind him as he proceeded out of the room with a dangerous look in his eye.
Back in his office, Hayden threw the card down on his desk after he slammed the door behind him. He gave a frustrated sigh, running a gloved hand down his face. To say he was annoyed would be an understatement. He looked around his office– everything was kept the way he wanted it. His desk was pristinely organized by order of priority. The grey walls bare. The only furniture present in the room was a half-bookcase shoved in the corner of the room opposite to his desk, a gift from Teddy on one of Hayden’s past birthdays. And lastly, a black couch against the other bare wall of which even he questioned its purpose. It was just there when he arrived. He couldn’t even imagine how he’d accommodate a second individual working here. Everything had just been so tailored to him. The thought of someone else in here every day irked him.
His eyes passed over his desk once more. Stopping at the card, his jaw tightened. Weirdly, his team’s teasing made the idea seem less-imposing. But a joke like that? Only Annette would have the gall to pull on him. He muttered something about how lucky she was that they had been on a team together, years ago, stationed somewhere else on Eden. Nonetheless, he leaned down, pressing a button on his communicator to allow his voice to ring out through the base, he spoke pointedly, “Report to the training facilities at 0900 hours. I recommend bringing extra water and an apology.”
Once he set the communicator down, he suppressed a satisfied grin as he heard the groans of his team members through the wall.
***
You were overwhelmed.
The ride was bumpy. Your bag was heavy. And you barely had any sleep the night before. You didn’t know what to expect, but by the time the door had closed you had a revelation– That air of lightheartedness you had detected in Ronan’s tone. You finally came to the realization that it was simply amusement. Amusement at your expense.
You were able to spend the grueling ride to Eden reading up on who exactly your new boss was. He had a file on him– like everyone did in The Agency. His picture had already done an effective job at showcasing just how tenacious this guy was.
Epsilon-01: Hayden Winters. 26. Artillerist and Commanding Officer of Epsilon.
You continued to read, through the boring stuff:
5’9. 165 lbs. Grey eyes.
Then, you got to the good part.
To your dismay, most of his mission history was redacted. But his personality evaluations were left unguarded for your viewing pleasure.
Reported to be methodical. Systemic in thought, approach, and execution. Reliable. Dedicated to following orders and always planning ahead. Dependable. Displays a team mentality and always last to leave a fight.
From reading that, you weren’t sure if working for him would be much– if not any– upgrade from working for Ronan. It was odd. You had assumed working for someone under Ronan would be tremendously easier, but you hadn’t ever even interacted with an agent under him. You had definitely seen some in The Agency’s head office, but you knew their place was on Eden. You thought to yourself as you skimmed his document once more,
‘is this guy even human?’
His brooding gaze, lack of emotion on his face, and worst of all… that personality evaluation.
You were able to get some reading in on his four other team members before you were notified of your arrival. You fiddled with the strap of your duffel bag as you rose from the metal seat, wobbling on your feet. The door opened, mechanically lowering to allow you to step off. You took in your surroundings with shallow breaths, the cold of Eden already nipping at your exposed skin. The ship had been halfway parked in a warehouse or workshop of sorts– you judged by the scattered parts on the floor, along with dismantled turrets and tools hanging on the wall. Then, your eyes landed on him.
Hayden Winters. Your new boss.
His grey eyes were covered by agent sunglasses. You assumed he couldn’t wear them in the picture you saw on his document. If anything, he was
more
intimidating and poised than what you read on him. Before greeting you, he met with one of the agents who you assumed had taken you here. He signed on papers thrusted in front of him– transport forms, as you inferred– and the agent headed back into the ship. You gulped. It was time for introductions.
You took a step forward, trying not to overthink it. But as you made your way down you stumbled due to the sheer incline. Thankfully you didn’t fall, but it was enough to thoroughly embarrass yourself. You cleared your throat, regaining your composure as you stuck a hand out in a formal gesture, “You’re my new boss. It’s nice to meet you.”
A beat of silence passed. Hayden didn’t move. And because of those damn glasses and mask you couldn’t even read his expression. Finally, he responded flatly, “You as well. I’ll show you where you’ll be spending most of your time.”
You allowed your hand to fall back to your side, handshake unreciprocated. A pit formed in your stomach– you had taken the kind and courteous approach to meeting Ronan, so what was this guy’s deal?
