Chapter Text
When the sun fell beneath the skyline, and the moon rose above the skyscrapers, a new city burst to life. Markets disappeared, replaced by dimly-lit bars, doors in the alleyways leading to the heart of town. Crowds, dressed in their very best, laughed and sang in their drunken stupor. It was a celebration of life, of wealth, following the losses of a war years ago.
For some, the war never truly ended. It lived on in the memories of those who have grieved, those who have seen the blood spill in trenches and deserted fields. On these nights, many drank away their troubles, covering the scars with their Sunday-best. What burdened their souls was forgotten when the music played…
There was one, however, who refused to give into such simple pleasures. A spy, who walked through the crowds without a moment’s hesitation. Though her looks intended to deceive, playing the part of yet another woman indulging in the night-life, her mission was clear: find her target, and dispose of him without a trace.
No less was expected of the notorious Crimson Fox. If an informant caught a glimpse of the enemy at a nightclub, she had to be there. If he was seen working at the bar, foolishly chatting away with the customers, she’d be one of them. She knew how to play the cards in her favor, to win the game without giving the opposition a chance to strike back.
Clothed in a scarlet dress, and a white boa around her arms, Crimson wasted no time slipping through the dark alleyway and finding the place she sought. It was hidden away, yet it only took seconds to disappear in the crowds. Chills from the brisk autumn air dissolved, as she felt the heat of the packed room envelop her, and she was almost tempted to discard the feathers she had grown to dislike.
No sight of the enemy. Even as she looked across the sea of faces, mingling and laughing, not a single one resembled the photo she had studied so carefully. The more times she thought she saw him, the more agitated she got. Could he just show his face instead of hiding away?
The bar wasn’t any help, either. Her intel quickly proved to be outdated when she saw no one of his description working there, and none of the bartenders had ever seen him. He was a ghost, living only in a blurry photo and one, fleeting glimpse ages ago. Of course no one knew what she was talking about.
Two hours passed. The warmth that once felt so comforting began to hover over Crimson like a dizzying heat wave, all while her own frustration rose within. She had trained to know his every move, yet she only ran into strangers at this godforsaken place. Not a single person in the room was of any worth to her. She had come for one purpose alone, and she wasn’t leaving until she saw it through. Even if it meant staying the whole night.
Sighing to herself, she pulled out the tiny photo from her files. It had been taken in a rush, thanks to his knack at avoiding her side, but she could make out a faint smile. In the sliver where she could see a face, he looked proud of himself. It was a sick display of arrogance, a weak insect fleeing the scene. Black hair matched the coat he wore, a dark knight slipping away without a shred of bravery. She despised him.
Perhaps he had done the same tonight, she thought. Knowing that she’d appear, as he always did when she made her move, he decided to run off instead of facing her. As much as it boiled her blood, the chances were high. Maybe it’d be best to infiltrate the club as a worker next time, catch him off-
Just as Crimson began to walk away, heels clicking in the noisy room, the music slowed. It had been a jaunty melody in the background, something she was happy to tune out, but this time a piano rang out in its solitude. Not only that, but something was holding her back – a stranger, their gloved hand keeping a firm grasp on hers.
“May I have this dance?”
…
Lingering in one city was risky. Information was slippery, and in less than a week word could get out that a spy was hiding out in a famous club. Word travels fast, the enemy pays a high price for that, catching glimpses of the infamous agent in black and reporting back to the woman who needs it most. It was a gamble with high risk and a questionable reward.
Arachnid, however, knew the game and played anyway.
He was a little careless in staying hidden, sure. A performance deemed sloppy by the unnamed leaders who sent out orders, but they didn’t know the enemy like he did. He knew she loved to chase, to seek and destroy her targets like a murderous fox. What kind of rival would he be if he didn’t play along a little?
On this night, he figured it’d be entertaining if he just watched for a while. Study the way she paces about, holding something in her pocket (possibly a weapon, or that posh brand of cigarettes), cursing to herself when he refuses to show his face. She knew he was there, but she must not have heard he was working there in disguise. A novice mistake. How adorable.
