Chapter Text
commission art for override by @RyrmCher
override
//first sequence
-
The neon green ID code on Kenmas monitor confirmed that once again, he was partnered with Kuroo.
Of course, it wouldn’t look anything like Kuroo. The assassins masks completely altered appearance and modulated voice. But it was him. KSF501, right above Kenma, KZR205.
Kenma clicked over to check the program on his right monitor. He gained access to the cameras 2 minutes ago. Once he received the go-ahead, all he had to do was breach the security system and every door in the facility would unlock, other than the exits.
The blond hacker was growing impatient, adjusting his headphones meticulously, making sure the volume was up, knowing it already was. The only light in his loft radiated from the 3 screens in front of him. He preferred it that way, so the city lights shined brighter in the distance out his floor-to-ceiling window. He was prepared, as usual, with his hair pulled back and wildly observant golden eyes unblinking in anticipation.
Static cracked in his ear, causing him to jolt up straight.
“Online.”
“Online.” Kenma replied as he shifted forward in his chair and quickly clicked, running the program in an instant. 12 digit numbers appeared consecutively, filling the window.
Finally, he thought.
These were the only times he had gotten to speak to Kuroo for almost a year now. He wasn’t sure if that’s why he was anxious.
Kenma’s index finger punched the enter key twice. They were in, and his focus shifted to one camera feed in particular: Kuroo's POV.
Kuroo never rushed in. That was one of his many strong suits.
When he entered a room, he calculated every factor, from the granite floor that had been polished within the last week, meaning it could be easily scuffed by his boots (not that it would grant the inquirer any leads), to the placement of the dim light bulbs illuminating his path from above. On numerous occasions he’d had to kill the lights to grant an edge, and he valued his own visibility in a fight.
Kuroo exuded confident, yet contained, energy, which is exactly what he aimed for. He enjoyed being the smartest in the room, letting his enemies feel that he was ten steps ahead of them. Which he usually was.
He also worked well under pressure,
and he worked extremely well with Kenma, who assessed and filled the cracks in his foundation.
Kuroo was annoyingly brilliant, but he was far from perfect. Kenma's assistance ironed out any flaws he had. Their unshakable trust resulted in them always working together, ensuring a quick and clean execution.
The lobby was quiet and vacant, as expected. Kuroo kept a steady pace until he reached the stairwell.
“Planning on moving this slow the whole time?” Kenma watched him on the feed. He was smaller in stature, with his hood up. Kenma wished he saw familiar jagged black strands of Kuroo’s hair poking out.
“It’s called being cautious.” His voice was deeper, too. “I know where I’m going.” Assassins were required to memorize the maps. Kuroo never neglected that.
“Are you saying you don’t need my help?” Kenma began typing in a rush as he spoke. They had already been detected and the company’s security system was continuously kicking him out. It was annoying, fighting back with codes to override it so that his assassin wouldn’t get stuck at a locked door.
“I always need your help.” Once he reached the 3rd floor Kuroo peered through the thin door window. “You know that.”
Kenma let himself smile as he checked the POV cam again. “Take out the top left camera in the hallway.”
“Hm?” Kuroo reached for the gun under his jacket. This one did all the dirty work, while the hidden one on his back got the kill. He tightened the silencer on and ducked down, opening the door carefully. Without hesitation, he took aim at the red light in the far corner and fired, exploding the camera into hot shards of plastic. Kenma barely glanced at the square where that camera’s feed went dark in his peripheral vision.
“What was it this time?” Kuroo had his back against the wall of the hallway while he concealed his weapon.
“Mini turret.” Kenma took a sip of his energy drink. He’s usually up at this hour, but these jobs were way easier than training in ALY. He ended up becoming bored during them. Not that he would falter. Partnering with Kuroo energized him enough.
“You couldn’t intercept that, 205?” Kenma could hear the smirk through his tone.
“No. It was on a different network. If I broke into that earlier, you’d be dead by now.” He hated when Kuroo used his code as his name. But their conversation wasn’t private, and using their real names was a rookie mistake.
“Sounds like an excuse.”
“Shut up.” Kenma couldn’t help but miss Kuroo's teasing, even if it got on his nerves so much at ALY. Now his eyes were glued to the hallway feed for any movement, while he still fought against the “ACCESS DENIED” windows that kept popping up on the monitor in front of him.
