[FIC] Following Protocol (AGENT AU- 1)
Title: Following Protocol
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Denmark, Norway, Iceland, Germany, Prussia. Hints at Denmark/Norway
Word Count: 892
Warning/s: human names used
Summary: AU. A training mission backfires and Mathias faces the consequences.
A/N: Secret agent!AU. The Nordics make up the North Unit, specializing in assassinations, of the Compass Organization. Other nations may/may not make eventual appearances. Depends on how far this idea will devour my brain. xD
Credit for the Nordics’ agent names goes to sir-erdgeist on deviantArt, whose drawings of my fav five as spies basically inspired all this. (Seriously, go check out their work, it’s hilarious and AWESOME)
“What the HELL were you thinking with that stunt? You coulda killed the runt!” the Coordinator shouted, slamming his hands on the desk in anger.
Mathias stood in front of the desk, shoulders straight and hands behind his back, the table hiding the slight shuffling of his feet. In a neutral tone, he replied, “There were unexpected complications, sir.”
The Coordinator opened his mouth, about to shout some more, when he was interrupted.
“Enough, brother.” All eyes turned toward the Director, Ludwig, who had a graver look on his face than usual. Gilbert eyed his brother, then nodded once and stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest and continuing to glare at Mathias.
“Agent Viking, in face of the near failure of your team’s latest mission and your own subsequent behavior, resulting in the injury of a fellow agent, the decision has been made to remove you from the remainder of this Initiative.”
“- What?! You can’t do that- ” He snapped his mouth shut as Ludwig raised his hand.
The Director looked to the back of the room, where two other men had been standing patiently the entire time. “Agent Troll. You will continue further assignments partnered with Agent Ikea. Agent Heavy Metal has already been briefed with command directives.”
“Understood.”
“Agent Puffin.”
Aron flushed bright red at being suddenly addressed. A bandage could be seen peeking out from under his shirt collar. “Y-yes sir.”
“You have our apologies. You’re both dismissed.” Aron nodded quickly, and followed his brother out of the room.
The remaining men all watched as the door closed behind them. Ludwig faced Mathias again. “This mission was supposed to be a simple live-field training procedure for a new recruit. The rest of your team is experienced, or mad, enough to understand your wild changes to protocol and so we let it slide. No more. If anything happens again, I’ll leave it as your responsibility to explain to your team why someone is injured. Or worse. Am I clear?”
Mathias’ voice was tight as he replied, “Yes sir.”
Gilbert spoke up from where he’d been watching the exchange. “Hmph. Damn right it’s clear. Get outta here, punk. Dismissed.”
A tense nod and Mathias walked out of the room as fast as his long legs would allow. When the door had clicked shut behind him, he let out a deep sigh and ran his fingers frustratedly through his hair. After staring off into nothing for a bit, he straightened up again and headed towards the elevator.
He needed a drink.
***
The bar was a small place his team frequented often, owned by a German whose Swedish wife insisted on selling drinks from home. Mathias walked through the dim interior, heading to an isolated side section, where a familiar shape was seated alone. He approached the table and slid into the opposite seat, motioning to a server who was passing. “Stauning, please.”
There was a quiet snort from his companion. “You’re still drinking that garbage?”
“Always will. I have my Danish pride, you know.”
It was the first words they had spoken to each other since the mission.
Mathias’s drink arrived and he took a slow sip, letting the whiskey burn down his throat. Both men were silent as they drank. Aleksander stared at the front of the bar, from where the street was visible. Mathias looked at Aleksander’s face, trying to gauge the other man’s feelings. But that face remained unreadable, even to him, who knew Aleksander so well.
“I’m sorry.” He blurted out.
Aleksander finally deemed to look him in the eyes at that, expression becoming as cold as the ice of his homeland. “My brother dislocated a shoulder. Almost broke his collarbone.” His tone was even, but the accusation hung in the air between them.
Mathias actually felt at a loss for words in the face of the anger in Aleksander’s eyes. They both knew very well that his brother was his weakness. Aleksander turned his face away, looking towards the street again. “If Aron gets hurt, it better be his own damn fault. Not some idiot’s.”
“I’m not blaming him- but that van came out of nowhere. I didn’t expect -”
Aleksander’s response was sharp and biting. “We expect the leader to be prepared.” He swallowed the last of his drink and got up to leave.
“Norge, wait.” Mathias grabbed his wrist, thumb brushing against warm skin.
Aleksander simply looked down at him, expression blank. Tensing under the scrutiny, Mathias dropped his gaze to his fingers on the other man’s arm instead. His grip tightened as he choked out, “-You and Ikea.”
Aleksander yanked his arm away.
“You’re even stupider than I thought. I’m finishing the job with him and that’s it. I don’t want to see you until Central tells you it’s over.” And cool as always, he walked out, not looking back.
Mathias watched his retreating figure through the window until it faded from his view. Then he tossed back the rest of his whiskey and stood up. Throwing some bills onto the table, Mathias walked out onto the streets of Berlin. He wandered aimlessly down some avenue, lost in thought, hands bunched in his pockets. The Initiative wasn’t due to end for another month or so. He sighed. Now seemed as good a time as any for that fishing vacation....
END
Blame Gilbert for the agent names, he’s the one who registers them into the system. Ludwig is never pleased when the new files come in.
