Debug is a reformed cyber-terrorist with a computer engineering/coding background. After a very unpleasant experience overseas she is recruited to work for the government while trying to cope with her mental trauma and the physical scars. Through he...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Summary: You arrive at base to pick up your brother, he does a terrible job at introducing you to his friends.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Standing near the entrance to the facility you thoughtlessly bounced back and forth on the balls of your feet, an outlet for your slowly growing anxiety. 'Technically' you're a government employee, it's complicated... Despite that being here leaves you feeling uneasy, most places like this still do.
After an extended deployment overseas your brother had finally returned home, and you had promised to cook him dinner. So here you are, waiting for him to make an appearance in front of the military base he currently calls home. It's been a dreary day but the dense clouds are parting, making way for a steady building sunset.
'At least it's not TOO cold,' you suppose, allowing a false relief to wash over you. You were never very good at dressing for the weather, which comes with the 'indoor person' territory you radiated. What you lacked in physical prowess you made up for in technical abilities, at least that's what you tell yourself.
A brisk wind suddenly strikes your back, the thin sweatshirt just barely enough to stop nature's oncoming assault. Stuffing your hands into the front pocket, you fumble with your keys in an attempt to keep distracted.
'Should have just waited in the car,' brooding, you roll your eyes before catching sight of a group heading outside.
Curious eyes scanning the lot of them as they exit the building, spotting your brother's large figure somehow dwarfed by the hulking men beside him... Suddenly feeling very small.
Your eyes lock momentarily with a stranger's murky stare, deep brown orbs stricken gold by the fading rays of light. Dark grease paint smudging out the skin left exposed by his balaclava.
'That's different,' your thoughts halt, shoulders stiffening involuntarily realizing you're just staring at this man who you don't know. Quickly averting your gaze, attention shifting to greet your brothers steadily approaching figure.
Large hands grasped your forearms before pulling you into a crushing hug. Wrapping your arms around him stiffly, you let out a breathy laugh.
"This is my older sister, and I'm off to have a home-cooked meal," he declares, snatching the keys from your hand and making a dash for the car. Abandoning you on the sidewalk.
"Debug," you correct and turn to leave, attempting to place the now empty appendage back into your pocket but are stopped mid-motion.
Another lad seems to materialize in front of you, your small hand now clasped in his much larger one. Looking up you take him in for a moment, gray eyes cast in the warm light of the evening sun. Brown hair cropped into a short Mohawk, and a handsome stubbled jaw.
"Hello, lass, call me Soap," The Scotsman gushes, your hand still loosely resting in his grasp. He shoots you a wicked smile resonating with a boyish charm.
Stony facade you'd been maintaining cracking in the slightest, gaze softening before retracting your hand. You turn, giving them a curt wave, a gentle smile. Enough socializing for one day!
"Bye kiddos," Words stumble awkwardly out of your mouth before promptly following after your brother, who is waving you down from the now-open driver's side window. Mentally cursing yourself for being such a colossal dork...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Kiddos," Soap repeats blankly.
Having rushed off immediately after Soap's introduction, Ghost can't help but wonder if they scared her... If he scared her.
They watch as she reaches for the passenger side door, car abruptly lurching backward leaving the handle just out of her reach. Very much unamused she is left standing there with a blank expression, arms slack.
Taunting laughter can be heard across the lot as the action is repeated twice more before she is finally allowed to enter the vehicle.
"Fuckin wanker," Ghost irks scrutinizing the juvenile interaction.
"Feel kinda bad for her," Soap chuckles
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
