Spy (Scaramouche x Reader)

☾ Chapter 1 ☽

"Call in The Dagger"

"Understood, Sir."

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"Miss (L/N), Mr. Gunnar would like to speak with you."

You turned your head around, hood slipping off. One of the boss's informants was standing behind you, waiting expectantly.

You set down the dagger you were sharpening, your favorite one. "Understood." Sliding the weapon into its place in your utility belt, you walked past the informant and out of the armory.

You were currently situated in one of A.C.E's underground assignment bases, which stood for Association of Contracted Experts. In simple terms, you were a mercenary. A skilled one, at that. A.C.E's bases were mainly used as a place where mercenaries gather or regroup to find new jobs or assignments.

The boss usually never called you into his office unless he wanted to assign you a big job.

Wonder what he's going to ask me to do this time.

 Nonetheless, you didn't care. A big job meant big money. And if there's anything about you, it's that you always got the job done.

You make your way past many other chattering mercenaries, talking about their jobs or flaunting their recent takedowns. Finally, you reach the boss's office door.

Pushing open the door, you see Gunnar sitting at his desk, leaned back on his chair. The boss was a middle aged man with a tough demeanor and a gruff voice. His long black trench coat, tired eyes, and trimmed beard gave the impression of a mafia boss. Upon first glance, he's seen as intimidating, but as long as you stay on his good side, he's anything but.

"Welcome, (Y/N)." 

You nod in acknowledgement. "Sir." You stand with straight posture and a serious expression, hands connected behind your back. The boss means business, and presenting yourself properly is important since a lot is constantly expected of you.

Gunnar connects his fingertips and leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk. "I'll get right to the point." He pauses before continuing. "I'm putting you in charge of taking down The Balladeer."

Your heart quickens as you feel it pounding in your chest. No way.

The Balladeer's reputation precedes him, a figure whose name strikes fear into the hearts of those who speak about him. They say he moves with great speed, slipping past any cops or mercenaries like a ghost. His crimes are as legendary as they are infamous. Some even say he's a master of disguise who can blend seamlessly into the crowd and vanish without a trace. 

Your hands begin to shake from emotion, but you know better than to let feelings show outwardly in such a field of work. You'd wanted this job ever since your neighbor's daughter, Callista, was taken by him two years ago. 

She was a beautiful, sweet little girl. One who cared for everyone, who would never even hurt a fly. She was one of the few people who never seemed to mind talking to you. 

You'd come to terms with the idea that she was gone forever long ago, but the very thought of revenge sent adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Gunnar sighs, a low, quiet sound. "I'm sure you're aware of his recent...endeavors. We've had many on the job, but no one could get close." He pauses. "I am aware you've been overworked recently, but I have full confidence that you can do this, given your skillset."

He looks up. "I am also aware of your personal attachment to this case. As much as emotions are good to fuel determination, please try to keep them in check. Don't make any rash decisions. are you clear, Miss (L/N)?"

Despite your feelings of internal accomplishment, you keep a collected exterior. "Clear, boss. Don't worry, I can do this."

He smiles slightly. "I know you can. Report back to base in a week or earlier. You are dismissed."

You dip your head before turning around and walking out the doorway, putting your hood back on as you shut the heavy door behind you.

A small smirk makes its way onto your lips. You deserved a drink.

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You open the doors to the dimly lit tavern, where the air is heavy with the scent of alcohol and sweat. The chatter inside is particularly loud today, groups of people huddled together to hear what the others were saying. You roll your eyes. Most likely some new rumor about who had cheated on who. Last week in the tavern, news about some lady who had run away from her husband with another man's child was all the rage.

"I'll have a whiskey," You say to the bartender as you approach the counter, motioning to the back. "Neat." You swing yourself onto one of the barstools, leaning your elbows on the counter.

The bartender nodded, his red locks swinging around in a high ponytail. He didn't talk much. In fact, you don't think you've ever heard him talk. 

After a few moments, he slides a glass over. You pick it up and raise it in his direction in acknowledgement before raising it to your lips and taking a sip.

Over time, you'd learned to tune out the irrelevant conversations in the bar. Honing your senses for your line of work meant getting used to cutting out useless noise. However, something catches your attention.

Hushed whispers spread like wildfire. "Balladeer...fire...seven people..." The mutters cut in and out, and they all seem to be talking about the same thing.

From what you gathered in the next five minutes, it seems the Balladeer had struck again this morning, lighting a building on fire on a street just a few minutes away from your base. Seven people had died. You didn't know until now, being out of town for a mission in the morning.

Your eyes darken as your fingers tighten around the glass, knuckles whitening under the force of your grip. The whiskey inside sloshes out of the edges, dripping slowly onto the table.

His name had been tainting this town for as long as you can remember, and you're sick of it. He killed Callista. Who knows how many other innocent children have died at his hands?

With each passing day, he only causes more destruction. His reputation and influence on the town bleeds over into other areas, ultimately making everyone scared of being anywhere near it.

You can't possibly predict what the future holds, but you do know one thing.

I'm going to destroy him.