Undercover || VALORANT

First Mission: SOVA

A/N: Hello!
I actually don't know a lot about VALORANT lore but I'm very interested in it so I'm trying to make these sorts of works so I can understand it better.
(U/N means username)

-

Murmurs of something along the lines of "yeah" and "yes, sir" can be heard in the tiny room, to which Brimstone nods. He turns the device off and dismisses the team to prepare for the mission, everyone but Sova, a fellow agent, following suit.

Noticing your shifty eyes and fiddling, Sova nudges softly at you, his accent delicately lacing his concern, "Hey, U/N, you alright?"

You nod, "Yeah, sorry. Just... y'know... my first mission's getting on my nerves. Just a bit nervous, that's all."

He sympathises, knowing the feeling of loud, erratic heartbeats, sweaty palms, and high expectations. After all, everyone has been in the same state as you.

He looks at you worriedly, but decides not to push any further, instead opting to give a warm smile, "Okay, we should get ready."

Your organisation, known as "VALORANT," is infamous for doing the government's dirty work. The organisation doesn't exactly own or work for them. It is more so of a mutual alliance: VALORANT working in the shadows while the government keeps their name clean, offering assistance in clearing names for the sake of justice and peace in case one of the agents gets in a rather rough spot.

How you got in is still a mystery to you. You, fresh out of college, have been applying for jobs to support yourself. If you remembered correctly, you accidentally stumbled across a forum about cracking a cold case from 1XXX. Though you had no idea what you got yourself into, out of sheer boredom, you delved deep into the case while waiting for calls from any of the companies you applied to.

It had taken you a week to find a lead, a couple days to find solid evidence, and eventually solving the case. The satisfaction cooled your bones as you submitted your findings to the original poster of the said forum. Delighted, they sent you a message afterwards, inviting you to a nearby cafe to discuss private matters about the case.

From the other side of the line, the original poster, an agent named Killjoy, and the head of the organisation, Brimstone, posted an underground cold case from the FBI's case files, albeit with their permission. They planned to hire one more agent capable of intel gathering, and much like the Cicada 3301 internet phenomenon, they went on a hunt for a recruit open to the public, though with a less intimidating approach.

One sunny day in Killjoy's lab, she received a message from her burner account, the same account she posted the cold case from. She opened the message, thinking it was another pre-teen spamming her inbox begging for hints, when she saw a word document, along with photos accompanying it. Her eyebrow raised, sending a message to her leader about the message. She could hear the excitement from Brimstone's voice message, rushing to her lab to see the results.

They opened the file together and were surprised to see the amount of information you provided. You went into detail about the case, informing them even of things they didn't have knowledge of. The case was lost some years ago and was thought to be hopeless, but you only proved to be a valuable asset to the team. Brimstone decided to meet up with you right then and there, forcing Killjoy with him.

On the day of, you squint your eyes at your phone, wondering why the meet-up spot was so close to your apartment. You didn't question it, fearing that you'd be late for the meeting. Although you still had your doubts on the message, you merely shrugged, as if you have anything to lose.

Opening the cafe, you were greeted by the sweet aroma of the coffee, smiling to yourself. Not only did it comfort you, but it also provided a sense of security. Looking around, you noticed the lack of customers, assuming they haven't arrived. You took a moment to order something for yourself while you waited. You sat at the farthest table, isolated and inconspicuous. You were scrolling on your phone when you felt a presence next to you. You looked up to see a large, burly man wearing camouflage pants, a black t-shirt tightly hugging his frame and an orange beret with an unfamiliar badge, his well-kempt beard adding to the touch. Beside him is a woman around your age with round glasses wearing a yellow puffy jacket with a snuggly-fitted beanie. She took the seat in front of you, inviting herself to your table.