When he decided she had suffered enough, Arachnid finally made his move. She was easy to spot in a crowd, a bold red design in a sea of gray, moving alone like a sailboat at night. He could see the determined glint in her verdant eyes, how they shone when he took her hand, knowing she found her prize-
“It’s you.” Crimson hissed. Her eyes were wide, confirming that he had caught her off guard, but they narrowed just as fast. “I didn’t think you’d show your cowardly face tonight, Arachnid.”
“Save the insults for outside, clever fox.” They were just close enough to whisper, inches apart to blend in with the couples on the floor. “You didn’t answer my question. Would you care to dance?”
The woman muttered something under her breath, one last insult he chose not to catch. Then, with a thin smile, she played along. “I’d be delighted to. Shall we go somewhere else?”
“Lead the way, Miss Fox.”
In the few minutes they had to act, Crimson certainly wasn’t trying. She hardly looked at him, her grip almost crushing his wrist. Part of it must have been the fact that he knew the place better than her and still had her navigate, but he could sense her murderous intentions from a mile away. Tonight would be different. If he couldn’t render her incapable of fighting, he’d be dead.
On the rooftop, far from the crowds’ roving eyes, lay a beautiful scene of stars and city lights. The wind whistled, almost echoing a familiar song down below, letting Crimson’s blonde hair sway past her rosy cheeks. She looked cold, calculating, as if she had his demise all planned out. Arachnid saw the light in her eyes – how moonlight, when angled just right, lit up the dark of her irises. It was a little amusing, he thought to himself, how such a dire situation could be made into a sight to behold. She was only one, fleeting part of it.
As soon as Crimson determined they were alone, she wasted no time tearing her hand away from his. A little ironic, considering this was only the beginning, but who was he to nitpick? Besides, it was interesting, watching her keep her distance as if stalking her prey.
“Did they ever teach you to dance?” Arachnid’s voice echoed, an invitation matching his open hand. Even as she moved about, he waited patiently. He didn’t need to circle her to find the weapon hidden beneath his coat.
“Of course they taught me,” The scarlet woman sneered. She let something slip into her gloved hand, a glint of silver catching his eye. “What, is that how you’d like to go out? In the arms of the enemy?”
A laugh escaped his lips before he found the words. “As if I’d let you take me down so easily. Don’t you know not to bring a knife to a gun fight?”
“I know not to fall for your ridiculous bluffs.”
“Why don’t you come over here, find out if I’m bluffing or not?” Arachnid couldn’t help grinning over his own jabs at her. It was so entertaining, watching her huff and play along with such poorly hidden rage. Just as he predicted, she waited only a second to stride over and take his hand again.
“If I have to be this close to you again,” Crimson’s voice was low, holding every last shred of hatred towards him. “It’ll be to watch you die.”
The piano grew louder. A steady beat followed, creating the perfect setup for one last dance. Arachnid was thrilled. “A pity I can’t let you do that.”
Much like her acting, Crimson didn’t play along well in their dance. At least, she didn’t try to. As they circled the open space in a waltz, right hands intertwined, she wasted no time trying to take him down with a jerk of her arm or the knife to his neck. He was unfazed, however, and maintained his left hand on her shoulder blade whenever possible. He didn’t like to pull out his weapon in the first round. It was better to bide his time, let her exhaust all her energy on failed attempts to win. When he spun her out, she cursed under her breath, and returned the favor by slicing his palm upon return. He could only grit his teeth and move forward.
“Won’t you stay- still!?” As the pace quickened, Crimson resorted to breaking free. She took the lead, forcing Arachnid to move backwards as she attempted to pry her hand out of his grip. He refused to budge.
“No, I think I prefer it this way.” He replied. Blood stained the white of her silk gloves, to her annoyance, which only encouraged him to keep their fingers intertwined. “What’s the matter? Have you never tried to have fun?”
“You’re a damned fool.” She spat. “Only you would choose to fight in a waltz.”
