FIC: Agent Bloom retires. Viggo/Orlando

[ocko-okate.livejournal.com]

 

 

Title: Agent Bloom retires

Author: ocko_okate (yahoo.com)

Beta: ashlaegl

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Written for the  vo_xmas fic exchange 2007. I wrote for agardenafter, who wanted a story where Viggo and Orlando are stranded in a cabin for Christmas during a snow storm before they are an established relationship. Well, it didn´t turn out exactly like that…. But you still might like the outcome…
Word count: 3059

 

 

 

Viggo sighed, closing the phone again. The freshly charged battery didn’t help much in a place so high in the mountains, with no chance of getting any signal from one of the four operators, which usually provided their services in this area. The cabin didn’t have a regular phone extension, and even if it did, it wouldn’t be any good, with the power being down since more than two hours. The whole place was now lit only by a couple of candles which Viggo had found in one of the kitchen drawers, providing the small, but cozy living room with a peaceful, slightly nostalgic atmosphere. Outside a storm of truly epic proportions raged; a battle of natural forces - winter, wind and water coming together to create a spectacle not to be seen ever again – at least Viggo very much hoped so.

 

What started early in the morning as a harmless snowing slowly turned into a blast of a snow tornado, with thick, prickly snowflakes coming from all sides, stinging the eyes, getting caught in clothes and creating a blanket of ice on every surface reachable almost immediately. For a while, Viggo foolishly hoped that he might reach his car and drive down to town, but after a ten minutes fight with the blasting winds and snow drifts, he gave up. It was at least a two hours drive into town anyway, and there was no chance he would make it, even if he could reach his car.

 

So instead, he opted for sitting this one out, silently thanking the builder of the cottage for the robustness of the walls and the solid construction. Luckily he had made a big shopping trip just three days ago, which now left him with enough food supplies in case the storm should last longer than a day.

 

Having no other distraction besides the storm which raged outside, he spent the day revising some of the text he wrote yesterday, only deciding in the afternoon to leave the writing for a while and instead get inspired by some of his older books. It wasn’t as if he needed a reminder what they were about, he knew every line, every word, and could recite whole passages by heart. The whole adventure practically took place in his head anyway. But sometimes it just was a way of feeling good, being able to feel the pages in his hand, to see the printed words and passages, to remind himself, that this was all indeed real, that the life he was writing about, was not only his own, but belonged permanently, volume after volume, to the top ten bestsellers in America, earning him a fortune by the way.

 

Choosing his favorite volume, he seated himself by the window, where a candle was already lit on the window sill. It was only two in the afternoon, but already it was too dark to make his lecture enjoyable without some additional light, the storm outside seemingly trying to gain access through his window. Try harder, Viggo thought with a smile, opening the leather-bound book, looking for his favorite chapter and after a while fully immersing himself in the adventure that took place on the pages.

 

The Mysterious Man was at the very moment preparing to shoot the helpless Agent Bloom, the joy of finally eliminating his most ardent persecutor for once clearly visible in his grim features. Pointing the loaded gun directly at Bloom’s chest, he didn’t plan on saying any last parting words. Those were for ordinary villains in ordinary novels, and the Mysterious Man was anything but that.

 

The annoying agent was currently tied to the golden frame of the lavish and luxurious bed in one of the Mysterious Man‘s bedrooms, after being caught sneaking through the corridors with a small package of plastic explosives on him, enough to blow this whole place in the air. And, even if the Mysterious Man didn’t dwell too much on earthly possessions, he liked this particular summer house quite a lot – which even added to the weight of Bloom‘s offence. And so the explosives had to go – but soon he will have the pleasure of seeing the man of his nightmares die....

 

Viggo smiled and closed the book again. It was the seventh volume of Agent Bloom’s adventures, the one where he meets the Mysterious Man for the second time – the one he has written after moving to the States for good. The readers didn’t like the idea of letting the villain escape only to have him appear in later volumes to haunt Bloom’s life, but somehow Viggo liked this part of Bloom’s life the best.

 

He had been carefully recording the agent‘s life since the first time Bloom appeared on the scene of fighting against international crime as a fresh-faced, over-zealous and slightly clumsy 22 years old lieutenant, a fresh graduate of one of the most prestigious police academies. And therefore Viggo was sure, that he had the right to disagree with the public opinion and choose which part of Bloom’s life he liked best.

 

His publishing agent used to promise him money and fame, and whatever else he might desire, if Viggo would only write him another ten or so volumes of the series, which currently sold the ninth installment, making Viggo as a writer, more sought after as he already was. It might be partly due to the fact that the international readership of his books was still hoping for the romantic part – the sometimes hinted, but never happened yielding of the ever-composed and cool agent Bloom to one of his female side-kicks. Here, the popular opinion used to sway between the cold, ever-helpful and sexy secretary, Miss Tyler, and the sometimes frivolous, sometimes venomous re-appearing Black Lady.

 

His publisher opted for the slightly mysterious Black Lady and her cunning charms, which have so far been no more than a mere nuisance in Bloom‘s life, but hopefully would with time turn to more. But Viggo has said no to the Lady once and forever, allowing her no more than a heated kiss that served as a distraction in a tricky situation and then she disappeared into the Brazilian jungle, searching for untouched places, where she could spread her venom undisturbed.

 

For some unknown reason Viggo felt overtly protective of Agent Bloom’s private life, which with time underwent more and more safe-keeping, focusing instead on his professional life. There he always managed to let his fantasy full reign and the public could only sit breathless, as he let the adroit agent escape one deathly trap after another, eliminating dangerous mafia mobsters, unmasking corrupt politians, shooting drug dealers, flying helicopters, jumping off the planes – whatever dangerous activity you could think of, Bloom hs already done it – and way better than anyone would have anticipated. Cool, calm, collected, a gun always on hand, a smile always on his lips and some quick thinking always underway – those were Bloom‘s most valued qualities, beside his physical fitness, the ability to handle a wide range of guns and an even wider range of vehicles – from mountain bikes to motor boats, snowboards and helicopters – Bloom knew a way around all of them.

 

But after almost ten years Viggo was getting tired – and so was Bloom. In his last volume he celebrated his 30th birthday – on a cruise ship in the middle of the Caribbean, drinking champagne with the ladies at eight, disarming the guards in the private deck at eleven, shooting the evil magnate at twelve and disappearing into the darkness on a water scooter at ten after twelve.

 

Spending the next hours searching for a safe haven, at six he already came in to the office, reporting to his boss that the mission was completed, appearing rested as if he slept peacefully the whole night, joking and smiling, but something was missing.

 

Yes, Bloom appeared to be getting tired too.

 

And whatever Viggo‘s publisher might think about the future books, he couldn’t even fathom the idea which Viggo made start the tenth volume at first. As the work took shape, page after page, it became more and more clear, that agent Bloom was going to handle his last adventure.

 

Not dying, though, no. More like retiring.

 

Viggo saw it clearly coming in his mind – Bloom on a mission of personal revenge – settling the open bill for the death of his latest lover with a cold blooded murder, going against any law he may ever have respected. And after the open bill was finally settled, skiing down the steep slope of a mountain in a hell of a snow storm to get back to civilization, only to realize that nature was stronger than some men and upon facing complete exhaustion he stumbles upon a cottage.

 

Here Viggo had to stop his thoughts and think for a while. Strange as it may be, but this never occurred to him before. This was actually the first time he ever attempted to write a book at the exact place where the events from the book took place. During all the previous adventures he went to see all the places – the exotic islands, dangerous volcanoes, dark caves, rich lodgings, powerful companies, opulent hotels – beforehand. And only after he had all the facts, all the pictures clear in his mind – only then he started spinning the fantasy, at home, sitting behind his favorite writing desk, using a simple pen and paper to get the thoughts recorded.

 

This was the very first (and probably even the last) time that he found himself at the same place as agent Bloom would be in this part of his adventure – because Viggo was currently writing the part of Bloom skiing for his life, lost, hurt, and at the end of his strength, suddenly seeing the lights in the windows of an unknown winter cottage – similar to the one Viggo was occupying right now.

 

An ideal setting for writing a somehow mysterious part of his book, as he was still not completely sure what (or who) would await Orlando once he got to the cottage. He played a lot with the idea of letting one of his older lovers reappear, or maybe even one of the men who desired Orlando without having their feelings reciprocated... but... he just couldn’t get the part right. And then there was still the idea that his secret informer, protector and benefactor in one person, the completely enigmatic, well informed, ever-present and quite wealthy Mr. Penman could finally make an appearance and claim Bloom’s interest for himself.

 

It was a tough decision, one Viggo was not ready to make easily, letting himself as much time as needed. And perhaps that was the reason why he had chosen this secluded cottage, a place arranged by his publisher, to finish the book.

 

And whatever relief he might feel upon feeling that the adventure was nearing the end and Bloom was going to finally find the much needed peace; it was also accompanied by sadness and a feeling of loneliness. After all, Bloom was a part of his own life for almost ten years, accompanying him during bad and good times.

 

He wrote his first adventure while still married to his former wife, his son being just six years old – and as time flew, Bloom‘s life seemed to reflect more and more of his own experiences. Bloom was there when Viggo got divorced – breaking his back during a mass car crash while chasing drug dealers in Las Vegas – but he walking out a month later, as Viggo realized, that the divorce finally allowed him to breathe free – and after he met Julian.

 

Orlando´s happiest adventures took place in the third and fourth volume, during Viggo´s relationship with Julian – one of the pretty good times of his life. Orlando chased the Mogul from Baghdad through the whole of India and even further, up to Tibet, while Viggo and Julian moved together and enjoyed their newly found domesticity. Bloom had to uncover a false player in the ranks of his own organization, giving up the chases all around the world for a while, while getting undercover in a sudden „desk job“ – while Viggo and Julian toured New Zealand and Australia, taking pictures of kangaroos and visiting the famous Sydney Opera-House as every  proper tourist did.

