Blood of a Goddess (Storm of the X-Men)

Chapter 1 - A Thief Once Again

"Aren't you excited?"

"Yes. Electrified," I smile and try not to make eye contact with the woman in bathroom mirror. She smooths her business suit and then her hands go to her side, and I freeze. This is too soon. I was so careful. My breath stops in my throat.

The strange woman flips open her clutch on the bathroom counter. "I still can't believe it," she chuckles and pulls out a small round compact. It clicks it open. "I knew the second I graduated Quantico that if there was a job opening, I would jump at the chance!" She squeaks as she applies blush to her cheekbones. "My family has all been in the Bureau, but all those superheroes, and the men in their tight costumes. Am I right?"

I catch my breath and I just nod. I open my small purse, and pull out my compact as well. The first rule of any good theft is to blend in.

The strange woman next to me closes her compact with a click. "So what number are you?"

"Twenty-seven." I reply briskly, and lean toward the mirror. I try to signal to her that I'm not interested in chit chat.

"Lucky! I'm number Thirty-eight." She didn't take the hint. "I feel like I will be here the whole day. Not that I'm complaining. Gives me more time to see some big names. Do you think Captain America is the one who interviews us? I really hope he does! Never mind, that's crazy. I'm being crazy right?"

I shrug, and she continues to jabber.

"I heard that there are only twelve spots we are vying for. Can you imagine working side by side with Iron-Man?" She sighs. "I would seriously die. Wait...I think I know you."

Oh damn.

"Yeah, you looks so familiar." She turns and looks at me. 

I try not to panic. I didn't want to hurt anyone. Especially not some doe-eyed woman who is on the cusp of her dream job coming true. But if she figures out who I am, then I am screwed.

"I just have one of those faces." I reply. 

I stare at my eyes in the mirror. They are brown and my pupils look round, absolutely human. I glance up at my hairline to see the blend of latex on my forehead. It's seamless. 

Maybe my face is undisguisable. I have been plastered on the news, internet, and the newspapers for years. 

"I get it that all the time." I reply.

She squints her brows. "No...Something about your face. Your lips and cheekbones. I know I've seen you before."

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I guess there is no other way. 

I reach out my senses to make sure no one is coming towards the bathroom, and double check there are no cameras to capture what's about to happen next.

Maybe Remy was right, I have become rusty. I've lost my touch. And here I thought the hardest part was going to be getting myself on the list of interviewees. But if I left now, that would be a red flag. I have been seen on surveillance already.

No. I can't leave. I came to get back what is rightfully mine. I have to stick with the plan. I wouldn't get an opportunity like this again.

I hear the woman takes a step back from me. I open my eyes and turn to stare at her. Her eyes are wide.

"Oh. My..." Her mouth hangs open. "I know you!"

My hands clench on the counter. 

"You were at Fashion Week." The woman quips, "You are one of the models from the McQueen show? Right?!"