“You know, we should think of a catchphrase or something. A one-liner.” Kuroo kept to the right side of the hallway before turning the corner.
He did not miss Kuroo's stupid ass ideas, however.
“We’ve done the last, what, four together? We should say something cool before signing off. Or maybe come with a team name.” Kuroo envisioned Kenma shaking his head at this, and held back a laugh behind his mask.
“..and why would we do that?” He should have just ignored the comment. Kenma was now tapping a key to refresh the thermal camera feed, which was one of the mask features on a separate POV screen. Kuroo was reaching the last door on the left, where the targets were.
“I don’t know, kinda seals the whole thing up with our own secret, signature line.” Kuroo moved across to the left side, against the wall, door frame against his elbow.
“They’re near the window. 11 and 9.” Pink and orange blobs were strangely still on the thermal camera. “I think they know.”
“Well if they don’t, they will in about 5 seconds.” Kuroo reached for the gun on his back which switched off the cloaking technology. The weapon regained visibility and Kenma watched him check it over, touching each section lightly with his gloved fingers.
“Stop talking.” Kenma hissed. The mask greatly reduced the audibility of the assassin's voice, but it didn’t mute them. Odds are he wasn’t heard, but the targets were standing conspicuously still. This wasn’t the first time Kuroo got overly confident.
“Just calm down and be ready.” Kuroo ordered, nodding at one of the security cams above him. He inhaled one more breath, as Kenma held his.
It was sad how numb they were to it now. How routine ending a life had become. It was ingrained in their minds to be their purpose. Remorse couldn’t exist. Any doubt -or feelings in general- couldn’t exist.
They were highly efficient murder tools with a heartbeat, and as much as Kuroo had always fought that truth, sometimes Kenma felt like it was all they’d ever be.
And every job was nearly the same.
Kuroo opens the door in one quick motion, shots are already flying in his direction. In some cases, he had the luxury of killing unarmed targets. Not this time.
Eyeing all cameras simultaneously, Kenma covers as Kuroo dodges to the ground. There was no movement detected on the floor, so they wouldn’t be expecting enemy backup.
“Your left.” Kenma instructs as Kuroo shoots the man twice in the leg before he could move another inch. Kuroo was behind a chair or couch. This part was always tricky for the hacker since he had to rely on the POV. No security feed in this room. The blood was on Kuroo’s hands, no matter how much Kenma made it possible on his end.
There was yelling from both targets. The man on the ground was still trying to shoot at Kuroo, who reached over and promptly ended the racket by putting a bullet in his neck.
“Stand! Y-you come here, you show your filthy fucking face!” The shouting went on and on. Kenma always hated that. The incessant wailing for their lives was as pointless as it was annoying.
Even with the altered appearance the mask granted him, it couldn’t change the distinct grin that spread across Kuroo’s face. He knew it was twisted to find humor in these moments, but he couldn’t help it.
They had to know that he was no one. A hitman who had no idea who hired him or why. He didn’t ask questions; he simply got the job done by pulling the trigger.
The only plus from the screaming was that Kuroo could tell exactly where the man was by his voice, and he was dead-on. He stood and fired between the ribs, so fast that Kenma blinked and the man was falling over, out of frame.
“About 8 minutes,” There were others in the upper floors of this building, and Kenma guessed they had about that long to grab what they needed and get out of there. He didn’t see any panic in the security footage yet, but he didn’t like to keep hacking it for long after the assassin had finished up. “Bottom left drawer of the desk.”
Kuroo ignored the sounds of the victims choking on their blood as he carefully made his way across the room to the desk, squatting and pulling the handle of the drawer. There was a dial lock on the safe. Nothing he couldn’t deal with.
“Haven’t had to do this in a while.” Kuroo finally spoke, securing his gun on his back.
“Hope you’ve gotten better at it.” Kenma added some urgency to his tone. Time was not a luxury right now.
“Hey if I’m correct, I was faster than you were at them.” Kuroo’s black, skin-tight gloves were made of material that detected vibrations – including extremely small click sounds from locks. The masks synced to every part of his gear, so basically he could turn up the volume from his gloves. But he also liked the challenge of figuring out the permutation for combination locks, and the arrow was left on the number 7.