 

And then came the sudden break-up with Julian, the betrayal, the pain, the loss, the loneliness. In the fifth volume Bloom had to cope with charges against him, which accused him of treachery and murder, having to give up his status as an agent and trying to find the truth on his own, while trusting nobody.

 

It took a lot of time for Viggo to find the ground under his feet again, and it took a lot of time until the mark of a traitor completely left Bloom’s file. The series became darker, more cynical, and more raw. Gone was Bloom the seducer, the man with the sunny attitude and an easy smile, who believed that the bad in the world could be undone. Instead there came Bloom the silent killer, a man doing his job, one he didn’t have to like anymore, even while still doing it pretty damn good. A cold blooded machine, a man with no more illusions...

 

The sixth volume introduced two new characters who set out to play a bigger part in Bloom‘s future life – the Mysterious Man, an ever-present enemy who seemed to know pretty damn everything about Blooms professional and private life and set his goal at killing the obnoxious agent, to freely carry out his dark deeds. And the equally mysterious protector and informant, who until now never revealed his face – Mr. Penman, who seemed to know at least as much about Bloom’s life as his arch-enemy, but whose motives weren’t by far that clearly presented.

 

All of sudden Bloom became a man with almost no privacy, no safe place to rest, a hunted man, who still had to carry out his job, while trying to find out, who wanted to ruin his life. People whom he trusted his whole life suddenly didn’t appear so trustworthy anymore, and for the first time in the history of the series Bloom didn’t appear as the ultimate hero either.

 

The volume triggered a heavy schism in Viggo´s world-wide-spread readership, people fighting in internet forums and literature discussions over the identity of the two unknown men, one wing believing that Mr. Penman was going to be revealed to be Bloom‘s latest lover, who appeared in the seventh volume and could very well be trusted to lead a double life. Others argued that the Mysterious Man and Mr. Penman may very well be one and the same person, whose identity in real life varied in different discussion circles from Orlando´s boss to his long lost father.

 

The discussions carried for years, always gaining new power with the publishing of a new volume, Viggo´s publisher cashed in a nice provision and Viggo himself denied any speculations about the identities of characters, which existed only in his head anyway.

 

And then, in the last published volume... no one quite saw it coming, the book starting at the usual quick pace, with Bloom recovering important documents from a Swiss bank safe, to prevent them from falling into false hands. No one actually could have anticipated the next minutes. Picking up a ringing phone in the phone booth, a foot away from the corner where he was hiding, he could only hear a screaming, crying voice: „Orlando, please...“ and then a shot, ending the cries. He knew the voice of his lover by heart though, and the silence that followed the shot was deafening, suffocating him, weakening his knees, oppressing his senses – until there was a different voice to be heard on the other side. One that he also knew all to well.

 

After Bloom lost his lover through the hands of the Mysterious Man, he never could be the same man again, but it seemed that Viggo was the only one, who fully realized this.

 

And now, deep in the night, hands still bloodied not only with the blood of his arch-enemy but also with his own, he skied down the steep snow-covered slopes of this doomed mountain, returning from the secret hiding place of the Mysterious Man, he was trying to outrun the storm, to outrun his fate once again... But strength seemed to have left him a long time ago, along with hope.

 

Viggo stopped writing the paragraph he was finishing, when he picked up a strange sound from outside. Whatever was there, it was not only the storm, which was making quite enough racket on its own, but there was something different now. Sounds of a heavy blow against his front door accompanied by a bit of rustling and then... silence again, only the storm raging.

 

Not one to think twice in strange situations, Viggo armed himself with a thick coat, cap and gloves, and upon having propped the snow shovel near the door – just in case - he opened the door. As thanks for this heroic deed he got a face full of prickly cold snow and gust of cold wind, chilling him to the bone. And there was the disturbance, of course, in the snow inferno only a barely visible figure of a man half lying, half sitting by his door, clutching his hands to his torso in a gesture of pain.

 

Frozen in shock, Viggo couldn’t believe his eyes. It was the familiar lithe, well trained frame, that used to haunt his dreams while writing a particularly difficult part, clad in the white skiing overalls, which Viggo only invented because the female readers demanded more hotness to fawn over, the gunshot wound, the description of which the proverbial ink was not even dry, clearly visible, as blood seeped between his fingers.

 

And then the voice...

 

„Get me inside, man, come on, what are you waiting for?“....

 

.....accompanied by the barrel of a gun, almost invisible in the hands of the man.

 

Viggo didn’t know how, but he didn’t care. As he carried the wounded man to the couch, feeling the look of those piercing brown eyes estimating his every move, there was only one thing he knew for sure:

 

Agent Bloom was going to retire indeed..... in one way or another.

 

The End.