8-1-0-9

Chpt. 11

The thing about having such heightened senses, is that taking a power nap in a bathroom stall can be done with ease. I was still aware of every sound, every scent - though not always pleasant, and every vibration as steps thudded across the white tiles. But I was able to rest soundly with my knees tucked up on the seat and my head leaned on the stall wall.

Bucky might have told me to wait in the lobby, but this was close enough.

I didn't account for how long I was half-sleeping, but I had heard some commotion go on about a few hours after I made my perch, something sounding awfully similar to that hunk of junk Walker, along with a firm but calm feminine voice that sounded a bit aged. However, shortly after that I heard the door being pushed open and froze as the my name fell from a different woman's lips. "Gale?" She asked, her tone gentle and softly accented like a Latina. "Mister Barnes and Wilson asked me to retrieve you, and bring you a fresh shirt."

My face scrunched up in mild confusion, as if someone were here in the stall with me to see my expression. How'd the Soldier know I was in here? He must've known I would've needed a break on my abilities and the most private place was the bathrooms. Son of a bitch, sometimes I forgot that dumbass was smart. "Yeah, I'm in here," I spoke quietly, reluctantly standing from the toilet and lifting my hand above the stall door so she'd see me. Her steps closed in and she raised a black shirt into my grasp before I pulled it into the stall. Turns out it was a tank top, one that had a back piece that showed off the shoulder blades. "Thanks," I muttered to the woman.

"No worries," she answered. "You can keep it. And I believe Barnes and Wilson are in the interrogation room down the hall to the right from here. Second room on the left." She paused for a moment, taking an audible breath. "You're also welcome to the showers, in the women's locker room. Barnes said you might appreciate that."

I huffed in mild amusement, pressing my tongue to the inside of my cheek as I shook my head. "I would, thank you," I muttered, taking a deep breath before letting the buzz of energy return to the base of my skull. The air around me became a little mucky as I clutched the shirt in one hand and unlocked the stall with the other.

A small look of terror passed over the woman, her dark eyes widening when, in her sight, the stall appeared empty just moments after watching a hand poke up above the door. "What in the hell, damn Americans know this spooky shit?" She breathed, her words quick Spanish as she gripped her utility belt and stepped back.

"I'm- I'm still here," I reassured her, gesturing with my hands even though she couldn't see me. "Just... It's hard to explain. Really hard to explain."

"You're Eight-one-'o'-nine," she murmured, staring into the empty stall as her complexion paled slightly and I felt a deep pit form in the bottom of my stomach. "The one who could disappear in plain slight?"

My throat went dry as I slowly let my energy dissipate from where it concentrated, the tightness in my neck fading as I faced the Latina with a frown. It was hard to pinpoint if she was more terrified seeing my face, or if my appearance had brought down the eerie affect in the room. It was a little awkward, being confronted by a normal person that wasn't immediately trying to shove a bullet into my brain. It was definitely a new experience, but I found myself unopposed to it, and sort of welcomed the feeling.

I nodded slowly, my gaze locked onto her brown eyes until I forced myself to look away. She's not threatening me, I thought to myself. No need trying to threaten her. "Yeah, I'm.... all of those things. The monster, the... one that lurks in broad daylight in plain sight. A ghost, that name's fairly old... Uhm..." My lips pressed into a thin line, ten different ways I could defend myself and push a potential threat away being forced to the back of my mind. "Showers, right?" I asked, pointing to the door.