They were now being blocked out of the security non-stop. Kenma fought back behind his screen but it was going to be a losing game soon. “Well, be faster now.”
Kuroo rolled his eyes as the door of the small safe lifted. “I got it, I got… “
He was interrupted by a ticking noise. Ticking was never a good sound.
The timer bomb went off as Kuroo tried to jump out of range, blasting him backwards. POV cam went fuzzy.
Kenma froze, his hands shaking over his keyboard.
Kuroo had never taken a hit since training. Kenma felt his heart rate pick up, and fear crept into his shock.
“K- are you okay? Can you hear me?” Kenma managed to break out of his stunned state. The bomb couldn’t have been that powerful. Timed mines can’t do that much damage but Kuroo could be unconscious and found any minute. “S-say something if you can hear me.”
It didn’t seem like anyone in the building was reacting yet, but Kenma stared at that POV feed, internally pleading to hear Kuroo reassure him that he was fine. He was always fine. He had to be fine.
A memory flashed of the day Kuroo broke his nose in combat lessons. He winced with a smile, meeting Kenma's gaze and called it nothing. In a practice mission he was shot in the side. His vest took the impact but Kenma saw the bruising that night when he laid in his bottom bunk of their room. He laughed and said he’d broken 2 ribs.
Kenma blinked the memories away, but he replayed the last thing Kuroo said to him the day he left. He had that on repeat, tucked away in his mind.
“I promise I’ll find you.”
Kenma slammed his hand on his desk in anger at the system locking him out again during this. But if Kuroo was okay, he wouldn’t be able to escape if the hacker gave up.
You damn idiot. Why didn’t you tell him to check first? Kenma shook his head, trying to calm himself. The only assurance of Kuroo being alive was when they were partnered up. When you finished training, you were sent to live wherever ALY sent you. They had no personal cell phones, and most definitely were not given intel on where former roommates were residing. Kenma had tried to locate Kuroo, but he was an assassin- they moved frequently with a different alias each time. It was like finding a needle in a haystack.
Kenma noticed the POV cam regaining focus.
It was ..Kuroo.
It was him, not the illusion. His mask was only covering a 1/4th of his face, having shattered from the blast. The piece with the camera was what gave Kenma this view.
Kenma resisted the urge to shout. He heard Kuroo groan, saw the blood dripping down his cheek.
“On the ground, to your right,” was all Kenma managed to say. Inside he was screaming something along the lines of thank fucking god.
“Shit..” Kuroo picked up a shard of the mask closer to him and searched around.
“Please, Kur- hurry up, we don’t have time-“ Fuck. Kenma was so pissed at himself for that name slip-up. That was the second time, too.
“Hey, I’m good.” Kenma watched Kuroo, his black hair in his face, reach towards the camera to grab the shard it was in. “I can’t die yet.. got someone I made a promise to.”
Kenma paused, catching a faint smile on the raven haired assassin's face as he stood, regaining composure. He still looked like a sore mess, but he knew he gave the hacker half a heart attack by getting hit with that bomb.
Kenma felt tears burning behind his eyes for a second but was now focused on getting Kuroo the fuck out of there, finding the fastest route even if it meant setting an alarm off because let’s face it… that was going to happen tonight anyway with the way things were shaping up.
Kuroo managed to grab the contents of the safe as Kenma hastily instructed where he needed to exit. They wasted no time, as the tall assassin ran out the door of a fire escape, jumping to the alley below.
“And to think, you’d never see my face again if it weren’t for the mask,” Kuroo coughed, sounding pained.
“You’d just have scars.” Kenma was clearing his tracks, logging out of the security. An alarm sounded in the distance, having been set off from the last door.
“I have enough of those, don’t need them on my face.” His hood was already pulled up, but since he didn’t have the illusion of the mask, Kuroo was extremely alert as he turned down another alley.
“You should be more careful.” Kenma worried daily, if not almost constantly. If someone else was his hacker for a job, and a mistake like tonight happened... it wasn’t unfathomable that he could die and Kenma would never know.
“You too.”
He knew Kuroo worried too. IP addresses can be found. There were other skilled hackers out there that could easily find wherever Kenma was. Kuroo wished he was one of them.