Oh, and their pseudonyms? Agent Strudel and Agent Awesome. XD
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Denmark, Norway, Iceland, Germany, Prussia. Hints at Denmark/Norway
Word Count: 892
Warning/s: human names used
Summary: AU. A training mission backfires and Mathias faces the consequences.
A/N: Secret agent!AU. The Nordics make up the North Unit, specializing in assassinations, of the Compass Organization. Other nations may/may not make eventual appearances. Depends on how far this idea will devour my brain. xD
Credit for the Nordics’ agent names goes to sir-erdgeist on deviantArt, whose drawings of my fav five as spies basically inspired all this. (Seriously, go check out their work, it’s hilarious and AWESOME)
“What the HELL were you thinking with that stunt? You coulda killed the runt!” the Coordinator shouted, slamming his hands on the desk in anger.
Mathias stood in front of the desk, shoulders straight and hands behind his back, the table hiding the slight shuffling of his feet. In a neutral tone, he replied, “There were unexpected complications, sir.”
The Coordinator opened his mouth, about to shout some more, when he was interrupted.
“Enough, brother.” All eyes turned toward the Director, Ludwig, who had a graver look on his face than usual. Gilbert eyed his brother, then nodded once and stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest and continuing to glare at Mathias.
“Agent Viking, in face of the near failure of your team’s latest mission and your own subsequent behavior, resulting in the injury of a fellow agent, the decision has been made to remove you from the remainder of this Initiative.”
“- What?! You can’t do that- ” He snapped his mouth shut as Ludwig raised his hand.
The Director looked to the back of the room, where two other men had been standing patiently the entire time. “Agent Troll. You will continue further assignments partnered with Agent Ikea. Agent Heavy Metal has already been briefed with command directives.”
“Understood.”
“Agent Puffin.”
Aron flushed bright red at being suddenly addressed. A bandage could be seen peeking out from under his shirt collar. “Y-yes sir.”
“You have our apologies. You’re both dismissed.” Aron nodded quickly, and followed his brother out of the room.
The remaining men all watched as the door closed behind them. Ludwig faced Mathias again. “This mission was supposed to be a simple live-field training procedure for a new recruit. The rest of your team is experienced, or mad, enough to understand your wild changes to protocol and so we let it slide. No more. If anything happens again, I’ll leave it as your responsibility to explain to your team why someone is injured. Or worse. Am I clear?”
Mathias’ voice was tight as he replied, “Yes sir.”
Gilbert spoke up from where he’d been watching the exchange. “Hmph. Damn right it’s clear. Get outta here, punk. Dismissed.”
A tense nod and Mathias walked out of the room as fast as his long legs would allow. When the door had clicked shut behind him, he let out a deep sigh and ran his fingers frustratedly through his hair. After staring off into nothing for a bit, he straightened up again and headed towards the elevator.
He needed a drink.
***
The bar was a small place his team frequented often, owned by a German whose Swedish wife insisted on selling drinks from home. Mathias walked through the dim interior, heading to an isolated side section, where a familiar shape was seated alone. He approached the table and slid into the opposite seat, motioning to a server who was passing. “Stauning, please.”
There was a quiet snort from his companion. “You’re still drinking that garbage?”
“Always will. I have my Danish pride, you know.”
It was the first words they had spoken to each other since the mission.
Mathias’s drink arrived and he took a slow sip, letting the whiskey burn down his throat. Both men were silent as they drank. Aleksander stared at the front of the bar, from where the street was visible. Mathias looked at Aleksander’s face, trying to gauge the other man’s feelings. But that face remained unreadable, even to him, who knew Aleksander so well.
“I’m sorry.” He blurted out.
Aleksander finally deemed to look him in the eyes at that, expression becoming as cold as the ice of his homeland. “My brother dislocated a shoulder. Almost broke his collarbone.” His tone was even, but the accusation hung in the air between them.
Mathias actually felt at a loss for words in the face of the anger in Aleksander’s eyes. They both knew very well that his brother was his weakness. Aleksander turned his face away, looking towards the street again. “If Aron gets hurt, it better be his own damn fault. Not some idiot’s.”
“I’m not blaming him- but that van came out of nowhere. I didn’t expect -”
Aleksander’s response was sharp and biting. “We expect the leader to be prepared.” He swallowed the last of his drink and got up to leave.
“Norge, wait.” Mathias grabbed his wrist, thumb brushing against warm skin.
Aleksander simply looked down at him, expression blank. Tensing under the scrutiny, Mathias dropped his gaze to his fingers on the other man’s arm instead. His grip tightened as he choked out, “-You and Ikea.”
Aleksander yanked his arm away.
“You’re even stupider than I thought. I’m finishing the job with him and that’s it. I don’t want to see you until Central tells you it’s over.” And cool as always, he walked out, not looking back.
Mathias watched his retreating figure through the window until it faded from his view. Then he tossed back the rest of his whiskey and stood up. Throwing some bills onto the table, Mathias walked out onto the streets of Berlin. He wandered aimlessly down some avenue, lost in thought, hands bunched in his pockets. The Initiative wasn’t due to end for another month or so. He sighed. Now seemed as good a time as any for that fishing vacation....
END
Blame Gilbert for the agent names, he’s the one who registers them into the system. Ludwig is never pleased when the new files come in.
Oh, and their pseudonyms? Agent Strudel and Agent Awesome. XD