Without a moment’s notice, Arachnid suddenly pivoted and took the lead again. This time, however, he didn’t move forward. Holding tight to Crimson’s waist, he leaned over her, keeping her in place as he watched her struggle. Their faces inches away from each other, he knew he only had seconds to take in the sight: her narrow eyes, pinched lips, all in response to the smile he wore.
“Maybe I am a ‘damned fool,’ as you say,” He whispered. “But in the end, I’m still winning.”
She let the words linger, breathing slowly as they looked at each other. For a moment, it looked like she was at an impasse of sorts. Then, in typical Crimson fashion, she cut the tension with a swift knee to the stomach.
…
Crimson knew she was being too soft on him. Their dance was child’s play, her weak imitations of an attack being jabs at his hand and forearm. If she was going to take him down, she had to start by distancing herself.
But really, the nerve of him! She already didn’t want to engage much in his little game, but the way he held her close as though they were merely dancing… she felt something in her stomach, a feeling she assumed was disgust towards him. He had a strange way of regarding his enemies, what with that solemn look in his eyes. No matter how many times he threw out teasing remarks or grinned like a fool, she caught the way his gaze said something else: he was weak.
It hardly took any effort to catch him by surprise. In the midst of his little one-liner, she held him closer to deliver a blow to his stomach. When he recoiled, she broke free, and the match was set once more. She had found a safe distance to attack.
“I take it… you don’t like to banter?” Arachnid chuckled, reaching for something in his coat. Perhaps it wasn’t a bluff after all. A faint clicking sound came from his obscured hand, but he seemed to wait on her words.
Crimson didn’t respond. She was anticipating his attack, and when he turned to the side, firing a warning shot near her feet, she was already running towards him. Another second passed, and a bullet grazed her right shoulder. Had she been any closer, he would have pierced it.
In the distance, the music was picking up speed. Her breathing was shallow, but she forced her attention to shift away from her open wound and towards the target, the enemy before her. There wasn’t any time to worry about the blood she was losing, nor the way it ran down her exposed flesh. He was there, only him, and they were losing time.
Another missed shot. Was he doing that on purpose? She didn’t care, frankly, as it only gave her a chance to knock the gun out of his hand. He reached for her weapon, she dodged, and her attacks only intensified. He went on the defensive, mostly blocking her jabs and even twisting her arm back. When their bodies were intertwined, and he seemed to have finally caught her in a trap, she resorted to kicking her way out of it. By the time she had split from him again, they were both bloody and bruised.
One more minute, one last move. Arachnid was slowing down, she realized, and all the pieces of their game were falling into place. As he stepped forward to reach for her, she swerved to appear from behind, then came back to take him down. In a stroke of luck, she managed to knock the air out of his lungs. He was quick to rise again, but her fingers ran through his dark hair to push his head to the ground. She had won.
He didn’t struggle in her grasp. Not even as he lay below her, blood smeared across his battered face, his chest rising and falling beneath her steady hand. With such effort he had just put into keeping her at bay, the change was bizarre. Perhaps he finally realized there was no other way out.
“The game is over,” Crimson said quietly. She heard herself say it, but the moment felt out of place.
The blade rose over her head. She could see chess pieces moving in her mind, the way one second was the difference between the battle and checkmate. Two years spent trailing each other, and she had finally triumphed. The end was nigh.
Arachnid looked up at her, not in hatred, but in resignation. He acknowledged her efforts. If she gazed upon his eyes any further, looking into the stars reflected across shining black irises, she’d see hints of regret.
“Well played, Crimson.”
Right as her hand came down to strike, she faltered.
She couldn’t do it.
Instead, Crimson rested the dagger upon his chest. Neither one moved for a while. Arachnid only stared at her, eyes wide, too stunned to say a word. He seemed to be asking the same question she beat herself up over– why didn’t she do it? Why couldn’t she finish the job? The answer wasn’t there, refused to reveal itself, and she was left to struggle, her breathing staggered as she watched his eyes for a long time. The soul beneath revealed a certain something, a sorrow, a life she couldn’t take just yet.
Wordlessly, she rose to her feet, and disappeared from the rooftop.