“I mean it.” Kuroo’s face came into view again, as he lifted the piece of the mask out of his coat pocket and held it in front of him. He still looked rough, but Kenma was beyond thankful he was alive. Same smirk, same jawline, same eyes that would appear a faded brown if the lighting was better. He took it in for a moment, not wanting to look away. He wanted to tell Kuroo where he was, he wanted to give him some kind of clue. But everything was recorded and a risk. The masks were sent back to ALY and could be intercepted somehow.
“I meant everything.” Kuroo added, then sighed. “Offline.”
“…offline.” Kenma responded, ending the call.
He struggled to rip his headphones off, which pulled his hair loose when he tossed them on the floor.
As much as he was relieved to see Kuroo and hear those words, he still felt a thousand miles from him. He rushed them into it, they should have inspected the safe… regrets poured like all the emotions that were never meant to invade his mind. And even worse, they fucked up the job. Kuroo’s face was exposed, and if the feed was recovered somehow, or if the targets were wearing any kind of device that got a visual, he could be tracked.
The hope in Kuroo’s words was fading, as Kenma clung to them. Alone in that loft, he clung to every moment he spent with Kuroo, who he considered his only family. Every dumb, corny comment. Every time Kuroo snuck back to their room to check on Kenma, who had just spent 15 hours in front of a computer and was forced to wear a blindfold for the next six. Kuroo’s kind voice, especially clear the day he left. How close he got, the feel of Kuroo’s lips against his, the heat of those memories and the drive to find each other again.
Kenma looked up, out the window at the glistening city.
Stay out there, Kuro.
--
When Kenma was able to sleep, his dreams were vividly violent. They left him restless and in a state of constant alert. Images of death imprinted on his subconscious and haunted him relentlessly, until he woke gasping for air.
But sometimes, he would dream of his past. ALY. Codes. Or video games.
On this night, Kenma dreamt of the moment when he realized he felt something more for Kuroo. That day, he tried pushing it out of his mind, rejecting it over and over again until nothing was left but dust of a memory, blown away by regret so that no sparks could ever ignite.
It was during armed combat training, a few years ago.
Underneath ALY was where they usually were sent. Artificial sunlight beamed above the cement walls. 2-way mirrors gleamed a few feet above. Instructors were rarely seen, but they were heard. The students were given rules, timed, recorded, and then sent to the next activity.
This was before Kenma was assigned as a hacker, or Kuroo an assassin. But everyone could have guessed that’s where they’d end up.
Kenma gripped the hunting knife in his right hand. The blade wasn’t dull, or sharp. It could kill if he wanted it to.
They stood back-to-back, in standard black t-shirts and shorts, which was the only “uniform” they were given. Kenma could feel Kuroo's energy, readying himself. This wasn’t the first time they’d sparred, but it was the first time Kenma was equipped with a knife during it. Kuroo was unarmed, being told to work on his restraining techniques. Once the knife hit the floor, and Kenma was in a position where he’d be killed in one hit, Kuroo won that round.
Kenma would win if he got in 3 non-lethal cuts. That, or restrained the other long enough. That one applied to either of them. They were told to hold nothing back, but also avoid serious injuries.
Kenma had a hunch he was given a knife because it was the one weapon he excelled in, aside from a sniper. But the only close combat where he had an edge -literally- was with knives. In his last evaluation he was told it was his quick strategy to see small openings in a target, and although his endurance and strength was lacking, he could be surprisingly swift. It still wasn’t enough to land him an assassin spot, though.
“Go easy on me,” Kuroo snapped him out of focus, as they waited for the signal to start.
“I don’t have to. You win every time anyway.” Kenma glanced at his side, at Kuroo’s heart rate band on his arm. It blinked red, slowly, meaning he was decently calm. Kenma’s own rate was similar. The monitors were used frequently in ALY to train emotions. No one could get too out of hand, they were always in check. You were sent to a sort of detention room if you completely panicked. Kenma had lived at ALY his whole life and only saw that happen when he was really young.
Of course, rates could fluctuate during fighting.
“So .. should it be the other way around then?” Kuroo went on, as Kenma observed the other pairs getting in ready positions across from them.
Kenma answered with a quick shrug.
