Those Ocean Eyes and That Charming Smile

151

"Come on, Blue." A female worker says. "It's is time for you to get ready."

"I am ready." I reply while sitting on my bed that has a new fluffy blanket and a clean pillowcase wrapping my semi flat pillow. "I just need to get on the plane." I tell her but she isn't listening to me

"Your hair and makeup needs to be done." She protests and carries a small makeup bag in her hand

"Why is it do I need that black shit all over my eyes every single time?" I sigh and wave my hand

"To hide your identity if and or when your glasses come off." She explains softly as she walks over to me

"Yes, because black eyeshadow smudged all over my eyes is going to confuse someone on who the fuck I am when my mask comes off." I sneer and cross my arms as she kneels in front of me and takes out the sticky powdery cream that dries when applied. "Not to mention the clothes that scream 'Winter Soldier'." I add when looking at my black cargo pants and leather vest that looks familiar but not for me

Didn't think I would have to sit in a fucking makeup chair before my missions.

Who else fucking does this wack ass shit?

Villains? Because that is what this feels like.

Villain energy.

"Blue-" She sighs

"Don't fucking call me that." I cut her off and look at her with an angering look. "That's not my name."

"Then what is it?" She tips her head to the side and I hesitate because all I have heard was 'Blue' or 'Agent Blue'. Sometimes, I even hear 'Sweet' or 'Sweet Delight' and though that is normal, it isn't my fucking name. My name? It's a blank slate when my brain tries to think it over and go back in distant memories that all have the same tall, blurry figure in them

I find comfort in it.

I find comfort in them.

Whoever they are.

"I-I don't know." I eventually mutter

"Hmm." She hums and swirls the makeup brush around the blackened pan

I roll my eyes at her being right when she lifts the tough bristles up to my eyes and I close them with more attitude because I have always hated the scratching feeling on the sensitive lids making me grimace which only helps the smudging until my entire eye is covered up to my eyebrow and down to the middle of my nose before it starts fading out to my regular pale colored skin.

"I trust Zemo is feeding you like he is supposed to?" The worker speaks again and I blink my eyes open to see she has a hairbrush and my black face mask

"When he can." I mumble and turn towards the wall on my bed so she can stand and do my hair

"Which is every Sunday?" She asks and I nod against the brush she rakes through my hair

"Once a week." I confirm

"And that's all you eat in a week?" She assumes and I can hear the frown in her voice as she parts my hair in half to pin the top section up

She brings the hard metal and plastic covered mask up to my face and I hold it to my nose and chin so she can fasten the top part across the hair part so it is unnoticeable when she lets the short hair down and lifts it all up so clip the ends of the bottom part of the mask together and lets the clamp rest on the bottom of my hairline under my short hair she cleaned up with scissors one of the first days I was here. The belts are tightened so the metal almost digs into the bridge of my nose and the bottom pushes into my chin, making it hard to talk but I fight through the uncomfortable feeling to talk to this nice woman who is only here for money. It's why she is a worker and not an agent. She doesn't kill but helps the killers.