Nonetheless you followed him through the corridors. Oddly, it was bleaker than The Agency’s headquarters, but something about it simply
radiated
more personality. You had heard the chatter of what you assumed to be his other teammates– but you had no time to look down any passing halls as Hayden’s strides remained purposeful and long, not bothering to slow down for you.
You had to skid to a halt just behind him as he stopped suddenly. The door was the same as the rest, and you attempted to mentally ingrain the area in your memory since all the doors looked identical. When he opened the door, you were met with
the most
minimalistic space you had ever seen. You gaped at the simplicity, the gray, the
nothingness.
But he pulled you from those thoughts as he gestured to a small desk that seemed haphazardly shoved next to the small couch.
“This is your space. Away from mine.” He stated simply, “Your job is to handle my paperwork, keep Command off my back, and make sure I don’t have to deal with anything that isn’t mission-critical. Got it?”
You nodded quickly. It sounded pretty much like your old job, only with a much more emotionless figure giving you the paperwork.
He spoke again, “Since I wasn’t aware of your arrival sooner, I have nothing for you today.” You inwardly cringed at that.
Was he complaining about your existence?
But you had zero time to think it over as he carried on, “I suggest familiarizing yourself with the base.” He then stepped around his own– larger, desk and took a seat behind it. He wasted no time in picking up a pen and getting to work on a form in front of him.
His no-nonsense approach was jarring. Somehow, he made your first day under Ronan a
blessing
compared to this. If anything, you felt out of place. And the worst part, you didn’t even know where you could retreat to. You were stuck in this confusing, cold place with no home in sight. All the while he sat at his chair, already acting as if you didn’t exist. From this angle, you could catch a glimpse of his eyes from under his glasses. They were hardened from years of professionalism, and were as unreadable as the rest of him.
He cleared his throat, taking you by surprise. “Dismissed.”
The simple word made you flush with embarrassment once more, and you quickly murmured a “yes sir” under your breath as you hurried out of his office. Once out, you carefully shut the door, avoiding any slamming that would annoy him more than your extended stay did. You blew out a sigh you didn’t even realize you had been holding in.
But again, you couldn’t catch up on your thoughts when you heard a voice behind you.
“Difficult, isn’t he?”
You turned around quickly, thoroughly startled. But you recognized who she was immediately. Epsilon-02, Annette Avis. Her shoulder-length black hair was telling– but her most defining feature was a dead giveaway– a black eyepatch covering her left eye. According to her document, she was Epsilon’s arbiter. She’s extremely reliable, being that Epsilon lacked an official medic but she was a thorough step-in with her previous knowledge from medical school. She usually took a direct approach to problem solving and is generally easy to work with. Her flaw? She’s an alcoholic.
Her voice cut through your mental observation, “You’re a starer, aren’t you?” She said with a laugh.
You immediately backed up, throwing your hands up in defense, “No! No, I’m sorry. I just… recognized you from your file.”
Her eyebrow raised, and she looked almost impressed. “You read ahead? Huh. That’s a good sign. Hayden might not totally hate you.”
A flash of worry crossed your face, and you opened your mouth to question further but she interrupted you, “Not that he does. Sorry, don’t mean to scare you. I’m sure he’s done enough of that already. He’s just got this… no-nonsense approach when it comes to stuff like this.”
Relief washed over you. And within, you thanked this new person for showing you an ounce of welcome. Before her, all you felt like was a simple cargo delivery. With this newfound comfort, you gather up your courage to ask, “He…didn’t tell me where I was staying. Do you happen to know where?”
Annette gave a chuckle, “Y’know, I feel like anyone else would be surprised he didn’t tell you. But I’ve known him long enough to cover for him.” She stuffed her hands into her pockets, and she turned on her heel. “Follow me.”
And with that, she took you down a hallway— identical to the rest of the hallways you’d passed. Except… the doors began to have little touches of personality. You passed one that read ‘Quiri,’ a name you recognize from a document. Her door had a few scratches and dents on it. The next came ‘Vesper,’ and she had hung a drawing of a bird under her name plate. Your grip tightened on the strap of your bag. Of any team you’d ever seen,
they
were certainly the oddest bunch of people you’d ever seen put on a base together.
But then Annette stopped you in front of your door— unnamed and tucked in the corner. You didn’t mind that. If anything, it’d be a getaway from the rest of the chaos. And chaos was exactly what your life was going to be starting now.