Strength and size were Kuroo’s obvious advantages. He towered over Kenma, having grown considerably since he arrived when he was 9 years old. He easily won every sparring match when they were paired, but he always seemed to hold back when they fought. His hits were intentionally less powerful, and Kenma noticed that more recently. They were friends, or as close to what friends were in here, Kenma supposed. He’d never had one.
They shared a room, and every meal together. That was normal for roommates in ALY, unless you really didn’t get along. But emotions, in general, were frowned upon. They were unnecessary, and Kuroo didn’t understand that.
Coming into ALY at his age was considered late. He had experienced a world Kenma could only imagine from TV or books they were given. But soon, after Kuroo finally began talking, he’d share all he knew with Kenma. And after that, Kuroos new favorite thing was to talk to the younger boy, and try to make him smile with his jokes (which Kenma didn’t understand) or stories. There were times Kenma heard him crying at night, which was perplexing. He didn’t know how to help, or what was wrong. He found out later the reason why Kuroo ended up there had a lot to do with it.
Over years, they confided in each other, or at least Kuroo did. Kenma didn’t have much to add, but he did know that Kuroo was the only person he gave a damn about. The only time he felt comfort was when Kuroo was beside him. After long days of training in front of computers, or endurance tests of physical activity, he looked forward to Kuroo’s weird optimism and reassurance. Even if he didn’t always agree with it, it was a light in their dark reality.
As the buzzer counted down, Kenma mentally braced himself. He was competitive when he wanted to be, but usually only when he thought he had a shot at winning, which was during any video game. Kuroo would have him pinned before he could get one point, and maybe that was for the best.
This time felt different, as the last buzzer echoed and the steel of the knife reflected Kenma’s unwavering expression when they turned, beginning the round.
Kenma was anticipating Kuroo going for a jab to knock him out of his move, but he didn’t. He was holding back, yet again, which allowed Kenma to aim lower for his side. He felt Kuroo react to that, when his arm was quickly bent back and he was almost kicked in the kneecap. Kenma promptly dodged that one, by barely keeping himself up.
He had to try.. but Kuroo wasn’t. He was barely trying, leaving openings that Kenma now found himself reluctant to take.
Kenma winced at the pain in his arm, his hand still holding the knife steady. Finally, Kuroo punched him in the chest right when he was about to free himself. With the wind knocked out of him, Kenma dropped the knife and grabbed it with his left hand, sweeping down to get behind Kuroo, who tried to trip him yet again.
It was less than graceful when Kenma kicked behind the taller boy's shin, and they fell to the ground. He was shaking, securing Kuroo’s neck in a headlock, blade under his throat.
Kenma pressed it against Kuroo’s skin, knowing he should at least leave a mark for the point. He'd break free any second.
“I said.. go easy.. Kenma, ” Kuroo sounded like he was laughing, as he choked the words out.
He isn’t struggling. Why isn’t he struggling? Kenma’s internal annoyance gave him the confidence to push the knife down and finally break skin.
Then Kuroo invitingly raised his chin, turning to press his cheek against Kenmas face. Kenma felt Kuroo’s lips against his jaw.
“Sorry, just kinda like this position.” he said quietly.
To say Kenma did not know how to react to this sort of soft, direct affection was an understatement.
He sensed the heat flushing his face, probably because Kuroo’s was against it.. right? His heart was pounding, the monitor began beeping to signal his ... fear? Kenma had no idea what this feeling was, but he dropped the knife and released Kuroo, scooting back.
His heart rate picked up after he already had Kuroo locked when he was meant to be calm and take his point. They also were meant to keep going.
Kuroo should have freed himself, Kenma should have cut deeper. But he never could have predicted what had just happened: that the world would feel like it was at a halt when Kuroo’s face was against his, and that the one sentence he spoke could completely disarm Kenma.
Kuroo was smiling, stretching a little as he rose. Kenma just stared at him, messy blond hair falling in his face, trying to compute what had happened.
“That’s one point, right?” Kuroo wiped his neck, a small trickle of blood smearing against it. God he was smug. Kenma felt those half-lidded eyes darting over at him again.
Whatever this feeling was, it was just a distraction. Kenma could get past it or eliminate it.
The question was if he really wanted to do either.