Angel ♡ Eyes

♡Chapter 25

It took another three days for them to get their shit together. One whole day of Bubbles poking and prying at Boomer, Butch, and her sisters with measuring tapes found in the garage and needless from an old sewing kit. Bubbles cutting up old clothes and stitching new fabrics stolen from the store together. New haircuts, and intricate temporary tattoos to hide identities. Then another whole two days of traveling. No sleep. Just walking for miles and miles and miles.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The pants were a tight fit around her thighs—something Buttercup suspected Bubbles did on purpose. Though, she was loving all the pockets. And the vest that strapped over her torso and back—protecting her vital organs—also came equipped with more pockets that stored tools and equipment.

Her head felt lighter. Really lighter. Her hair was short to begin with—that's how she liked it. But this?

I mean it wasn't like she could grow her hair out overnight. That left one option. Go shorter.

She felt like a badass, though.

It started off as a pixie cut. Blossom was incharge of hair while Bubbles worked on outfits. After fifteen minutes of the pixie, Butterercup pushed Boomer out of the chair and told her sister that it wasn't her. It was too close to her old haircut. So that's how she ended up with the buzzed sides and undercut buzz.

"Man, we're walking around this base and nobody has recognized us yet." Butch grinned, nudging the girl with his shoulder.

His uniform mimicked Buttercups, only fit for a guy. Same black boots, same style pants, same style shirt. Where there was once messily groomed hair, now was a short mess of nothing. Buzzed away as if it never existed in the first place. Somehow, he'd let Bubbles talk him into one of her make-shift temporary tattoos.

Celtic knotting worked its way in intricate twists and loops over his neck. He had a matching one that started above his eyebrow, worked its way down his temple towards his cheekbone, then stopping under his eye towards his nose.

"Kinda hard to recognize people who look nothing like what we used to." Buttercup took in everything. Every possible sideways glance. Every step someone took. Every laugh, every muttered conversation.

"Hey there guys." Bubbles chirpy voice called over their communication devices. A little last minute project Boomer whipped up before leaving. "Prisoner quarters are in sub level eight. Though technology is located on the ground floor down East Wing. However, seeing as Bell is related to Mayor, she'd be getting good treatment right? So maybe... sub level two?"

"Thanks Bubbs." Buttercup whispered, keeping her head low as her and Butch entered the building. "Entering Qapla's base now."

"Stay in touch." Blossoms voice this time. "Boomer and I have secured entrance to the lab."

"Got it." It was odd hearing Butch beside her, and also over the com link.

A soldier held out his hand to stop them from moving forward. Brown hair shaved down into a fade. Pitch black eyes that mirrored nightmares. Freckles dusting over his cheeks. "Newbies?" He arched a brow. "I wasn't informed we'd be receiving any new troops."

A small green box appeared around his face as Buttercup ran a background check.

𝙼𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝙼𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚘𝚗 
𝙰𝚐𝚎: 23 
𝙷𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝: 6' 
𝙳𝙾𝙱: 11 𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 
𝙱𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍: 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚛 
𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚜: 𝙰𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎.